Vader and Rambo are both pushovers. Think about it. They could do whatever they wanted if they had a little bit more spine. Rambo does whatever someone tells him. That old Colonel and the blond missionary manipulated him into doing their bidding in minutes with no argument. Vader acquiesces to the demands of the Empirical Admiral when they are on board the Death Star and of course he does whatever the Emperor tells him to. Think about that, most powerful Jedi ever turned evil, has the power to overthrow the republic and change the galaxy but he isn't even the highest ranking dude on the Death Star.
Also, what is with all the hands that get cut off in star wars? Vader loses his hands like five times, Luke loses his a couple times. Samuel Jackson loses his hands as does the "wanted man" in the bar where Luke meets Han Solo. There are a ton of random hands getting chopped off at every spin of a light saber in those movies. You can't swing an Ewok around the room without hitting a severed appendage.
In Rambo III, the Colonel gets 'tortured' by being lifted into the air*gasp*. Heaven forbid someone get lifted into the air. Lets hope the guys at Guantanamo don't find out about that brutal method of "enhanced interrogation".
I like the bit in Robot Chicken where Darth Vader needs to call the Emperor and explain to him that the Death Star got blow'd up.
63 Years of Memories....
63 Years of Memories....
that's what I have now. The photo below shows the chair on the point which for so many years was my father's favorite after-supper place to contemplate and cast for walleye. As much as I feel guilty about what's happened, I know he would understand and even say there's nothing to forgive. He lived life fully and moved on many times. I'm the one with the unique experience of being attached to a beautiful place for my whole life. And despite all my best efforts, yesterday the 'cabin' was sold. I signed the papers and, truth be told, a weight was lifted. A new life lies ahead without the obligations, but with all of the wonderful memories. My unrelentingly positive attitude says this is truly how it is, but my heart is still sad.
There are some things in life for which the balance between the obligation and the joy of ownership often cannot be sustained forever. It became clear that I was no longer up to the task of taking care of the place quite a while back. However, knowing what needs to be done and doing it are often far apart. Finally, no choice was left. It had to be sold.
Now it's gone. No more worrying about how long the grass or how deep the snow is up there. No more sublimely pleasurable early morning cups of coffee sitting on the dock when the color of the lake is like pale blue glass and the air is completely still. No more endless repairs, high taxes, and utility bills. No more late nights around the fire pit with friends and family - warm from both fire and friendship. No more frozen pipes or emergency calls to the furnace guys. No more saunas and midnight skinny dipping that make you feel like you'll live forever while your connection with nature is confirmed by the gazillion stars of the milky way and the loons calling out in the dark. No more concerns with low well water levels or water so hard and full of iron the clothes turn yellow and your newly washed hair feels like brillo. No more finding the way home by boat in the dark after a long day on the lake feeling like this is the only place you really, really belong. No more praying that the boathouse will make it another year without collapsing. And ultimately, no more making new memories with friends, family and loved ones. No new memories, that is, at Half Bay, Lake Vermilion, Tower, MN. New life... here we come!
How do you thank a place for memories?
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