Swayze train makes its final stop

By Yippee Silverberg

The Swayze train made its final stop in heaven this Monday and the world is now short one more husband, father and actor as the star of Ghost and Dirty Dancing succumbed to a 20 month long battle with pancreatic cancer.

One has to admire Swayze’s drive and stubbornness. While fighting the disease, he continued to act until finally becoming too ill to do so. He made several television appearances and talked openly about his struggles; he had something to teach us; information to relay to those who are as of yet unaffected by the horrors of cancer, and we are better for it.

But Swayze will not be remembered for the way he went out as much as the way he dominated the big screen as an ass kicking bouncer in Roadhouse, or the way he danced so dirty in Dirty Dancing and with Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live.

An AP writer’s brother’s friend’s girlfriend’s uncle’s hairdresser knows a guy who went to high school with this dude who knew another guy who used to cat sit for Whoopi Goldberg. It is through this connection that the AP section was able to hook up a medium reading with the ghost of Patrick Swayze. The following are excerpts from the conversation.

What were the first words you heard when you entered heaven?

The bouncer told me my shoes weren’t nice enough and almost turned me away, I was about to kick his ass Road House style before he recognized me and apologized. Some greeting that was.

Were you nervous walking through the pearly gates?

Not really. I just followed my advice from Road House: pick the biggest guy in the world, shatter his knee and he’ll drop like a stone.

What have you been up to during your first week in your new digs?

Jeff Healy and I have been working on some new material. Just jammin’ really, reminiscin’ ’bout our Road House days. He’s doin’ this weird jazz stuff that I’m trying to get into. Hendrix won’t return my Tweets.

Man, you should see Chris Farley, he’s lost like 200 pounds, and he’s chiseled and intelligent as all hell.

We tried the Chippendales routine yesterday but it wasn’t funny, it just seemed like the normal Chippendales. After that we were drinking a Shmitts Gay and he went on a 20 minute rant about the economic class structure of suburban America and how living in a van down by the river is nothing to be ashamed about and how it’s more of a statement on new urbanism than a sad defeat by poverty.

I’m still getting used to it, but I like this place. I even signed up for an introductory pottery class on Wednesday evenings.

Is there anything you don’t like so far?

One knock I have on this place is Unchained Melody is playing on a continuous loop, I don’t care how righteous those brothers are, it’s getting a little old.

Do you have any regrets about your time on earth?

Not dancing dirty enough, the world could use more of that.

And, of course, not making Road House II: Wrath of James Dalton, and the sequel to Ghost, Ghostier.

Who will you haunt in your spare time?

Right now they have me working at a truck stop off the Jersey Turnpike, but in my spare time I’ll probably make my way to the South Side and haunt the shit out of those damn Socs. I’ll never forget what they did to Ponyboy.

Poor Ponyboy.

I’m thinking of getting in touch with David Carradine and that rapist from Pulp Fiction and really spread the gospel to the Socs, if you know what I mean.

I’m going to kick their poncy souls all the way back down the tunnel ’til they choke on their own fucked up ribs.

Now do you believe in ghosts?


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