Nope; I'm Mike, can't say as I know Chuck, but if he is a coffee drinker and a bird hunter I'd fancy to meet him. Let him know there is good Chukar and quail hunting out in the Skedaddle Mountains and Black Rock Canyon.
Chuck was an ex-Marine and my direct superior in a cop-owned, para-police (READ: we carried guns and a lot of the employees were off-duty cops who worked using their shield, sidearm, and take-home units after hours) organization in the D.C. area back in the early 90's. He demanded that the office coffee be left cooking on the burner for several hours or more until the coffee, as he said it, 'developed an oily sheen on top, like a Gulf drilling rig took a shit'. Once, he caught me pouring a fetid pot of the previous day's sludge down the drain to brew a fresh cup for the rest of us, and he Jap-slapped me in the back of the head so hard, I had to do a 360 to remember what room I as in. He was 6'5" and 280. From then on, I let the shit cook off until the entire building floor smelled like a dead rat was being boiled in stagnant canal water.
"As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their hearts desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron."
--H.L. Mencken, The Baltimore Evening Sun, July 26, 1920