Dear Charles Nelson Reilly,

I really hope this letter finds it way to you. I've never written a letter to anyone in Heaven so my knowledge of Heaven's Postal system, its accuracy rating or friendliness of carriers is novice at best. I was preparing a gift basket for you, filled with many tasty treats from Dwight Yoakam's Family of Quality Foods line (including but not limited to Dwight's Chicken Lickin's Chicken Fries, Chicken Lickin's Chicken Rings Afire, Chicken Lickin's Buffalo Bites and Take Em's BreakfastBurritos). I decided not to include his line of refried bean dip, due to the back and forth that took place at the local grocery store as to what kind of tortilla chips to get for you; those blue chips or the guacamole flavored ones)...sorry about that. But as I mentioned before not knowing if Heaven's Postal carriers would get the basket to you in time or even at all gave me pause (and after some time deliberating the manner, I came to the conclusion that the Postal carriers in Heaven were Postal carriers on earth, so the basket stays...again I apologize). As a consolation prize, I am including a copy of ThomasCathcart's Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar: Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes. Just in case you need some material to break the ice with everyone up there.

Now, on to the real reason I am writing you this letter. As you are, I'm sure, painfully aware, you passed away last weekend. That's a total bummer man. Phil Spector didn't kill you did he? Nah, I didn't think so. I got to tell you Charles, I really wouldn't consider myself a fan of yours, or even someone with an acute preternatural knowledge of your body of work; outside of your appearance in Cannonball Run II, and your series of appearances on the Tonight Show, Match Game and Hollywood Squares. Whatever else you dipped your hands into, I'm sure it was pretty ill and warrant's a bit of my time, but right now what I need to do is get to the heart of the matter...and thank you.

Confused? Let me explain. There was time in my life that I went through; it's what I like to call my "reference period". At the height of this renaissance, I was quick to point out the shortcomings of performances given by any and all stars of stage and screen with someone who I considered of a lesser ilk. You Mr. Reilly, were at the top of my reference list; the lesser of the lesser ilks(my words). Any actor/actress who felt the need to overact...poorly, or even try their hand at comedy, despite being as funny as a child dying from cancer, got from me, "their acting made Charles Nelson Reilly seem...insert your own joke here". Savvy with what I'm saying? Now, I had an arsenal of reference people, Corey Haim and Corey Feldman, Mindy Kohn, Robin Williams, Conrad Bain, Eric Roberts, that kid from Life Goes On...well you get point, but it was your lack of subtlety and eagerness to please that put you on the top of the list. Now that you have passed, I can in no way disrespect the dead and will have to retire my Charles Nelson Reilly reference file. This makes me sad, because I always enjoyed going to you. You were my Michael Jordan. I killed with many a Reilly reference. But I knew that this day would come. I still use reference jokes, but with less frequency, and now that I have lost my cleanup hitter, my use of reference will be even less frequent.

So thank you Mr. Reilly and I leave you with one last reference joke. Lou Pinella's tirade in yesterday's Chicago Cubs vs. Atlanta Braves game even caused recently deceased Charles Nelson Reilly to look down from the Heaven's above and shout out "My God what a drama queen".

Your friend

Paul Hughes.

P.S. While you're up there, can you say hello to the careers of Harrison Ford and Russell Crowe, since they've both been dead for years.