Monday, June 17, 2019

A Vision of Future Past

Previously on Jedi/Superman...
Last Son of the Republic
Growing Up Under Twin Suns
Chariot of the Gods
The Emperor's New Genocide
The Quality of Mercy
A Job for Supermen
The Green, Green Glow of Homicide
A Dream of Droids

From the cockpit of his fighter, Luke Skywalker sensed, of course, that Leia planned to surrender; he knew it before the transmission even reached his headset. Therefore, his only course of action was to disobey that final order to rendezvous with the fleet. He would save the Princess and the others from themselves somehow. . .

No. That was the voice of his younger, undisciplined self. He couldn’t just charge off like some gladiator from the old stories. Retreat was the order, and it was a sensible one. The remnants of the fleet could regroup—he and Wedge and Biggs would come up with a rescue plan—they could save Ben and the princess and the others before—

Obey this order you must not. Trust your feelings, seize this act of Defiance. 

Luke’s eyes went wide.

Master Yoda..? 

Luke wept. It was impossible; Yoda had been gone for years. But he felt the Master’s presence like a warm essence all around him.

Time for questions I have not. Is difficult to reach across so much time and space. Stand with your father. Stand with your brother. Stand with the princess. And beware the dark heart of Krypton—beware…! 

The voice faded as if exhausted. “Master Yoda?” Luke called into his cockpit. “Master, come back! The dark heart of Krypton…what is the dark heart of Krypton?”

But there was nothing more. Luke knew what he must do next.

He deactivated his communications systems and used the Force to mask his X-Wing’s emissions. Poor R9-D8 couldn’t even protest; he’d been fried by a TIE blaster bolt early in the losing battle for Yavin. But in some ways that made his next task easier.

As luck—or the Force—would have it, the Defiance wasn’t far away in astronomical terms. Luke set a course for the frigate and flew it into the open hangar bay well before the frigate entered visual range of the nearest Imperial ship’s sensors. And just in time, too; the hangar doors immediately slid closed just as a large escort of TIE fighters formed up to lead the frigate into the Empire’s clutches.

Luke hurried to the bridge, much to the consternation of Princess Leia and General Dodonna. Ben Kenobi only sighed in resignation.

“I gave all pilots a direct order to retreat and rendezvous,” Leia fumed, poking Luke in the chest with one regal finger.

“I couldn’t abandon you,” Luke replied, his eyes soft and infuriatingly sincere. Leia threw up her hands and turned away to stare out the window, watching the Death Star and its squadron of Star Destroyers loom steadily larger. General Dodonna joined her, and the two talked in muted voices about next steps.

“Well, we’re in the lion’s den now, my boy,” Kenobi said. “What possessed you to return?”

Even in these circumstances, Luke couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“Ben…Master Yoda spoke to me. Just now. He spoke to me.”

Kenobi was stunned. He’d heard legends of Jedi Knights past transcending the barrier between life and the dark eternity, but he’d never taken the old tales seriously. The Force was powerful indeed, but powerful enough to reach from beyond the grave..?

But he could sense the truth radiating from Luke. “What did he say?”

“He told me I had to come here, to stand with you. With all of you,” he gestured. “But…is Clark all right? The Death Star had a bead on him…”

“He’s fine,” Kenobi said. “I hid him below to recover. The radiation did terrible damage to him, but just a short time in bacta revived him. Miraculous. But I felt you reach out to pull him from the beam’s path, Luke. He would not have survived if you hadn’t intervened.”

Luke sighed, relieved. But then he remembered the last thing Yoda had said.

“Ben…what is the dark heart of Krypton?”

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Father's Day 2019

It's our first Father's Day without Dad, and it's hard. Here's something Mom found online a few months ago: a photograph of the church and manse in Rocanville, Saskatchewan. Dad was born in that manse in 1942. Miss you, Dad. 

Saturday, June 15, 2019

Thursday, June 13, 2019

When You See It...

When I recommended the Crazy 80s Games channel, I had high hopes for quality content. My expectations have already been exceeded. 

Wednesday, June 12, 2019


Sean makes his professional acting debut in this short commercial for Alberta Health Services' wellness tips service. He did a great job! I'm very excited for him. 

Monday, June 10, 2019

Unicorn Horn as Played by Crazy 80s Games

YouTube user Crazy 80s Games has uploaded what I hope is the first of many gameplay videos of obscure Atari 8-bit computer amusements. My brother and I played a lot of Atari 8-bit games back in the 1970s and 1980s, but we never got wind of Unicorn Horn, which looks pretty darn trippy. 

Sunday, June 09, 2019

An Artist that I Used to Know

I suspect most casual lovers of music remember Gotye best as the artist behind "Somebody that I Used to Know," the tune that introduced me to Kimbra. Just recently though, I discovered this delightful song about an electronic organ. It reminds me very much of my family's experiences with our electronic organ back in the 1970s. Of course, none of us went on  to a career in music like Gotye did...

Saturday, June 08, 2019

Quick Take: X-Men: Origins

On Gavin Hood's X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009): No wonder I waited a decade to finally get around to watching this. Decidedly not worth the wait.

Friday, June 07, 2019

It Came from the E-Mail Thread

Mike: I prefer prose, preferably purple. 

Purple prose, it's in my veins
Bad novels driving you insane
Purple prose, mixed metaphors
Ten manuscripts in the bottom drawer

Purple prose, less than profound
A hundred adverbs for every noun
Is it art or pulpy trash?
Whatever it is, it was written while high on hash

Read me
Read me
Ohhh, no no

Oooah ah
Oooah, ahhh
Oooah, ahh
Oooh, mauve, yeahhh!

Purple prose, blood in my eyes
Lurid lines make me fantasize
Mary Sue, and Marty Stu too
Read it until your balls are blue

Help me
Yeah, yeah, purple prose
Ohh nooo oohhhh
Oh, help me
Stop it, stop it, purple prose
I can't keep reading this
Purple prose, you're destroying my mind
Purple prose, no, noooooo
Purple prose...

Mike: I deserved that. 

With apologies to Jimi Hendrix. 

Thursday, June 06, 2019

Quick Take: The Desperate Trail

The Desperate Trail (P.J. Pesce, 1995) asks us to treat its villains as heroes and its heroes as villains without giving us any reason to buy into that narrative. A huge waste of the brilliant Sam Elliot.