This is no exaggeration. Two seconds later, I hear from the TV that Patrick Swayze has passed away.
Patrick Swayze is kind of like Michael Jackson for me--he's just...infinite. It is surreal to think of him as dead, and so young, too. And while pretty much everybody (read: girls) are talking about Dirty Dancing and Ghost, I hope some of my flist will join me in saluting his best movie: Roadhouse. Everybody knows that is the only movie ever to be so bad that it swings right around and isn't just good--no, it roundhouse kicks past good and straight into AWESOME. All while wearing no shirt, of course, and sporting that mullet pompadour--or, as Mike said, a "mulladour".
I'm gonna miss him. In honor of the man who made so many very immortal and legendary roles, I offer this loving tribute.
It's your way or the highway, man. And it always will be.