Pain don’t hurt.

Last night, Mr. Wonderful and I watched one of the classics of American cinema: Roadhouse.

This gem stars Patrick Swayze as Dalton, a cooler hired to clean up a rowdy bar in a Missouri town that’s run by an evil rich dude.

And that’s basically it. Yes, I’m happy to answer your questions about Roadhouse:

A cooler isn’t a bouncer. He’s the mastermind behind the bouncing philosophy. In fact, Dalton has a PhD in philosophy from NYU. He also does tai chi, so you know he’s deep.

The evil rich dude is evil. And rich. And he has lots of buff goons who try to kill Dalton for no apparent reason other than to show off their late 80s feathered hair.

Evidently, Missouri is very, very dusty. And there are mountains. Methinks Roadhouse was filmed outside of LA, but whatevs.

Mr. Wonderful and I watched as Dalton beat the crap out of people and the thin plot basically disappeared into vapor. We then developed a fun game.

Dalton versus Darth Vader?

Which led to …

Dalton versus Yoda?

Which led to …

Yoda versus Jesus?

You can see where this is going. Basically, we determined that Yoda and Jesus are the supreme beings and could never fight each other. Clint Eastwood and Rocky Balboa would try to kick Dalton’s ass but would be unsuccessful against his significant tai chi mastery. And Dalton and Chuck Norris would be BFF.

Because, really? Who doesn’t want to be Chuck Norris’ BFF? He’s totally got your back.

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