In what is “news” (that I am covering and thereby PERPETUATING LIKE A PIECE OF CRAP), Disney has announced that Episode VII is going to take place 30 years after the events of Jedi. Well! They certainly couldn’t say it was six years after. I mean, after all — the original actors look like they’re either fucking models for adult diapers or warning labels against doing drugs as a youth. Chewed-up meat lookin’ motherfuckers.

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I’ll cop to it. I haven’t seen 12 Years A Slave yet. So I don’t know first-hand how good of an actress Lupita Nyong’o happens to be. However, I do know what she won a fucking Oscar, and multiple friends are enamored with her. So I’m more than happy to justify my excitement at her joining the cast of Episode VII (potentially) with those two reasons.

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Apparently there’s an enormous as fuck Jedi apprentice role in the new Warring Stars flick. And said role is now down to five actors.  As a sweaty loser with a Wampa butt plug, I’m going to sweat Episode VII pretty much regardless. Of anything. But there’s one dude on this list that would absolutely fucking break my dick. We’re talking rocketing out of the crotch of my Wicket cosplay and impaling my cat type level of excitement.

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This new Star Wars flick certainly ain’t the usual J.J. Abrams enterprise. Leak after leak after leak. One can only imagine the sort of sphincter-tightening anger and fear he’s feeling on a weekly basis as new details dribble out of the Episode VII anus. The latest? Oh just what Carrie Fisher will be up to for six months.

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New podcast up in your fucking gutsss. With a special fucking guest: Pepsibones Krueger! *Phazer sound, Phazer sound, Phazer sound* Back from his stint in the OMNIVERSE. With The Bones in Tow, the Gang Omega relocated to my compartment of the Space-Ship for this edition, and what occurred is truly the tale of two podcasts. Off the bat we vomit chunks of broken-brain about True Detective, artistic integrity, Her, how much Bateman loves to feel inspired, Ms. Marvel #1 and other bullshit. Then the booze kicks in, and what follows is generally just Pepsibones and me babbling drunkenly about Avengers,  Star Wars, and Jeremy Renner’s amazing vascularity. So it’s pretty fucking awesome.

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Fucking stupid Star Wars. I’m all walking out of fucking work, dong thickened with glee because the day is over, when I read this news on my iPhone. So here I am — sitting in a shitty cafe table on campus — sharing this news. But I can’t help it! It’s The Force, man.

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Let’s call it what it is – nonsense. But even speculating about nonsense gets me jacked+pumped+stoked+ready to stroke when it comes to the new Star Wars. Apparently maybe there is some Millennium Falcon concept art on a picture from the Lucasfilm site.

Hit the jump for the image in question. (It ain’t the image above.)

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Sorry, sorry. So much Star Wars. I get it. We only cover Star Wars and Marvel. I’ll fall on my fucking lightsaber later. For now let’s contemplate a Pixar-powered Star Wars movie. Here, I’ll pop off my pants first. Air out the rapidly swelling pink bits. You can follow suit if you see fit.

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Zounds! It’s really happening. Really, really happening. And I can’t help it, I’m torqued. Carrie Fisher says Hamill, Ford, and she will be on set soon. On fucking set. Ignite lightsaber. Watch your eyes.

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The script for Episode VII is done! Thank goodness. I didn’t know how long it was going to take Abrams to shoehorn all of his fan service before finally stapling down on the final product (just kidding only slightly though ’cause of reports that he wants Ep. VII to be original character-centric). So yeah! Oh, and the Guy Who Flared also confirms something rather gnarly. You know, the rumors that Meth Damon could maybe be a Skywalker.

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