DuracellEnergizer: how about red ink instead? Maybe on golden paper too.
Also, come to think of it, asking George to re-release the OOT is about as worthwhile as fishing for God in a Bucket.
I'm quite sure he does, as you yourself well know.
After careful consideration, I must respectfully decline that suggestion. I but do my filial duty to the dead and resurrected.
If this is a dream, let me die before I wake.
My friends are in this dream: Darth_Nub and Lt.Cmdr.Thrawn of the TFN forums, and darth_ender from here.
I would not abandon them, not for fourteen times all the riches of the world, not for the crowns of fourteen kings, slippers of silver or copper or ruby or emerald, or the triple horns of the Goddess, or the crown of King Peter on his holey throne. I will not abandon them--I shall never wake up.
When I die, I pray the Goddess, my soul and body to take, into her bosom in Utapau, the navel of that far-away lenticular galaxy.
The hour is late, but it has come, and better late than never.
The white eagle, its hour come round at last, flies into the pyre of Gehenna, to die and be reborn as a fiery phoenix.
Your name is wrong, by the way. Death is not the end, not for those whose offspring are the tales in the minds and hearts of men.
Who knows what stories lie in the breasts of men? The Flammifer, the Lucifer, the Skywalker knows. I know, for I am he and he is me.
But all things change, and we are changed with them. Nevertheless, nothing is truly lost.
As I take my last bow upon this the World Stage, I thank you all.
Friends applaud, the Tragedy of Darth Vader is over.
If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended—that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream.
Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck now to ’scape the serpent’s tooth, we will make amends forsooth.
Else Puck Organa liar call. So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, I am o'erwhelmed, for Lucas shall restore the films!
Thrice the great ram cried out in its death throes. Thrice the golden calf assumed a horn for its crown. And suddenly she raised her right hand of bone, whereupon the Seventh Seal of the Gates of Horn and Ivory broke. As if stricken by some blasting spell they burst asunder: there was a flash of searing lightning, and the gates tumbled in riven fragments to the ground.
Out walked the King Beneath the Mountain. A man in humble gray robes, he seemed insignificant against the fires beyond, grown to a vast inferno encircling the world. Out walked the King Beneath the Mountain, through the cavern out of which many kings had passed before, and all fell down to kiss his feet.
Before him went his herald, a knight in shining armor upon a white horse, Lucifax; Lucifax, who alone among the free horses of the earth suffered this rider to mount him, cantering at the speed of film, steadfast as the wing-beats of the eagle in the skies above.
"You must return. It is time," said the herald, and the shrunken old man walked through the riven gates. "Go forth and harrow the abyss set before you! Rise into the light that awaits all true and loyal men!"
The King under the Mountain flung back his gray hood; and behold! he had a white beard, and a red flannel shirt, and a wooden crown, and in the crown were set three shining white jewels. The red fires turned his white hair to gold in their light. From a jolly smiling mouth there came a mirthful cry of laughter.
"Young fool!" he cried. "Young fool! This is our hour. We are the Resurrection and the Life. Let us go forth and multiply!" And with that he lifted high the ivory scepter in his rjght hand, and it shone like crystal in the light of the sunrise.
The herald took the three jewels from the wooden crown, and cast them each into a different place; the first into the sky; the second into the dark caverns of the barren earth; and the third into a lake of fire.
And in that very moment, away behind in some cavern of the Mountain, a calf bleated thrice. Shrill and clear she crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death, and in the waters far away, and in the deepest reaches of the Earth, was coming with the dawn.
The sky, which had been blackly red, turned purple and then blue with the new dawn; the earth grew flowers and trees and fruits; and the lake of fire was quelled, and became an ocean of blue waters.
And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns. In dark Xanadu’s sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the East wildly blowing. Utapau had come at last.
And light and life and the Power of Love held unshakeable dominion over all.
Friends, fellows, countrymen. Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.
I come not to bury George Lucas, but to praise him.
The bodies of men's offspring are oft interred before their eyes; but the stories that they tell live on forever. So let it be with Lucas.
The noble people here have told you Lucas was avaricious; if so, it were a grievous fault, and grievously hath Lucas answered it.
Here, under leave of all--for so you are, all modest men--come I to speak as a herald of Lucas's resurrection.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me; but you all say that he was avaricious; and you all are modest men.
He hath kept many stories in his breast in Xanadu; did this in Lucas seem avaricious?
When that the poor hath cried, Lucas hath given; avarice should be made of sterner stuff; yet you all say he was avaricious; and you are all modest men.
You all did see that this day, he did present me with a thrice-horned crown, which I nine times accepted; was this avarice? Yet you all say he is avaricious; and you are all modest men.
I speak not to disprove what you all speak; but here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause: what cause withholds you then, to praise him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, to fish and birds, and men have lost their sense of wonder and mystery.
Bear with me; my heart is in the tomb under the Mountain, there with Lucas, and I must pause till it come back to me.
Also, in other news, I got married. I've had the banns read--but my bride is the Church of the Three-Horned Goddess, to whom I shall devote myself as a celibate monk.
I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the horn in the bony hand of Life. I am the watcher upon the face of the Waters. I am the cornucopia that sustains the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Triple-Crowned Goddess, for this night and all the nights to come.
Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end even with my death, for though I may sire no children, through my progeny I shall be immortal.
Now the banns have been read three times, so I'd say the marriage is official. Let my beautiful bride and I go together, then, into the Garden of Utapau, where all knowledge of evil shall pass away.
Nothing is canon--except the secret canon. That is canon... in here. (taps forehead)
Forget C-canon, and G-canon... look for the X-canon. You will find it if you sail against the new dawn, into the Uttermost East of the world, at the fall of night on the thirteenth day.
A holy fool, one who pierces veils?
He never left his roots behind--the roots are still there, hidden at the foot of the mountains (beneath which the King sleeps, until he should come again one day).
Perhaps you can find these roots, if you journey to the Well at the World's End, or the Wood Beyond the World, or sail on the Water of the Wondrous Isles.
But he is, after all, a modest fellow. He hides his light under a bushel.
What golden calf, its hour come round at last, goes to Calvary to crucify itself on the World Tree as a sacrifice to itself?
I grow tired of this little game we play. This little light of mine, I'm going to hide it under a bushel.
Father, into thy arms I commend my body. I shall have great joy at that meeting at Xanadu, your castle in the air by the shore of the sunlit sea.
For now we see but a walking shadow of a poor player, strutting and fretting his twelve hours upon a silver screen, darkly.
But soon, I hope, we shall meet face to face, and the veil of secrecy shall be pierced. For on my Father's ranch there are many mansions.
For those of you confused by these words, I can only offer the defense of Penny Arcade: "It's not for you."
The eagle's-eye view says that nothing is canon--not the prequels, not ROTJ, not ESB, and not even SW 1977.
My whisper was wrong, I'm afraid.
I'll whisper again.
"Yes." It's The Phantom Edit. If you Google it you should be able to find a link.
I wonder if my old IBM 1000 still works....
Actually, I do have an answer. I'll whisper it to you.
"No."
Sorry for the double post. IBM won't mind.
No, I don't have an answer either, sadly.
I wish Zombie84 would clean out his PM inbox.
I'll repeat that seven times, or 21, whichever you prefer.
I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed what I had to say. I was feeling really angry and bitter when I wrote the above posts, and I probably shouldn't have tarred everyone with the same brush.
I may be back.... eventually. But I do plan to take a long break from this forum. I'm tired of the constant cynicism and backbiting, and I really want to spend my Internet time in a healthier environment than here.
Edited to remove double post. I'm sure you guys will laugh at me for that, but since jeering at others is obviously second nature around here, I'll let it slide. Bye.
You know what? Fine. You win. Since you guys obviously have no interest in anything I say, I'll shut up and go away. I'll show myself out, thank you.
And incidentally, if any of you are wondering why the OT.com forum doesn't get more members... this is why. The forum culture here is toxic, cynical, and clique-ish, and treats outsiders with barely concealed contempt. Take a good long look at yourselves in the mirror, guys.
Interesting thing that occurs to me: Thranduil's burned Phantom of the Opera face in The Hobbit is likely an idea Peter Jackson cribbed from George Lucas.
Lucas wanted to feature a disfigured Elf back in Willow--in the early story concept Sorsha was a blonde half-Elf, and she lost an eye in the film's final battle.
You could also compare the Elf version of Sorsha with PJ's invented character, the Elf warrior Tauriel. Given Tauriel's likely fate in the next film, Sorsha losing an eye suddenly doesn't look so bad.
This isn't the first time somebody else borrowed from Lucas's unused concepts for Willow, either. There was an idea Lucas had for a nude scene where Sorsha wears only a fabulously beautiful Elven necklace--a scene that ended up being recycled by James Cameron for Titanic.
There were presumably two different concepts for Sorsha's appearance at the end of the film in the early script, each based on one of the two different hairstyles proposed for her by Lucas and Moebius.
One concept would have been to have her eye socket entirely sewn shut by scar tissue. This is the look sported by Jedi Master Even Piell in TPM:
Judging by Piell's topknot, this was probably the approach preferred for use if Sorsha ended up with the "fierce" look of the shaved-head-and-topknot hairstyle drawn by Moebius.
On the other hand, if Sorsha instead had the full head of hair seen in Moebius's alternative drawing of her, she would likely have retained her milky blind eye, as in this ROTJ sketch of Darth Vader unmasked.
Her damaged eye and long hair would echo the appearance of Mel Gibson in Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome.
Actually, I think I was wrong in my earlier post in describing exactly how Sorsha was to lose her eye.
Instead of the stone gargoyles just beating her up, it's far more likely they would have sprouted swords, leading to a dramatic Harryhausen-style swordfight.
Being outnumbered, Sorsha fights the statues off as best she can, but eventually one of them lands a blow right on her eye. She collapses in shock and pain, but before the statues can finish her off, Fin Raziel finally breaks down the door and shatters them.
This would of course lead to her having a blind eye and a vertical scar on her face in the finale. As I noted above, the same scar shows up on both the one-eyed Old Indy and ROTS Anakin.
Aside from the Greek story of Oedipus, Sorsha losing her eye in this dramatic fashion also recalls the famous scene in Sergei Eisenstein's film Battleship Potemkin where an old woman loses an eye to the saber of a Cossack.