Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for you to strap in. This is a Dangerboy rant, and that means a stream of expletives will soon issue forth. If you do not like the use of enough F-bombs that a B-52 is required for their transport, it may well be time for you to click the red X. Still with me? Good…here we go.
This sets the tone nicely, I think.
Fuck you, George Lucas. I know that’s a fairly strong statement to use as an opener, but seriously, this guy has gone bonkers. There is a point at which you have GOT to stop tinkering with things that are better left alone.
Like our childhood, dickhead.
Look, I enjoyed some of the adds in the “special editions”. Really. I didn’t bitch too much about the prequels. I put up with the casting of the Sock Puppet. I dealt with said sock puppet replacing Sebastian Shaw in the final shots of Return of the Jedi. I allowed Jar Jar to eclipse C3P0 as the comedic foil in the prequels. I accepted, even though I bitch about it constantly, that “Yub Yub” is gone gone. But goddammit, just stop already.
George, you took a fantastic scene where Vader’s silent sacrifice, his mute crisis of conscience played out by brilliant tight shot on the blank mask of evil he had become, and you fucking ruined it by adding the whiny-bitch NOOOOOOOOO (you really wanna click that) that left me hating the end of episode III. Ruined. It.
Seriously, guys? It's called the Dark Side, not the Whiny Bitch Side.
Also, Han shot first, asswipe.
If you’re so hell bent on “fixing” things, why does Luke still yell “Carrie!” when he gets out of the X-Wing? Why does Captain Panaka call Bail Organa “Bail Antilles”? Come on, George, get with your own program! (There was a kerfuffle in explaining the Antilles/Organa goof, too. The official responses are…oddly disturbing.)
Look, I know these are your movies, and so you feel like you can change them willy-nilly and we’ll buy the everloving shit out of them. And you’re not far wrong, except for one little thing. We own them too, now. In our minds, we are a part of the whole Saga, the cheeseheads to your Frostbite Bowl, the kool-aid drinkers in your compound, the ewoks on your Endor.
And we say “Enough.”
Moreover, I say it with my wallet. I am not buying the Blue-Ray version, George. Not until DVDs cannot be played anymore. I want my son to watch Vader’s silent dilemma, the way I did. These aren’t the dollars you’re looking for.
Look, man, you made something wonderful. Something amazing. You shaped an entire fucking generation, and that’s no small task. The Force was clearly with you. But understand that you have slid down the path of the Dark Side, and forever will it dominate your destiny. I picture you grasping these Blu-Rays and tossing them down a shaft in the Death Star, redeeming yourself to us, the fans. But, then, you are the guy who made Howard the Duck.
And so I salute you, George, you and your “enhanced” Blu-ray versions of one of my favorite film series ever. But I salute them with one finger. Guess which one. I just hope I don’t end up like that Aqualish guy in the cantina after I do it.
Discounted from the normal arm and a leg.