I remember when the first Star Wars prequel was being filmed, one of the things Fat Lucas blathered on about was the advent of digital film. I’m sure he made some ludicrous statement like it was going to be everywhere in five years or something (this in 1999), and it was one of many promises not kept. Still though, it has proliferated and is becoming more and more prominent. A testament to this is the announcement by Fox that they’re going entirely digital in Hong Kong next year.

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George Lucas is walking proof that I can separate my love for a creation from they who created it. While I love the OT with all my little heart, the doucheability that Lucas possesses knows no fucking bounds. Really, Georgey? You had to shut down a fan run Star Wars marathon? Jesus Christ.

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I knew Lucas wouldn’t play us like that. I knew the prequels weren’t his doing. This video is blowing up right now because it’s true. This is what happened.

In all seriousness, this is cute, funny stuff and reinforces that amongst all the hate and cynicism, Star Wars fans are the best. WE are the best. Revenge of the Sith came out six years ago. That fact is enough to confirm that if Lucas didn’t have an unbreakable sense of humor, he would have committed suicide by now.

[WEEKEND OPEN BAR: The one-stop ramble-about-anything weekend post at OL. Comment on the topic at hand. Tell us how drunk you are. Describe a comic you bought. This is your chance to bring the party.]

It’s become the stuff of legend – as Star Wars neared the end of production, the pressure began to take its toll on George Lucas. The director found himself working round the clock and constantly worrying about the budget, doing everything in his power to finish the film he’d been imagining for years. Under this incredible strain, Lucas even believed that he suffered a heart attack.

The doctor assured George that he hadn’t had a proper attack, but was suffering from supreme exhaustion and hypertension. And so the film was finished.

The rest, as they say, is history.

But in this tale, it turns out that the ailments weren’t confined to fatigue and irregular blood pressure. George Lucas, despite being told otherwise, had in fact survived a heart attack. The motivation for the misdiagnosis? With so much on the line, both in terms of money and reputation, Twentieth Century Fox had greased the palm of Lucas’ physician, thereby ensuring that their product would be delivered.

Star Wars, of course, was a goddamn commercial and critical juggernaut. Lucas immediately began work on the sequel, and in 1980 The Empire Strikes Back was met with even more admiration. Personally and professionally, the USC alum was on top of the world.

But when it came time to finish the trilogy, George’s heart just couldn’t take it.

The bickering with Marcia climbed to new, more incendiary summits. George knew his wife was talented – hell, the whole world knew – but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his gut instincts were always the ones worth following. Love and work and sex made for a dangerous cocktail, and his home life was far from happy. In fact, it was pretty fucking terrible.

He and Stevie had barely finished their pet project when it was time to return to his space-epic. George was at a loss – he had some real, inspired ideas as to how the trilogy should conclude – like the serials of his childhood and the Spaghetti Westerns of his adolescence, this new movie should end on a somber, open-ended note. Perhaps the battle is won, but a new war looms on the horizon.

But he also knew what the studio executives were expecting. Cutesy. Cuddly. Lunchboxes and action figures. He was willing to bend, allowing for merchandise to made and marketed. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were trying to break him. They had come dangerously close to ruining him back in `78.

So on an October evening in 1981, when George Lucas felt those same chest pains he had experienced on the set of Star Wars, he put aside his notes and tried to relax, take his mind off the troubles at hand. He sat back in his recliner, rubbed his temples, closed his eyes, and tried to escape his woes.

George Lucas died at the age of 37.

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This is a few days old, but I hope you’ll forgive me. For starters, I make it a point to take the weekends off from continual internet refreshing and posting. Consider it my downtime. Of course, the internet doesn’t sleep, and shit happens. And secondly, when I read this shit, I blacked-out. I woke up in a puddle of my own corn-heavy vomit. Just gallons and gallons of corn-filled puke. All over my body. My eyes were red, my mind was certain: there is no God.

Why? [Rumor] George Lucas is apparently making three more Star Wars movies.

Slashfilm:

IESB — who has been known to have connections at Lucasfilm in the past — is currently reporting that Lucas is “plotting to create” new Star Wars movies which would be released after the six three 3D re-releases and would take place far in the future, not relating to the Skywalkers. More after the jump? You bet we do.

In the IESB piece, they back up their source by informing readers that they broke the news of Revenge of the Sith’s PG-13 rating, the live action TV show as well as The Clone Wars show. They believe that’s enough to substantiate the rumor.

Specifically, they report that while working on the 3D conversions of the new films, which will begin in 2012 with Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Lucas “has gotten the itch.” He has “gotten motivated with the success the Clone Wars animated series, the video games and also with the success of Avatar.”

The sequels, not prequels, would not focus on the Skywalkers, but instead be set in the future. Same universe, but totally different story. By doing this, Lucas doesn’t have to fit pieces into a puzzle like he had to do with the prequels. And he has stated that that process was creatively constricting to him.

Well fuck me sideways, with an ignited lightsaber. You should have seen the look of pure terror when I told Pepsibones this news. He was fresh off a great weekend of drinking heavily and celebrating his birthday. It was a weekend of merriment. I almost felt guilt letting him know that in fact, our childhood was going to get spread, and fucked ruthlessly once more. His eyes darkened, and fear filled the parts of his soul he wished not to acknowledge existed. His innocence, which he had long thought dead, or at least outright denied.

Fuck George Lucas. Let me be clear about something. I don’t hate the idea of more Star Wars content in any form if it’s done right. I hate the idea of George Lucas making any more Star Wars content. If this rumor had “Del Toro” or “Spielberg” or “Jackson” or “Blomkamp” attached to it, I’d be losing my god damn shit with glee. It’s the fact that, if this is true, fat Lucas will be bumbling and raping his own mythos again. And that ladies and gentleman, makes me very, very afraid.

I have puke to wipe up.