I haven't been blogging much recently and for very good reason. Not fuck not nothing has happened. I mean, I got a new vacuum cleaner but I just don't think I can get a blog out of that unless it starts playing loud music on a train or gets a shit comedy show on BBC3. I've been busy, no-one has really annoyed me (until today) and everything is as it was last blog. This is basically a catch-up.
My foot is still big. In a way, I'm proud of it. I've been taking all my tablets and doing my exercises and the swelling has only gone down a little bit. It is defiant to the very end. The tendon's in my foot are inflamed, I have an angry foot and it won't calm down. My foot has turned into the son I never had. Unlike my stupid useless left foot that just sits there being fine. Prick. My right foot has character, intensity and swelling, just like Brando. It's also notoriously difficult to work with (it's hard to squeeze it into even a flip flop) but if you saw it you would never forget it. Given a chance, my foot would definitely leave it's mark on you. Sometimes, I don't even notice my left foot's in the room. What? Am I the only person here who has a favourite foot?
To be honest, the boring left foot might be boring and dull and boring but it's definitely the one with the looks. My sassy, bad-ass right foot has all the moves but looks like an inflated rubber glove.
Stupid things are still happening. Not many but some so stupid it defies any sense. I have a Star Wars Darth Vader shaped chocolate bar on a stick in my spare room. It's part of the not quite tidied away Museum of Star Wars that takes up six shelves in that room. I was doing a spot of writing the other day when I heard the fistle of tin foil. At first I thought it was a mouse. A mouse made of tin foil. I looked round and saw the Darth Vader chocolate move all on it's own. Weird, I thought. Chocolate doesn't normally move of it's own freewill. That might be the strangest thing that I will see today.
Then it blew up. It FUCKING BLEW UP! Right in front of me. One minute it was just another piece of Attack Of The Clones merchandise that I'll regret ever owning and ignore forever and then the next it was like Hiroshima in there. But smaller. And more chocolatey. I've asked all sort of science experts (well, dicks on Twitter) and no one can explain what happened. Does spontaneous combustion really effect confectionery like it does that man who was just a leg and a burnt out chair in that photograph I used to spend hours looking at in 1976? I took a picture of it in case Arthur C. Clarke wants it for another volume of Mysterious World. If you know what happened please tell me. It's just fucking freaky.
I'm still angry. That's nice, eh? And I have someone to take my anger out on: George Lucas.
Maybe the exploding Darth Vader chocolate was a sign. An omen. A message from the future about the horror that is to come. You see, I'm a 42 year old man that refuses to let go of his childhood and George Lucas is an insane destroyer of his own work and therefore my childhood memories. I saw Star Wars 5 times in 1977 for a very good reason: it was the single greatest thing I had ever seen in my life. In fact, to this day, I'm not sure that there is anything better than the original Star Wars film. Nothing has effected me more than that film. I read all the comics, I bought all the toys, I lived amongst the everything of Star Wars. My clothes, bedsheets, schoolbooks and skin all had Star Wars written on them. For me, aged 9 or 42, this wasn't just a film it was a cultural change. The design of the TIE Fighter alone means more to me than anything Elvis ever did.
In 1999, like most men in their early 30's, I lost sleep over the excitement of seeing The Phantom Menace but in hindsight I shouldn't have. The clues that being shit was it's destiny were there already with the release of the original trilogy's Special Editions. A Jawa falling off a dinosaur's back is the peak of George Lucas' sense of humour. It was completely pointless. And what was really so wrong with the Ewok's victory song that they had to get a new one? What's the fucking difference?
And now he's releasing all six Star Wars films in 3D. That's right, we'll be able to have Jar-Jar in our fucking face instead of just on a screen. What George Lucas doesn't understand is that these films aren't his. They're mine. He gave them to me. You can't just buy someone a present and every few years take it back and stick shit all over it. "Look, Mum. I bought you some flowers. Now every few years I'll punch you in the teeth". But I've come up with a plan...
George Lucas has to be stopped and I have decided that I must stop him. Here's the scheme, and it's taken a lot of thought and planning but I hope you can grasp the basics of it: When Star Wars 3D comes out....let's not go. Let's just ignore it. If your kids want to see it just remember that that's why you hit kids. I'm thinking of having a child just so I can not take it to see Star Wars 3D. My child will never reach out and "throttle" Dexter Jettster or be bored rigid in the skies of Coruscant flying after Zam Wessell. And George fucking Lucas won't get another penny from me. I have the films on DVD. That's it. That's all I need. Dagobah looks a shithole, why would I want to feel like I'm really there? It'll be about £15 to see it in IMAX. Why not give that money straight to some independent film company who might make something good?
You can write this shit, George, but you sure as hell can't watch it.