I just read this on Ain’t It Cool:
“You can’t possibly understand what it felt like for me sitting in the theater watching (Revenge of the Sith) unless you were there in 1977 for the very first film.”
Ain’t It Cool Review
The sad part is that I do understand. You liked Star Wars. You really liked Star Wars. You wore iron-on t-shirts featuring Chewbacca, and for a time, you attempted to master the simple language of the Jawas. When asked your religion, you deadpan “Jedi.” You claim to have summoned the Force with every erection. You list “learning that Darth Vader was Luke’s father” the most startling revelation of your life. You spent three awkward teenage years whacking off to an image of Princess Leah in her steel bikini. (In these tender moments, you refer to yourself as Hand Solo.) In your resume bio, you call yourself a “scoundrel” though you never explain why. The biggest tragedy in your life is that now, for no good reason, Greedo shoots first. Later, you bored your friends and worried your parents with your penetrating, shrill analysis why Jar Jar sucked. At first, you tried to defend “metachlorines” as an example of Lucas’ genius for tidy scientific deduction, but you later join the bandwagon opposing it. And now the final installment of your lifelong justification for never kissing a girl has come to its thunderous fruition. Once Annie vacuum seals himself into the Darth suit, your license to fail expires. You will suddenly discover that your Masters in Comparative Religions (where your fanatic quest to legitimize Jedi teachings earned you a steady diet of Cs and Ds) is completely useless in the job market. You will have to augment your lightsaber fighting skills with a degree in drafting or air conditioning repair. Before long, after several months of finally earning a steady paycheck, you realize you haven’t uttered a Wookie cry in a crowded Gadzooks in weeks. You discover a nutritious diet does not include Cheetos. You find that, if you move your action figure collection into the attic, you have room for a stereo and a bigger TV. When a girl says hello, you forget to launch into your well-prepared diatribe concerning a padawan’s virginal discipline. Instead, you return her greeting with normal English, and before long, you go on your first date ever. She’ll forgive you for groping her breasts too hard once you explain to her that you never touched breasts before. And you will live my friend. LIVE! Because now you are free. Lucas no longer has his sinister, Sengali-like hold on you. You can end your war with the Trekies and join the workforce. Welcome.