It is just after 0900 hours. I rose early. But I’ve still missed it. THE event of the day, maybe even, THE event of the rest of the year – well, outside of Christmas and New Years.
I’m a sluggard:
The theatre is hosting a 15-hour Star Wars marathon from 4:00 a.m. up until the big premiere at 7:00 p.m.
Oh! Wait. It’s an all day party!
Thinking about it, I wonder who these people attending are going to be. College kids on daddy’s credit card? School kids on mammy’s un-employment check? Adults skipping work, and expecting a full work time check tomorrow? Welfare folks voting the Liberal tickets and drawing government dole? Black? White? Hispanic?
Bet the joint is full.
I remember seeing the first Star Wars. I had to skip several beers and a weeks worth of auto gas to go to it.
It wasn’t bad. I mean, it was a fairly good movie. Entertaining even. It had one terrific drawback. Lots of people talked about the “next” Star Wars movie – which was the draw back.
I wrote it out of my mind. I didn’t want to waste the effort of finding the where-with-all to afford the next one. Movies should have a finite life span, you know what I mean?
The Wheel of Time turned and the author died. The series was finished by a surrogate. That worthy just ended it. Killed off everyone. End of series. We never really had a chance to see what the original author was ending the story with. Pity.
Of course, it has happened before, even in real life.
No one ever finishes their stories. The stories just end, don’t they? They go gang busters for a while, slow down and then taper off and end. Never finished.
That Star Wars has the look of re-generating itself on and on. An aberration; there really needs to be a Happy Ever After or at least death. Period.
I mean, shucks, give the next generation of writers a chance to invent the wheel all over again.
From the reaches,