Robert Goulet is Dead, a Nation of Moms Mourns.

Adam told me recently that whenever I tell stories about my mother, I make her sound like a bitch. I don't mean to; I admittedly tell the funnier ones about her which probably don't make her sound like a really terrific person, but she totally is! She sent me a care package full of Halloween candy the other day! And sometimes I think she actually does love me, even though she's only required to say that. It's almost enough to forgive her for complaining about my cat, which she now has to take care of now that both of her kids are out of the house. (She confessed recently that she only agreed to getting the cat twelve years ago because she was sure it'd be dead by the time David went to college. That's a burn, Tex.)

Anyways, my mother is capable of love, and I think the best example of this is her long-time love for Robert Goulet, for whom she's had strong feelings since she first listened to the original Broadway cast recording of Camelot, oh, a hundred years ago. And I'm sure she's terribly upset today now that Mr. Goulet has passed away. To celebrate the man, the myth, and legend of GOULET, and only because now my mother knows how I felt about Charles Nelson Reilly* (when I called her to tell her that CNR died, she replied, "Good."), here's a tribute I found on YouTube.



Now, I like musicals and shit, but I can't even deal with more than a minute of that video. So here's how I prefer to remember Robert Goulet**:



You'll be missed, sweet prince.




*I never actually loved Charles Nelson Reilly, by the way.
**It took a lot of effort to not write his name as "GHOULET." Get it?!