I Want to be a Jedi

Aside from indulging in the unparalleled head rush associated with the ability to influence the weak minded (which, I’m sorry to say, seems to be a vast majority of the population) more often than necessity truly demands, I think I’d make a first-rate Jedi.  I’m short, as is Master “judge-me-by-my-size-do-you?” Yoda.

Fuel up the Tie-Fighter. We're going for a ride.

I like flying, as did Anakin Skywalker prior to that whole Dark Side debacle.  Which, by the way really wasn’t his fault.  I mean, had Obi-Wan not been so lenient with the boy, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so quick to hop into bed (figuratively) with Palpatine in search of a Master truly able to provide proper discipline.  And I would absolutely go with the purple light saber so fashionably sported by Mace Windu.

Yeah, it's purple. You got a problem with that, buddy?

Go on with your bad self, Mace!  Uh, I mean, Master Windu.  Sir.

But as much as I am positive I would rock an earth tone robe and purple saber, I hesitate to throw my lot in with those only willing to look on the Light side of the Force.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Sith.  My skin is much too oily to slather with that much red and black paint without risking a permanent settlement of unsightly zits into the seedy nightlife of New Acne City.  No, I simply think that the Dark side of the Force is just as important to understand as the Light.  After all, one cannot exist without the other.

Maybe Qui-Gon had it right all along:

“Jinn always does things his own way, always sure he is right, always incredulous if we do not see it his way. Some think he is a gray Jedi.” ―Tyvokka, on Qui-Gon Jinn

I could do gray.  Well, as long as it’s not my hair.  I’ll fight that until I’m older than Master “when-900-years-old-you-reach-look-as-good-you-will-not” Yoda. We’ll just see about that, shorty.

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