The Gonzo Wolf

The one thing I waited for during last night’s Superb Owl had nothing at all to do with Football. I’m a hockey fan, peeps. I haven’t watched a football game in 26 years, and I’d prefer to keep that record climbing.

Do they still celebrate after running three feet and tripping over their own feet? Yeah? I’m not watching.

I was waiting for this.

Star Wars fans are chewing off their hands at the wrists to keep from sticking their Playstation controllers up their butts.

I’m being serious; they did not like this trailer at all. It’s all over the goober-verse or Twitter or whatever it is they all slurp-up through their Elon Musk glory holes.

For once, Disney didn’t cater to the mouth-breathers who need their art, mainstream or otherwise, spoon-fed to them like Jethro consuming his morning Cornflakes. Gen X knows what’s up with that.

To be completely honest, my fellow Star Wars fans, we, collectively, don’t deserve a trailer. We’re all being pretty fucking naughty here in the United States – half of us, statistically – and we don’t deserve nice things. Wallow in your racist, homophobic twattery , oh one-in-two of ye illiterate cack-loins, and wait for the movie releasing three months from now.

Did you know that, after the initial trailer during the Superb Owl for The Phantom Menace in 1999, I didn’t read or research ANYTHING about the film? I just when and saw it, averting my eyes whenever enter the realm of the Wal-Martians. Because of that, it means more to me today than it does to those who feel as though they must ingest as much information as possible before a film’s release.

Even though one of my best friends in the whole world spilled the beans regarding Liam Neeson’s fate before I could see it. I still love you, Chris Early.

Spoiler: he’s not in the original trilogy for a reason. Neeson, not Early.

Anyway, shut up and take your medicine, you AI phillating, entitled spawn of coked-up high-rise royalty. You’re still going to go see the movie regardless, and you know it. All of you. Just shut up between now and then. Go learn knitting, or something.

Need I say more?

Nothing against Meg, I like her. At least she’s not a juiced-up bro with a chin-clit. We live in a time and place where there’s not much hope given to anything anymore. Just put the Disney-tit back in your mouths and let the rest of us have an adventure.

Poons; the lot.