Ye fucking gads! I know this has been done before, but “thanks” to reasons best left unsaid (however, someone is going to be hearing from my lawyer [pain and suffering, doncha know]) I have finally managed to see The Star Wars Holiday Special for the first time since it originally aired. Omyfuckingod is it bad! I don’t mean Plan 9 From Outer Space or Manos: Hands of Fate bad, I mean, walking in on your grandparents having hot dry sex bad!
There is a disturbance in the Force, and it’s coming out of George Lucas’s ass! Cripes! If you thought the prequels were bad, lemme tell ya, they’ve got nothing on the Crapday Special! Even fortifying myself with shots of bourbon hasn’t helped to dull the pain.
The sad thing is that the Diahann Carroll song might have been okay, but I’ll never know, because of how shitty the program is!
Jeebus! I just hit the Boba Fett cartoon! It reminds me of this bad porn cartoon I saw which dealt with some guy named “Little Dick” who was the servant of some evil witch who had to have 69 orgasms before she could become a hot babe. Needless to say, she ends up getting nailed by Little Dick 69 times despite his best efforts to prevent this from happening. It must be really bad as my PC doesn’t want to play the rest of it, but I’m going to do my best to force it.
Oh, fuck, I’m sorry I did! (And sadly, there are no commercials for me to enjoy.) Well, here’s the Bea Arthur and Harvey Corman parts, maybe they’ll be funny.
Okay, and maybe Hell will freeze over and start selling Icee’s.
Christ! The damn thing just gets worse and worse! And nowhere to they explain exactly why a Wookie’s period is so fucking heavy that they have to celebrate switching to Light Days! (Of course, considering how damn bad the fucking show was, it’s probably better that they didn’t!)
Christ on a whole wheat cracker! I’ve made it through the thing, and I’m sorry I ever watched it! I was eight or nine when it came on, and I have dim memories of the whole disaster, but obviously, like a victim of Satanic Ritual Abuse, I blotted most of it out. I only hoped that the bourbon I had before watching this has cushioned my system enough so that I don’t remember any of this in the morning. (Otherwise, I’m going to need therapy, lots and lots of expensive therapy, and George, you’re going to be paying for it.)