I hope somebody writes me an obit this FUCKING AWESOME when I croak.
From Savannah Morning News. Thanks for the link, Crystal Hatch.
The man. The myth. The legend. Men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him.
William Freddie McCullough died on September 11, 2013.
Freddie loved deep fried Southern food smothered in cane syrup, fishing at Santee Cooper Lake, Little Debbie Cakes, Two and a Half Men, beautiful women, Reese's Cups and Jim Beam. Not necessarily in that order.
He hated vegetables and hypocrites. Not necessarily in that order.
He was a master craftsman who single-handedly built his beautiful house from the ground up.
Freddie was also great at growing fruit trees, grilling chicken and ribs, popping wheelies on his Harley at 50 mph, making everyone feel appreciated and hitting Coke bottles at thirty yards with his 45.
When it came to floor covering, Freddie was one of the best in the business. And he loved doing it.
Freddie loved to tell stories. And you could be sure 50% of every story was true. You just never knew which 50%. Marshall Matt Dillon, Ben Cartwright and Charlie Harper were his TV heroes. And he was the hero for his six children: Mark, Shain, Clint, Brandice, Ashley and Thomas.
Freddie adored the ladies. And they adored him. There isn't enough space here to list all of the women from Freddie's past. There isn't enough space in the Bloomingdale phone book.
A few of the more colorful ones were Momma Margie, Crazy Pam, Big Tittie Wanda, Spacy Stacy and Sweet Melissa (he explained that nickname had nothing to do with her attitude). He attracted more women than a shoe sale at Macy's.