R.I.P. JOHN HUGHES

Those born before Britney Spears, Reality T.V., and Darth Maul might not know how important John Hughes is. And as much as it's in my nature to make fun of your ignorance with a condescending snort and feel sorry for you at the same time, I won't.

We were a lucky generation. We were part of a zeitgeist that John Hughes created. From the poignant (Sixteen Candles) to the relevant (The Breakfast Club) to the SO-RELEVANT-IT'S-LIKE-GETTING-EFFED-IN-THE-A (Ferris Bueller's Day-off), our generation was formed by John Hughes.

So you can imagine how heavily the loss of Mr. Hughes weighs on us.

In my mind's eye, we're gathered at the steps of some random University, misfits and prom queens and jocks and con men alike, quietly humming Simple Mind's "Don't You" waving goodbye to a man that spoke for a generation.



"Someday these kids are gonna be running the country. This is the thought that wakes me up in the middle of the night."

--The Breakfast Club

I WANT THESE AS BAD AS I WANT A DEATH STAR BASKETBALL

Sometimes, I wonder: Why couldn't I have been born in the Triassic era so I could slide down Brontosaurus necks on my way to work? Or during the dark ages, where I could put on a wizard's hat and make brooms clean my castle or rape and loot nearby villages?

But then I see these shoes and I know that I was born in just the right century.

Fuck future flying cars. The only way I'll ever want to get from point A to point B is if I'm wearing a podiatric analogue of Storm Shadow on my feet.

Try getting them HERE. Although with awesomeness like this, good luck getting half a shoelace.