'Kooky' Richardson Actor Johnny Hardwick, Who Played Dale Gribble, Died on Tuesday

If you've lived in Texas for any amount of time, you didn't just know someone like Dale Gribble. You knew someone like Johnny Hardwick.

"He's kooky," says The Nines owner and The Church founder Allen Falkner, who is Hardwick's cousin and grew up with his family in Richardson. "He's weird. I feel like Dale is not far of a reach for him."

Hardwick, an actor, writer and comedian, who provided the words and voice of Hank Hill's chain-smoking, conspiracy-embracing next-door neighbor Dale on the animated sitcom King of the Hill, died Tuesday at age 64, according to TMZ.

As any Texas replant will tell you, King of the Hill is a perfect way to get to know how to survive life in Texas, or at least it was until ... well, everything. Mike Judge and Greg Daniels' animated slice of Texas life bucked the hee-haw, gosh-darnin' stereotypes of Texas that had filled up just about every corner of television. The residents of Arlen may not be real in a tangible sense, but they felt like living, breathing microcosms of the personalities, cultures and families that make our state a wonderful place to call home. And that includes a nut like Dale Gribble.

The orange-capped exterminator lived and breathed in a world of conspiracies where every major entity and shadow government is watching all that we say and do. One of the greatest running jokes in TV comedy was Dale's constant unawareness when he thinks he's at the height of his hyper vigilance, a character trait perfectly encapsulated by Dale's son Joseph, who is obviously not his biological offspring.
Hardwick also loved conspiracies, but he seemed to see the inherent absurdity in them even if he believed them. Videos of his stand-up days are hard to find online, but he performed in places such as the famed Velveeta Room on Austin's Sixth Street or on TV's The Jon Stewart Show. UFOs and government plots were regular occurrences in his brilliant material, whether he was supporting them or using them to entertain a crowd.

"That was his personality," Falkner says. "He's always been funny since he was a kid. His idol was Steven Wright, and in his comedy back in the day, he tried to emulate him. He had this very deadpan humor before it evolved."

Hardwick also had a great love of music. Falkner, who is 10 years younger than Hardwick, got to spend time with him at his family's house in the summer because they had a swimming pool. He says Hardwick passed on his passion for music to him by introducing him to things such as The Who's Tommy film. Hardwick's older brother, Chuck, worked in a video rental store just when the medium started to enter people's homes, and the two were constantly copying and sharing videos to share with their cousin and friends.

"He introduced me to the game The Floor is Lava," Falkner says.

Nowadays, people like Dale are on the cusp of becoming mainstream except they are not as intentionally funny when  they spout even more insane conspiracies about coded numerical messages and how an undead John F. Kennedy Jr. will swoop in, Superman-style, to overturn the 2020 election. The minute they start employing the "pocket sand" defense, in which Dale would carry a literal pocket full of sand to ward off secret operatives, then you know we're in trouble.

Hardwick worked through every season of King of the Hill and became kind of a recluse following the show's departure from the airwaves in 2009, but he didn't go full J.D. Salinger on audiences. Hardwick popped back on YouTube as Dale or Randy Shackleford, the moniker Dale would use to weave his way out of any government records or responsibility for starting a fire. Hardwick would sing songs, converse with fans and opine on the most insane news of the day.  
Four years ago, he posted a teaser trailer for his own animated sitcom pilot called Trailer Metal. Described as the first animated spaghetti Western, Hardwick's cartoon vision was set across a barren landscape of the new American wilderness in which the mid- and eastern West is a radioactive wasteland, the northwestern is a pot-loving commie paradise and Texas is renamed "Texicoarabia."

Even if Dale and Johnny never returned to television or the stage as much, he always made time for the fans. Falkner recalls one of his wife's best friends being a huge fan of Dale, so they arrange a special surprise for her.

"We got Johnny to make a voice card," Falkner says, referring to an actual, physical greeting card that played a message when the bride opened it. "We got him to talk about how the wedding's just this big conspiracy. ... The best word I use for him is 'kook.'"