A Darker Ending for Episode III

(addendum: This doesn't reflect an actual re-write of the end of Episode III, but rather a possible ending to an ongoing re-imagining)

Obi Wan and the forces of the Naboo Air Force have coordinated a complex counter offensive to both cripple Darth Vader's elite invasion force, and to provide an escape route for Padme Amidala and her two children. The Gungans have agreed to engage in what can only be classified as a suicide mission to divert the attention of Vader's troops and allow for Obi Wan's ambush. The plan works, Republic gunships unleash a massive bombardment on the Gungan positions to cover the approaching troops. Just as the fire their volley, Obi Wan and a hand picked squadron descend from the sky, having been concealed by the clouds and a Jedi provided electronic cloaking device. Amidala's ship slips the atmosphere an disappears into hyperspace.

Padme's ship lands on an obscure mining asteroid. There she is met by other members of the new Galactic Senate. They have just come from session where the Emperor has declared martial law. They have all taken great care, and great risk to disguise their affiliation with the traitor Padme and her fledging insurgency. Yoda is there. He sits quietly, stoic, as the Senators discuss the state of the Republic and their plan to take it back from Palpatine.

After the meeting Padme approaches Yoda, thanking him for his support, and requesting his council in the days to come. Yoda faintly smiles at Padme and informs her that he will do what he must to destroy the Emperor’s grip on the galaxy. She asks if he knows if Obi Wan is ok. He closes his eyes, is silent for moment, and informs her that Obi Wan is safe and on his way to them. Yoda turns and walks away, leaving Padme puzzled.

Yoda enters a dark room sometime later. His face illumined by a faint glow from inside the room. The two infants sleep soundly in their sleep chambers. Yoda's face is grim, intense, as he moves softly across the floor, summoning supply crate to his feet. He climbs up to view the sleeping infants. He stares intently at them. He murmurs to himself. "Failed I have. Arrogant the Jedi had become… blind to the dark side we were." He pauses. "Stop this cycle....I must." Yoda removes his cloak, turns, and spreads it on the floor behind him. He removes his lightsabre from his belt and looks it over, then places it on the table. His sad eyes turn back to the infants. His wrinkles cannot hide the anguish in his face. He stretches his hand out over the infant Luke. He closes his eyes and turns his head away. "Forgive me....Padme..."

"Yoda." A voice emanates from the darkness. "Yoda." Yoda retracts his hand as if it had been slapped. His eyes spring to life. "Qui Gonn" Yoda utters in disbelief. A transparent figure resembling that of Qui Gonn Jinn appears from the shadows. "There is no need to do this Yoda." Yoda tilts his head, his ears raise up. "How have you returned from the force?" "In time I will teach you, but for now, just know that through death I saw Anakin's future, and the future of his offspring." Qui Gonn replied. "The future, always emotion, the future." Yoda rebuffed. "The son of Anakin will be the Emperors undoing. For now, however, you must exile yourself and hide the twins separately from eachother. When the time is right, they will need your guidance and training. It will be a time of struggle and strife for the galaxy. The goodness of the Jedi can only be seen in contrast to the Sith. It is the way of things. We will speak again Yoda... may the force be with you." With that, the ghost of Qui Gonn disappears. Yoda peers once again at the infants. He places his small hand on the forehead of Luke. Then descends from his step, recovers his items and leaves the room.

Just something that went through my brain this morning as I drove to work listening to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack. Just a brief synopsis kind of thing, as I'm always wondering how those movies could have been better. Comments?

YO JOE!!!

Back in the 1980s we had a cartoon called GI Joe. Like many 80s cartoons it was a part of a mass marketing machine designed to sell toys, bed sets, lunchboxes, stickers, condoms, you name it. GI Joe was an early example of a multi-media marketing ploy, having a regular cartoon Mondays through Fridays, a monthly comic book that spawned spin-offs such as GI Joe Special Missions, and various storybooks and records. GI Joe was the Real American Hero for boys all over this great nation. However, as an adult I can look back on the great loves of my childhood with a wiser and more critical eye. I can see that early cartoons, such as Looney Tunes, can still be enjoyed by adults, as their themes were originally more adult oriented, as fitting given that they were viewed in theatres as part of movie matinees and what not. But not so the great cartoons of my own childhood. These cartoons do not stand the test of time maturity-wise. Thus do I look upon an old childhood favourite, being GI Joe and ask one simple question:

HOW DID THE GI JOE TEAM JUSTIFY THEIR BUDGET AND KEEP THEMSELVES EMPLOYED YEAR AFTER YEAR?

Honestly, their entire concept, cartoon-wise, was the fighting of the number 1 terrorist threat to the free world: COBRA.

But Cobra, in the cartoon at least, was about as ineffectual as a terrorist organization could possibly be. How they ever managed to stay out of GI Joe’s clutches still baffles me. Nothing they did ever worked. Their entire organization was fundamentally flawed as terrorist organizations go. Consider the following points:

1. A leader that couldn’t organize a piss up in a brewery.
2. Ill-trained soldiers with no capacity for independent thought.
3. Stylish vehicles that failed in fundamental design laws, such as the HISS tank.
4. No cohesive theology/ideology/philosophy around which to base their organization.
5. Ostentatious headquarters: Not hidden, not defensible, idiosyncratic architecture.
6. Continually repeating the same failed plans in the erroneous belief that “this time it will work”.
7. Trusting the most delicate and sensitive of missions to an Australian Motorcycle Gang.

Thus, anyone with a modicum of brain power should be able to easily reckon Cobra as a threat to no one but themselves. Cartoon-wise Cobra Commander was such a liability to his own organization that when anyone of quality joined Cobra’s ranks you had to immediately divide their usefulness by a factor of Cobra Commander. Thus Destro, who is a brilliant student of the human condition, a weapons manufacturer, and a physically threatening guy, finds his own usefulness divided by the Cobra Commander Factor. Destro/Cobra Commander=Orko (from Masters of the Universe). And that’s Destro we are talking about. Take somebody less capable, say Dr. Mindbender, and the equation becomes frightening in the extreme. Dr. Mindbender/Cobra Commander=Scooter (from the Go-Bots).

So I imagine that when Duke or Hawk had to present their budget reports and requests to the committees that determined how much dosh GI Joe would get in the next quarter, it was a fully fabricated report. Either that, or GI Joe was a great big slush fund operation for some lucky bastards in Congress who were funneling the majority of the funds earmarked for GI Joe into other pet projects or their beach house in the Cayman Islands.

Know this, if Cobra ever made the mistake of attacking Israel it would be over in about 6 hours. Cobra would be gone. Just gone. Dead as disco. 6 hours. Tops.

The Gayest thing I have seen since last night's episode of So You Think You Can Dance.

Glaciers are not thermometers.

I am not a environmentlist. I drive a high performance sports coupe that runs rich. I don't recycle. I don't plant trees. However, I don't want the Earth to find itself on the endangered planets list or end up like some Douglas Adams planetary demise.

Be that as it may, can we stop with the constant nattering of the would be doomday sayers preaching that the seas are gonna rise and the global temps will be enough to kill most lifeforms? I'm so tired of the Jim Hansen brigade telling me that sheets upon sheets of ice will be sliding off Greenland, thus causing Florida to become submerged, New York City to be the next prospect for kayaking fun and California will be known simply as Nevada. I've been entrenched in a online battle with these minions of Al Gore's latest rally cry. You can read at your leisure [url=http://www.rs25.com/forums/showthread.php?t=49293]here[/url].

Essnetially, I have researched on both sides of the topic and my findings are as I suspected. The global warming dilemma is as contested as evolution amongst the scientific community. Okay, maybe not THAT highly debated, but pretty darn close. The major difference I've discovered with global warming is that it's got input from all walks of life. People from Australia talking about the extinction of polar bears...then the very scientists in northern Canada refute that evidence. Experts in one field of study making outlandish remarks about a subject for which they have no business commenting on.

Of course, when I call out these "end of days" lemmings their best retort is a link to some one-sided fascist hippy website. They can't even discuss the issue using facts. *SIGH* I guess I should be happy that I am the threadstopper...

Nominate the best character from GI Joe!

Pick your favourite and tell why. Use whatever criteria you deem appropriate. Then, when we have some stuff together, we'll do a list.
Or maybe we could just have a nominate 2 thing. 1 Joe and 1 Cobra. Then we'll do a list and have a debate-off!

Ripped off again.

I ate a Happy Meal. I feel no better now than prior to ingesting said Happy Meal. Should I ask for my money back?
Is the name meant to imply that the Meal will create a feeling of Happiness in it's ingestor?
Is the name a description of the Meal itself, suggesting that the Meal is in and of itself possessing of the quality of Happy?
But as the meal consists of french fried starch sticks, a passable imitation of a cheeseburger and a soda (and this cool Pirates of the Carribbean journal as a prize), and none of these individual items are capable of independent thought so far as we know, can they truly be said to possess the quality of Happy? Are they perhaps a gestaltic entity once placed into their colourful decorated cardboard container; an entity that is, in fact, capable of feeling and independant thought?
And philosophically, I can infer that if they are truly Happy it is because they are not capable of feeling desire, for all desire leads to suffering, as we know from the Buddha and Schoepenhaur.
But then, if they possessed desire, would they want to be eaten? Have they been genetically created to desire nothing more than thier destruction via consumption, turning themselves into energy for our bodies and living on again in the form of fat?
Given the governing body of McDonalds' Land is one Mayor MacCheese, who appears to be some sort of sapient quarter pounder, (perhaps a Royal with Cheese?) or at the very least a being of anthropomorphic proportions who has, as his very head, a cheeseburger of some sort, one would assume that his life's desire is NOT to be consumed by a squaling humanoid child. Unless that is the ultimate heaven/hell dichotomy of McDonald Land. Lacking evidence, I cannot say. However, is it some sort of sacrificial act for Mayor MacCheese to give up his subjects to a colourfully decorated cardboard container that they may be consumed by me and my species? Are we the Chthonic gods of MacDonald Land?
Is my hunger merely to be sated, and never am I to know Happy from the consumption of such a Meal? Is then, the Happy Meal merely a lie told to the young burgers and chicken nuggets of MacDonald Land as they are sacrificed to feed the ever growing hunger of our species? Is that the Happy? And the ironic name designed to disguise the truth of it from the sacrificial lambs and not, as it would seem, a marketing ploy to make me desire the eating of one, in an attempt to absorb the Happy into myself, in some primitive fashion?
Perhaps does Mayor MacCheese name the Meal Happy in the hopes that the sacrifice will be approved of by us, and thus we will not come down upon this MacDonald Land and devour all that we see, or revoke our blessings upon his domain.

It is beyond sad when a 32 year old man gets philosophical about his lunch.
And that, that is the tragic Irony of the Happy Meal and Me.

What the World needs now...is Love, sweet love???

Kidding, what we desperately need, and I got this idea last night whilst doing some RvR in DAOC, is a GI Joe MMORPG. Who's with me? Come on, you know you want it!

Think about it, lads...it makes perfect sense. We all grew up in the 80's yeah. We all played GI Joe in the dirt with our Action Figures (don't you even think of calling them dolls, sonny Jim) or on the school playground in "live action" or with pellet guns. We argued about who got to be Duke and who got to be Snake Eyes and who HAD to be Cobra Commander.
It is, think back now, one of the joys of your childhood.
It is ripe for a MMORPG. Of course, like Star Wars Galaxies you will not be allowed to be one of the major players, but they will be there. Giving you missions, guarding the Pitt, etc...
And like WoW, it would have multiple factions. GI Joe and Cobra, obviously. But how about Drednocks? Or the Octobre Guard (I'm aware that communism is out, but we could roll back the clock for nostalgia's sake).
Talk to me people, what's your take on it?
V.

It is entirely possible that...

when Vargr reads this you will briefly hear a piercing sound, followed by the end of the universe as we know it. Jinrikisha, formerly known as Rich P. aka blah bah, the third Ricky, told me about this upcoming movie while we chatted last evening. Following on the heals of our discussion of Tribal Americans, and the perplexing way some genuflect to their primitive culture, comes a film about a Viking boy left behind to be raised by benevolent Skraelings (The word is so perfectly appropriate now). The movie is called Pathfinder. You can click the image below for a link to the trailer. Extreme caution should be exercised when showing this to someone with even a shred of respect for historical accuracy.

Eager to find a new and fresh way to vilify Europeans, director Marcus Nispel turns to the Norse for his demonic antagonists. The imdb.com movie trivia section has an enlightening paragraph that I feel betrays the filmmakers intent.

Despite knowing that the Vikings' helmets didn't historically have large animal horns on them, the film makers decided to add them in anyway. This would work with the modern audiences who have an ingrained stereotype of what a Viking should look like in their mind. Moreover, the horns make the Vikings look more terrifying.

So, they acknowledge that the popular lore about horned Viking helmets is baseless, but rather than depict them correctly and possibly cause a few people to rethink this stereotype, the filmmakers acknowledge that it is easier on everyone if we just leave them in place. These aren't the horns of common livestock, mind you, these are the horns of some unclassified beast. Possibly, straight out of hell, where it appears these particular Vikings originated. The second part of the paragraph is the kicker. This is tantamount to saying "We want the highest level of vilification possible."

Watching the trailer made me squirm in my seat. Were I to paint a replica of the Mona Lisa with the intent of selling it as an original, I would be immediately descended upon by swarms of lawyers eager to eat me alive. Why is it then, that one director can blatantly rip off the scenes, frame for frame, from another director's work, and not incur similar consequences is beyond me. Add to this the cheesy "love and hate" dialogue, the obligatory, gratuitous love scene between the white man and the squaw, and you have the makings of a regurgitated hack and slash flick with quasi-historical themes and homoerotic depictions designed to fill the seats with women and metrosexuals alike. I kept expecting a cell phone to ring and for the actors to turn to the camera so that I would be comforted that this all a big gag.

I find amusment, as I think about it, in the way so many movies have depicted the Tribal American woman, specifically the daughter of the Tribal Chieftain (General's daughter syndrome) as the ultimate pinnacle of sexual conquest for the Caucasian protagonist. You would think that this would infuriate the feminists. But so long as the man has properly rejected his whiteness, and embraced tribalism, the feminist quietly eat their popcorn between smirks.

Watch for Vargr's comments. I'm sure they will be unforgettable.