I’ve mentioned before that I have a tendency toward hypochondria. Any splotch becomes a melanoma, every cough a case of pneumonia, a brief lapse in memory is perceived as senility. My mind is my worst enemy.
So this afternoon when I had two weird twinges in my chest I immediately turned to Studly Doright and announced that I was having a heart attack. I’ve already survived one fake heart attack, so I know all the symptoms.
Neither one of us got too upset, until I realized that if I had a heart attack for real it might put me in danger of missing opening weekend for Star Wars The Force Awakens! I refuse to even consider that occurrence, so any heart attacks, real or imagined, have to wait until after the Star Wars franchise has run its course. I might live forever.
May the Force be with you. And me.
Peace, people.
I think you might be right about living forever. They’re clearly going to milk this cash cow from now until the end of time, so not only will you be able to watch movies about the distant future, you’ll be able to see it for yourself during the gaps between sequels.
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And I’ll be in Star Wars heaven. I know the Han Solo prequel series is in the works.
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Is that right? I didn’t know that. Er… I don’t quite see Harrison Ford starring in that one, though.
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They’ve begun the search for a young Han. I vote for Chris Pratt.
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Yes, I could see him being pretty good in the role. He has the right atmosphere.
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He might be too old already. And, rumor has it they’re looking for an unknown. Here’s your chance Bun….
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