Granted, George Lucas created the fantastical little space world thats expanded into a universe so terrifyingly grand that it can force even the sanest of us to become disconcertingly detached from reality. But even the most diehard Lucas apologist must acknowledge the unnecessary tinkering and tweaking hes done to the original trilogy. Not to mention losing his mind for a period long enough for whatever replaced it to conjure up the three prequels. Hes kind of like the L. Ron Hubbard of the Star Wars world. Now hes offloaded his intergalactic space junk to Disney, hes not there anymore except in a mythical, behind-the-scenes way, pulling the strings or advising like a demonic space-God. And his creation lumbers on and on, incessantly and out of control. Much like Hubbards equally creative interplanetary fairytale.
Chris James Peet says hello. His interests include hoping for the best and sitting in chairs. He much prefers moaning to counting his blessings and suffers fools gladly. He also likes to look out of the window and check what's in the fridge but he hates standing up, dripping taps and reality.
