"It's a nightmare!!"
-- C3PO, Episode II


Don't get old, kids. Have your head frozen, go into hibernation, get genetic therapy, become more machine than man, I don't care - just don't get old. It sucks.

People think getting older means you turn into "The Man", or start becoming this verklempt old fogey, you start voting with your bank account, lose your ideals, compromise with the world, and become this bitter, twisted and hollowed out hypocritical shakey old blowhard with pants up to your nipples, a heinous combover, full-body nosehair, thick black horn-rimmed glasses and a disdain for all things even remotely fun.

Well...ok some of that is true, but that's not really it. What happens to you when you get older is a lot simpler than that. It's that your body rebels against your melon.

Think of your head as the slicked up white plasteel armored Empire of You. It houses this shrivelly grey thing, the brain, the Emperor of your domain that goes about squashing things and devises evil plans for everyone. In youth, it shows no mercy, it does not hesitate, it does what must be done so long as no one else is telling it what to do. Fear keeps your limbs and torso in line. Fear of your Imperial Melon.

Now think of your body as the rest of your Galactic Empire. Your sprawling, bulbous, cosmically vast and bloated fiefdom. And the truth is, the longer you try to control the Imperial Body, the more systems slip through your twitchy little fingers.

And then pretty soon what you notice at age 27 or so as an insignificant little rebellion turns into this full-blown insurrection by age 37. You, your head at least, represents order and power. The grey shrivelly thing in your head says you must be mistaken about a great many things. Your body just says "Nah."

And then, even your head starts to turn on you. And then you're just this poor shrivelly grey dood falling down the reactor shaft of your own aging process.


"This is a battle I do not think we can win.."
-- Captain "Downer" Panaka, Episode I


Case in point:

When I was younger, getting to watch Star Wars was a huge event. Any Star Wars, any one of the Original Trilogy. Didn't matter, theater, TV, Betamax, school play, mimes, shadow puppets - watching any form of reinactment of those 3 films was a moment to remember, and you savored it. It tasted like....ahh...Vic-toh-ree...

And then when Phantom Menace came out, I continued this reverance. I watched my grainy VHS copies of all 4 films relentlessly.

And then DVD's came out. And then I was going frame by frame, digesting and re-digesting the most delicious of cinematic cuisine time and time again.

And so now I have DVD's of the Original Trilogy SE versions. And Original Original Trilogy with the unaltered versions. And Prequel Trilogy loaded with special documentaries, commentary, and of course the movies. And I watch them. And watch them...and watch them....and then what the hey...I...watch....the,....moviezzzzzzzzzz...
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
*snort*zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Funny little thing happens to me when I've memorized every single detail of something, and then try to experience it again. I sort of pass out. Just nod right off. You could be the most amazingly bangin' hot and beautiful super model in the world, but if this is the third time you've told me about K-Fed this or Paris that...I'm hunched over in a coma.

Why? Because my stoopid body has turned my head against my Imperial brainmatter.

My body's all "Yo, you've worked all day, you can check out. You could have checked out while you were driving home, but nooo...you had to wait. Well - now we're home."

And my head's all "You know, the old chap rather does have a point, wouldn't you say, MooseBrain? I say, a quick bit of unconsciousness would be just jolly, ho ho."

And my little shrivelly grey dood, trapped in his fortress of ineptitude, can only fire little lightning bolts at various body parts while it gets tossed over the railing into nappy time hell.


"There's too many of them!!"
-- unnamed freaked out pilot, Episode VI, Episode I...etc etc...


I literally can't finish a single one of these movies. The effects of this intensify the older the Episode is.

A New Hope: I generally pass out after "sinister agents" in the yellow crawl...

The Empire Strikes Back: I get all the way to the Wampa but collapse in the snow...

Return of the Jedi: I purposefully pinch myself until I get a fuzzy half waking glimpse of brass bikini...

The Phantom Menace: An invasion can mean only one thing...me go sleepy now...

Attack of the Clones: For some reason I can make it to Anakin's cringe-worthy lovey-dovey lines on Naboo, but I can't get to the choice bits with ..you know...the actual Attack of the Clones. As far as I know, the movie should have been called "Episode II: I Hate Sand."

Revenge of the Sith: Now this one I can make it through for a bit - it's still new to me. I generally lose my grip on awareness halfway through it's amazing climax, just after Order 66. Go figure.

But I know that won't last long. Little by little, my minutes of lucid enjoyment of Star Wars will be shaved away....lost in puddles of drool and fits of frustrated snoring. Pretty soon, I think all I'll have to do is pick up A New Hope and I'll drop where I stand like a sack o' fertilizer.

My solace in my advancing years (I'm only 38, or will be shortly, so the battle for the Empire is still joined, fear not) is this new realization:

I have so loved Star Wars all of my life that it no longer resides on a screen, nor a tape, nor a disc. No, they are now ingrained in far superior detail, beyond re-mastering, beyond Dolby, THX, Digital, and HD.

It's in my soggy, grey little shrivelly Emperor at the top of my tower. And it's even in my dreams. It lives forever now, or at least until the day I kick it, right smack tweener my left and right antlers.

So there ya go - nightmare or dream for a Star Wars fan? Dunno. But I'll keep seeing how far I can get :0)

Oh, I almost forgot...



BOO!!!

Or not.

Happy Halloween, be safe out there.

DM out