I am back and more clown shoes than ever. Was playing my third pass through of Dead Rising 2, yes video games are replayable and my dog farted on me. I was inspired to write again, the inspiration was fast acting as my mouth was open.
I promised months ago in my last post to write about George Lucas' penchant for whoring out his franchises. I still plan to write said expose but I wish to also cut the pure colombian bullshit I spew with some baking powder and household chemicals. It may not be as strong but it is still addictive and will get you arrested.
So recently I've been grinding my way through life. Work, work, family, my flatulent pup, its all overwhelming at times. Most nights I need to step out of my wing of my castle and take in some fresh air. I breath, following the advice of a good friend and clense myself of illwill. I look up to the sky, which is quite clear out in the sticks and admire all of it. I ask myself, and God why.
You know, like who am I? Why am I here? Who else is looking at the sky right now?
It makes me feel very insignificant, the mysteries of the universe. Im a speck on the radar, less than a speck, im the vapor from someone's breath as the look at the radar, the annoying mouthbreather that sits next to the big guy. And he's all like "Oh great Jerry is sitting next to me again, shut your damn mouth Jerry!"
But Jerry keeps on exhaling... loudly. and viola, ME!
But a part of me wants to say that there are no little people, we all play a part, I'm not just a sales rep for a nationwide leader in Autoglass repair and replacement, I make a difference.
Be it the old lady who just wanted to talk, or the wiper blades I sold which could safe a life. I'm not bit player, neither is the sandwich artist who gave me extra banana peppers, or the dude in line behind me at the WalMart.
Neither is... Willrow Hood.
Willrow Hood is my new hero. He's the kind of guy you see walking down the corridor in his orange jumpsuit and you'd say
"How's it goin' Willrow?"
and he'd say something clever like
"you know, putting in a mediocre days work"
Oh Willrow where do you come up with this stuff?
Then you see him at the urinal, you wonder how he pisses in a jumpsuit.
"How's it goin Willrow"
"I can't complain. They stopped listening."
LOL, you should write a Mad magazine book of snappy comebacks my man.
Now loyal reader you ask, who the fuck is Willrow Hood?
He's a nobody, an extram a bit player. Hell up until about a year ago he probably didn't even have a name.
Which brings us to point two...or three, whatever. It's all pretty pointless if you ask me.
George Lucas is a whore. No amount of money is enough for this man. Case in point, our friend Willrow Hood.
Willrow Hood, according to Lucasfilm "we pulled this out of our asses to sell more figures to collectors" lore works for the gas mining company on Cloud City.
Fair enough, that explains the jumpsuit and the belly, but why the blaster Willrow, why further the stereotype that all miners are packing?
The package description continues, telling us theres more to Mr. Hood than we knew:
When the Empire siezes control of the city, Hood destroys a computer memory core to prevent the empire from discovering information about transactions with rebels.
Here it is for you all to see
Bet you didn't see him the first time you watched Empire... Bet you'll notice him every time from now on though.
This is typical Lucas revisionism. Just like Anakin was a famous pilot, just like the force is akin to an STD, so also is Willrow Hood a rebel hero.
If you ask me he sees the way the wind is blowing, knows the empire is about to shut shit down and wants to find somewhere quiet to bang that ice cream maker. The look of abject terror on his eyes gives way to lust, and look how he cradles that thing. It's not rebel plans, its a sex droid and he's about to party like its 1999.
further evidence to his pervervion is the fact that this particular figure comes with a droid part in the packaging, as if I or anyone else would actually risk Mint in box status to construct HK-50.
Whats an HK-50? In my day only 2 droids had names, R2, and 3PO. But that all changed with Dengar. Lucas sold a nondescript bouty hunter and never looked back, every extra gets their own figure, but my nerd is showing and I digress.
The droid part in question:
You know he jerks off with that thing right?
So, in summation, none of us are insignificant. We can all be rebel heroes if we want to be. You may not be a Lando but you can be a Willrow.
Also George Lucas sold us out.
Until next time where I discuss the problem with life, and living in general.