InASense, Lost… Buffy, The Jedi Master?

This. Almost. Happened:

 

"There is no try, only do me."

 

Good old George Lucas originally wanted to name Yoda… well, I let io9 fill you in (from their list of “10 Things You Didn’t Know About The Empire Strikes Back):

Yoda was originally named Buffy. No, really. In George Lucas’ earliest outlines for the sequel, Luke meets a supernatural entity named Buffy, or Bunden Debannen. Here’s how Lucas described it:

Buffy very old — three or four thousand years. Kiber crystal in sword? Buffy shows Luke? Buffy the guardian. ‘Feel not think.'”

And Lucas concludes by saying Luke will become the chosen one, “the human Buffy.” In later drafts, he thought of Yoda as a kind of small frog, and Yoda had a full name: Minch Yoda. In the earliest script draft, Minch has the immortal line: “Skywalker. Skywalker. And why do you come to walk my sky, with the sword of a Jedi knight? … I remember another Skywalker.”

Yikes.  The guy that three years later would bring you this, could have preemptively brought you the above image.

I know, I know.  It wouldn’t have worked out like that, but a guy can daydream and pretend he’s a Jedi, right?

(SIDENOTE: While Photoshopping Sarah Michelle Gellar into Dagobah, I couldn’t help but realize I should Photoshop girls more often.  They’re more fun than Mike Rowe .)

JusWondering… Criteria To Be A Child Of The 80’s

First off, let me begin by saying this:

Fuck those You might be a Child of the 80’s if lists.

Now that that’s out of my system, let me explain why I feel that way: they’re pretentious.  All they contain are some moron’s notion of nostalgia.  They’re collections of random “a-ha! remember this!” recollections.  All puff.  No fact.

So today, I shall set out to empirically define what makes someone a Child of the 80’s, and it’s simple.

If you saw this movie at the theater on its first run:

empire_strikes_back_ver1

And you didn’t see this movie on its first run:

Then

you are

a Child of the 80’s.

If you were born between Empire Strikes Back and Back to the Future, or in the Back-to-Back Time Frame, you might believe you’re a Child of the 80’s because you remember crap on those stupid lists, but believe me, you’re not.

I might give you seeing second run E.T. or first run Return of the Jedi at the theater as a marker, but it’s doubtful you remember it.  I know that I saw The Muppet Movie, and I knew its music courtesy of a record we had as kids, but I don’t recall the experience.  This is why I’m not a Child of the 70’s.

Now just as sure as those born between the original releases of Jaws and Empire Strikes Back (The Jaw Strike Time Frame) are certified 80’s Children,  those born between Back to the Future and Home Alone (The Future Doesn’t Bode Well For Macaulay Culkin Time Frame) are Children of the 90’s.

So what does that make those born in The Back-to-Back Time Frame?

"Children of the PG-13's"

Happy (Geeky) Find… Turk As Lando? Yes, Please!

On last night’s Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (btw… can’t wait for Conan’s return June 1st!), Scrubs’ Donald Faison stopped by to promote his new film, Next Day Air, but who cares about that!  He has an even better idea for a new movie…

Via Star Wars Blog:

It’d be The Chronicles of Lando Calrissian starring Donald Faison. I’d be Lando. And it would be before he lost the Millennium Falcon to Han Soloin that Sabacc game. And we would be cruising across the galaxy in the Falcon gettin’ chicks, drinking ale. And the hair would be phenomenal! I’d have to wear a wig or what we could do is just shave my head for back in the day when Lando used to shave his head. He’d have a whole new crew. It would be before Episode IV. So Episode 3.5 or 3.6.

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BONUS STAR WARS NERDINESS: I thought of this idea a day or so ago for some reason… thank Jedis somebody else already made it, because I’m far too lazy.  I only wish it was made to Alien Ant Farm’s version of Smooth Criminal rather than Michael Jackson’s, as the original runs a little long, but hey… M’Beg’gers can’t be Chewies.

Drunken Recollection… The Empire Snuggies Back

In the middle of the night, a strange cough – that sounded distinctly male – startled me awake.  I was passed out in a queen-size bed with my cousin Steve.  We were in a hotel in New York City recovering from a long day of travelling and a longer night of drinking. 

…And we were each wearing a Snuggie.

 

EPISODE V
THE EMPIRE SNUGGIES BACK

The pub crawl on which the trip was focused was starting at noon.  It was ten when we started moving.  Steve kept mentioning how well he felt; I kept quiet about how much I was not.  We had set our sights on getting back to East Village by noon, but our first mission was to stop at the store to buy a vital item.

Steve called them safety pins; I referred to them as diaper pins.  Steve thought we could find them at Staples; I thought that was funny.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if they were still made.  Was there a need for diaper pins anymore?  (Safety pins?  Maybe.)  And why did we need them?  We each had grown fond of our Snuggies and didn’t want to ruin them.  (Oh, and we ended up finding some at Walgreen’s.  They weren’t by the baby supplies, but amazingly, condoms were.  Hmm.)

We had a plan to carry the three Snuggies we possessed in a backpack, and to don them as required (the third was Mike’s – another friend that was coming in from DC for his birthday).  It was New York though, and we probably could have worn them the entire way from Midtown, but… well, I don’t have a clever excuse.  I guess we weren’t 100% convinced the Snuggie Pub Crawl was real, and didn’t want to be left out in the cold heat (it was such a nice day… 70+ degrees).

Our first stop was the sign-up location.  We had purchased four tickets in advance (even though we thought it might not be real we used credit card information on the web… go figure), and on the train ride over, Steve verified the first bar stop on those four tickets.  When we arrived at the sign-up, Steve checked his pockets.

“I have some bad news.”  Apparently, somewhere between checking them on the subway and walking to this bar, the printed up sheets fell out and blew away.  We weighed our options.  We thought of alternatives.  They guy told us we needed tickets, and we didn’t want to have to purchase them again.  Luckily, he accepted viewing the receipts on my iPhone, gave us four tickets and four cups (Tim from Episode IV would be also joining us), and we arrived at our first official spot:

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Now properly attired in our blankets with sleeves and with full crew in tow, the drinking began.  The three of them were off in a mad dash, but I was limping.  Mike put it best:

The days that start off slow very often end in a hurry.

Now I’ll let some pictures do the talking.

img_0056img_0057img_0061img_0063img_0065

Needless to say – some drinks were poured, some drinks were spilled, some conversation was had, and the Yankees got blown out by the Indians!  All-in-all, the crawl was a success.  But the night was not yet finished…

———————————————————————–

Over the course of the day, I had received information about a secret place.  The specifications were these:

  • It was a hot dog joint in Manhattan.
  • This hot dog joint had a “secret bar” located within it.
  • To access this “secret bar” you had to enter a phone booth and pick up the receiver to enter.
  • The location I was texted stated: 113 St Marks Pl

Here’s where my hubris caused an issue (and maybe drinking… maybe).  I thought I understood the lay the island, and I took the location to mean “113 St. @ Marks Place”… not what it said.  And the little torn brochure map I carried with me cut off around 110 St. at the the top, so how could I be wrong?  Birthday boy Mike passed out at Tim’s place (near East Village), and Steve, Tim, and I made our drunken way out to the fictional 113 St. and Marks Place.

The taxi driver didn’t even correct us, and brought us to 113 St. and Broadway, way up on the west end.  As I approached the waterfront, I stumbled into a closing bakery.

“Excuse me, do you know where Marks Place is?”

The confused baker answered, “He probably lives down by the river.”

As we brewed and stewed and reviewed my mistake, something caught my eye down the road.  It wasn’t a wasted trip after all!  This is where we had a late night burger before returning to home base (to pass out in our dirty Snuggies in a queen-size bed):

img_0068

"Doo doo doo doo, doo doo-doo-doo..." - Suzanne Vega / "Tippy toes, tippy toes, tippy toes!" - George Costanza