Oh man Mondoo, well, at least you can use this time to mourn effectively. It’s very sad about Patrick Swayze. When I was driving home today I was remembering how much I love Dirty Dancing. And also the lesser acclaimed and generally accepted terrible movie, Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. The Cuban Revolution was never sexier! If only we could dance our way through every conflict, the way we did through ethnic gang wars in the 50s in Westside Story, and through abolishing turn-of-the century child labor in Newsies. I’ll support any war with young Christian Bale leading the charge. Batman Christian Bale is nobody’s second date either, there was just that weird thing with the assault charge last year that makes me prefer the singing and dancing version better than the alleged woman-beating one.
But all that is beside the point. I was driving home thinking about Patrick Swayze and his work, and Delilah and her sappy radio show happened to be on–I am usually hypnotized into listening to it. I’ve always wondered what it would take to make me one of those people who called her show to cry about my crappy husband or how much I love my mom so Delilah can play “I’m Every Woman” for me and talk about how many alcoholics she married, but tonight I felt like it would have been appropriate to call in about Patrick Swayze and ask her to play a Dirty Dancing song. I didn’t, of course, because I’m not the kind of person who does that, but it would have been nice. Patrick Swayze will be missed, and lucky for him his passing was enough removed from Michael Jackson’s that he should get the deserved media coverage.