If Star Wars were like Battlestar…

… Empire would end a bit like this.

Luke disembarks on the rebel command ship only to face a firing squad. He went AWOL in wartime to pursue a spiritual quest, handed his fighter to the enemy, and then gave the co-ordinates of the fleet to a known imperial collaborator.

Leia saves him by pointing out that executing the hero who blew up the Death Star would smash the morale of the rebel fleet. Mon Mothma relents and allows him a proper court martial.

Half the jury see Luke as a kind of messiah, half want him pushed out an airlock. Tensions within the fleet threaten to tear the rebellion apart. Just as sentence is about to be passed the empire attacks.

Luke manages to redeem himself by saving the fleet. Mon Mothma agrees to spare him on the condition that he stand down as Rogue Leader.

Meanwhile, everyone suspects Lando sold them out to the empire. Nobody suspects the true culprit, Threepio, who fell for the imperial propaganda line that droids would be granted citizenship under the empire’s rule. Artoo wipes Threepio’s memory to protect him.

There is no proper conclusion, and a bunch of intriguing mysterious stuff happens which is never properly explained.

The end.

Friends: The Reunion

A lot of Friends fans hope for a reunion. I don’t.

Can you picture it?

Joey moved to Hollywood and became the star of a new sitcom. Sadly, everyone hated the show and it got canned before its first season was done. He wound up moving back in with his parents, who still hate one another. Joey doesn’t mind, though, so long as he gets an Xbox One Kinect for Christmas. He’s baffled that women now find it sleazy when he tries out his classic pick-up line. The problem, obviously, is that his pick-up line has gotten stale, so he goes in search of another.

His buddy Chandler tried to start his own advertising business around 2005. Chandler accepted a loan he knew he’d never be able to pay off, but he figured things would work themselves out. Then he promptly lost everything in the GFC and hit the bottle pretty hard.

Chandler and Joey try to relaunch their careers with a series of crowd-funded comedy shorts. Problem is, hardly anybody in the twenty-first century finds Chandler’s homophobia or casual misogyny funny anymore, and his jokes about his love of tobacco are kind of gross. The tiny handful who do find his skits funny aren’t willing to pay for them. Realising the problem is they’ve gotten too old for this stuff, Joey tries Botox. Hilarity ensues.

Phoebe, on the other hand, shot to internet stardom as an anti-vaxxer, and is now blissfully unaware that she has become a spokesperson for the alt-right. She is politely bemused by the fact that nobody stops to question her crazy conspiracy theories or pseudo-science any more.

Monica, meanwhile, works two jobs to support her deadbeat husband and the kids, but keeps smiling even though she’s dying inside. She alternates between binge-eating and exercising until she passes out.

Ross now works as a trainee barista at Central Perk: a committee which mostly consisted of representatives from the Faculty of Business decided that the palaeontology department no longer fit with the university’s strategic plan. It turns out he is as hopeless at serving coffee as Rachel was. He is no longer on speaking terms with his son Ben.

Rachel regrets turning down the permanent position with Ralph Lauren, and now is stuck in a never-ending series of temporary contracts. She and Ross now have four children, and still haven’t decided whether they are ready to commit yet.

Gunther, meanwhile, is now a millionaire.

Literary purgatory

Perhaps there is a literary purgatory where characters from early drafts wind up. They’re sent there when they are rewritten beyond recognition, replaced, or written out entirely.

Here you’ll find Bilbo’s son Bingo Baggins as well as his friends Odo Bolger, Frodo Took, and Marmaduke Brandybuck. They dolefully gaze down upon Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. The warrior-hobbit Trotter glares enviously at Strider. It’s so unfair that they shall miss out on their adventure. All of them give the evil Treebeard a wide berth, though they are perfectly friendly to the sweet-natured imp, Gollum.

Beside them sit Hermione’s parents, who are deep in conversation with a ghostly figure called Pyrites. They wonder aloud why they lifted so cleanly from Harry’s backstory.

And oh, here are twelve-year old Ashla Starkiller and her little brother Luke. Their loving father, Mace Windu, chats with a green-skinned alien by the name of Han Solo.

It’s a strange place.

Modern political discourse

Salvete, readers.

I was walking along, and I saw a rock in my path.

It wouldn’t get out my way like a sensible rock, so I kicked it aside.

The rock slightly bruised my toe. The wound was mild, but the pain brought tears to my eyes.

I was so angry, I went out and found some more rocks and kicked them.

Again, the rocks hurt me.

Therefore, I am oppressed by rocks.

Until next time,

Valete