Well, I was doing shit. I still am! But I felt strongly compelled to see the movie before this strip was released, just to head a motherfucker off at the pass. Technically, I could have headed them off elsewhere. That's true. But the pass is a very traditional venue.
It's my instinct to say I would refuse a job like that - the expansion into movie length detail an anecdote from a previous movie. An out of season adjacency, the twilight realm of fan fiction. That's what I would say by way of donning a suit of ironic plate mail. In truth, what an opportunity. All you have to do is write the script; it's like the deal I have with Gabriel, where a loose handful of ASCII is transmuted by a process I don't give a shit about into visual gold - and somehow, I get the credit. What I'm saying is: get someone else to do the really hard parts, but maintain the moral position. It's an incredible system.
There is a lot to like about Rogue One, but it's true; you can't actually talk about Rogue One. Not meaningfully; it's very Fight Club. Unless you and the person you're talking to have seen it, virtually everything is a spoiler. I've heard it said that this is the first movie to take the franchise heritage as a document of War seriously, but that's what you write when you want to "start a conversation." In truth, this movie isn't even in the same genre as the tentpole Star Wars films, which explains practically everything about the change in tone. My dad hated Star Wars, but he would have loved Rogue One. I hope there are regular screenings for him in Hell.
Gabe's contracted some kind of globe-threatening ultracold, and I gotta bounce a little early today, but let's spin up the stream at 1:30 or so and see how far we get. We are blessedly, blessedly out of dried Subscription Crabs, at least we were. Josh had kind of a crabby gleam in his eye when I saw him last.