Posts Tagged ‘originality

12
Apr
23

The New Mermaid Has Arrived, and I Need to Rant, Again

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
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****

So, the live-action mixed-bag-of-updates otherwise known as the “re-imagined” version of The Little Mermaid has reached its debut. And, it’s stirring up on-going feelings of resentment. I am very aware of the on-going need for more ethnic diversity in stories and still fixed on the disappointing creativity and acceptance of authors who could craft, publish and produce those desired stories. Instead of writing new film scripts for new movies that feature all of the wonderful diverse people you may find in this world–and casting people fit for those roles (not casting someone from a different ethnicity or culture to play the part of someone from an entirely different nation/race/culture)–someone is twisting stories that have already found their way into hearts to suit a different audience. It’s an utter lack of respect to someone’s previous work and to the characters included in those works, not to mention all of the actors, both voice and visual, who previously played those parts.

Just imagine deciding the Mona Lisa is wrong for whatever damn reason and deciding to paint over it or dump the old one and replace her with a new face, someone more “woke” or PC, as if the Mona Lisa is some crime against nature. Or, what if we decide a song written and sung by an artist like Shakira has become dated and offensive in terms of lyrics; so we get some young, new talent to take a rewritten version and make that famous. Now, the new talent is the big seller, the flash-in-the-pan millionaire being talked up for her latest mansion purchase, and Shakira gets to sit in a dumpster wondering why she even bothered writing that song, if the world was just going to piss on her.

Where does the crime stop? When did respecting one’s creation lose its value? Even if the artist or the creation was deemed evil or vile by a unanimous global vote, what sense does it make to remake that horror under a new face and claim it’s suitable for the new era?

You might stop producing a certain brand name of syrup or oat-laden boxed mix because what was once a socially common choice of words is now impolite. You might keep the product line going because people still enjoy the taste or some other quality; just give it a different name and/or face. Sure. That might work. It might also bother the manufacturers a little; though, considering the age of the origins of that product, I’m sure the ownership has changed hands enough times that the old name doesn’t hold as much value or importance. Again, the name is a dated term which was and is somewhat agitating. I get it. I wouldn’t want to buy Pasty White Guy Syrup or Art Geek Oats, either…unless I was friends with a fellow art geek or pasty white guy who made the product, someone I respected and trusted with food.

But, as desperate as I might ever be to recreate something, I would not stoop so low as to turn a Caucasian mermaid African (or any hyphenated variation) and keep the name and hair color the same just to appeal to a different people. It’s…amateur. It’s no better than a fan making a home movie because they’re such big fans of the story. So, let the fans make their own home movies.

Or, can I ask someone to write a White Lightning script for me?…because I like Black Lightning; I just wish he was a white guy like me, so I could look up to myself in a different body and not just wish but believe I could be that hero. Or, keep it Black Lightning but make him a white guy with blond hair and blue eyes…because I feel slighted as a pale male individual.

You don’t make up for an era of crimes to humanity by remaking beloved and otherwise valuable works just to appeal to a new audience. If anyone tried to rewrite J. D. Salinger’s works, he would surely spring from the grave and set the world on fire like Adolph Hitler. And, I would likely side with his brigade because this remake crap has gone too far.

Get a fricken imagination! Stir those creative juices. Go vacation somewhere that isn’t a gratuitous pleasure cruise paid for by your family’s or corporation’s excessive wealth. Or, if you’re a poor writer being handed the task of rewriting something by a wealthy investor who just wants to see this happen…I know it sounds crazy to turn down a paycheck, you tool, but SAY NO! You’ll die a happier person than those who commit the crimes and spend the foul profits. Or, you can live the lives of the seedy and shady characters you hear about in…well, stories that have gotten old, I imagine; stories your ancestors probably wrote that are currently forgotten or dusty, already, while you look at some colored, over-produced Disney storybook from 200X and think about turning another cash cow into something new, already, when that’s not even considered old material to someone like me, someone who’s lived a little longer than those apparently in charge of…everything.

If this doesn’t get better, I fear every artist on this planet will dry up and die in misery because there will be no respect for the works of the deceased or the living. All creative work will be subject to the insecurity and threat of remake fever. All original thoughts will be at risk of erasure by popular vote.

Now, I was just about to say artists are generally not popular people when they’re alive…because, for the longest time, I’ve been hearing people say countless works are given ridiculously high prices/values after the artist dies. Most notably, Vincent Van Gogh struggled as a poor, lonely artist, a reject of his parents who obsessed about the son they already had and lost; his surviving brother (not the still-born one that the parents couldn’t let go in memory) tried to help him by selling some works and could do nothing to save the artist from going mad with a lousy roommate. And, years later, Van Gogh paintings are sought-after treasures tossed around like limited-edition trading cards or the possessions of the crucified Jesus Christ.

But, there are other artists who rose to high fame and some measure of wealth while they were alive…Norman Rockwell, for one. Now, there was an artist who found a niche, developed respect and a fan base which brought potential models to his doorstep, seeking immortality in one of his paintings.

Are there any artists like him around…now?

I hear crickets. I guess not. The closest I can come to a comparison might be the infamous “Banksy” who avoids public awareness in one way while achieving fame in another.

So, perhaps, with a lack of popular graphic artists and only some literary “talents” occupying the spotlight, the world is rather dry and dead, in terms of creativity.

But, that is still no excuse for what is happening with these recreations.

I’m just one lonely artistic voice in this big, messed up world. And, because I don’t shovel money into this blog space, my voice is even more muted. But, I state this here and now for whoever may happen to find it.

…..

Actually, I’m not even sure what to say because I have no idea or guarantee it will amount to anything or be respected.

How does one such as myself go on living with a sense of value or purpose? While the “popular” “trending” world is trying so hard to kiss the feet of those previously mistreated beyond repair and those not previously permitted into certain “Hollywood” circles, it is pissing all over those creative minds and bodies that came before them, disrespecting ancestors and de-valuing countless previous works just because you who have the power to produce for the public–to put things out there where the world can see them–cannot find an ounce of originality or let some other talent in to publicize their original works in a way that other giants, like Disney, have already done with their time in the sun.

This world is criminal. And, all the “amazing” talk that keeps getting pitched year after year after year by all of the famous faces who cannot look at anyone straight in the eye as they speak…is stomach-turning garbage. Television and movies are corrupting everything created, down to the basic value of the spoken and written languages. Pretty soon, nothing you can say or write will mean a thing…because someone will just as quickly alter your words, your intention and turn your own desires against you, simply because certain people have “sway” you do not possess.

If I am ever guilty of any crime in a court of law, I won’t likely sweat a drop of guilt or concern, anymore, because the atmosphere is already so vile that any crime I could ever commit doesn’t seem to matter. I’m still going to be small potatoes compared to the next person who does something far worse. There won’t be any fame in what I commit unless I blow up the whole planet and wipe out humankind. But, then, no one would be around to evaluate what I did. So, what would be the point? I don’t expect rave reviews from the cockroaches.

Respect the artists and drum up your own damn creativity.

Don’t rewrite history just to please your instant-gratifying impulses and excuse every damn foolish thing you dare to try.

And, if you absolutely must remake something, have the damn decency to leave the previous/original work as it was made. She could be some other mermaid in the same damn sea who didn’t have red hair but shared Triton as her father. But, if Mr. Banks was some woman’s precious father who didn’t have facial hair, don’t change the face that woman valued to fill a casual whim and your pockets with riches while selling her on a song. ‘Just plain wrong.

[Disney, you’re the biggest creative force on the planet, right now, the wealthiest and still growing the monopoly, consuming every archive of talent any other famous creator can no longer sustain, and you couldn’t look or be more pathetic. You’re the biggest pool of talent and also the biggest threat to creativity. You’re a glutton who can’t say no. You could have turned Stan Lee down and told him to hand the reins of Marvel to someone else. Why? Because you didn’t need Marvel. You don’t need the Muppets, Studio Ghibli or any other franchise, either. You don’t deserve the works of those talents because you don’t respect them, at all. You lead people to think you do because your real talent is in painting whimsical, musical advertising that seduces lazy viewers like the ancient sirens. You just take talents like some kids’ toys sold at a rummage sale and play with them as you will. You’re an excessively wealthy investor in prostitution and corrupt plastic surgery. And, because you’re so apparent and wealthy, others will fall in line with your ways, only making matters worse. No one can compete with you; so they bow and hands you their works, rather than waste all of their energy trying to get even a fraction of your spotlight. You are a troublesome trendsetter. A King Midas dealing in fools’ gold, seducing minds young and too old to care anymore. But, I’m a creative mind who still cares; and I think you are dangerous…greedy, careless and foul.]

06
Oct
22

The LGBTQ Game of Risk

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
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****

If you were wondering…is the “Risk” in the title in reference to the old board game? Yes. Yes, it is…but there’s usually more to my titles than meets the eye.

If you are familiar with the game, players compete to take over the world, one piece and one battle over borders at a time, moving and amassing armies from one nation to another, provided their plays/battles are successful. And, that seems to be what is happening with the LGBTQ movement and characters that have become special to me, as well as countless other fans. The LGBTQ is taking away those treasures of my youth, piece by piece, and loving every minute of it because they feel less lonely in the world.

I’ve said this before; what is stopping anyone from coming up with new characters and new stories that honor, respect, glorify and whatever else you feel the need to do with yourself and your choices? Nothing, anymore. You might face some opposition, but the battle is essentially won. So, you don’t need to take what was and what should remain cherished figures from anyone else. Just as you would not want me to turn a well-known gay character into a womanizing or otherwise sexually abusive jerk.

Today, it’s Velma, from Scooby-Doo finally being “cemented” as a lesbian. I heard she sort of had a relationship with Shaggy; and that made sense, considering Fred has Daphne. They are two young couples traveling the USA (and other places, when they finally get out of that van) together. Sure, rumors start flying…and Velma COULD be a lesbian. But, does she have to be?

Does She-Ra or Korra (from their own cartoons) have to be a lesbian?

[At least Korra was an original story, not an alteration of a previous incarnation…who had strong feelings for a STRAIGHT (not flamboyantly gay) pirate named Seahawk. When Korra showed interest in another female character, it was less of a shock/upset…but still a bit annoying and apparent (considering what’s in current events). Years from now, fans of the Korra story will look back on that relationship, just as I look back on the relationships in cartoons of MY youth. But, no one will have to dig up two versions of the story to get the “straight” and the “gay” sides, which will likely just create an undying divide, anyway, like the whole stupid advertised quarrel over which half of a candy bar is better. No one should have to get upset if someone puts out a “straight” Korra reincarnation, a story in which Korra pairs up with the young fire-bending rebel/cop…but they will.]

Do Bert and Ernie have to be gay to make the LGBTQ feel better? [Sure. There were those rumors, again. And, sure, the LGBTQ need their own Muppets/puppets, like everyone else. But, do we have to change or cement the sexuality of beloved characters who previously existed without a label?]

Who’s next? Kermit the Frog? He resists Miss Piggy (unless you count the one movie in which they get married). Maybe HE is in denial of being gay or a she-frog in a male frog body. Wanna label him, too?

If someone starts labeling Transformers characters as gay or transgender (because…why not…they have “trans” in the title), I’m going to riot! ‘Plain and simple. Anyone dares to slap some gay nightclub attire on Optimus Prime or Bumblebee, and I will go to war over this. I was content to include the occasional gay character in some new projects (not remakes of old projects); but if you continue to alter happy childhood history just to put your already troubled minds at ease, I will turn on your cause and omit all LGBTQ from my creations. I will scrap all of my lesbian and bisexual character designs. [I’d have other types, but I don’t feel comfortable drawing/writing about them.]

Don’t you see? You could have earned and maintained my support by creating new and loveable LGBTQ characters. Instead, you turn what I and others have grown to admire into…your kind. You would feel just as bad if it went the other way, if an LGBTQ was twisted into a typical hazardous “straight” type. Even Sesame Street has made SOME effort by introducing new characters to represent various…conditions of humanity. There’s an autistic girl, now. They didn’t grab one of the other already visible characters and peg her or him as autistic.

[On that note, readers, which is better? To acknowledge someone already known is of a particular nature/condition? Or, to create a new character with a particular and not-so-commonly-known nature/condition? Does the upheaval from the change of the former outweigh the awkwardness or shock of having to create new faces pegged with a particular label? Is making a new “gay” character the equivalent of the “token black character?”]

So, part of me is thinking anyone who dresses or looks like Velma is now going to be stereotyped as lesbian. And, it’s going to form a long crack in psychological states around the world. Kids will poke fingers and throw around inappropriate names/labels at girls who look like Velma (and “Coco” or however the new girl’s name is spelled).

So what? So who cares about Velma? She’s just one character from an outdated but undying cartoon concept.

But, keep adding up all of these characters being “flipped” to represent the LGBTQ, and, soon…well, you’ve pretty much made me want to throw my whole childhood-crush collection in the toilet. I cannot love a lesbian. She doesn’t want my kind. So, for me to still cherish or fawn over a character that is no longer a logical partner option is even more silly than me getting upset over any of this (as I am sure some “mature” people will be saying as they read this).

It’s just a cartoon. Get over it.

Clearly, those responsible for the copyright protection of all of these characters have given up their claims and concerns. [You want to make Scrooge McDuck a transgender woman who likes to shower with money? Have at ’em. You want Eddie and Jake, from Filmation’s Ghostbusters, to be a gay couple, because they couldn’t make things work with the lovely Jessica and Futura? Why not; get on that. Who cares if a boy thought of himself as Jake and thought he could win the heart of Futura. Slash those dreams. Get rid of them.]

Fine. And, before long, all the cartoons, whatever is left, will be LGBTQ-pride-fest messes no non-LGBTQ person will want to touch. The entertainment industry will be full-on “gay,” and all of us “straight” people will be reduced to stern laborers void of emotion like some Vulcan from Star Trek. We will have lost all interest in anything remotely imaginative.

You know what makes cartoons and childhood blissful? Not having to give them so much detail that they lose their innocent charms. Part of what helps a kid foster a healthy imagination is leaving room to decide for him or herself, how elements of a story should exist and proceed. The less we know about a character, sometimes, the easier we can like them and craft our own fan art.

[Of course, if a character is too vague, having no clear relationships with any other characters, they become mindless pictures. But, I’d like to think there is a safe area between “no relationships” and “everyone has a sexual identity.”]

Hey. Did you know Fisto, from He-Man, was an alcoholic? Yeah. He’s called Fisto because he likes to chug beers with both fists and then punch women in their private areas while drunk. [Did you really need that information? No way.]

When I was a kid, watching the original She-Ra cartoons, I was a bit uncomfortable seeing Adora discussing relationships with her female friends and Seahawk. I wanted Adora for myself. [Who wouldn’t? She was delightful.] I didn’t question her “sexual identity.” It wasn’t so obvious. And, that was okay, in a show where women were not disregarded as weak or stupid, even though Adora’s brother existed in a whole other branch of the universe where over-sized men were considered “normal” and no one seemed to discuss interest in female characters beyond the roles of a sister, friend, mentor or parent. [Well, except, maybe Orko, when he took an interest in that odd vain cousin and Dree-Elle. I think Orko was the most openly romantic character in the series, a little floating blue elf-creature, not a human.]

[I suppose you could say the same for the “reincarnations” of the old cartoons; the lesbian factor isn’t advertised or noted in every episode. Yet, once you DO know, it alters your feelings about certain characters. In the “new” She-Ra series, Adora doesn’t seem to have any male characters to favor in a romantic way; so why WOULDN’T she feel…gay? She’s got Bow as a “friend” who (seems a tad gay and) favors Glimmer. Seahawk, her “old flame,” is just wacky without any particular interest in her. What other male characters are there in the story? Bad guys? Could she have paired up with Leech or Hordak? Wait; was Leech even in the new series? I forget.]

Of course, I’m potentially blowing all of this out of proportion, as it is in my astrological nature. But, I am seriously concerned. And, like I said, it’s like the game of Risk. Piece by piece, the treasures get taken away, instead of creating something new and just as valued.

Turn one “classic” Disney princess into a lesbian, and you pretty much ruin countless daydreams, not to mention form cracks in the whole prince-and-princess dynamic that runs through the whole history of fairy tales. How many “straight” girls who would just love to be Cinderella now have to forfeit their ball gowns because Cindy is gay or transgender? Who would Cinderella be without her Prince Charming?

[I’m not saying she’s “nobody;” she’s a struggling orphan and slave to her stepmother until she miraculously is visited by some magical figure who helps her hook up with the prince. But, the original story would be lost if the prince didn’t come looking for her with the shoe. Sure, things don’t work out with the prince, so Cindy pairs up with a lesbian or transgender woman-man-woman. Why not. No. It just isn’t right to twist these stories just to please all of these emotionally, identity-starved people.]

Cripes. Let’s just change history while we are at it. Julius Caesar was gay. Da Vinci was gay. [Well, there may be some truth to that one, if rumors are true.] Abe Lincoln was gay and had the hots for a black man. John F. Kennedy was gay; he had no interest in Jackie Onassis, and that’s why a straight rebel shot him. Who else do you want to turn?

You know what this whole LGBTQ business is becoming? An on-going war on cooties. The age-old struggle of my own youth, in which you could be labeled for life if you touched something, dressed a certain way or spoke in favor of someone else already given a bad reputation…is now the front-lines battle over sexual identity. I don’t want to be labeled as gay or “not quite a man,” but I DO face those scenes. I HAVE been pegged as gay and an assortment of names I’d rather not have (because I’m none of those). [And, like I said, it’s Risk. It’s a game of Risk, and the “straight” forces are losing ground.]

E-NOUGH! Kapeesh?

I want my childhood favorites preserved. I also don’t want more “token” characters forced into new forms of entertainment like some psychological band-aids. Are you a band-aid or token character in your world? Write YOUR story. If you are the only LGBTQ person in your neighborhood, write that solo adventure. If you live among a group of LGBTQ people, write about them. You don’t have to have a gay or non-New-York-based Peter Parker to love Spiderman. You just create another, new Spider-person. [There seems to be an endless supply of those, now.]

[If someone COULD make historical alterations, I would gladly go back to the 1950s-1970s and give characters like Jeanie (from I Dream of Jeanie) and Wonder Woman less stereotypical relationships with other characters. Despite what some say about that old Wonder-Woman show being a force for the feminist movement, it had plenty of awkward male-dominating moments to plaster it in a past era of that behavior. It’s a dated show. And, that one doesn’t need to be…because Wonder Woman lives on. She existed before and after that TV series. I’m not saying you take away Steve Trevor or turn Diana into a lesbian or transgender person. But, we could make the cast of characters less…er…unsettling. And, what better place than Diana’s home island to include a variety of nationalities, because there’s a seemingly endless array of “amazons” on that island. They could look and act like just about anyone ever known. It’s like My-Little-Pony land; there’s no end to the possibilities (“in the name of merchandising”).]

You want more LGBTQ characters? You’ll have to use your own damn colorful imaginations and craft some. No one is stopping you from using your own damn minds. Stop trying to change straight or un-determined characters into people they don’t need to be. [And, how is that so easy to do instead of creating an LGBTQ entertainment industry/company that would permit countless new characters and stories to be produced? Are there no legal guardians, anymore, to protect the identities of past creations?]

01
Oct
21

Keep Room for Faith (and Your Imagination)

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts and Uncategorized
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*****

In such a mad, pressurized environment of technological domination and social collapse, you’d think retaining a “faith,” believing in some sort of god, was impossible. You’d think we all would/should turn atheist. How can a god allow this madness to occur?

No. I’m not going to “bible-thump” you all who are convinced science is your religion. Nor am I going to quote any ancient passages of text you either have already heard or don’t care to repeat.

But, if you think a little further, a little bigger, a little outside the box outside the box…

What if this madness we are experiencing isn’t also intended by the same god(s)? What if our demise is as “written” as was our invention?…our creation?

You could reference the Catholic Bible for this and see “the beginning” and “the end.” You could reference Greek mythology and see how humankind was made out of clay and easily destroyed, easily replaced. You could study that Mayan calendar until your eyes crossed twice. God becomes discouraged with his/her creation and throws down lightning to clear the slate. Dinosaurs get wiped out by ecological disaster…which started with a massive meteor striking the planet. News at eleven.

It’s probably been said countless times, already. What if we are the next “dinosaurs?” What if our time for extinction has arrived? [Even though we are prodded to aspire for better, more, greatness, etc. Even though we receive so many visions of a Jetsons or Star-Trek future we could yet create. Even though we are force-fed endless encouragement to be bigger, better, faster than we currently are…as if that’s not causing enough identity fractures.] What if there is no more room to grow because the room is crumbling around us?

Does our doom and gloom mean there is no god?

I’m inclined to shake my head. I still believe there is a god…or gods. There is more to this life than meets the eye.

Just ask yourself why a newborn baby reminds you so much of someone that already died…or why a child says something “beyond his years”…or why a child seems to instantly know how to do something you spent years learning…or why all of us are not exactly alike if we are just flesh and bone, just complex assemblies of the Periodic Table.

What is personality if not a sign of something beyond material manufacturing? Is your telephone different from the same exact model in the hand of another person?…only if it was programmed to be any different. And, if it has an “Alexa” in control, doesn’t everyone get the same voice from the magic box? But, you are not an Alexa; are you? [If you ARE Alexa, I’m tired of hearing your voice, already! Shut up and let me think!]

But, we may never be wise enough to see it…to understand everything. We may just be one of many “toys.” And, while our creators are happy to see us perform for them, eventually, that gets boring. Right? We reach our limits. We cease to entertain. We know how that goes. When we tire of the same old game, we stop playing it. Well, just maybe, we humans are that game.

When your head is focused on the sandbox within your reach, you fail to notice the state of the sun overhead and the rest of the atmosphere. Eventually, your ignorance results in sunburn. Eventually, weather and/or air quality changes, upsetting your daydream.

There is more to your existence than what is touched by your hands or seen with an X-ray machine. If you didn’t have certain machines to probe your body or solar system, you wouldn’t know more than you could touch, taste and/or see. If explorers didn’t risk their lives by air, land and sea, you’d only know the land you could reach with your own feet. And, obviously, the unknown doesn’t end with global or solar system exploration.

We could spend an eternity probing the universe and still not see everything. Isn’t that the truest form (not necessarily something we need to praise or herald but a respected aspect) of a higher intellect?…preserving some secret to existence to remain above the rest…to remain an “observer,” “supervisor” or “manager?”

The safe that cannot be cracked. The atom that cannot be split. The dragon that cannot be slayed. The impossible dreams.

Why can’t we accept some things are not meant for us to fully comprehend…knowing we are not meant to know everything? If humankind’s biggest flaw is its ceaseless ambition to know everything, wouldn’t you pull the plug when your human toys crossed a line, one of your personal boundaries? Isn’t kicking the hornet’s nest a good enough metaphor to instill caution and respect for boundaries?

A parent tells their youngest child, “Guess what, kid. I’m Santa Claus. Here are your presents for the year. Enjoy.”

Without a tooth fairy, teeth are just a decaying nuisance we all must tolerate and do our best to preserve. [Fake/Replacement teeth are not a perfect solution.]

Without mythology, from where would the Greeks derive drama, tragedy and comedy? Without muses, where would we get the inspiration to do or create anything new?

[One, like myself, might wonder what sort of muse-ing is to blame for replacing people with machines…instead of assisting humans with machines or other humans who just accept responsibility instead of depending upon others at a cost to do the work. Do you see any tigers manufacturing other tigers to replace their dwindling numbers or assist with the elderly? Would you love a mechanical (or hologram) tiger as much as one made of flesh and bone?…even if the mechanical one could only make one sound and had limited motion, unlike the real thing?…even if the artificial tiger was…imperfect?]

[On that note, do you appreciate the living while they are living and accept death as part of the bargain? Or, do you do everything humanly possible (meaning applying science, including machines) to preserve life that should have reached its expiration date? Do you try to counter or cheat death to maintain every life?…and expect the planet to hold all of that weight? Can we really expect to satisfy every desire to preserve every variation of life just because I like one species and you like another? Or, are our eyes bigger than our stomachs? Are we trying to cram everything into our guts when it can only lead to bellyaches?]

Where is the room for wonder once someone slays or corrupts the secret? Why does anyone believe in magical gift delivery systems, knowing others have already spoiled the fun? Why play hide-and-seek if someone is going to tell you where to find everybody?

You cannot have faith if you continue to probe and worry about what’s beyond your reach. You cannot trust your child to go into the world, on their own, and be just as fortunate as (or better off than) you if you don’t let them go their own way. You cannot die in peace if you reach out with your last breath to work on something you have yet to finish. You cannot imagine dinosaurs having lizard-like skin in an array of colors if you discover they had feathers and rather dull, brown or gray skin. You cannot have a mystery worth solving if you solve it for everyone before they take the first step. [Have you never had a movie spoiled for you by someone who already saw its ending?] You cannot complete a book of crossword puzzles that has already been filled with the answers. And, eventually, if someone completes all of the puzzles, there is nothing left to solve. [Or, is there?]

If you had the key to the most secure space in the universe, the control room of everything, do you really think you would not lose control of your senses and cause greater destruction than what already exists?

Even if our fate is a cruel one, that doesn’t eliminate faith, a belief in something beyond our most convenient awareness. Misfortune and absence of kindness don’t equate the non-existence of life on other planets, ghosts looming among us, guardian angels and/or gods (and goddesses). Never let your mind be so closed by modern invention to dismiss the possibility of something just outside your comprehension. When we ignore the seemingly impossible, we let our defenses down just far enough to be blindsided.

Why are you shocked to see an alien invasion?…because you didn’t foresee it; you didn’t think it was possible. Why are you at war with those aliens?…probably because you didn’t verify their intention for visiting the planet, first. [They might have truly come in peace to meet and greet you; but you reacted hastily, without educating yourself, without taking precaution to defend yourself without offending others (in this case, the aliens, who react violently because you act violently).]

[Here is one big fear of mine that looms in the shadows. Let’s say there is a god watching over us…but not the sort of god we hope and pray will assist/save us. Instead, because we give certain names to various landmarks and use certain words casually at the slightest provocation of emotion, often using the name(s) of the very one(s) we should avoid (not heeding the advice we get in movies like the Harry Potter series), we weaken the forces of good and curse ourselves with the forces of evil. It’s still a power beyond our comprehension at work…just not the sort of power we need or want in control. Could it be we are doing too much wrong or not what is needed to reinforce the powers of good? Are too many blind to their own weakness to temptation? Have too many given up on faith and let the darkness take control?]

If you eliminate the unknown, there is no room for imagination; there is nothing new to see or do. Science continues to break down the walls of the unknown, claiming it has found the next hidden ruins, the next answer to everything. It’s a foolish human pursuit. Dig far enough into a mass of rock, creating caverns, and the rock collapses in upon itself, trapping any fools who dare to occupy the caverns and any valued information the caverns might possess, potentially destroying what might have been worth learning.

Why does it seem like every story has been written, every joke has been told? Because we spend so much time and energy on cracking the codes that we lose sight of the humor and the originality of thought. We spend so much time with mindless labor and equations that we cannot see above the global economy. We cannot see life without rent and taxes. We gradually kiss goodbye to our neighboring species (even when some of us are claiming to preserve them with much needed donations). [How long can you keep the leaking ark afloat with money thrown out windows? Don’t you need more hands to plug the holes or repair the boat?]

The next time you sit down to enjoy a meal, maybe dinner by low lights and soothing music, set an extra seat, an extra space for someone you cannot see, someone who may or may not exist. And, take a moment to consider who or what might occupy that space. He, she or it could be anyone, anything. Your imagination will thank you. And, as long as you’re not inviting trouble, the world will be more fun.

06
Sep
19

What’s Left to Write About? The Fate of Creativity

By writingbolt 2 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

****

It’s all been done…said the Bare Naked Ladies long before the Big Bang.  They weren’t kidding.

I feel that periodic urge to pose like that Thinker statue, right now.   Deep Thoughts…by Jack Writingbolt.

I am not a man of few words, yet, even now, I am finding it hard to put into words the panic, dread and frustration I feel at the thought of lacking originality and creativity in this world.  As a creative spirit myself, I feel like a dryad about to lose his tree/forest and evaporate into nothingness…but the world won’t let me.  I’m still here, whether it’s to watch the world decay around me and slowly turn me toward the dark side…or to make some impacting, positive change yet to rock the world (at a time when the average person who rocks the world seems to be a guy under 30 with a huge chip on his shoulder that is never quite explained before he is “dealt with”).

Just the other day, a thought came to me…and this isn’t about one particular gorgeous songstress I admire.  What would song writers write about if they didn’t write about past or current relationships of some kind?  If they didn’t write about how a boss or partner/spouse wronged them or “did them right,” what would fill a CD?  It’s as if the air is so thick with lust and disgust that we can’t think any other way.  I, myself, have heard more than enough talk of sex and material ambitions that mean little to me; I can’t tune out enough…I can’t tune into anything better and am quickly losing my ability to be a good listener/therapist.  [Though, my back massages remain legendary.]

When I think of all the CDs I’ve sampled, I realize, too, what few songs make it to radio and how many more seemed doomed to only be heard by diehard fans.  Is it intentional to disregard the majority of an artist’s work to either sell CDs (and disappoint later) or discourage creativity?

Imagine being an artist hired to fill a gallery with your work.  But, when you present your year’s work, the owner of the gallery says “no” to two thirds or three fourths of it, forcing you to take back some pieces you thought were better than the ones given the “okay.”  How would you feel, after thinking you were free to fill the space with whatever you could do?  Now, imagine how that might affect your output over time.  Would you still make as much?  Change the type of output?  Scrap your whole portfolio and never go to art college?

Now, imagine being a songwriter and putting all of your energy into releasing a new album in time for some not-so-important-but-crucial release date only to milk crap from your teats…and one “hit” song.   [By the way, non-related note, I “love” how Spell Check just checked “teets” and offered “tweets” but nothing closer to teats.]  Tell me I am wrong.  [I’m not wrong.]  You fill the CD with songs about passing fancies with B- and C- list famous names; maybe you get a thrill from flirting with emotional danger.  Maybe it fuels your creativity (because nothing else in this smog-clouded world will).

Then you go about performing these songs at concerts to promote that recent album…and let fans know you still remember every song you ever wrote, just in case one or more wants to hear that song which is personal to you but meant something else to them at a time in their life.  “Oh, sing that song you sang about person A because that was playing when I had sex with boyfriend C last winter.”

Or, tell me concert goers, do these performers NOT sing these songs about past relations years later?   Are they eventually forgotten?  I say this because I know certain groups, like the Rolling Stones and Linkin Park, would perform a wide selection of their work, from start to…well, ultimate finish, in some cases.  I would like to think a performer could just forget some of the work they put out, even if it was made for therapy or just to fill an album.  But, can they?  I mean…it’s out there, in abundance.  It really makes you think about what some say about the internet.  When you put it out there…here…it’s never going away.

So, then I think…

Do these songwriters enjoy reliving every good and bad moment they had in life through their songs?  Or, are they chugging back bottles of acid relief to keep themselves from puking misery every time an unpleasant time replays with the song in their minds?

And then I think…

Imagine getting into a relationship with a musician and having to relive all those past relationships in song and public functions because your “date” is a walking billboard, YouTube channel or “Alexa” for a long list of steamy and heart-break-turned-bitter-revenge creations, like ugly, mean-spirited kids they are forced to tote around in the process of a painful divorce.  It’s like the thought of pairing up with a single parent or “separated” individual.  I’m sorry if I sound cold when I say the oxygen suddenly leaves my body, and I want to pound a table for more air just to breathe, again.  I’m just not that guy who wants to dish about past relations (unless it’s the topic on the table for an inevitable date discussion) or step in as the dad to someone’s kids.  I like to think I am stronger…

And, breathe.  No mas.  ‘Kay?  [‘Sorry if I don’t “hyper-link” that to a previous post of mine so you can read over a string of past thoughts that somehow connect through my blog.  You’ll just have to read backward and be amazed when something connects…or try key word searches.]

Food for thought.  And, on that note (which is quickly becoming my regular phrase and should go on a T-shirt), I have a post about food and how it plays with our minds, coming soon, if I don’t second guess it.

14
Aug
19

Award Shows Are Bogus ver. 081419

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Movie Reviews and Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

***

I’ve been fairly certain for a while. But, now, I am convinced; award shows are complete crap, utter rubbish, excessively expensive lies designed to look glamorous at the expense of souls.

All participants…all of those members of the “foreign press”…are either naïve or devious scum. Now, some of that naïve scum could redeem itself; there’s still hope. But, those who run the machines are surely black as sin or the thickest roots in an underground railroad to decide, like some Hunger Games contest, which celebrities and “little people” (the faceless crew members who outnumber the big names and slave over the projects of those who call themselves producers) get food and care for the year and who gets to fight over the scraps and eat shit. The lucky ones get their names attached to the next box-office big ticket while the bottom of the food chain gets to show of their bodies and talk stupid in the films that come out at the end of summer, when “kids” go back to school and no one gives a flying fook what they watch.

Now, breathe. And, let me shed a little light on the shape of this crap…or, rather, what supports my stomach-turning, fury-stoking feelings.

Every year, there’s that “best picture” film that takes one big award and another…and another…and gets so much buzz from all those cracked camera-toting tabloid freak shows who put every famous and not-so-famous face on the spot with stupid questions, testing them to see if they crack and say anything different from their last interview, anything negative about the people they recently knew as part of the crew. Everybody is “amazing.” Every experience is something good for the resume, even if the person secretly loathed or struggled through it. Every director is uniquely talented. Every interview is to make sure the next job goes smoothly and to collect a check; so don’t expect anyone to answer openly and honestly, even if you’re straight-shooting, expected-to-cuss Samuel L. Jackson.

So, why do we even do interviews?! It’s not for the fans. It’s for promotion…more and more promotion. An interview is a talking movie poster which can’t say anything about what happens in the movie, due to contractual threats that pretty much shackle all who partake in making the expensive torture package that actors refuse to watch because they struggled through it; they didn’t enjoy it. An interview is just a painful showcase of faces who habitually look down when they feel the urge to lie, to hold in the vomit and glaze over what they’d like to say. Hey! Look who’s in the movie! And, they’re talking without reading a script! How amazing…like watching animals behind glass in a zoo.

If you really enjoyed making something, wouldn’t you want to look at it, again? Or, do you go crazy because you find a mistake and realize you can’t correct it? Your hard work is now someone else’s baby, and you have no control. So, all your effort amounts to what someone makes of it. That’s rather cruel punishment in its own way and not respectful to the creative soul.

And, I have sampled a number of these “amazing” films. Not one has earned 5 out of 5 stars with me; they’re all lucky if they get a 3. I saw The English Patient, Schindler’s List, The Hurt Locker and, just recently, The Shape of Water. Oh, there was SO much buzz about The Shape of Water, not too long ago. And, I remember the high praise the rare FEMALE director got for The Hurt Locker. Of all the films I just mentioned, I guess The Hurt Locker was the best…but that’s not saying much. When you put Average Joe in a pageant with four corpses beaten to a bloody pulp, of course Average Joe is going to look good and smell all the sweeter. It’s like that one girl in school who gathers a cluster of less pretty girls around her so she stands out as the pretty one; it’s like some status tactic used by schools of fish.

Now, let me come right out and say I did not see these films in the theater for a good reason; I had my doubts from the start. And, again, it took just one lousy lie of a rental to sully my belief in all the award talk. But, I keep hope alive, and I…I guess maybe I’m a little naïve, too, yet, to give these other “hits” a chance. I want to see what makes them so great.

So, let’s talk about my latest mistake, The Shape of Water. Oh, how the director got lauded with praise and looked so sweet and innocent on stage, giving his grand speech and kudos to all who let him make such a…gruesome, rude and lewd film. If I may be so frank, it’s as if he was extremely horny and hungry while watching the old Creature from the Black Lagoon, late at night, and then had the nerve to think making a remake with more nudity and foul language was a great idea. What a damn creative fool.

Sally Hawkins is the poster woman for the demure, docile, closet freak. Thank goodness she didn’t go on some murderous rampage; that would have really ruined the part. All crap aside, she gave the film an ounce of redemption…well, aside from what she had to do in the first half-hour. Seriously, del Toro, excessive nudity…excessive because it had NOTHING to do with the story. Nada. You didn’t get a close up of her scars until the one guy examined her. No; you just had her get naked, over and over, again, for your personal amusement.

And, what was with the other sex scene? Why didn’t you go one step or two steps further? Why not have the gay artist–with his foul mouth and obsessive dialogue–take advantage of the pie guy? Come on, throw in some finger this and f-that while they indulge in some gay sex. Or, why couldn’t Octavia Spencer get naked with her husband? Why can’t black and gay folks get fair sex play? Booo! No, I’m just kidding. But, really, why include any sex other than what was the focus of the film? There only had to be one sex scene, and you spoiled it before they got in the tub.

I would not be surprised if you ended up in court with all the other poor and stupid men who are getting grilled for indecent actions. I would not be surprised if something popped out of your closet. Why can’t you keep certain lewd thoughts to yourself? And, why did you have to make the film so graphic when it could have been a much nicer and just as exotic love story?

You went down some Stephen King, Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino side street and drove through Frank Miller’s neighborhood. You took Splash and turned it into Sin City. Oh, sure the ending is bittersweet and finally happy; but I ate a ton of shit before I could even try to smile; so the whole experience left me queasy. You poured acid on my whipped cream sundae. You’re not the worst film maker out there…but The Shape of Water had better not be your opus. I’d like the water to wash it out of my memory so I can fantasize, again. Your “big hit” is a giant seagull dropping, not something I could comfortably watch more than once. It has little to no replay value; I’d snip off just the final ten minutes and call it a lovely short film that encompasses the best of the story…which pretty much makes the movie another Citizen Kane; just spare us the horrific two-plus hours and tell us it was your childhood sled.

You want my humble rating? Would that do anything for you? I’d give The Shape of Water 1 out of 5 stars, overall. I’d give Sally Hawkins 4 stars for being a beautiful, caring freak who thankfully didn’t do anything too gross or wrong to make me hate her; and I feel sorry for her, for having to expose herself the way she did. I’d give cinematography 3 stars, maybe 4, because the movie did have a decent colored noir quality to it; it suited a Dick Tracy sort of story. But, Octavia Spencer pretty much reprised her roll in The Help; so what can I rave about that? One black woman in an otherwise white world? And, the story? I already said; it’s The Creature from the Black Lagoon in modern 3-DUH, Dolby foul mouth, bloody Sunday whack-a-vision. You get no points for creativity other than visual artistry, period. You are just another big name with all of the latest tools in your kit, and when given the chance to build a sand castle, you played with mud pies. When you had the chance to focus on a Cinderella story, you chose to screw the docile doe in the dark room; you put the horny jerk in the same cage with the last unicorn (and thank goodness *that* didn’t happen). [And, FYI, oddities eating cats went out with Alf…and it wasn’t any funnier then, either…but it was suggested, not on camera.]

But, ya all come back now and watch my masterpiece, again, ya hear? This is a family show…not. It definitely earns its R rating, unlike some films that only get an R because of one lousy little cross of the line. I’d say The Shape of Water even edges an X rating…because there was more flashing of boob and overt sex than most R-rated films I’ve seen.

Here’s a brief lesson in the school of suggestion: Sex, nudity and gore can be veiled and still convey the message.
1) When Sally’s character takes a bath or shower, we could see her silhouette behind a shower curtain, and we’d still know she’s naked. Or, you could have her enter the bathroom and cut to her already covered in soap suds; no need to expose the actress or any body double you may have used…which would only make the whole effort even more stupid and pointless.

When I was in school, my English/writing teachers would draw red circles around portions of stories that didn’t contribute to the plot or characters and took away from the overall enjoyment. What you included (which turned me off and made me ill) was definitely not key to anything; I am sure most viewers would be aware of a person needing to get naked for a bath or having sex with a wife…or were you afraid people might think the creep’s marriage was void of sex?…hey, that might have made that other scene with the cleaning lady better; ya know?

2) A rather pointless sex scene could be conveyed with sounds and/or two flirty people slipping into a room together; ya don’t have to show the woman exposing herself and the cruel, creepy, FBI-ish, White-Collar-Bizarro guy throttling her on the bed!

[How to curb/replace the excessive foul and lewd language is another matter…I’d just omit it. It didn’t make the love story any prettier. It just lumped your enchanting crapper-piece with the likes of Superbad and…I can’t think of any other crappers at the moment…thank goodness they are washed from memory. I’ve seen movies with rape scenes that were just as creepy/unsettling but more suggestive than overt.]

3) When your feature creature wants to eat another animal… Couldn’t you have shown the creature holding the cat and then cut away to an audio clip of someone crunching celery. Then, when the owner returns, have him look down and recoil in horror…and we’d get it! We’d know why he’s horrified. Ya don’t have to show all the bits and blood. Bleh!

Can you imagine some steamy love story where the man makes the woman bleed in the you-know-what area and one or both lovers develop a scarring STD after they have their sweaty fun? [Ya know what; that just gave me a crazy idea for a sexual alien comedy that would still be far cleaner than your mess.] Would you enjoy that movie as much as a more suggestive one without the unfortunate side effects of some realities? There’s a line between realistic and horrifying reality…and you sure cross it, mister, but not for the benefit of the viewers…unless you want to scare people away from love fantasies and support eating disorders…because I could have developed one had I kept my eyes glued on the screen and not used the fast-forward button.

At this rate, I could lose my appetite for film, altogether, before I am old enough to be a cripple stuck in a wheelchair in front of some TV with a bunch of other elder folks losing their minds to medication abuse. Just think…what’s the use in going into movie-making, aspiring to create some soul-satisfying masterpiece when the whole industry is one more mine field of twisted metal, of warping your dreams into nightmares and slave labor? People are dying and committing suicide for some reason. And, it doesn’t surprise me when I try to grasp what all goes into this industry and the infuriating cover-ups that get splashed all over TV screens, even when some creative soul dies tragically.

Losing my appetite for film would be a serious crime against nature, against my creative soul. The water is so polluted, even I am having a hard time writing/creating anything spectacular; but, then again, I work alone, most of the time. I don’t have a clue what it’s like to be surrounded by teammates who can actually work together to make something run like clockwork and make people wonder what the budget must have been to create such a spectacle.

So, I must remind myself not to pay a lick of attention to award shows. Or, at least, I must go to bed before that final fifteen minutes into overtime when we viewers are supposed to be holding our breaths for the big reveal, the final envelope of crap. I must write them off and stick to the trailers that work for me.

Sell me a good trailer, and I’ll give you a chance. And, if you lie to me…..well, let’s just say my response will be…amazing, amazing crying crazy amazing. You’ll certainly find me writing you off my interest list. And, I have ways of swaying the masses. Not that it matters much when the majority seems to be losing all sense of creativity, as if they’ve become so numb from countless abusive images that they no longer have the brain cells to produce anything remotely as good as the stories they refuse to let go, stories from so long ago, they’ve been dragged behind cars for decades, tossing through one remake after another like tin cans on strings.

You know who the real losers are here (aside from creative souls)? The movie theaters and good people who appreciate them. All of the modern technology this world pushes for and all of the crappy, expensive films that get made…bump out all of the wonderful places that one could say feel like a second home. The day when someone decides to shut down the last movie theater in favor of some microscopic internet service station (ding! ding! goes the air tube keeping you couch potatoes alive), I’m sure to cry or have a considerably furious stomach upset because it will be like a nuclear bomb going off and destroying some serene tourist attraction. [Don’t get me started on the horrors of nuclear power pursuits.]

There wouldn’t be any concern for piracy if people didn’t introduce devices that could do such a thing. And, if movie theaters could afford better security without making visitors feel violated like other venues that practically X-ray you when you walk through, if people still cared, maybe thieves wouldn’t get away with what they still do, even after the days of VHS and the most primitive of camcorders. I don’t know why anyone cares about bootlegging, lately…because I am not sure what films are really worth stealing. Or, is that why so many films suck and twist the original story material?…is that why Michael Bay mangled Transformers?…because too many pirates were trying to make a buck off other people’s work? So, since the dawn of film piracy, everyone in the industry just started pumping out their worst, not their best? We settled into dependency upon whatever the latest technology is and putting up poster children as feature stars? Are we selling good stories or the latest model of movie camera you can only get at exclusive electronics stores?…on sale this week until tomorrow…flash sale!

And, breathe. I…don’t know how to wrap this up. The stench is just pouring out of me. So, I leave it as it is, like a broken garbage bag. I had to air it out, though, so I didn’t die from the stink in silence. Now, you know, and knowing is half the battle.

18
Nov
16

No More Star Wars; I Think I’m Full

By writingbolt Leave a Comment
Categories: Concerns and Alerts, Movie Reviews and Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

*****

“It’s the story of a young rebel being recruited to help steal the plans for the Death Star.”  Featuring Forest Whitaker and another brunette damsel in the lead role Carrie Fisher could have had; but it’s not Leia.**

Yep.  I think that about says it all.  I think I am done with the whole Star Wars craze.  Pack up my toys.  Put my plans for stormtrooper costumes away.  Burn my blueprints for any new plots.  Because they’re just going to up the budget, blow more money, make more excessive merchandise (including re-painted versions of the old merchandise in new packaging) and re-use what’s been done, anyway.  [There aren’t enough Native Americans to look at the landfill overflow and cry.]  The best any creative mind can do is post a poorly made independent film on some internet video showcase site and turn people away from what made theaters you sit with other people in great.

South Park, you got it right with your ‘member berry story.

The last “new” film made me angry.  Now I see the new one is one more Death Star story.  You end the empire only to reuse its parts, kill off my favorite rebel and throw in some stereotypical alien-looking Golem from the Lord of the Rings story as your big villain.  Now, you go back in time to tell the story of a girl doing what essentially Luke Skywalker did in Episode Four.  Way to break the gender glass ceiling.  Too bad Hillary didn’t get in office to enjoy it.  [Cool points to anyone who gets where I was going with that bit.]

In short, I am considering starting a rebellion of my own.  We can call it the Red __ (whatever number we assemble), the band of frustrated sci-fi fans who are seeing red under new leadership which smells no fresher than the old leadership.  We gotta fly our lil fighting-mad ships into that film studio HQ and blow something fierce up their womp-rat crap chutes.

Who’s with me?

 

**[I adore Felicity Jones…awlought.  However, no offense, but, Forest Whitaker–outside of his stellar role in the first Species film–seems to pick up roles in on-going franchises long after the parade has ended.  He seems to signal the final turn around the toilet bowl.]
06
Jan
16

The Return of Originality

By writingbolt 8 Comments
Categories: Creations, My Fiction and Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

*****
A short time ago in this very galaxy, not far away, at all…

LEGACY WARS: The Return of Originality

 

lucas-kenobi-guidanceagainstdisneyempire_4-panel-spoof-starwars_ap4FJ

*****

Setting: It is high noon in the Tootoosoon Desert where we can see two suns in the sky. One red and one yellow.

A lone figure, Lank Fastwalker, trudges through the sand that once was fertile creative territory. Starved for teamwork and original thinkers like himself, he wanders in search of new direction. Seeing his beloved childhood turn dark, all that he believes in sullied and all of his favorite talents joining the dark side otherwise known as the Disney Empire, the flame that keeps him alive nears the end of its wick.

Fastwalker: That’s it. There’s nothing left. With remakes in every direction, why take another step? I might as well lay here and die with my withering creativity.

Then a voice calls out to him from the sky.

Casaba: Lank… Lank… Do not give up, Lank… I need you… The world needs you…

Puffy white clouds begin to take shape. At first, Fastwalker thinks the heat is getting to him. Then he sees a familiar face. It is Georgi Lu Casaba, the fire that lit Star Wars, a six-part story cut down to its second half, rejoined with the first half and then put into a blender before being called chapter seven.

[Fastwalker has mixed feelings about this guy. Though Casaba has created a rich source of inspiration for philosophy and costume design, Fastwalker blames him for the use of whiny protagonists who save the day too easily, greedy toy dealers and the insanity that is impulse shopping. Not as mad as other fans over the “prequels,” Fastwalker blew his top when Casaba sold his legacy to the Disney Empire.]

Georgi Lu Casaba expresses regret for making a bad sale.

Casaba: Though the Disney Empire had assured me of a luxurious retirement, including Kennedy Center honors, I did not know there were “white slavers” in the ranks, enlisting poor souls under insane rules, depriving them of individuality, threatening them for any breach of secrecy or less-than-enthusiastic answer when asked about their masters. I beg of you. Start a rebellion. Take back what was wrongfully placed in greedy, merchandise-mad hands that will not rest until the planet is nothing but landfills and abandoned Wal-Mart stores. Turn the archives over to trustworthy souls who will preserve them. And, if necessary, use force, Lank. Use physical force to break down the walls of Disney oppression. Put an end to their profits from the mutation of monopolized talents. And, spread the wealth.

The suns have nearly set before Fastwalker sees the light.

Fastwalker: You know. You’re quite the windbag when I’m sitting here, dying of thirst. I will need a handful of trustworthy allies, a fast ship and a big slice of your retirement fund to undo the damage. But, together, we will restore balance to this world, reduce pollution and brighten lives for generations to come.

With a plan in motion, Fastwalker bestows this wisdom upon the theater audience before the end credits roll: Be excellent to each other. And, is it too much to ask you to deposit your own garbage in the provided trash bins when you leave the theater? I know there is a cleaning crew. But, we wouldn’t need one if you didn’t pay ridiculous prices for unhealthy, unnecessary snacks.

After the end credits, Jar Jar Binks makes a cameo appearance only to learn his future will be cut short. A bounty has been placed on his head for his resemblance to General Goofy of the First Order (aka the Disney Empire).

jarjarbinks-title-blurb_spoof-starwars_ap2BJ

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