I finally understand Obi-Wan and his man cave
When I saw the first “Star Wars” movie, I had a few questions, such as:
“Why are we starting on Episode IV? … Where did Stormtroopers learn to shoot? … How did everyone know English in a galaxy far, far away? … Can I have more popcorn?”
Fortunately, those questions were nipped in the bud:
“Shut up and watch the movie! This cost me $5!”
It’s the tiny unrealistic things in movies that keep me up at night more than the major ridiculousness. For instance, you’d think that after watching “Teen Wolf,” I’d wonder how come it wasn’t much bigger news that a high school kid had turned into a wolf. They kind of took it in stride and just let him keep playing basketball.
But, no, I had two issues with the movie that were just way too unrealistic for me:
One, they never would have let Mick stand under the basket while Scott shot his game-winning free throw at the end.
And, two, no red-blooded American teenage boy would have wanted shallow bimbo Pamela over spunky and cute Boof. I was definitely Team Boof.
Likewise, my main issue with the original “Star Wars” was not that so many people willingly pledged allegiance to the leaders of the dark side which demanded complete loyalty. (Sound familiar?) Nor was I curious (yet) about how Emperor Elon Palpatine was able to so easily pull the strings of Don Vader to establish his evil Empire. No, my biggest question was why ol’ Ben Obi-Wan Kenobi went off to live in a cave all those years instead of fighting the good fight.
Now, though, I get it. Obi-Wan fought the good fight for a while and tried to save the galaxy, but then the masses were all convinced that the dark side was getting a bad rap from media outlets such as the Alderaan Times and CCNN (Cloud City News Network), that the Force had become just a little too woke (or ewok-y), and that places like Mos Eisley were overrun with aliens who stole low-paying jobs from native Tatooinies (or Tatooans or Tatooites or whatever) such as house bands in bars and used droid sellers.
You’ve got to know when your cause is lost or at least when to take a break from the fight and let the dust settle. I get it. In fact, as soon as I can find an affordable cave a few parsecs outside the city limits, I’m gonna hide out myself for a little while, just like Ol’ Ben.
Granted, there’s a risk that I could be in my cave so long that my memory fades. I just hope that many years from now when some annoying kid in a toga drops by with my oversized Roomba that I don’t say something stupid like, “I don’t seem to remember ever owning a droid.”
Unfortunately, America has become so polarized in this propaganda age of right-wing and left-wing silos and echo chambers that I may be stuck in my cave for a long, long time — like 20 Coruscant solar cycles kind of long.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going Wookie huntin’ before my light saber gets confiscated for being on the retribution list. A caveman’s gotta eat, you know.
What do you think about this?