Tempted as I am to break Western Month to cover the works of the departed Patrick Swayze, a man whose films I only just began to love, I am, like the gunslingers of the Wild West, honorbound to see my mission to the very end. This isn't the only way I'm like those men of yore, but since I promised my editor I wouldn't mention soiled doves again for the rest of the year, let's move on.
