So the Peeper and I are watching "The Empire Strikes Back" for, like, the four zillionth time the other day. He loves it, I'm willing to sit through it again from love of the Peep and a sort of distant affection for the impact of the originals back in the Seventies.
But, I have to admit, the daddy mind wanders a bit.
It doesn't help that I still remember having a bit of a thing for the actress Carrie Fisher back in the day.
So I was sitting there watching Princess Leia suddenly get a tingle of her Force power and (being male and post-pubescent) thinking about Carrie, and the Force, and consequently thinking about sex. In particular, thinking: "Y'know, if I could suddenly manipulate stuff with my mind, the hell with throwing stuff at evil Sith Lords or manipulating weak-minded minions. We'd be talking really, really, really. Great. Sex."
You can't tell me that G. Lucas didn't think about that, too. The guy put Fisher in a totally gratuitous metal bikini in his last decent Star Wars flick (and, when you think about it, what decent flicks HAS the guy directed since the first SW epic? He's a pretty tragic story, when you think about it.)
But so far the sexual innuendo in the lightsaber-and-droid milieu is pretty anemic. Probably good, in that Mister Peep is way excited about the new season of "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" coming up in a couple of weeks. He's all about gunships and blasters. But I'm going to have a hard time watching smart-alec teen jedi Ahsoka Tano without a smirk until this whole notion wears off.
Lechery, lechery, Star Wars and lechery. Nothing else holds fashion. At least the one for the daddy and other for the Peeper. I don't know if I can handle the day he starts to fashion the former. But I do wonder...who will his Carrie Fisher be?