Who Wouldn't Want to be Howard Hughes?

I love the National Geographic Channel (platonically of course) because of the profound effect that its shows have on my life (see: Locked Up Abroad, the show that convinced me that smuggling drugs into foreign countries can create some tense, drama-filled moments.) I don't know who heads the production company over there, but give that man/woman a raise! I hate to sound vulgar, but the point must be made:

NatGeo gets in your ass like tapeworm.

Monday night, after Locked Up Abroad, I was faced with a decision between flipping over to ESPN to watch the New York Giants play the Cleveland Browns on Monday Night Football or staying tuned for Howard Hughes Revealed. With all due respect to Eli Manning and his propensity for throwing exciting, late-game interceptions... the decision was easy.

And let me tell you... after watching NatGeo's biography on Howard Hughes, he will forever be my hero. Hughes had it all: he had the mistresses, the lucrative military contracts, and a crippling addiction to codeine to top it off like a Maraschino cherry. Who wouldn't, at a moment's notice, trade their mundane existence to live as The Aviator... even during his alleged bout with syphilis?

The most brilliant part of Hughes is something that can't be learned or conveyed through any attempts at self-improvement. He just didn't give a fuck.

If he wanted to see a specific movie, he would call his privately owned television station and make them play it. In fact... according to one of his aides, he once spent four month's in a movie screening room without leaving to shower, shave, or change clothes. If a hotel staff told him that his room had to be cleared out for a successful Hollywood producer, he would rather buy the hotel than acquiesce (perhaps reminding the owners that he, as well, was a successful Hollywood producer.)

Wherever you are, Howard Hughes, just know that you are my hero. 

...and if heaven has enough Kleenex to guard me from The Aviator's syphilitic appendeges, a handshake with Mr. Hughes is certainly in order when I crash land my XF-11 through its pearly gates.