The most awaited creative cliche: Star Wars Fever

Oh Lord. Let me get comfortable, 'cause this post is SURE going to make me the most hated blogger on this website and I'm sure my ass will be a nice target for a whooping. And I mean a Rodney King ass whooping. (Fight the power! Can we just get along?)

Ok guys. And when I say guys, I mean it. Guys. Men. People with dongers. What is it with Star Wars, anyways?

Hm. Let me put my story first, so that I don't seem like a bitch that hates everything Sci Fi. I kind of don't. KIND OF. Wanna guess my age? Well, let's just say I went to the theater to see it. Yup guys, I was in line as any other dork back in 1977. I just won't say my age at that time, just to keep the mystery going. Hm... Me is a thirtysomething chick? Ha. Anyways.

I liked it, very much. I believed, deep in my heart, I was Princess Leia. My mom once bought a new fridge and I begged her to let me make the box like an X Wing. But, of course, it had to be a girlie XWing. It had pillows, Barbies, the works. Suck it, Star Wars fans. My dude was Skywalker (Yes, over the years I have learned that the greatest man of all is Han Solo, but that's what happens with age, women tend to like assholes instead of good guys). And by the way. I watched the last episode. Twice. It rocked, hard. Still, I consider myself normal.

Wait, wait. I'm getting away from my point. Hm... Where was I? Oh yes. Star Wars freaks at ad agencies.

Just look around at your local advertising agency. Go around the cubicles. What do you find? A picture of Chewbacca. A nice miniature Millenium Falcon. The coolest evil doer there is, Darth Vader. Hey, maybe if you are lucky, you will find the ever great Darth Maul toilet paper. Kill me at any time, please. What's up, people? What is it with that movie, anyways? I mean, it was cool and great at that time. Still is. But to the point that you live to work so you can pay the latest batch of SW figurines... well... hon, you might need help.

Wake. Up. You are a late twentysomething or even a thirtysomething dude. If you are still looking forward to going to Toys R' Us on Saturday to spend your slavery money I mean your advertising check, you need to reevaluate your life. Are you still watching the movies on a regular basis? You need help. Do you know the inner workings of the Falcon? You need help. Can you remember the Vader-Skywalker conversation, word for word, about him being his daaaaddy? You need Vicodin.

The funny thing is that creatives are well known for this cliche. You have to see them when they first arrive at their ad agency. They bring every toy that George Lucas could think of to get their money and proudly display them at their cubicle. Wanna piss them off? Do my favorite prank.

Let them go to lunch. Get Luke and Han's action figures. Put them on a nice sexual position. Enjoy the response. It's worth it.

UPDATE:
Wanna see my point in action? See great photos of creative desks at: http://www.adtothebone.com/boneyards