Dear Patrick Kane’s Mullet,
You are the real Stanley Cup Finals MVP. Duncan was great and all, but your star shined brightest. You were an emotional catalyst for your team when they needed you most, and your contribution will not soon be forgotten.
Oodles of tender lovin’ care were put into your execution so that you could reign supreme over all other mullets. From the business in the front, to the curly party in the back, to the sharp patterns flanking your temples, you were simply perfection in hair form. Kenny Powers’ mullet is extremely jealous right now.
Even better are you when combined with the inexplicably red, furry beard Patrick sports in the playoffs. The juxtaposition of Kaner’s facial hair against his head hair (you) is truly one of the most magical sights I’ve seen in my years on this earth.
There have been many great mullets in sports – Jaromír Jágr circa 1994, Mike Piazza circa 1995, etc. – but I would venture to say yours is among the all-time greats. Even Barry Melrose gets jealous when he catches a glimpse of your mullety perfection. He knows he can’t compete. You’re one of a kind.
You have carried a city on your back, um, I mean your head. There are even children emulating you (God help us all). Statues should be erected in your honor, and men with conventional haircuts should bow down to you.
Thank you, Kaner’s mullet. Thank you for the magic, the madness, the majesty and the mulletness. Never stop doing you.