Corky. Charles “Corky” Thacher. A name that trips off the tongue with all the pleasure and delight of a colonoscopy. Doesn’t ring a bell, you say? He was the star – hell, the sole reason to tune in — of the television program Life Goes On, which ran on ABC from 1989 until its premature demise in 1993. Also starring Kellie Martin as Becca, the show told the story of the plucky Thacher family as they dealt with the trials and tribulations of suburban life. And being locked in the same house with a horny, troll-like retard with delusions of “mainstreaming.”

Mainstreaming. That’s the polite way of saying that as a droopy-eyed, egomaniacal half-wit, he was entitled to ruin the lives of hundreds of other high school students who have enough problems on their plates without having to deal with some biological monstrosity with a chip on his shoulder. What exactly was his problem? In a nutshell, the fucker never stopped falling in love. And when these women (always tall, blonde, cheerleader typesyou know, reasonable objects of a retard’s affection) failed to return his vulgar passions, he overturned tables, cried his little eyes out, and asked his parents why no one wanted to be his girlfriend. The parents, practiced in the art of diplomacy, tried to comfort the little shit, but they never uttered the only obvious answer to his painful queries: “You are only partially human, my dear. The only chance you’ll ever have for sex is if you rape the family dog or hire some toothless, sore-ridden crack whore in the last stages of AIDS. Good night, sweet prince.”

Even if Corky was only marginally involved in a particular week’s story, he managed to upstage everyone with his incoherent gibberish and desperate pleas for acceptance. When not on camera, we all knew what he was really doing: fucking couches, light sockets, Sunday night’s leftover roast, his pillow, or his socks; anything that acted as a receptacle for his genetically inferior seed. Still, let’s give ABC credit – they had the “courage” to cast a real-life retard so that absolute authenticity could be achieved. And, for a trained seal with the I.Q. of corn-infested shit, he wasn’t half bad. He remembered all of his lines (pretty easy when they are always some derivation of “Why for not I can hump that purty lady?”), hit his marks, and didn’t break too many pieces of furniture. He was, no doubt, the model moron.

Ruthless Ratings:

  • Number of years since the show left the air: 9
  • Number of acres of swampland in Florida you have purchased if you also believe that Corky has fucked a sentient being since that time: 112
  • Number of times I’ve regretted that we don’t have a retard on television at whom we can direct our national rage: 338
  • Number of times Kellie Martin has conveniently neglected to mention the show on a resume to avoid getting those “Hey, you were on that show with that retarded fella,” questions: 19
About Matt

Matt is the site’s Longest Serving Critic and chief misanthrope. He divides his time between classics of cinema and the most ridiculous movies he can find on Redbox.
Follow Matt: @mattcale52