A Long Time Ago in an Emotionally Stunted Childhood Far, Far Away...
Luke! I am your first real attempt at sketching since the pandemic. Do or do not. There is no try. You had me, then you lost me, tiny Space Grover. I waited until May the 4th ended, so as not to offend anyone's religious sensibilities, but today it's time to discuss how Star Wars broke me (and possibly the entire latter half of Gen-X babies). No, I don't mean episodes I-III (which were released in order IV-VI), the rise of Jar Jar, or the explosion of a cinematic universe so convoluted it makes the Marvel productions look like they were written by Hemingway. I mean the unyielding tough love messages that pulsate throughout the entire Star Wars universe. The Star Wars/Death Star industrial complex was tailor-made for me. I was a wee tike when A New Hope came out and finally made everyone feel safe to go back in the water in New England (except during the months from September to April, where hypothermia is a real threat. And the giant lobsters. They're...
