First, Han shoots first, damn it.
Second, Mr. Lucas, you fat, bearded bastard . . . I want the original cuts. I don't care if you don't like them. I don't care if they don't match your original vision. So what if you couldn't do it the way you wanted? It's not like the Beatles redo their classic albums.
Wait. Check that.
But, my point is, those original versions are what built your bank account. Not the Special Editions. The originals, with bad matte shots and Han shooting first, you arrogant prick.
Star Wars represented my childhood. I spent hours pretending to be Han Solo not because of the killer special effects. I did it because the stories and characters, for reasons that are beyond me now, connected with me. They meant something to me. And the changes you've made to all three movies didn't.
I mean, seriously, what's with the ego? You had a few hit movies, one artistic success and a bunch of crap ever since. You can't direct and you write for shit. So stop it and give me what I want. The original cuts.
It's not like we can even make up our minds about it. You've shelved the originals. You've taken them away from those of us who have lined your pockets with gold and built your ego into a giant albatross that we fans have to wear round our necks. An albatross roughly the size of you.
So, therefore, Mr. Lucas, I won't buy your movies. Nor will I rent them. It's too bad, too. Because I wanted my kids to see them. But they aren't what I fell in love with. And I'm not willing to give them a second-rate version to make you happy.
Oh yeah, one more thing, Mr. Lucas the Hutt. Bite me.
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