Unhelpful

No, that wasn’t a typo. I haven’t bought tickets. The sheer spectacle of the whole event sickens me to the point where I just want to wait until I don’t have to reserve the second-from-the-last seat on the right side of the back row of some shabby Baltimore suburb theatre I’ve never been to in order to get stuck between an obsessed groupie and a party of 10 boy scouts. I’ll wait until I can actually buy tickets at a theater of my choice a few hours in advance.

Of course, this strategy runs a serious risk. If I finally get into a theater a week after opening, it’s very well possible that some bleary eyed Jolt-addled junkie might lean over and tell me:

“OK this is my 38th time seeing SW1, I’m going to focus on paying attention to Queen Amidala’s left ear the whole time, while trying to decipher hidden messages in Jar Jar’s lisp.”

Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with that. Me and my father watched Empire Strikes Back about five consecutive showings at the local “drive in theater” when I was eight. Jesus, that was nineteen years ago. I feel old, like fucking Confucius or something.

You can’t have the car. You can’t have the plate. But you can have the Y2K Survivalist Bumper Sticker. It’ll look great on the Jeep when you’re stocking up on ammo and freeze-dried peaches for your Millenium Survival Bunker. Another fine product from LampreySoft.

File under shameless self-promotion.