Sithies
How easy it is to fall off the blogwagon.
I lined up to do my duty as an American consumer, and saw Star Wars Episode III yesterday. I hated the first two, but slogged through them also, trying to recapture the magic of being eleven years old and hearing that fanfare and overture for the first time.
I saw Episode I with three drag queens, and that didn't even help all that much.
When the original Star Wars came out, I saw it sixteen times in the theater. After the eleventh time, my parents said no more. I snuck in five more times. Of course by the sixteenth time, I knew the movie so well, half the time I turned around and watched the pattern the light of the film projector made in the slightly dusty air.
My cousin B., who is just a couple of months older than I am, became a rabid Star Wars figurine collector. He had them all, including the Millenium Falcon (the large size model.)
I hated him for that. Not that I wanted all those figurines all lined up perfectly on little shelves in my closet. Oh no. I think it was his gloating that did it.
I had the Star Trek action figures, along with the bridge set that included the transporter chamber, where you stuffed Captain Kirk in, whirled it around, and presto! He was gone.
My Star Trek guys all gradually lost their clothes, probably due to too many deep-sea diving expeditions in the jacuzzi. I'm sure that's it.
I lined up to do my duty as an American consumer, and saw Star Wars Episode III yesterday. I hated the first two, but slogged through them also, trying to recapture the magic of being eleven years old and hearing that fanfare and overture for the first time.
I saw Episode I with three drag queens, and that didn't even help all that much.
When the original Star Wars came out, I saw it sixteen times in the theater. After the eleventh time, my parents said no more. I snuck in five more times. Of course by the sixteenth time, I knew the movie so well, half the time I turned around and watched the pattern the light of the film projector made in the slightly dusty air.
My cousin B., who is just a couple of months older than I am, became a rabid Star Wars figurine collector. He had them all, including the Millenium Falcon (the large size model.)
I hated him for that. Not that I wanted all those figurines all lined up perfectly on little shelves in my closet. Oh no. I think it was his gloating that did it.
I had the Star Trek action figures, along with the bridge set that included the transporter chamber, where you stuffed Captain Kirk in, whirled it around, and presto! He was gone.
My Star Trek guys all gradually lost their clothes, probably due to too many deep-sea diving expeditions in the jacuzzi. I'm sure that's it.
posted by crumblord at 8:22 AM
2 Comments:
I can't help but notice that at no point did you mention your feelings about Episode III...
My brother had all the figures and sets as well, and he kept the figures in the Darth Vader carrying case. When we had a flea market several years later (I still don't know why he sold them), he had the Darth Vader case open to show the figures available. Some kid came up to ask how much the figures were, and my brother answered, "twenty-five cents." The kid gave my brother a quarter, picked up the entire case, and walked away. Since then, my brother has learned use of the word "apiece."
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