Dear Star Wars,
I know it’s traditional in a situation like this to say things like, “It’s not you, it’s me.” But the unavoidable fact of the matter is that, well, it’s you. Look, things were great there for a while and I don’t really have many regrets. But this just isn’t working out anymore and I have to end it.
I’m sure this comes as a bit of a surprise. To be honest, it was a surprise to me, too. After all, our relationship had gone on for so long and had so much invested in it that I just kind of assumed it would go on forever. I mean, I refused to denounce you after those mediocre-to-awful prequel movies. There was a lot of anger toward you in those days, and plenty of people recommended I end things all the way back then, but I defended you and decided to stick it out.
I could deal with Jar Jar and Trade Federations and cringeworthy “romance” and dialogue that probably would’ve been better if it were written by an average five-year-old.
Besides, I had always gotten more enjoyment and mileage out of your books than your movies, anyway. Let’s be real, most of them were just okay, but there were a few great ones (looking at you, Thrawn novels) and I really had gotten hooked on the characters, to the point where even the Dark Nest Trilogy didn’t seem so bad. Yeah, that’s right. So I was in it for the long haul.
And then you went and destroyed it all. You decided the Expanded Universe of carefully crafted continuity was better suited to the garbage compactor and in its place you released two of the stupidest, most pointless, aggressively demoralizing, terribly written, and deeply nonsensical movies I’ve ever sat through. I watched through The Force Awakens with my love for you largely intact. Again, I defended you against the naysayers. Was it mostly a somewhat lazy rehashing of previous stories? Absolutely. But hey, you’re all about that Eastern aesthetic, right? So a cyclical story makes a lot of sense. I could dig it. I was excited for the potential, even if it did sting that you’d jettisoned all those storylines and characters I loved. And then…
And then you shat the bed, my friend. That’s the best way I can think of to describe it. You just straight-up soiled yourself and everything around you in an explosion of disappointing sequel excrement not seen since the dark days of the Matrix trilogy.
The Last Jedi is the worst movie I have ever seen. Or it was, until I watched Rise of Skywalker (which, incidentally, is a moronic title for that film). Of course, by then you couldn’t really hurt me anymore. I was just disappointed. And that those miserable chunks of cinematic flotsam replaced and obsoleted the complex and interesting world your novels and comics had created is just reprehensible. It’s inexcusable. It’s unforgivable.
And so, Star Wars, our relationship cannot continue. There is nothing you could possibly do to repair the damage. No amount of an adorable baby Yoda will draw me back. There is no way I could ever trust you again. I’m sure I will always carry some shred of nostalgia for the times we had and the way things were, but my love for you is deader than Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.
Regretfully,
Randy
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