Wed, 19 Mar 2003
Dear Mr. Wonderful,
What do you think of those who proclaim themselves to be of the Jedi religion?
Live long with the force,
Dear Klaatu Deetoo,
I think I'm going after the wrong demographic, that's what I think.
You know, about 25 years ago, David Koresh, "Bo" Applewhite, Raël, and I were having steaks down at the L. Ron Hubbard Clam Grill on Hollywood Boulevard and I had to get up at one point to go tell Tommy Shaw how brilliant the latest Styx album was and when I got back I found everyone looking in my direction with little weasel smirks that would one day come to nest on the face of a United States' President (but that is another tale, for another time).
"We had a vote while you were out," said Raël. "Considering what happened to poor Jim Jones and all."
I decided to forego the rest of my wine.
Koresh cleared his throat. "We thought it would be best to divide the population into zones, so we don't compete and spread ourselves too thin. Safety in numbers, bwah."
"Uh-huh," I said. "What's the breakdown?"
"Waall, I got the hard rock Christian fundamentalists with poor critical thinking skills," said Koresh.
"Asshole," I said. "Those chicks are so easy."
"I got the easily duped wealthy with no concept of reality," said Raël.
"Raël-y? What a coincidence." He looked hurt, but I was tired and needed to go roller skating. "What about you?"
Bo winked. "I got the Star Trek Fans."
Furious, I pulled out my Love Gun and aimed it at his heart. "Are you kidding me?! Someone put Science Fiction groupies on the table? The core of Fandom? Those idjits actually hold it as a mark of honor to suspend their disbelief! They love swallowing lies, and when they don't get enough techno-pablum they make up their own! Jee-zus, Applewhite, those nerds don't even entertain the possibility that they might be being duped; they think they're more intelligent than everyone else because their gods go 'beep-beep' instead of 'boom-boom!' Plus they've got cash out the wazoo because they don't have the balls to spend it on drugs! They're genetically whacked, son. They have the perfect mutant ability to take any amount of garbage and render it into 'continuity' that they can fight over for centuries!! It's a zombie army! A zombie army with gold credit cards! And you donkey dicks let him have it, just like that?"
Bo held up a hand. "Let me finish: I get the Star Trek Fans willing to mutilate their bodies for dubious tenets."
I lowered the Love Gun. "Oh. Well, what about me?"
"You got the smart people," said Bo.
"And the check," added Raël.
"Jiminy-doo-dah-cricket," I said. "I'm screwed."
All of which is by way of telling you, now that I recall the story, I am almost certain that I spotted the badgery face of George Lucas sipping Shirley Temples in the booth next to ours. What he heard I cannot say, but do note how the witnesses are disappearing.
If I go down, remember to tell them it was Princess Leia in the Slave Bikini what did it.