13 Years on Rainey Street: Looking Back on King of the Hill

I've been a long-time fan of Mike Judge's Americana masterpiece, King of the Hill, and was thoroughly disappointed when Fox made the decision years ago to stop releasing the seasons on DVD due to cost/benefit reasons. While watching the first 6 seasons on DVD with my dad, we fell a little behind on the current seasons, and access to the episodes (legally or otherwise) was limited at the time, so we waited patiently for Fox to do something right for once. Not surprisingly, nothing came of it.

"Clearly, this a conspiracy by one of the largest news media conglomerates in the world to surface and isolate the anger gene in order to remove it and make us their soulless, emotionally-stunted cyborg slaves. Duh, Hank."

So, when my sister generously brought our family into the Netflix age, I was overjoyed to find all 13 seasons available to watch instantly, and not in "handycam vision". So, within the space of roughly a month, I devoured season after season from 7 to 12. Unfortunately, when I hit season 13, my Netflix decided to crap out on me, and I was essentially forbidden from watching more than the first 20% or so of anything on the Watch Instantly playlist.

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?! I CANNOT TAKE THE SUSPENSE!!

Luckily, my sister came to the rescue again, and got me an iPod touch for Christmas, onto which I almost immediately downloaded the Netflix app. Since then, I have managed to laugh my way through the remainder of season 13 and to the final moments of the show's glory. For those of you familiar with the show, that picture up there actually makes sense, since quite a lot was known to happen out in "the alley" where the guys relaxed with their cold, Alamo-brand beer. For those not so in-step with cartoons for big people, allow me to shed a little light on what made this show such a brilliant one, and how it has earned a special place in my heart over these past 13 years spent laughing, crying, cheering, and grilling on a little stretch or road called Rainey Street...

First off, King of the Hill isn't like your Futuramas or your Family Guys or your South Parks or your Simpsons in that it's an incredibly down-to-earth show.

None of this.

The premise revolves around an averagely odd family, the Hills. At the core, there's Hank and his wife Peggy, and their teenage son, Bobby.

Say hello.

They're a normal family living in a normal (albeit fictional) neighborhood in Texas and dealing with normal problems. And that's one of the key successes of the show: relatability. Sure, all the characters have their quirks (from Hank's diehard obsession with "Lady Propane" to Peggy's pride in her hilariously awful Spanish), but even those are familiar. And that was always one of the biggest draws this show offered for me - a familiarity that sorta wrapped you up and kept you cozy like a warm blanket and a mug of hot cocoa on a blustery winter night. And thrown into this mix are a host of equally laughable-yet-lovable characters to populate the small Texas town of Arlen.

There's Bill Dauterive, the fat, balding guy next door who cuts hair for the Army and can never seem to get over his wife divorcing him. There's Jeff Boomhauer (almost always referred to as just "Boomhauer"), the smooth, girl-crazy bachelor across the street whose near-indecipherable dialect of redneck stands as both a mystery and a testament to his luck with the ladies. And then there's Dale.

You do not have to say hello.

Dale Gribble is easily one of my favorite characters on the show, and is easily one of the weirdest at that. He's normally seen with some semblance of clothes, which are accented by his orange Mack hat, his sunglasses and a cigarette. He also responds to his alias, Rusty Shackleford, a name he stole from a kid he knew in the 3rd grade. You see, Dale has.... views. Peculiar views. He's a conspiracy nut. And I don't mean to insult conspiracy theorists - the man's certifiably nuts, and has, on more than one occasion, found himself institutionalized. He's booby-trapped his lawn and his house to protect himself and his family from aliens and government assassins, keeps his exterminator poisons (or sometimes the animals he exterminates) in the fridge, and he refuses to even order pizza without using his alias. He's addicted to cigarettes, guns, his wife Nancy, and their son Joseph. And "their son Joseph" is not entirely so, actually being conceived by the town's native, um.... Native, John Redcorn, while he was having an affair with Nancy. It's these little tidbits of town gossip - the intimate development of the atmosphere, character, and heart of the town - that really bring the show to life and full-force.

But let's get back to the Hill family for just a moment here, since they are the namesake and stars of the show. Hank is your typical, blue-blooded, all-American man. He played football in high-school (taking his team all the way to state!), his favorite holiday is the 4th of July, he adores his aging bloodhound Ladybird, and it would take an army to pry the man from his grill. But don't ever try to sneak Hank a burger cooked over anything but propane. You see, Hank sells "propane and propane accessories" at one of the local gas-grill emporiums, Strickland Propane.

For that guy up there. The one with pants.

Hank thinks the world of his job, and the grilling benefits of propane, and that adoration seeps into his everyday life. I think we all have at least one friend like that - obsessed with one particular hobby or interest, that you dare not ever speak of or argue against, though you often convince strangers at bars to do just that for the ensuing entertainment. Of course, those people in our lives usually tend to be less "written-by-comedy-genius-Mike-Judge" and more "just obnoxious". Hank, however, is not only written by comedy genius Mike Judge, but even voiced by comedy genius Mike Judge. Comedy genius Mike Judge is paying me every time I mention him and his comedy genius. Hank is known among his friends and neighbors as being a level-headed authority figure, and the one to run to in times of crisis or boredom. But, be forewarned, he does have a bit of a short fuse when it comes to "jibblet heads", and he's more than capable of kicking your ass.

Okay, let's move on to Peggy real quick. Peggy is Hank's loving, yet fiercely independent wife. To say their romance is awkward is an insult to that Star Wars kid and every other awkward thing that ever existed. It's almost painful at times to watch Hank and Peggy try to woo each other, but that's part of the brilliance of their relationship. Peggy, though independent to an extent, is intensely loyal to her family, especially her ditzy niece, Luanne. Second to her family, Peggy's biggest love is teaching, thus her long run as a substitute teacher at  Tom Landry Middle School. Unfortunately for the students, while Peggy may be a fun sub, she usually finds some way to muck up a lesson or misinform the children, particularly in her favorite subject, "Espanola". However, despite her general lack of know-how and good judgment, she (almost) always has the best intentions at heart.

Put those two together, and what do you get? That's right, Bobby - one of the laziest boys this side of a mattress factory.

[That's just... not a good joke. It doesn't even make sense, really. I mean, factory jobs are universally known for their grueling regimens, fatiguing hours, and injury-prone environments. You should really try to think of something better. - Ed.]

Bobby is, in some respects, a fairly typical teenage boy - he likes eating, video games, stand-up comedy, sock skating, and girls. In most every other respect, Bobby is not a fairly typical teenage boy - he enjoys prancing about in tutus, playing with puppets, dressing up like Cupid, square dancing with his dog, starring in plus-size fashion shows, and screaming like a little girl, among other things. All of this to the disappointment of his father. The good news is that, now matter how far off course Bobby may stray, Hank loves him dearly. He may think "the boy ain't right", but deep down, in the recesses of his heart, Hank cares for his son. And to watch Bobby discover that over the course of 13 years - to watch him unwittingly unearth such sincere feelings from his emotionally-bottled father - is a surprisingly engaging experience to say the least. And their relationship is one of the highlights of the show.

[I seriously hope you're reconsidering that mattress factory joke. - Ed.]

To go into detail about all the amazingly quirky characters in this show could take a lifetime (or at least more time than I'm willing to devote), and would, in the end, serve only to cheapen the experience of meeting them yourself. So, if conspiracy nut exterminators, and propane-obsessed family men, and snooty Laotian neighbors, and shinless, grumpy WWII vets, and sleazily unfaithful, middle-aged weather women pique your interest, then I cannot recommend King of the Hill enough. But these aren't the kind of characters who "reset" after every episode. If somebody dies in the show, they don't magically appear in the next episode (unless they're a ghost, which happened, like, once). These people stay dead. And if someone gets pregnant, they show progression throughout the show and actually have the baby.

I know she finally had the thing, but come on.

Granted, the characters only age about 3 years or so over the course of the 13 years that the show ran, but it's all a natural progression; and honestly, nobody wants to watch a show about a 26-year-old Bobby still living at home while his senile father, Hank, sets himself ablaze in another grilling accident (alright, that is rather amusing). Nevertheless, you truly feel a sense of growth and maturity in the characters and their relationships to one another. You get to see bonds form and wither away. Relationships blossom and fade over time. Friends and lovers come and go with the strains and stresses carried on the wind. And you are offered a window into the oddly fascinating lives of these simple, small-town folk. They may not be living in the future, or traveling the world, or throwing pies at Hitler, or parodying Star Wars, but the beautiful and lovably dorky people of Arlen, Texas will take you on an adventure nonetheless - through the ins and outs of this obstacle course we call everyday life. And they're inviting you to join them on the ride. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll love, you'll live, and you may even learn a thing or two along the way. So, if you've never had the pleasure of meeting the Hills and their colorfully offbeat neighbors, I can't think of a better time to do so than right now.

This article paid handsomely for by Fox Broadcasting Co., Netflix, Inc., and their affiliates.