To the glee of horror aficionados, Shudder’s CREEPSHOW is teeming with Easter eggs, and no episode filled the basket quite like the Season 2 debut chaser, “Public Television of the Dead.”

The set-up alone was intoxicating. A play on ANTIQUES ROADSHOW featuring EVIL DEAD veteran Ted Raimi querying about a book he’d had “in [his] fruit cellar for years.” Of course, Raimi was playing himself, the book in question was the Necronomicon, and the Pittsburgh-based station (hello Romero reference) even featured a program with a puppet named–you guessed it–Henrietta. When the host of THE APPRAISER’S ROAD TRIP began reading the “wretched incantations,” all hell broke loose. But in the next studio, a gentleman who struck a striking resemblance to Bob Ross was filming, not THE JOY OF PAINTING but THE LOVE OF PAINTING. Played to placid perfection by Mark Ashworth, the character of Norm Roberts was merely Ross’ given name rearranged: Robert Norman Ross.

Fresh off a floating and brilliantly delivered “pledge to us,” Raimi’s Deadite wandered onto Roberts’ set, and the calm craftsman immediately leapt to action, confronting Raimi with a cool “I don’t know who you are, sir. But if you’re not gonna behave, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” Battle ensued. From a 2-inch brush to paint thinner and making a Gattling gun out of a snowblower, Norm went full MacGuyver, utilizing the tools of his trade to decimate Deadites. “We’re gonna beat the Devil out of you.” To the surprise of no one, Roberts saved the day, and his show–which was slated for cancellation–went national.

On its face, the premise of the episode seems outlandish, but it’s closer to the truth than you might think. The Roberts character was supposed to be a Vietnam veteran who fought on the front lines of the Tet Offensive in 1968, and believe it or not, Ross was a service veteran. Joining the United States Air Force in 1961, the not-yet-permed-painter was a medical records technician before being stationed in Alaska where he discovered a love for the snow and mountains that would inhabit so many of his works. Ross rose to the rank of master sergeant, but after acting as the heavy who was “the guy who makes you scrub the latrine, the guy who makes you make your bed, the guy who screams at you for being late to work,” upon discharge Ross vowed he would never raise his voice again.

Simply stated, “Public Television of the Dead” was a love letter to Ross. THE JOY OF PAINTING aired for eleven years (1983-1994) and thanks to its magical host, enjoys a cult following to this day. Bob Ross’ official YouTube channel has over 5.6 million subscribers as of October 26, and one episode alone–the Season 29 opener–boasts of 45 million views. And by the way, the color code for Van Dyke brown is #664228. If you know, you know.

Who among us doesn’t reflect on childhood afternoons watching in awe as Ross painted amazing scene after amazing scene, his words of encouragement and love a ray of sunshine acting as a soothing salve for the lashes of life. To this day, when I need a calm voice to help slow my mind so I can sleep, I pull up an episode of THE JOY OF PAINTING because Bob Ross was who we–and episode writer Rob Schrab–thought he was: a superhero.

“I think each of us, sometime in our life, has wanted to paint a picture.” For many of us, it’s because Bob Ross existed. The serene sculptor would have been 81 today, and as we celebrate the memory of someone who touched us all, we echo Ashworth’s Roberts: “good night, day. Thank you for everything.”