Tag Archives: Star Wars

Pop-Culture Hunger Games: Part I

The Hunger Games has happily filled the void left by Harry Potter as the new young-adult juggernaut.  Since I refuse to read anything that I do not write, I had a friend read me the series.  So far we are about a third of the way through the third book, Mockingjay.  The premise of pitting individuals against each other in a fight to the death is not new, but it is inherently compelling.  I think the Hunger Games series does a commendable job creating a new spin on the gladiatorial tournament we are all used to.  And so, in honor of the entertaining series, I will be creating a Hunger Games of my own!

In true Hunger-Games fashion, I will pull 2 contestants from each of the 12 districts; however, unlike the books, the districts are not based on territory, rather on pop-culture.  For example, one district will be Star Wars, from which I will choose a male and female that appear in the Star Wars franchise.  Moreover, I will not be restricted by age, nor will I technically use the lottery system; I will simply pick who I want to see fight.  Like in the books, I will rank their Hunger Games potential on a scale of 1-12 , with 1 being Joffrey Baratheon and 12 being Khal Drogo.  I will write a blurb explaining their tendencies, personalities, weapons, x-factors, and etcetera.  Then I will describe the arena in which the games will be played.  And, lastly, I will take everything into account, give a brief description of the games, and then crown a winner.  Good luck, and may the odds ever be in your favor!

The Contestants

Wet Jack

Rank: 9

Jack Shepard, LOST:  Jack has been affectionately dubbed the Human Slip ‘n Slide, and he’s more than earned the nickname.  He is an avid sweater, telling our own Caesar Flickerman that “the world is his sauna.”  Jack’s penchant for perspiration gives him an obvious advantage in grappling combat, as he noted:  “Fists and kicks are hydrophobic…and I’m a waterfall!”  Beyond his pouring pores, Jack figures to excel early on when contestants tend to unify into tenuous alliances.  We suspect he’ll parlay his intrinsic leadership, medical expertise, and lost-on-a-desert-island experience into early success.

However, we suspect Jack’s reliance on the reliance of a group will be his undoing.  He’ll lull into that familiar leadership role, never supposing the killing blow will come from behind, right in his we-have-to-go-back back.

X-factor:  Jack’s healthy fear of others may save him from his group’s inevitable betrayal, making him a dark horse to win.


Rank: 3-8

Danielle Rousseau, LOST:  Rousseau is what we in the business refer to as a Spoiler.  She will never win the games, but she is just unpredictable and skilled enough to spoil a frontrunner or two’s chances.  She has already lost a finger and the games haven’t even started yet.  At one of last week’s buffets she was seen gnawing on her pinky, smearing the blood–creating what she referred to as:  “Makeshift lipstick”.  When asked why she was consuming her own finger, she whispered to the wall in her native french (translated here for your convenience):  “No food.  Finger-licking good.  Mmmmmmmmm…”

When they aren’t moving through her digestive tract, Rousseau’s fingers are quite comfortable on a trigger.  Despite her off-camber everything, Rousseau is a bonafide killer.  She’s as likely to cannibalize the rest of her hands and feet as she is to commit to the game, so chances are she’ll bow out quickly, perhaps even in the first minute on account of trying to differentiate the voices in her head from our loudspeakers in the sky.

X-factor:  She is the x-factor, making her the fine print in all of her opponents’ x-factors.


Rank: 4

Admiral Ackbar, Star Wars:  The admiral is a trap-finding savant.  No booby-trap will get the best of him.  He escaped a Chinese finger trap on the first try.  He co-wrote Linday Lohan’s The Parent Trap.  He invented the trap door.  He warned R. Kelly about getting trapped in the closet.  He gets royalties whenever someone else identifies a trap.  Someone once invited him over for calamari, but he replied, say it with me:  “It’s a trap!”  And it was.  That someone was later arrested after inviting the Pokemon Clamperl over for a clambake.  Clamperl was boiled and buttered, which sources say was “Super Effective!”

In addition to trap classification, Admirable Ackbar has no other discernible skills.  He is nonthreatening, so it is likely he will be invited to join an alliance as a trap expert, but his nasally speech and delectable squid-corpse will prove too strong a motivator and someone will undoubtedly kill him for a meal.  He will likely meet his end in a giant, boiling caldron.  But, the upside is, he will have seen it coming from a mile away.  We can say with confidence that his last words will be a whisper, an acquiescence:  “I always knew it was a trap…”

X-factor:  There is an off-chance the admiral could simply skinny-dip into a pond or lake, masquerading as wildlife for the duration of the games…

Princess leia

Rank: 6

Leia Organa, Star Wars:  Princess Leia is a bundle of potential with incestual tendencies.  The plus side of things is that she has no family in the games, so that distraction shouldn’t affect her prospects.  However, the chauvinism of the Jedi leave her as untapped potential.  We reached out to the Jedi Council for a comment, asking them why, when shit was going down, they sought out Luke, but refused to consider Leia until she was, quite literally, the last option in the entire galaxy far, far away, but they refused to comment.

Unfortunately for Leia, her lack of training and general uppity-ness will put her in the ground sooner rather than later.  She is not really a team player, preferring to assume a leadership position, yet she is a shitty leader on account of believing entitlement guarantees power.  Help her, Obi-Wan Kenobi, she has got no hope!

X-factor:  She’s royalty and hot, so she is bound to have a lot of fans.  She can expect lots of gifts from above, and maybe one of those gifts will be The Jedi Mind Trick for Dummies?


Rank: 1 and most certainly

Joffrey Baratheon, Game of Thrones:  Perhaps foreseeing his own demise, Joffrey has already offered a litany of excuses to explain the poor showing everyone expects him to have:  “No doubt the sun will be directly in my eyes the entire time, obscuring my enemies from Hearteater’s deadly blade; the wind will certainly be blowing all of my projectiles astray; and my ankle, being horribly sprained of course, will force me to flail my arms and legs in what will look like an attempt at running by someone who is painstakingly inept at it, but will really be a necessity on account of, ya know, that bum ankle I’ll have…”

Joffrey broke Hunger-Games combine records in terms of inadequacy for every single weapon and skill he attempted.  Moreover, he has already made enemies of nearly every other participant, even inspiring the ire of Jack Shepard, who claims Joffrey’s tendency to “cry like a bitch until his cheeks are wet with snot and sob” is an affront to, and a poor imitation of, the Human Slip ‘n Slide’s “manly liquid secretion.”

Early predictions see Joffrey spending his, no doubt, few moments in the games stomping on hapless ants while shouting:  “King of da castle.  King of da castle.”

X-factor:  Given his blue blood and his life-owing relationship to incest, there is a slight possibility that Joffrey and Leia will become a duo, marginally improving their chances, but, even so, given their shortcomings the royals are royally f*****.


Rank: 7

Daenerys Targaryen, Game of Thrones:  Daenerys is strong willed with ambition as big as her breasts, and has few reservations flaunting it and them (her ambition and breasts, respectively).  She lives “far to the east” with her three dragons and manservant, Jorah Mormont, an avid Lawrence of Arabia/British East India Company impersonator.  Even without her dragons, she is no slouch, claiming to be “as flame-retardant as they come.”  Strangely, the male participants already seem aware of her ability, noting:  “Damn, that girl hotter than fire,”  followed by requisite high fives and laughter laced with douchebaggery.

Daenerys is yet another wannabe leader, though she tends to be humorless and overly-entitled, which may work against her.  In addition to fire, she also appears immune to innuendo, responding to several invitations from her male opponents to “come and tame [their dragons]” with a starkly serious and overly-emotional:  “You’ve seen my dragons?  Where are they?  GIVE ME MY DRAGONS!!!!”

The self-proclaimed Mother of Dragons does not seem too adept at any sort of combat.  She claims to have strong magic–“And what of my magic?  Is it not strong?”–yet it is abundantly clear that she is referring to her dragons as her magic.  She’s in for an awful awakening when she realizes her dragons won’t be accompanying her into the games…

X-factor:  If none of her competitors heed Smokey the Bear’s warning regarding forest fires, there is a chance that a giant conflagration will raze the entire arena, leaving Daenerys nude, unscathed, and the winner, but it’s a long shot.

Check back for Part II and the rest of the contestants…

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Midas Eyes

Once upon a time, when all was idyllic—except, of course, for the obligatory, unmitigated evil necessary to fuel a once-upon-a-time tale such as this—there was a yet-to-be-born boy whose yet-to-be-lived life will conveniently exemplify a yet-to-be-disclosed moral.  I will tell you the story of that boy.  But, first, the boy must be born.  Spoiler Alert:  The parents are in the process of making that boy. Like, right now.  Let’s begin…

Neville and Ursula Appointment were two ne’er-do-wells doing “it.”  Ursula had sloppy, soggy-looking skin that looked like doubled-over flapjacks, stacked and smothered in oily sweat.  She was a behemoth.  Neville had a southern accent; a slur so thick, anything he said sounded like, and probably was:  Git dem der biscuits fer me rit now, uman.  Also, Neville was a distant relative of Neville Chamberlain, appeaser extraordinaire.  He was thin as a twig, tall as a tree, stupid as a stump, and as liable to get bulldozed–by his ginormous wife, of course–as a forest.  Now, before you decide to politically correct me, allow me to say that it is okay to be tactless and superficial when describing Neville and Ursula because, as it were, their insides mirrored their hideous outsides.  Recall, fairytales are like that:  You are encouraged to stereotype based on gender, ugliness, specie, and, most importantly, relation to the king because in fairytales, like in life, people are exactly what they look like.  Anyway, in the amount of time that I have aimlessly went about describing the creatures that are our antagonists, our yet-to-be-born boy has reverse-hatched Ursula’s egg.  Like all of us, he began his tale as a tail.

And so, Ursula was preggers.  You couldn’t really tell because the baby-bump was lumped amidst all the other, preexisting bumps and lumps.  Regardless, she was, as they say, infected with child (Stop it.  Stop it.  Read this before you judge me).  Anyway, Neville and Ursula had a good nine months to wait.  In all my characterization I may have neglected to mention that Neville and Ursula were not married (they wanted an excuse to call their forthcoming baby a bastard without giving society viable grounds to object) and that they were poor.  Obscenely poor.  Given their situation, Neville and Ursula sought out a Dark Arts practitioner to allay their monetary situation.  They asked the magician to, and I quote:  “Make their baby as good as gold. Literally.”  Now, as with all dark magic, there was a catch.  See, Neville and Ursula, the rapscallions, thought that their baby would be born as a giant chunk of baby-shaped gold.  They were idiots, you see.  As it were, that was not the case.

Exactly nine months after his conception, our hitherto yet-to-be-born protagonist was born.  Much to the chagrin of his parents, the boy was not solid gold.  Had there not been a doctor in the room to object and perhaps interfere with the new parents, Neville and Ursula might have pitched the child against the wall hoping to crack into the boy’s surely golden center.  Lo, the doctor was there.  However, were Neville and Ursula able to do so, they may have never seen what happened next…

The baby boy cried.  Not remarkable, I admit.  But, get this:  He cried liquid gold.  The doctor was stunned.  The parents were elated.  As with all fairytales, the government did not scoop the baby up to run a battery of tests on it so as to discover the origin of its alchemical eyes, rather the parents were allowed to take their newly-minted baby home.  Not, of course, before naming him.  Midas.  Midas Appointment.  Phonetically?  My disappointment.  What his parents lacked in intelligence and general decency, they made up for in cruel wit.

As you can imagine, when Midas was a tot, he cried all the damn time.  And his parents grew richer and richer each time.  But, as with all wicked people, their avarice could not be quelled by the natural order of things.  They needed more, more, more.  Now here is where this story gets real.  Neville and Ursula began to abuse young Midas.

Perhaps they would buy the boy a giant ice cream cone, one that his uncoordinated baby paws could barely wield.  Perhaps they would beat gravity to the punch, and smack the ice cream onto the ground.  Perhaps they would admonish the boy for clumsily dropping the ice cream they bought with their hard-earned money.  Perhaps, just perhaps, the young boy would shed a tear.  Anything to get him to shed a tear.  When he grew older, maybe Ursula got extensive liposuction and ridiculous amounts of plastic surgery.  Maybe she dressed up as a high school girl, tricking the now teenage Midas into sharing Seven Minutes of (Oedipal) Heaven with her.  Wouldn’t you cry?  That is how it was for Midas:  He grew up with unrelenting abuse, each abuse more extravagant and intricate than the last.  And Midas cried.  Boy, did he cry.  And his parents grew exceedingly wealthy because of it.

As mentioned above, as Neville and Ursula gained more wealth they became more greedy.  This, as you might expect, led to their downfall.  Ursula, an amusement park enthusiast, decided to build a roller-coaster in the backyard.  Zoning-laws could go to hell, as far as she was concerned.  However, after a week of waiting for her giant coaster to be complete, Ursula was bored.  She wanted her coaster and she wanted it now.  The workers tried to warn Ursula as she seated herself in the roller-coaster car.  They tried to stop her as she hit the button to start the ride.  They tried to muffle their laughter as she reached the top of the hill and careened down to her explosive death.  And so, Ursula was no more.  And what of Neville?  Well, he decided that water was too easily accessible to anyone, and that fact meant it was beneath him to associate with it.  Therefore, he wanted to take baths in liquid gold, instead.  And so, he wrung young Midas out of enough tears to fill his tub up.  As Neville enjoyed the most expensive bath anyone has ever taken, he didn’t even notice the gold begin to solidify.  His funeral was Star Wars themed, by default:

So Midas was free.  Alone, but free.  He was a young man at this point and the only life he knew was one of despair and pain.  His evil parents inscribed in him a certain view of the world.  Midas, a gentle and good boy by nature, had grown to believe that sadness and wealth were the only aspirations one could have.  And so, Midas lived a life of self-sabotage.  He inherited the family business, so to speak.  He began to make himself cry.  Sad, isn’t it?  He thought so, so he cried some more!  Sometimes Midas would pick up a streetwalker and pay her to beat him.  No, not in that way.  He would literally pay her to beat him up until he cried.  Sometimes he would throw himself extravagant birthday parties and invite no one.  He would sit alone with a beautiful cake, party hats, and enough snacks to feed an army.  Wouldn’t you cry?  Anyway, what I am trying to impart on you is this:  Midas was pathetic.  His inheritance was a warped-view of the world.  Woe is he!

Then, one day, something happened.  Midas was on his way to the Post Office to submit applications to some MFA programs–a surefire way to get rejected and, thus, depressed enough to cry–when he saw a young woman sitting on a street corner, smiling at the clouds.  Perplexed, Midas asked her if she had recently bought the sky.  She must have, he thought.  The sky was obviously making her happy, and since only money and the results therefrom could make a person happy, she must have recently bought the sky.  Turns out, she did not.  Midas and his whole paradigm for looking at the world was shattered.  In its place was a beautiful young woman named Bethany.  She was poor, cute, and happy as could be.

Needless to say, Midas fell in love and yadda, yadda, yadda, he never cried anymore because Bethany made him happy and yadda, yadda, yadda, so they were both exquisitely poor, yet infinitely content.  And so, Midas and his beautiful lover lived happily.  They did not live happily ever after, because this is the real world.  They lived a happy life until, one fateful morning, Midas found that Bethany, the woman that he loved, had passed away during the night.  And so he cried  for her.  More than he had ever cried before.

She was buried in a casket he made of gold.

But, then, this happened…

…and so it was a happy ending after all!


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5 Things I Wish were Real

  1. The Force:  Expected?  Of course.  Necessary?  I find it insulting that you would ask.  The Force would be an awesome addition to any galaxy because it offers superpowers to certain individuals while disallowing them to others.  No more subjective arguments with agree-to-disagree shenanigans;  I am better than you and I have the Midichlorian count to prove it.  Also, I have a lightsaber.  Nature haphazardly selected me as an infant to be intrinsically better than you.  Tend to your wisecracks, befriend a human Woolly Bear, and cross your fingers that you’re handsome as Han when you grow up and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get my sloppy-seconds…err…my sister.  Don’t look at me that way, incest doesn’t bother me, bro.  Also, to further humiliate the dimwits out there, I can make stupid people say and do whatever I want.  I am like a walking IQ test; if my mind trick works on you, it means you are an idiot, conclusively.  Yes, the Force is something we need.
  2. The Sorting Hat:  We need a magical device to tell 6th graders they are and will be either brave, immoral, intelligent, or jolly.  It would be like one of those career tests you take to find out what you should be when you grow up.  If you are a Slytherin, maybe you’ll be a snake wrangler?  If you are a Gryffindor, maybe you’ll play for Atlanta?  If you are a Ravenclaw, maybe you’ll stop reading this blog?  If you are a Hufflepuff, well, I’m sorry.   Regardless, we need a sorting hat to let us know who we are and who other people are.  We also need a sorting hat to decide who is attractive and who is not.  Apologies to Daniel Craig, Lady Gaga (yes, this is really her before she was famous, on MTV’s Boiling Point), Marge Simpson, Boyz II Men, and orange people, but you are not attractive.  A sorting hat would cut the confusion.
  3. Angelina Jolie’s Lips:  Oh, she claims they are real?
  4. Angelina Jolie to tell the truth:  If those lips are really real, then I need to see photographic proof.  Show me a pic of young Angelina.  Oh, wait, found one!  Jynx, you owe me a laugh!
  5. A fourth season to Arrested Development:  Either this or an Arrested Development movie.  I know they say it is in the works, but I won’t believe it until I see it.  I need more this.
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