Anti-Troll Ranting

First things first, a very very big thank you to everyone who likes and supports my Mr. Shagedelicious feature. I promise, one new cute guy per week without fail, ok? But for that, I NEED CANDIDATES!!! Send in those photos!

Oh, and Lun, I'd like pics of you in your No.4 please, and your ceremonial guard uniform. Just 2 pictures will do. Thank you sweetie, *muacks*!

_____________________________________________


I was actually just reading Xiaxue's blog (yes I do occasionally read it), and I was pretty horrified by this particular post of hers where she seemed on the verge of breaking down. I have no doubt that people have been too hard on her. That post really struck a chord in me because for once, it was so honest, so raw, that I couldn't help but actually feel sorry for her.

I'm not saying that what she did about SPG was right, and I don't condone what she did. Even if it was done in the spirit of fun, Xiaxue still ought to have exercised some restraint. But seriously, those people who've been sending her hate comments and hate mail ought to ease up to. I'm not trying to defend Xiaxue, but there comes a point when you just get too sickened by the insults you read; they're enough to turn a child into Adolf Hitler.

The fact is, no one likes to be insulted. I don't particularly like Xiaxue, to be honest, but I completely sympathise with her on her trolls and her flamers. Sometimes I find the comments people leave on her blog freaking amusing, because the amount of stupidity and incoherence that abounds there is enough to make a cockroach feel like a genius.

But then I stop finding it amusing when the mudslinging degenerates into some really really mean insults, or when the flaming moves on to XX's friends or family. I can really understand her pain there. Fine, you know, maybe she asked for it in some cases, and I'm sure she was more or less prepared for an onslaught of flames, but not such a prolonged, vicious, or repetitive onslaught.

I can understand how she feels, because I've been flamed before by dumbass trolls who didn't know a bird's dropping about me, and yet think they know me so well just because they've read maybe 2 sentences on my blog. I've received hate mails from stupid cocksuckers without a single neuron in their skulls who think they can foist their stupid opinions on me and take whatever I write on my blog literally at face value. I've been called everything you can possibly think of from 'obese pig' to 'vulgar slut'. All because? Some morons out there decide that they don't like what I write on my blog and think that God gave them them right to dictate what I should write.

Go and sniff the flowers and wake up, retards. If you have so many opinions on how a person should write their blogs, go set up a blog of your own and write whatever the fuck you want on your little puny insignificant blog in aLtErNaTe CaPs, because no one out there's going to give a flying fuck about your shitty little blog. And thus, out of jealousy, spite, and the fact that you trolls are brainless, small-hearted, bigoted dorks without the slightest modicum of human emotion, you decide to troll other people's blogs to 1) gain attention for yourselves and 2) make yourselves feel better about your pathetic lives knowing that you've made someone else feel just as miserable as you are.

Ok back to Xiaxue.

The point is, yes, she can be a vicious bitch. Yes, I (and a lot of other people) don't like what she writes at times. But still, her blog is her blog is her blog. If you're not happy with her, either voice it out on your own blog, or if your fingers are really itchy and you just have to do a virtual-scream at her on her blog or via email, do it in a constructive, polite manner. There is no need to stoop to personal insults.

And yes, you can tell someone off in a nice manner, which is a win-win situation because the other party gets it, and yet it shows that you're a nice big-hearted person who doesn't need to resort to lots of "dumb sluts" and "chee byes" to get your point across.

Let me give you guys an example on how to give constructive criticism without giving insults (or at least the insults are subtle enough to slip past the other party's notice).

For instance, you could write something to Xiaxue saying something like, "XX you are a lousy shit writer and your face is ugly like fuck! Put so much makeup also no use! Your body is stumpy and fat too, how dare you criticise SPG's body? Close down your lousy commercialised blog and go away, you are a disgrace to Singapore!"

[DISCLAIMER: This is a fucking example, an example, ok? I do not really think that way about Xiaxue; I'm the last person on earth who ought to be criticising someone else's looks.]

Look at the above example, which is very similar to loads of comments I've read on Xiaxue's comments thread. Firstly, there is no point in it. Secondly, you're lowering yourself to a level lower than Xiaxue if you write like that. Thirdly, you're either going to hurt her (which is not a good thing; hello, she's also human) or she's just going to laugh at you.

But! But! But! If you write like this:

"Xiaxue, I've noticed of late that your standard of writing seems to have dropped. Is it because you're spending too much time on your columns for TNP and Maxim? As a reader, I'd like to see your entries go back the way they were, because don't forget, it's your readers who made you who you are now. As for the way you criticised SPG, I understand that you may have done it for a laugh, but I'm sure it must have hurt the poor girl. I don't think you'd like it if someone called your body ugly and defaced it, would you? And while we're on the topic, from one female to another, I just have to tell you that your makeup can be excessive at times. But you look beautiful enough au naturel, so don't cake up your face too much."

See the difference in the two? The first one just makes you seem uneducated, uncouth, and plain dumb. The second one at least shows some impartiality, proper judgement, intelligence, and balance. Ta-dah!

In fact, to flame someone in a nice way, you don't even have to write so much. A one-liner will suffice at times. A simple "Gosh, I see you took the wrong medicine this morning" or "Enough, that's way out of line" or "I would feel sorry for you, if only I weren't so infuriated" can get your point across easily.

We are human. We have emotions. We can feel. All right, I know most trolls have about the emotional range of a gnat's ass, so they won't understand other people's feelings, but to the more intelligent ones out there, remember this, will you? We're blogging about our lives, our thoughts, our opinions. If you don't like it, tough, because we're kings/queens of our own blogs. Go insult us on your little blogs, we won't care. Just don't do it on ours. Either that, or flame us nicely. We're always up for a good flame war, provided the person doing the flaming isn't too much of an idiot.

But what am I saying? If I have to devote an entire post to this topic, it just proves that flamers are idiots. Oh well.

The point is - we bloggers are all human. We're not just some robots sitting behind our laptops churning out shit on a regular basis. We have our own insecurities, fears, and weaknesses - just like all you dumb trolls out there. Don't assume that just because you can't see our faces when you read what we write, we're just nonenities or formless entities who won't be affected by your mudslinging.

And don't assume that just because we can't see your faces when you hide anonymously behind your computers, we won't know you. Oh yes we know. We know that you're uglier than we are, you've never been laid, you're a school dropout working as a kopitiam assistant, you have no knowledge of morality and respect, and when you were still in school you were the kid that everyone picked on, that all the guys/girls beat up, and all the guys/girls turned down.

Yeah you trolls are probably going to go, "No that's not true! I'm handsome/pretty, rich, been screwed by David Beckham/Angelina Jolie, am in Harvard/graduated from Cambridge, I'm completely the opposite of what you think I am, ha ha to you!"

The fact is, even if that's what you are, your actions sure don't show it. So we're just going to think of you trolls as uglier than we are, never been laid, a school dropout working as a kopitiam assistant, having no knowledge of morality and respect, and when you were still in school you were the kid that everyone picked on, that all the guys/girls beat up, and all the guys/girls turned down. Ha ha to you too.

Mr. Shagedelicious 2

All right women (and maybe some men too), this is the moment we've all been waiting for - the unveiling of my blog's second Mr. Shagedelicious!

But before we go to the pictures, let me just apologise for the lack of updates for the past one week. I've been down with a terrible cough, cold and fever, and I'm still a little sick now, yet I'm still propping my sagging eyelids open just to bring to all of you what I promised you. Hah! Pay tribute to me for this, minions!

And for those who are new, a quick explanation: Mr. Shagedelicious is a pictorial feature I started on my blog in order to let women have a chance to feast their eyes on the hottest hunks in uniform that I can find (it's not fair if there are only chio bus featured for the men). There's a different Mr. Shagedelicious every Friday, so interested parties please check back then.

Oh, and thank you to all those people who have gamely sent in pictures of themselves/their boyfriends for Mr. Shagedelicious, your contributions are much appreciated! Of course, if you people expect me to continue with this every week I'll need a continuous supply of pictures, so keep them coming to thundersquall@gmail.com!

Uniformed pictures will be given priority, but non-uniformed pics are also welcome. Send in pictures of yourselves, your boyfriends, your friends, your enemies that you want to sabo, whoever, I'll be very happy to take them (and my readers will be very happy to see them).

Warning: This isn't a beauty pageant, so any insulting comments or comments comparing one week's poster boy to another week's will be deleted.

Actually I was supposed to feature my boyfriend for this week, but the goondo forgot to pack his No. 4 when he came to stay over at my place, so his slot gets bumped to next week.

So without further ado, I'd like to introduce this week's Mr. Shagedelicious - he is a perfectly delectable 20-year-old (I love 20 year old guys, they're old enough to be experienced but young enough to have loads of stamina, heh) whose wistful innocence and boyish good looks will probably set many female hearts aflutter.


Introducing... Jinx of Jinxed Life!




Come on, you know you wanna lie here with me




This lil' bit of blood ain't worth you babes out there crying over


You must be wondering where I find these cuties right? Well, I'm not telling. =p Enjoy till next week's feature, and thank you everyone for your support again!

The Launch of Mr. Shagedelicious

To all my dear readers and friends: Announcing the launch of Mr. Shagedelicious on Sheena's Little Fragments of Time!


I'm sure most of you (ok alright, all of you) know of my uniform fetish.

So I thought, why not do a Mr. Miyagi (i.e. his habit of putting chio bu pics on his blog), and put up pics of the hottest, hunkiest, sexiest uniformed men in the blogosphere? It's not fair that only guys get all the fun; girls ought to have their chance at ogling male bloggers too!

*thunderous applause*

Yes, yes, thank you everyone. I know my idea is brilliant, and I'm sure you girls out there are salivating now. But before I present the first Mr. Shagedelicious, let me explain a little bit as to what Mr. Shagedelicious is all about.

1) It's not a beauty pageant, first things first. It's simply a collection of the cutest guys in uniform that I can find over the blogosphere. So please do not compare one Mr. Shagedelicious to another, saying one is hotter or hunkier or whatever. And no insults on the Misters Shagedelicious either. Can?

2) I intend to make it a weekly thing, but to do that, I need sufficient candidates! So I implore all the guys out there, whether you are bloggers or not, to send me pictures of yourselves at thundersquall@gmail.com! Uniformed (as in SAF, Civil Defence, and Police) pics are largely preferred, but topless or civilian pictures are also welcome. However, uniformed pics will be given priority, so do try to send in uniformed pictures though.

3) It also doesn't matter if you're a blogger or not. In fact, you want to sabo your pals and send their pics in, also can.

4) The only basic requirement you must adhere to is that you have to be below 40. No offence to any men above 40, but see, this is for Mr. Shagedelicious. Not that men above 40 aren't shaggable, but most of you are married and thus cannot be shagged.

5) Start sending in your uniformed pics NOW! Especially my friends like Neo, Johnathan, Adrian and Ivan, I expect some from you!


Now, presenting the blogger who has the honour of being Sheena's Little Fragments of Time's first ever Mr. Shagedelicious:

JAYAXE FROM [ZONE] JAYAXE!!!



I'm hot and I know it




Being Mr. Shagedelicious means nothing because I already know I'm shagedelicious




This is the picture that made Sheena go weak at the knees



JayX, congratulations on being made Mr. Shagedelicious of the week! Can I have sex with you now? Finally?

Period = Poop

I hate getting my period because whenever I have my period I always need to take a poop and I will poop like 5 times a day. And the poop comes out like the diarrhoea sort of poop, all soft and mushy and watery, nothing like the usual kind of poop. And it's only during my period that my bowel movements get screwed up.

A quick check with several of my female friends confirmed that they share the same problem. And fuck, it is really puzzling the shit (no pun intended) out of me and I really want to know why having periods makes a girl want to poop often, and poop watery soft poop at that!

Anyone has any theories/ideas/scientific experimental results on this? Leave a comment. This issue has puzzled me since I was 13, and now one decade down the road I need to know the truth because I cannot stand it anymore!!!


P/S: The reason why this irritates me so much is because it's damn troublesome, messy, and bloody if you poop while having your menses, especially if you're out and have to use public toilets. Imagine when you're suffering from diarrheoa. Now imagine you're having diarrheoa while bleeding profusely all over the place. Frickin' no end of trouble.

The Sarong Party Girl Issue

Sarong Party Girl has set Singapore's blogging community - as well as its media - afire. In fact, the news has spread worldwide.

All because?

She put up an artistic nude shot of hers (no, not the one at the top; scroll all the way down to the bottom).

To be honest, I like the pictures of her I've seen so far. They're artistic and tasteful, and definitely not pornographic. Of course, some people argue that there's a fine line between art and pornography, but in my opinion SPG hasn't overstepped the boundary.

Seriously, if people can confuse art with porn, I shudder to think what happens if they ever get a chance to see the Venus de Milo...




or Michelangelo's David.




So what, David, in all his revealed glory, sculptured with an intricate penis complete with pubic hair and a proper scrotum (and may I just say that whoever the model for David was, he either had an awesome appendage or Michelangelo loved to exaggerate), constitutes porn?

Come on, get real, fellows.

Yes, there will always be detractors who say things like, "No no, David and the Venus de Milo are real art 'cause they're merely sculptures. SPG is a real person who put up real pics of herself!"

So fucking what? Think about it. How were those pieces sculptured? Obviously because there were real humans willing to pose nude for the various artists. Keep in mind, my dear friends, that in those days, there weren't any such things known as photography, which is why plaster, clay, paints, oil and canvas were the only mediums to preserve the beauty of the human body.

We're lucky in this age. We have cameras available, both digital and non-digital. We can capture perfect pictures of ourselves which can be preserved for years to come in a split-second, instead of having to stand still stark naked in some drab studio room for months while an artist paints or sculpts your figure. We can choose how we want to look like. We can choose the type of photo we want - black and white, sepia, or colour.

And furthermore, SPG has a glorious body.

There's absolutely nothing wrong in what she's doing on her blog. If she'd posted really obscenely lewd pictures of herself having sex or something to that extent, I'd be one of the first to yell for control, despite the fact that I like to consider myself as liberal. But she didn't do anything close to that. Perhaps our stuffy little world ought to loosen up, hmmm?

It's like what she said in her most recent blog post: "Singapore will NEVER becoming artiscally [sic] vibrant unless we really lighten up. Why is it allright [sic] to see naked picutures on the blogs of girls from the US, some of which are assuredly more highly eroticized then mine, but scandalous to have it come from a Singaporean girl? The last time I checked, we have all the same bits."

Absolutely brilliant. So what if she's Singaporean/Asian/not American? Does that deny her (and everyone else who reads her blog, probably) the right to enjoy her own body?

From what I've read, she's been getting a lot of demeaning emails, with some fellow actually insulting her parents of "not bringing her up properly" or something like that. Hey, jerk, sometimes you gotta realise that we make our own choices in life and our parents don't dictate how we run our lives. There are so many people out there who come from broken or abusive families and yet are remarkably resilient and well-adjusted, while others can have the warmest and most loving families ever and end up psychopathic.

Bottom line: Only little mummy's boys would look at her artistic shots and immediately jump to the conclusion that she's a "bad girl" from a "bad family". And seriously, I can picture that same moron, after writing that insulting email to her, probably immediately surfing to his favourite porn site and wanking off to pictures of Jenna Jameson or whoever they have. Who obviously pose in much more lewd, and very much more naked, positions.

Furthermore, anyone who reads SPG's blog should know that she's always been very open about her sexual escapades, and she freely describes her nude photography sessions which I believe date back for at least a year. This shouldn't have come as any sort of shock. If you're offended by her blog's content, there's a simple remedy: Don't read it. There is no need to stoop to slinging personal insults at her, or her uninvolved family.

I fail to comprehend why so many idiots out there fail to comprehend something as simple as this.

Now for the brutal, honest truth.

Personally, I've always been intrigued by the idea of artistic nude photography, and I've always wanted to do a nude photo shoot of myself. For my own keeping, of course. It's only that I can't - and don't know where to - find a reliable, good photographer. (Anyone who has lobang can let me know. Must be reputable one hor, I'm not going to any sleazy backlane Chinatown shops where the photographer looks shifty, is probably on drugs, and will sell my negatives.)

Ok, before you fellows start spewing vomit all over your computer screens, just read a little further. I realise that I'm not pretty. I know that I'm fat and I don't have a body like SPG's. It's just something I would like to do, for the experience, and to have something of my youth and vibrancy preserved.

And I suppose SPG's doing it for the same reasons, the only difference being that she's bold enough to post her picture up on her blog. But hey, as of now, the Internet is still a relatively free world. And we don't want to deter her from posting any more photos of herself now, do we?


DISCLAIMER: I am not a lesbian. I simply enjoy the human body in all its forms. Why else do you think I admire my own body so much that I want to do a nude photoshoot, even though there isn't much to admire about it by today's standards?

My Breasts Are The Breast

I just found out that my boobs rule.

Ok, I've always known that, but it's only recently, after I took a chest measurement, that I realised how frickin' rulest they really are. They totally take over the world, honestly. I mean, I knew I was well-endowed, but the extent of the endowment amazes even jaded ol' me.

Ordinarily, I'd have just taken my chest measurement and be done with it. This time, though, I decided to measure the diameter of each boob. After much complicated manoeuvring of the measuring tape, much arrangement and twisting of my limbs, and some mathematical calculations to take into account the not-completely-round shape of my breasts (don't give me any grief for that. No girl in the world has perfectly round boobs; even fake boobs merely look like two halves of a sphere), I discovered the true, overwhelming size of my breasts.


Each breast is this size:




Yeah I know, I was shocked too. Fucks yeah! Each boob of mine is 22 inches in diameter!

But after this, the numerous mysteries that have been plaguing me are all solved. It's all because of my goddamned 22-inch-diameter-watermelon-sized boobs!

Like, I now know why is it that whenever I wear an underwired bra, the metal wire snaps if I so much as take a small jump or run a few steps.

I now know why it is that, when I fall on my front, instead of falling flat on my face like most people, I simply hang supported about 20 inches off the ground and roll around slightly, as if I'm on ball-bearings.

I've also found out the correlation between me falling on my front, and an earthquake/tsunami/power blackout/building collapse happening. It seems that the shock waves transmitted by the force of my boobs hitting the floor are strong enough to cause natural disasters.

I've realised why my ex-boyfriend passed away. At his autopsy, the pathologists said it was due to "asphyxiation" but they couldn't determine what exactly caused it. Casting my mind back, I remember now that I was hugging him with his face in my cleavage, and after two minutes he went into convulsions and died. I suspect it was because my boobs were so huge that he couldn't get any oxygen (not to mention the stink of the dirt and sweat trapped there). Oh, and please do not turn me in to the police, my dear readers.

I also realise now why normal people can sit at tables and move their bodies and bend over and lean forward without knocking stuff off the table, or toppling the table itself over. I've always thought it was due to my inborn clumsiness. So it is in fact due to my inborn H-bombs!

And I've figured out the reason why, whenever I'm in supermarkets, people always come up to me and ask, "Excuse me Miss, where is the milk section?"

Yay, the mysteries that have been puzzling me for years have finally been solved.


(As you guys can probably tell, I'm immensely bored right now, hence the enormous amount of bullshit I just spewed, and in the middle of the night no less. You can't blame me; I needed to update, I couldn't sleep, and the inspiration for this crap decides to come to me half an hour ago. And if anyone actually believed whatever I wrote, you're a certified retard. Go kill yourself or something.)

________________________________________


Oh, and this has absolutely no relation to my boobs, but I just want to mention that I'm definitely going for Bloggers.SG, the Singapore Bloggers' Convention, in July. And since Tomorrow has asked all bloggers to help spread the word and plug it on their blogs so they can determine the number of people going, I'm doing my part as a loyal member of the SG blogosphere and doing exactly that. Click on this link and take part in the poll so that the organisers know how many attendees there will be.

By the way, if any of my readers going, you get to see my 22-inch-diameter-watermelon-sized boobs. That should be enough incentive, shouldn't it?

As it stands, it seems that L.E.W.D. will turn up in almost full force, with me, Nethia, Donaq, Hai~Ren, and probably The Feisty Bitch all going for it. Little do the organisers know what we have in store for them. "Bloggers.SG" is going to become "L.E.W.D. Rocks And You Morons Are Our Minions.Worldwide".

Aw shucks, I just revealed our top-secret takeover plans. But no matter; the takeover will happen anyway, whether you guys know it or not. Because face the facts, you're really powerless to stop our combined might. Remember, I have two powerful weapons in the form of my 22-inch-diameter-watermelon-sized boobs. Oppose us and I'll crush you to powder with them, dorks.

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of The Sith

I've finally managed to catch Star Wars Episode III last night with Andy. Yeah I know I'm about 3 weeks late, but being broke and being busy does tend to have detrimental effects on your movie-watching routines, you know (though it hasn't deterred me from clubbing).

I know the movie's probably already been blogged to death all over the blogosphere, and even Donaq has chipped in with his own version of events, which is very obviously made-up, but let's just overlook it because we realise that he made up the shit just so he wouldn't reveal any spoilers for us out of the kindness of his heart.

But I'm still going to blog about it anyway, simply because it kicks ass (though it still isn't as kickass as Lord of the Rings, IMHO), Hayden Christensen is shagedeliciously hot hot hot, and I think the world ought to be told of the truth behind the entire story. I mean, seriously, we don't want gullible kids to read and believe Donaq's version, do we?

And so the story begins long long ago, in a galaxy far far away...

______________________________________________


PART 1


The shagedeliciously hot hot hot Anakin Skywalker and Obi-wan Kenobi have infiltrated the Sith spaceship where Chancellor Palpatine is being kept hostage by Count Dooku. Their mission: To fight through the entire spaceship of Sith droids and robots, kill Dooku, kill General Grievous (whom I think totally kicks ass, by the way), and rescue Palaptine. Yes, I'm sure it's going to be a hell of an easy job for just two Jedi Knights with nothing but a light sabre each.

True to Hollywood plan, they manage to kill like practically every last droid on the ship, despite being outnumbered about 300 to 1. And every one of these droids have a frigging laser gun aimed at both of them, but while fighting through the phalanx of enemies, they somehow still manage to nimbly dodge every single laser, kill every droid and get to Palpatine without so much as a scratch. Just the two of them, with their light sabres. Yes, the Force is indeed strong in them.

So they get to Palpatine, kill Dooku, and rescue Palpatine, but Grievous escapes. Well, what the hell did you expect? If they had killed both Dooku and Grievous there wouldn't be a proper villain for them to chase for half the show, would there?

The two Jedi and Palpatine return to whatever the Republic's base is called, and there, waiting for Anakin, is Padme Amidala. They run into each other's arms Meteor Garden style, weeping and sobbing and hugging like they haven't seen each other for 800 years (when actually I think it's only been 2 days).


Padme: Oh Anakin, I have wonderful news!

Anakin: Wassup babe?

Padme [joyfully]: I'm pregnant!


There is a long, pregnant pause. Then Anakin slaps Padme so hard she spins backwards and falls to the ground.


Anakin: You stupid goddamned bitch! You were the one who said we're supposed to be a secret! And now you've gone and gotten youself knocked up, you dumb bitch! I gave you those goddamned pills to take, didn't I?

Padme [tearfully]: They're all gone.

Anakin: Gone? Whaddya mean, gone? Answer me, you stupid cow!

Padme: I took them all at one time because I kept forgetting to take them on time everyday like you told me to. So I thought... if I took them all at once... it might even be more effective at keeping me from getting pregnant.

Anakin: Oh my Force. You stupid, stupid woman! Those damn pills cost me half a year's Jedi Knight vocation pay! Oh my Force!

Padme: I'm so sorry... What do we do now?

Anakin: Forget it. Keep the fucking kid. But it had better be a boy or you're dead, bitch. I'm gonna make him the bestest Jedi Knight ever in the galaxy, yo!

_____________________________________________


PART 2


Palpatine, who of course is actually Darth Sidious of the Sith, senses the time is ripe to turn a very angry Anakin over to the Dark Side. He realises Anakin is confused by many conflicting emotions. There's his love for Padme (forbidden for a Jedi), his anger at the Jedi Council (forbidden for a Jedi), and his hatred for the Sith (forbidden for a Jedi). Come to think of it, everything is forbidden for a Jedi. No wonder Anakin was willing to switch over; the Dark Side gives him more options.

Palpatine summons Anakin for a talk. He reveals that he is Darth Sidious, but before Anakin can kill him, he quickly manages to twist Anakin's loyalties over to him.


Palpatine: Anakin, li chai boh? Wa si li eh peng yoo. (Anakin, do you know? I am your friend.)

Anakin: No you're not. You're a friggin' Sith Lord. My friends are... [He pauses.] My friends are... erm... my friends... Oh yes, my pals are the Jedi!

Palpatine: Anakin, mai anee kwan. Li chai boh? Jedi kia li eh power, li eh Force. Jedi bueh suka li, Jedi ai control li. (Anakin, don't be like this. Do you know? The Jedi are afraid of your power, your Force. They don't like you, they want to control you.)

Anakin [shaking his head violently]: Li imm see! Li imm see! Wa bueh shiong sim! (No you're not! I don't believe you!)


Unbeknownst to him, 20 years later, his son Luke would say the exact same words to him.


Anakin: Confound it all, now I'm starting to talk like you!

Palpatine: Hahahahahaha... Li kwa, li gong wei eh kwan si Dark Side eh kwan liao. Shiong sim wa. Anakin, ka kin lai orr orr ji beng! (Hahahahahaha... You see, the way you talk is the same way people of the Dark Side talk already. Believe me. Anakin, come quickly to the Dark Side!)


Unbeknownst to Anakin again, he would say the exact same words to Luke 20 years later.

Anyway, Anakin, being the wuss he is, got convinced real quick (dammit, they made the hot hot hot Hayden Christensen seem so wussy), and went over to orr orr ji beng (the Dark Side), and was conferred the name of Darth Vader.


Anakin: Look here, Sidious, why'd you gimme the name Vader? What in the name of the Force does Vader mean anyway?

Palpatine: Wa imm chai. Wa kak tit jin hoh tia mah. (I don't know. But I think it sounds good.)

Anakin: Alright man. I'm Darth Vader now, yo yo!

_________________________________________


PART 3


Lots of terrible things have happened. Anakin has gone to the Dark Side. Palaptine is consolidating the Empire. Anakin has killed all the Jedi except Obi-Wan and Yoda. Padme is alone, miserable and heavily pregnant. Obi-Wan has killed General Grievous (have I already said that he fucking kicks ass?), but now, the entire Republic is rebelling. The remaining Jedi have to go into hiding.


Yoda: Find Anakin, we must. The starter of this nonsense, he is!

Obi-Wan: I can't believe it, Master Yoda. Anakin? Gone to the Dark Side?

Yoda: Yes, Obi-Wan. Failed terribly, your training has. Make up for it, you must.

Obi-Wan: I understand, Master Yoda. I will attend to it now.

Yoda: Your disciple, Anakin was. But he is not now. Remember, Obi-Wan. A Jedi shall not feel anger. Nor hatred. Nor love. All these three, Anakin has. Gone to the Dark Side, that is why he has. Show no mercy!


So Obi-Wan finds Anakin on some distant star system and there begins the climactic fight between master and pupil.


Anakin: I knew it! Sidious was right! The Jedi have betrayed me and want to kill me!

Obi-Wan: No Anakin. You betrayed the Jedi and the Republic. And you must pay.

Anakin: Come on over, man. I'll let you taste my new powers, yo!


They leap towards each other, grabbing their light sabres at the same time. But while Obi-Wan's light sabre appears as per normal, Anakin's doesn't light up. They both stop in surprise.


Anakin [pressing the "On" button on the handle frantically]: Oh goddammit! What the fuck is wrong with it now? I knew I ought to have taken my trusty Jedi light sabre instead of using this inferior made-in-China Sith light sabre! [He shakes it hard. There is still no response.]

Obi-Wan: Anakin. How many times do I have to remind you?

Anakin: Huh?

Obi-Wan: You forgot to change your battery, didn't you?

Anakin: Oh fuck! That's right! Thanks, Master Obi-Wan! I just keep forgetting, don't I?


He slides the battery pack out of the light sabre's handle, tosses it to one side, and slips in a new battery pack. He presses the "On" button again. But it still doesn't come on. Anakin growls in rage and frustration.


Anakin: Goddamn it... [He thumps the light sabre hard on the ground.] I hate these... [Thump.] bloody frigging... [Thump.] made in China... [Thump.] inferior GOODS!!!


With a last loud thump, his light sabre shatters into pieces. Two of the larger pieces fly towards Anakin. He is unable to dodge them in time, and true to Hollywood accuracy and invincibility policies, they somehow slice off both his legs neatly. He tumbles to the ground in front of Obi-Wan.


Obi-Wan: See, Anakin? I told ya. Always use your Jedi light sabre. I win this match.


He turns and walks away, leaving Anakin on the ground.


Anakin: Hey bitch! No fair! This is not fair! I demand a rematch! Come back I say, you muthafucka! Come baaaaaaaaaaaaaack...!!!

_______________________________________


PART 4: The End


Padme is in labour, and Obi-Wan is in the delivery suite with her. Outside, looking in through a glass window, is Yoda and Senator Organa. They watch as Padme scream in her labour pains, and Obi-Wan stares between her legs, waiting for the baby to come out.


Organa: Look, Master Yoda. What are we doing here? Is it appropriate for us men to watch Senator Amidala giving birth?

Yoda: A custom in our galaxy, this is. Any Tom, Dick or Harry staring up a birthing woman's legs, it is allowed. Not here, the child's father is. Representing the interests of the father, Obi-Wan is.


Padme gives a loud scream, and the droid midwife hands a wrapped-up baby to Obi-Wan.


Obi-Wan: Look Padme! You have a boy!

Padme: Good... Anakin... will be pleased... I promised I'd... give him a boy...


Padme gives another loud piercing scream, and the midwife appears with another baby.


Droid midwife: She was carrying twins. This one's a girl.

Obi-Wan: Wow. Anakin was never good in anything except making love and creating loads of children. That's one thing I never had to teach him or remind him to do. I'm proud of my disciple. He has finally accomplished something on his own.

Padme: I want to... call them... Luke and... Leia.

Obi-Wan: Sure Padme. Anything you say. To be honest, I think these are really dumb names and you could have picked better ones, but since Anakin's dead and you're about to join him soon, anything goes now.


He has hardly finished speaking when Padme closes her eyes and dies.


Obi-Wan: Oh no. I forgot to ask her what to do with the kids. Knowing my shitass luck, I'll probably be made babysitter.

Yoda: A child-minder, you cannot be. In looking after Anakin, you failed. Look after these children, and fail you also will.

Obi-Wan: Thank you, Master Yoda. You really boosted my ego there.

Yoda: Take the girl, Senator Organa will. Protect her from the Sith, he must.

Organa [thinking to himself]: So this is why Yoda wanted me present at the birth. He had an ulterior motive, the sly wrinkled green frog!

Yoda: Return the boy to the Skywalkers, we must. Keep them separated, we have to.

Obi-Wan: I don't know, Master Yoda. I have a bad feeling about separating them.

Yoda and Organa: Why?

Obi-Wan: Well, I keep having a premonition that something really bad is going to happen if we separate them. Like, what if they grow up, meet, and fall in love without knowing their parentage? That's incest, that is.

Organa: Nonsense, Master Obi-Wan! There's no chance of that happening in a galaxy as huge as this!

Yoda: Right, Senator Organa is. Impossible and ludicrous, your idea is.

Obi-Wan: All right, Master Yoda, Senator Organa. But I've warned you. If something like this happens 20 years later, don't blame me.


THE END