Okay, I Had A Crush on Blossom

...some people might consider this to be a dark spot in their past, but fuck it, I've got no problem sharing the truth.  Yes sir, I had a crush on Blossom when I was a kid.

Chance are many of you don't remember Blossom Russo, from NBC's sitcom that also starred Joey "Whoa" Lawrence.  But I'm certain you would recognize her from The Big Bang Theory as Sheldon's 'girlfriend' Amy.  And you know what?  She's still pretty hot today.

That wasn't the punchline.  You can stop the laughter at any time.

Even as a kid I took a lot of flack for having a crush on Blossom.  Most of the boys at school would argue that Blossom's best friend and next door neighbor, Six, was the beauty on the show.  And they were right.  By TV standards, there's always one stand-out babe on the show to attract our prepubescent minds.

Saved By The Bell had Kelly Kapowski.  The Bundys were all about Kelly Bundy.  Even Full House had DJ Tanner as the shining star (though I maintain Stephanie Tanner was my first celebrity crush).  It's not that Jessie Spano or Lisa Turtle weren't attractive girls at all, no, they just stayed in the shadows.

And that's how it was with Blossom.  But there was always something funky and cool about her that I just dug.

Okay, I had a crush on Blossom.  So sue me.

Our Trip To The Dork Side

"Talk backwards, I do."

...for a while now I'd been wanting to check out the Star Wars Identities exhibit at the Canadian Aviation and Space Museum.  Some friends of mine had gone and said they'd had a blast.  And I like Star Wars.  I was fucking raised on the Force.  When I'd first heard of Identities, I just thought it was a display of props and costumes from the movies.  I mean, let's face it, getting close to Leia's metal bikini is worth the $24 admission.  There's a reason they keep that thing behind glass.  Sure, all the items are behind glass, but this bikini is like the Holy Grail of geeks everywhere.

Then I found out you get to create your own Star Wars character while you're there.

Wait.  What?

Are you to tell me that I can create my own dude, give him a lightsaber and send him off to kill Jedi?  Or better yet, I can use my lightsaber to cut Jar Jar Binks in half?  Hell, I'd be happy to just choke the fuck out him, but a lightsaber is fine too.

So I packed the car up with my wife and our own little two-year old padawan and made the drive to the museum.  We must have been traveling at ludicrous speed because we did a 2.5 hour trip in just under two hours.  I guess our 2001 Intrepid can make point five past light speed.  Shit yeah.

As we pulled onto the 417 (pretty much the busiest highway in Ottawa) our beloved little padawan got speeder sick and started throwing up.  Yep, she projectile vomited midi-chlorians all over the back of the car.  In my haste, and using my Jedi reflexes, I caught some of the puke with my reusable Starbucks cups.  That cup promptly went in the garbage.  Oh well, it only costs a dollar to replace.

Some sweet stuff to see at the Star Wars Identities exhibit.

We pulled into a random church to clean up and change the kid's clothes into something less puke-ridden.  The minister was nice enough to throw my coffee cup out for me, and I was nice enough to let him know that it was full of toddler puke.  But not until it was in his hands.  Screw that, it's his now - he touched it last.  He both smiled and looked at me oddly at the same time, and then I contemplated trying to use the Jedi Mind trick on him... this cup is not full of puke, this cup is your cup... but I just didn't have the balls to pull that one off.  For the rest of the drive up, the car smelled like vomit and rancid apple juice.  Mmmm.

We pulled into the museum and learned pretty quickly that parking was paid for by some genuine company who was holding a BBQ there.  Wow, that was pretty cool.  It seems like there are good people in this world after all.  Maybe I'd have a change of heart and not turn to the dark side.  Then we learned that our tickets also got us free admission to the actual Aviation and Space Museum.  Jeez, talk about a great disturbance in the force!

Awesome sauce.

We entered the museum, got our wristband and earpiece and began our journey into the Star Wars universe.  They give you these wristbands that allow you to interact at specific areas to help create your Star Wars character.  It's pretty cool.  You pick your home planet, your occupation, how strong the force is with you, etc etc.  The earpiece was kind of stupid though, and I actually turned it off about ten minutes into the exhibit.  If I was learning some neat facts, like "this is how Darth Vader went from concept to costume" or "these sketches depict deleted scenes from Empire Strikes Back", then it would have been great but I don't need a lecture on how our physiology has morphed over the years.  Or a talking to about how our parents help shape our lives.

After ooo-ing and ahhh-ing at all the Original Trilogy artifacts, throwing in an "I am your father" reference to my daughter that she didn't understand (she's 2), and loudly telling the Jar Jar Binks display to go fuck itself, it was time to choose - would I be a hero or join the Emperor and the Dark Side of the Force?

It wasn't a hard decision.  My wristband went right to the dark side. I'm gonna kill me some Jedi.  My wife, on the other hand, had to really think it through.  And she chose the ways of the Jedi.

"...so you're not going to turn to the dark side with me, huh?"
"No... I want to be one of the good guys."
"Hold me.  You know this is bad, right?"
"Why?"
"I'm one of the Sith now.  I pretty much have to cut you in half with my lightsaber right here.  It's like my duty or something."
"You'd never do it."

My own wife of five years wouldn't join the dark side with me!  What the shit?  What the sith?

SHE'S BREAKING MY HEART!

Unable to get over this good side/bad side thing, we decided to check out the Aviation museum.  It's pretty cool if you like museums.  It's really cool if you like planes.  My wife got a little too excited about seeing some planes with Nazi swastikas on them though.  She spent about ten minutes taking pictures of one of the planes, trying different camera settings... she really wanted to get this photo just right.  I know she has some German heritage in her, but this was a side I'd never really seen before.  My worries dissipated when I remembered seeing her eat a bagel earlier in the week.

Ryleigh in goggles, the Nazi plane, Ryleigh has the power, Ryan in space, father-daughter plane time.

The Canadian Space museum is really nothing more than some big photos of people who went to space and a space toilet.  Our daughter, who also wouldn't join the dark side with me, sat on the space potty and yet the awful poo smell in the small room was coming from one of the old men who were walking around unsupervised.

So we grabbed some dinner and prayed to Yoda that there wouldn't be any more car sickness on the way home.

And there wasn't any more puking to be had.  Celebrate the looooooooooooooooooove!

- ryan

God Spills The Beans

Repent!  Represent!

...so last night while I was dreaming, the good lord paid me a visit in my sleep.  Yep, I'm one of the fortunate, and rare millions of individuals, who have had a cameo appearance by God in one of my dreams.  Was it the five pints of Rickard's Red I drank?  Maybe the McDonald's I had afterwards?  I really don't know what caused it.

What I do know, though, is that God gave me some specific messages to pass on to everyone.  I'm sure he came to me because of my legions of adoring fans and supporters.  That has to be it.  Anyway, here's what God wants YOU to know:

His name isn't actually God.
Yeah, as it turns out there was a spelling mistake in some of the oldest texts ever printed about religion and faith.  You see, God's real name is actually Gord.  Yeah, there's supposed to be an "R" in there.  I asked him if he was shitting me, and the good lord assured me that he wasn't shitting me.

"...creating bibles and such was an expensive task back in those days because they were all done by hand.  Once the first few were printed with my name spelled wrong, I just ran with it.  I had to!  I mean, by the time anyone actually realized there was an error, people had already written hymns in which they'd rhymed my name.  I just couldn't take that away from people."

I didn't mention that Gord rhymes with Lord.  I've never been bitch-slapped before and don't want my first time to come from his Holiness.  

The creator of all things ain't down with the vegans.
He actually told me this and then showed me a recipe for cooking elephants.  Fucking elephants!  Now that's an appetite.  I asked the lord why he thinks vegans are crazy, and I actually had to cut him off because he started ranting away worse than I normally do.

"... when I created chickens and cows, the whole point was to have some eggs and milk to go along with the bacon at breakfast time.  I get a lot of flack from the apostles for giving human beings freedom of choice and, Gord-Dammit, maybe they were right."

That's when I high-fived him.  Not for his views and beliefs about vegan lifestyles, but because he took his own name in vain.  I never realized just how awesome Gord is.  Maybe I'll hang out at church more often.

The Good Lord is Big-time coupon cutter.
Yep.  Dude LOVES saving a buck on tampons.

It's a toxic shocker of a deal!

The All-Knowing doesn't know what to do with Pinterest.

Gord loves this pic because it captures his good side.

He said he tried it a few times and wasn't too sure what he was doing.  Ultimately, and this is just speculation from what he was telling me, I think he was just discouraged that nobody was re-pinning his elephant recipe.  He didn't seem too keen on keeping up with Pinterest but insisted that I accept his invitation to something called Linked-In.  I dunno.  I almost dropped a comment about "pinning" his son to the cross, but again I feared the bitch-slap from heaven.

Then Gord asked me if there was anything I was curious about.
"Actually, yeah, what's the meaning of - -"
"Anything but that.  I'm sick of people asking me that."
"Oh.  Okay.  Well, is it true that 76% of female orgasms are faked because they just want to go to sleep?"

That's when Gord shrugged his shoulders and I woke up.  Enlightened.  Two things became crystal clear to me in that moment - it was up to me to pass these messages on from Gord... and I really had to pee.  Challenge accepted!

- ryan

I Just Wanna Punch Dora (and a few others) Right In The Mouth

...have you ever sat through an episode of Dora The Explorer?  You have?  I'm sorry to hear that, but at least you surely understand the feeling I get whenever I see her - I just want to punch her right in her stupid freaking mouth.

...it's like a target.  For my fist.

Now, it's pretty common for parents to have a hate-on for certain cartoon characters.  I think it all started with Barney in the early 90s.  That was the turning point.  At that point it's like all the goodness that lived within the confines of Sesame Street ceased to exist and was replaced by our anger towards fictional characters.

Now, I hardly think it's as bad today as it has been over the past twenty years or so.  With new shows like Bubble Guppies, Octonauts, Jake & The Neverland Pirates, and a few others, it's actually become kind of enjoyable to watch some of your children's shows with them.

But then I see stupid Dora on TV and I just wanna punch her in the mouth.

 She's not the only one, either.  I find myself telling Mike The Knight to go fuck himself when his theme song starts to play. 

...let the swearing begin.

Then there's Caillou...that whiny little bitch.  I've stop letting my daughter watch Caillou.  That little brat whines and cries until he gets whatever he wants.  That boy needs to learn the value of hard work.  Caillou needs to be sent off to war.  That's the only logical solution.

I guess I'm lucky that my kid actually enjoys reading books with me, and we spend lots of time flipping through pages of Dr. Seuss and Robert Munsch.  But let's face reality.  Television is a quick solution for any parent trying to do the dishes, tidy up the house, make supper, do the laundry, etc etc etc.  But it just seems like Mike The Knight is always on.

I think the only thing that could make me change my mind about Mike The Knight is if he punched Dora in the face for me.  Like, BAM - right in the mouth.

But then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of doing it myself.

- ryan

First To A Million Wins!

...as many of you may already know, I've been at war for nearly eleven years.

Monopoly Millionaire

Sure, this war through the ages has been done on the Monopoly battlefield but that doesn't make it any less intense than anything that's happened in Iraq.  It all started in in the summer of 2002 when my good chum Scott outsmarted a group of us by giving away most of his properties in exchange for immunity.  Basically, he left himself with a complete set of green properties (Pacific Ave, North Carolina Ave, and Pennsylvania Ave) and built up to hotels on them.  But in a brilliant strategic move of his, he didn't ever have to pay anybody else when he landed on their property.  He had immunity from every other player in the game.  Slowly, we all withered away and went bankrupt while he raked in moderate amounts of money.

Ever since then, it's been goddam all-out war against Scott whenever we pass GO and collect our $200.  Oh, and we initiated a "No Immunity" rule for any future games.  We weren't going to be fooled again by his back of tricks.  (On a side note, his bag of tricks is full of all kinds of STDs, some of which haven't even been discovered yet)

2006 - I beat Scott for the Monopoly title.

So this past Christmas I was given a new Monopoly game called Monopoly Millionaire.  At first I was skeptical.  I like my Monopoly to be pretty pure.  I can't get into all the different special editions with Star Wars, Disney, and Hello Kitty on them.  Show me a Ron Jeremy Monopoly board and I might change my mind.  But a gift is a gift, and I'm not a rude person.  At least not when it comes to gifts.  And you can bet I was pretty quick to challenge Scott at Monopoly Millionaire.  I wanted nothing more than to outsmart him and leave him jaded the way he humiliated me in 2002.  Whenever we play in a group of people, I don't even care if I win... I just want Scott to lose.  That's not too much to ask for.

The object of Monopoly Millionaire is simple: The first person to accumulate a million dollars in cash wins the game.  No questions asked.

The game-play rules are all pretty straight forward too.  You still get paid for passing go, collect rent, build houses, mortgage properties, trade stuff, and just like in real Monopoly the Free Parking space is supposed to be nothing but a rest square.  There are some new additions though, like mini-cards that let you steal property from other players and refuse to pay if someone demands your loot.

There really aren't many rules that come with the game, so if Monopoly Millionaire is going to be around forever, I expect a dozen different "house rules" to pop up here and there.  And that discovery right there is what led me to degrade Scott twice at this simple little board game.

The first time was a couple months ago.  We were playing with my wife, Dana, and it was an intense battle.  It seemed like there would be no survivors.  Fuck, we play for keeps.  Sure enough, Scott had a horseshoe up his ass (likely hanging out with some of the STDs) and was three spaces away from passing GO with eight-hundred thousand dollars in cash in his hand.  Passing GO would give him a salary of $250K and he'd win the game.  He was glowing with herpes and gloating like a maniac about how he was about to destroy me again.  I couldn't let it happen.  It was my turn to roll the dice.  I had to do something brash.  So I looked over at my lovely wife.

Ryan: "How much money do you have?"
Dana: "Ummm... looks like six-hundred thousand bucks..."
Ryan: "I tell you what... I'll give you four-hundred thousand for your shittiest fucking property.  I want the dirtiest of the projects where all the welfare cases live."

2011 - Scott wins in less than 30 minutes.  I'm clearly mad.

Dana: "That's crazy.  Why would you do that?"
Ryan: "Just make the trade."

That's when Scott clued in to what was going on and called me every dirty name in the book.  I had never been called a "horse-fucker" or a "can of cock meat" before.  I'll have to add those to my repertoire.  When Dana realized what was up, she naturally took the trade.  Nothing makes her happier than winning, especially beating me at ANY game.  Seriously, you should see her pout when I beat her at Mario Kart.  It actually makes me love her more; it's so cute.

So Scott lost, I didn't win, and Dana won the first battle royal of Monopoly Millionaire.  Scott called me a cheap bastard and swore I was cheating and plotting that the whole time.  And then he swore he'd get revenge and figure out a way to humiliate me the way I did him this time...

...fast forward to last night, and we're playing again.  The same three warriors doing battle on the Monopoly Millionaire board.  I was clearly in the money lead with three-quarters of a million and I was looking for any way to win this time.  Then it dawned on me.  The rule of the game...

"First player to a million wins."

So I spread out all of my property cards on the table and began analyzing them.  Dana looked at me like I was up to something, but she couldn't tell what it was.  She rolled her dice and moved her little token, then passed the dice to Scott.  As he rolled, we had this conversation...

The bank is in the middle and everyone helps themselves.

Scott: "Okay fucker, you aren't that far ahead of me."
Ryan: "How much money you got?"
Scott: "Never you mind.  Fuck you."
Ryan: "Are you going to roll or what?"
Scott: "Oh yeah. You're going down.  I have a plan."
Ryan: "So do I."

He finished his turn and passed me the dice.  And then I pretty much raped his manhole.  "Okay, I'm going to sell my houses back to the bank... that's... one-hundred thousand dollars I get... and I'm going to mortgage every property I own for another hundred and ninety-thousand bucks.  And guess what mother fucker, that puts me over a million.  Suck it."  Scott's jaw dropped in disbelief as Dana started half-laughing.

"You can't fucking do that you cheap bastard!"
"There's nothing in the rules that says I can't."
"You cheating fucking fuck.  You'll do anything just to beat me, won't you?"
"...First to a million wins."

I bask in all my glory now (and for good friggin' reason) but I know that Scott will be back with all new cheap tricks and ploys to defeat me.  He's kinda like an STD-laden Skeletor that way.  I may have won the battle, but the war is very far from over.

- ryan

Mayonnaise Is Stupid

... I dislike mayo so much that I actually recorded a song about it.  Yep, "Mayonnaise Is Stupid"... and I really hate it.  Mostly though, what I hate is when people put mayo on hamburgers.  This trend started a long time ago and it's just gross. I HATE that when I go somewhere for a burger I need to ask the people working if there's mayo on it.

Ryan; circa right about now-ish.

This one time, I got into an argument with a girl at a Wendy's about it.  Here was the conversation, word for word...

Ryan: ... yeah, I'd like a Baconator please with no mayonnaise on it.
Idiot Wendy's Girl: No mayo?
Ryan: Yeah.  I'm allergic
Idiot Wendy's Girl: You can't be allergic to mayo.
Ryan: Yeah, I'll die if I eat it.
(Then my friend jumped into the conversation to tell her that I'm not really allergic to mayonnaise.)
Idiot Wendy's Girl: Why don't you want mayonnaise?
Ryan: I don't like it. I think it's gross.
Idiot Wendy's Girl: But... why? I've never heard of anyone not liking mayo before.
Ryan: Yeah, well, I don't.
Idiot Wendy's Girl: I don't get it.  That's just silly.
Ryan: You know, all you need to do here is push a button.  I mean, there's gotta be a "no mayonnaise button" or something.  It's not like you're actually making the burger for me.
Idiot Wendy's Girl: But I still don't understand why you don't like mayonnaise.
Ryan: ... just push the fucking button.

The Mayo-Nay-Nays

At this point, she just stared at me blankly like I was from another goddam planet while I became visibly agitated.

And this is why I tell people I'm deathly allergic to it.  After arguing with this girl for a good ten minutes, I gave her my money and that was that.  And without fail there was fucking mayo on my Baconator.  It was there and then that I decided to not eat at Wendy's again until they started making their burgers without mayo.

I don't want to rant on too much about the white death, but there was this other time I was at a restaurant and I asked the waitress if the burgers had mayo on it.  "Nope," she replied.  "Just our burger sauce."  Perfect, I thought to myself, I'll take one with fries and a beer.  When the burger arrived to my table I took a closer look at this burger sauce because, well, I've had enough fucking mishaps with mayonnaise in my life to give me a bit of a complex about it.  The burger sauce was pretty creamy, lightly colored, and... well, fuck it, it was fucking mayonnaise.  I can distinguish mayo like Sherlock Holmes can find fucking clues.

So I asked her what was in the sauce.

"Ketchup, barbecue sauce, and mayonnaise."
"... but I said I didn't want any mayonnaise."
"Yeah, and it's not mayonnaise.  It's our burger sauce."

I just closed my eyes and imagined myself setting the restaurant on fire.

Jesus Christ, I fucking despise mayonnaise.

Remember Before The Internet?

Do you remember what life was like before the internet?  Before there was a http://www.ryanfanclub.com, or even a Google?  Do you even know what Altavista is?  As technology continues to improve and make our lives easier, the next generation will never experience some of these great joys...

1.  Who's that guy in the movie?

Tapster was better.

Back in the early 90s, if we were watching a movie and thought the bad guy might have been one of Sam's random boyfriends from Who's The Boss we'd have to consult with our friends to check that shit out.  Today, you just go to IMDB.

2. Wait, you actually PAID for music?
I can actually remember having the debate with my mother to spend an extra $2 to buy Prince's Batman soundtrack on cassette instead of vinyl.  And then these crazy things called CDs came along, and they were like $20 each.  Then Napster changed the way we listen to music and the way we see musicians.  Sure, you can (and should) buy your music online from places like iTunes of Amazon, but there are still too many people who don't.  And in all actuality, buying individual songs online solved the age old problem people had with buying an album and only having one song on it that they liked.  (note: The first thing I ever downloaded from Napster was Richard Marx's "How Do You Talk To An Angel")

I actually had this one.

3. Where do you hide your porn?
I'm a firm believer that the internet was popularized for the use of pornography.  Just think of how much more acceptable the adult industry has become to the mainstream in the last fifteen years or so.  Back in the late 80s and early 90 you may have had some dirty magazines in your drawer.  Or you had a couple dirty pictures folded up in your wallet.  Maybe you were lucky and found a half destroyed copy of Swank magazine in the bushes on your way home from school.  Me, I used to hide my dirty pictures between the months on my WWF calendar (there's another item that's obsolete) because who would ever think to look there?  Today, your computer is full of porn whether or not you realize it.

4. Can I get to the bank before it closes?
Online banking is incredible.  I'm never late paying my bills.  They arrive in the mail, and I log on right away to take care of them.  If I were even more enthusiastic, I could just set up direct paymet.  I'm surprized banks are even open at all anymore.

5. Are you almost done with the phone?  I'm expecting a call.

...never traded my Federov.

Once upon a time, there was one telephone in your house... a rotary dialed phone... that stayed in the kitchen.  Sure, maybe you were lucky enough to have a twenty foot cord on it and could take it away from the listening ear of your parents.  But probably not.

6. Do you have the album with the wrong spelled "Walkin' The Dig"?
If you collected records, or comic books, or action figures, you used to have to hunt for the items you wanted in your collection.  Sometimes you'd have to go to conventions, yard sales, swap meets, or try to barter with your best friend for that "Future Superstar" Eric Lindros card.  You'd give anything for that card, except for your Sergei Federov rookie card.  That guy had the best name ever.  Today, you just go to eBay.  Way to go eBay!  Way to ruin the fun of hunting and collecting rare treasures.

7. Where can I stop to ask for directions?
Sure, the internet is full of scary gas station attendants, but most of them aren't running their own websites offering the easiest way from point A to point B.  And you can't use their bathroom either. That's what Google maps and GPS are for.  I'm waiting for a Goolge Bathroom App for my phone.

... and there's our trip down memory lane!

Standing Ovation

...you just hold on a sec and I'll give it back.

...and here's a brand new poem called "Standing Ovation" for all the heart-breakers out there!

She said I best soon see a doctor
Cause she gave me a standing ovation
She told me that I really rocked her
And now I need some medication
Oh yeah, she always gives her loving for free
To the others, yeah, but never for me
And in my blindness I can finally see

That I unlocked the door with the wrong key

I saw her two hands clap together
When she gave me a standing ovation
And so I braced for stormy weather
To spread across the gypsy nation
Oh yeah, this kinda lovin' comes with a price
And you can leave it to the toss of the dice

...really?  For me?

But there ain't much time so better think twice
Yeah, a smarter man would listen to his own advice

It's a slow down, drag out, cool determination
With a knock down, get up, standing ovation
And the crowd is goin' crazy tryin' to find it's new beat
And they're swimming in an ocean full of crowded defeat
And you think you're so right but you're left in the calm
Until you're head over heels
And explode like a bomb
With a standing ovation

And that, as they say, is that!

Minnie's Wizard Of Dizz (review)

So yesterday I went to purchase Oz: The Great And Powerful for my wife.  She wanted to watch it on some sketchy streaming site, and I'm very comfortable with dropping twenty-two bucks on the Blu-Ray.  Sitting next to it on the shelf was Minnie's Wizard Of Dizz, and since I'm actually quite a fan of all things Oz, I had to pick it up.  It certainly doesn't hurt that Ryleigh, my two-year-old daughter, loves the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  The DVD comes with a couple extra episodes of that show, and some shorts of Minnie's Bow-Tique.  All of this was sixteen bucks.

I'll get you my pretty!

The Good:  It's all here.  It's another tribute to the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and all of the famous characters are re-imagined with the regulars from Mickey's Clubhouse.  Since we already know the story, it's easy for us adults to watch with our kids.  And to them, it's a special episode of a show they already like.  I especially liked Goofy as the Scarecrow.  What a perfect casting choice for the group member without a brain.  I'm not so sure how Donald is the Lion, but I guess he had to fit in there somewhere.

Honestly though, I laughed out loud at the "Chipmunchkins".  How clever.

The Bad:  There's really nothing new here.  Everyone from The Muppets to the Super Friends have re-imagined the Wizard of Oz, and most of the time it's heavily influenced from the Judy Garland movie.  I wish more homages gave more credit to the original Baum novel.  Not that I'm expecting a Disney character to start talking about how they want to eat babies like the original Cowardly Lion, but I'd give my kingdom to see a pair of silver slippers. 

The Verdict:  If you love the Wizard Of Oz and want to share it with your kids, this is a great starting point.  At any age, your kid might be able to watch the classic Judy Garland movie with all it's singing and dancing, but chances are your child isn't quite ready for the far superior Return To Oz (also by Disney), so this little Minnie Mouse movie is actually a great, condensed version of the story to see if your kid is interested in traveling to the far away land of Oz. 

Review - Star Wars Infinities Omnibus

Today we take a look at a comic collection called Star Wars Infinities.  It's a neat idea that throws a "What If" into everyone's favorite trilogy.  What if Luke didn't blow up the Death Star?  What if Luke died on Hoth?  And what if Leia accidentally destroyed Jabba's palace?

"Hold me."

The Good:  These three stories are lots of fun to think about, especially if you were like me as a kid and actually used your classic Star Wars figures to create different stories that weren't in the movies.  I fondly remember the time Darth Vader teamed up with Cobra Commader, because those toys were the same size.  Anyway, much like the original Star Wars Trilogy, installments number one and two were excellent.  There's enough nostalgia and catch phrases thrown in there to make a little wookie happy.  The art is clean and pretty faithful to the actors in the flicks.

The Bad:  Well, they had the perfect opportunity to correct all of the mistakes made in Return Of The Jedi, and they squandered their chance.  I'm talking about Luke actually turning to the dark side like he should have, and those goddam Ewoks getting an arse full of lazer blasts.  That is all.

The Verdict:  It's easy to read, but only if you're a fan of the movies.  If you think your wife is gonna enjoy this stuff, be prepared to explain who Mon Mothma is.  I'm glad this was collected in paperback form, because, honestly, I wouldn't have bought the original issues when they came out.  Still, if you're excited for those new Star Wars movies coming, and you're also hungry for some nostalgia, and you want my personal guarantee that there's no Jar Jar Binks or "Noooooooo" in this story, then go ahead and check it out.