Sacrilege 101 (view from the cheap seats)

I was chatting with my son yesterday, who mentioned that he and his friend had gone down to the theater at midnight last night and stood in line for an hour to buy tickets for the new Star Wars movie.

What the hell is the matter with you people?

Camping out on the theater steps for tickets to The Phantom Menace for Christ sake.  Let’s get a life!

I happened to stumble in on a TV re-run of Star Wars the other night, coming home from doing real man’s work on airplanes. Here’s little Carrie Fisher running around in a nightgown with her boobies bouncing up and down and her hair done up in what looks like whole-wheat bagels. I bet Debbie and Eddie are real proud.

Anyway, all those little bouncing things and Han Solo’s having cold flashes over his Millennium Falcon. Even that slime ball slug, Jaba ignores her. At least Chewbacca did a couple of Tim Allen “Aaaarrrrrgggggs.” Only real man in the bunch.

And that simp, David Prowse, running around in a Halloween mask that my son once wore when he was eight years old. Sheese! I bet his mommy’s real happy of him.

Then there’s that pussy, Picard. Hell, what do you expect with a first name of Jean-Luc? I’ll bet Kirk wouldn’t have let them freaking Klingons have . . .

Wars?

What?

Not Star Trek? Oh. Never mind.

Give me a real man’s movie. How ‘bout that Tequila Sunrise? Now there’s one to make your heart flutter. The sultry California night in the hot tub! Man, I’m in serious love here. I still get testosterone highs when I hear a ping-pong ball click on hardwood. But, you see any Dale McKussic or Jo-Ann Vallenari action figures, though? Hell no! Any sequels? Rum Sunset? No!

What’s the matter with you people?

Explore posts in the same categories: Mower Clippings