Ode To Jack Burton

Oh, Captain of the
Porkchop Express, scourge
of Lo Pan, you have weathered
the storms, thunder and lightning
and wind, as well as wild eyed
eight foot tall maniacs with
nothing but your mullet and
muscles and reflexes. It’s all
in the reflexes. You shook
the pillars of Heaven, you
secured the wings of liberty,
you made the son of a bitch
pay. And at a time like this
we ask just what you would say?
And thus spoke Jack Burton:
“What the Hell?”