Star Wars Review

Ogr81 overturned an old rotted wooden board in a garden and exposed a swarm of squirming worms, skittering silverfish and suddenly shy potato bugs. They were good for the garden, he knew, buttttttttt....
Stomp, stomp, stomp!
Having thoroughly squelched the mini underground culture, and
replacing the board, he returned to feeding the galaxies.
The Adelia-linear Spiral-arms were coming along nicely, he noticed as he aimed the hose at them, but the Climbing Falters were hopelessly entangled with wild Black-hole vines.
On the other side of a cracked angel-stone pathway, a decorative proton fountain was dry and over-run with the ghastly morose and grey of anti-matter. The Nebula garden was worse!
Suddenly he heard a voice from the chaos before the void!
"Hey you! What are you doing on my property!"
He quickly unscrewed the hose from his navel, picked up the basket of charma and figs he had knicked, and jumped over the garden wall. A farmer came running brandishing a Sears/Starbuck anti-light pitch-fork!
"And stay out! Damn hooligan!" he called after the tresspasser.
Ogr81 landed in a puddle of primordial ooze as he landed on the
other side of the wall, and the germs on his socks became sentient,
tickling his feet, until he had to take his old sneakers off as he ran through the chaos before the void.
Thinking he was safely out of harms way, he slowed his pace. Life emanated thickly from his breath as he panted.
He caught the smug sneer of the huka smoking caterpillar, and began to look suspiciously around for the reason for the sneer, when the farmer suddenly jumped out from behind a tree of irony and jammed the pitckfork against Ogr81s' abdomen.
"You're knicked!" the farmer exclaimed triumphantly. "I'll see
this one gets in front of the Emporer! you bastard no-goodnik!!"
* * * * *


Ogr81 was led shackled before the Emporer of the Force.
"Bonjour," He said flatly.
Ogr81 was unsure of proper ettiquette before someone of such
infinate omnipotence. "Hello, God, sir," he said unsuredly.
"Ah-ah-ah!" the Emporer chastised.
'O shit!' Ogr81 thought to himself. What had he done wrong!?
"A francais!" It said crossly.
"Pardon mois," he quickly apologized. "Bonjour."
God reached into a wire drum that was being spun by an angel,
where-in punishments written in crayon on stone tablets spun and
bounced. God read the punishment:
"Ogrande-un, allez a la cine es regardez 'Star Wars' es scrive un reportoire"
"O mallieur!!!"
* * * * *


Ogr81s' Obligatory Report to the Centred Omnipotent Emporer of the
Force:

I apologize for the tardiness of this report. I would have had it in earlier had it not been for unavoidable circumstances.
First off, no-one ever goes to such a forlorn area of the spiral arm when in the Milky Way, so getting there was a punishment in itself.
And when I finally found the friggin planet, the line-ups for the movie were outrageous! It took a month for me to get in!
As freak circumstances would have it, (or perhaps it was in your record of me,) I just happened to be on the planet when the first movie came out, and it made quite an impact on the denizens. But the one you have requested I review is actually called the first Star Wars. (It seems there is three trilogies, and the makers of the movies decided to start with the middle trilogy. I should point out that it is not an example of the human capacity to think non-linear, but rather a marketing ploy at best.)
I thought I had entered the wrong time era, for even the people
seemed to have stagnated in growth at first glance. The music, the
television, the clothing styles all reminded me of the time when I saw the first Star Wars movie. Had it not been for a robot with a brain the size of the planet, (which wasn't there the last time I was on earth,) I would have gone searching through time for the right Star Wars movie.
The people hadn't progressed at all culturally, as if the first movie marked the end of their last advancement, and they just kind of shimmied around on the evolutionary ladder waiting for something like the latest Star Wars movie to get up that next rung. If that is the case, then it'll be Disco for a few more decades for the sorry sods.
Anyway, I finally get to see it after an earth month of sold-out shows, and you could cut the ambience of expectation with a ginsu lazer-matic.
Buddy next to me, leaving the cram for tomorrows test behind, got drunk with his buds and was sentimentally reminiscing about when they had seen the first movie. On the other side sat a thirteen year old nerd, who sipped cola from a giant Phantom Menace cup.
There was a commercial, then somewhere between that and when
everyone started to leave, was the movie. It was really subtle, and it wasn't until the Ben Hur style chariot race I realized we were into it.
Everywhere on the screen were marketing ploys like pocks on pork. Here a computer game, there some action figure toys; Halloween costumes! cereal! cartoons! cosmetics! carpets!
All dialogue was served to sell some stock or setup some
anticipation for the next movie, not as a vehicle to move the plot
along, which is good, because the plot was lame at best. It almost
seems they try hard to keep it linear, and as the same ol', same'ol you get at any movie.
Get this: Their version of the Jedi, in all its' infinate wisdom, bets everything they have on a kid to win a race. HA! I thought it was funny they would refer to the slovenly, slack-jawed race of Jedians as the prime utilizers of the force, but to have them take such a risk because they were in such a bind was more like slap-stick than anything else.
And Yoda! Hello YODA!!! How old are you...how many millenia? And you still can't get a grasp of the English language, you mis-shapen bog newt! All knowledgable Jedi Knight my keister meester! Listen! Listen slowly and listen well. It is, "You must go," not, "Go you must!" Get a friggin translator!
No-where is there to be seen the slightest quark-crack of
three-dimensional thinking. Despite the slick graphics, everything on the screen could have been easily interpreted by something common-place on earth. The comic relief, (Chacha I think was its name) was a lose interpretation of a rastafarian lizard. The so-called Jedi headquarters was no more then a gentlemens club where they could have just as well been betting no-one could make it around the galaxy in eighty bleems
using only a cold-fusion balloon. The styles of architecture and
fashion were blurs and bytes of the most base styles found already on earth. If the first movie was any sight into the future at all, this, at best, was a hallucinagenic tour of earth.