It’s only 15 degrees Fahrenheit outside.

While I don’t have to worry about stray probe droids or wampa attacks, I can’t help but feel like I’m trapped on Hoth. I keep starting my car, just to make sure that its hyperdrive hasn’t been deactivated. After all, I’m going to have to get the fuck out of the driveway once Vader and his crew roll up.

They don’t mess around.

Okay, so I don’t have to worry about the Dark Lord of the Sith tossing my dessicated corpse into a snowbank. But I also don’t have the benefit of taking a dip in a bacta tank. So how am I, a regular fanboy without any mastery of the Force, supposed to survive the frozen hell that is the Bostonian January?

Why, with the sweet warmth of alcohol! On this early Sunday afternoon, I’m tossing back a bottle of the oak-aged elixir that is Innis & Gunn Original.

C’mon Chewie, punch it!

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Those two fiendish goblins Boredom and Apathy are running amok, hoping to infiltrate the brain-bone of any unsuspecting humanoid. In the current system, the one that drags us down and demands we work far too long for far too little of a reward, they are highly successful. After all, Bordeom and Apathy sit outside of offices and follow workers home, striking just as TV-dinners are microwaved. But there is a refuge, a small oasis in the desert of the modern condition. And you know what?

You’ve arrived.

Welcome, my babies, to the Monday Morning Commute. This is the place where we share our ideas about the upcoming week. Here, we stave off malaise and depression and lack of enthusiasm! Join me!

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Mourning / Irvin Kershner

Irvin Kerschner is dead. You know what that means, don’t you? That’s right, the last director to helm an amazing Star Wars flick is no longer a passenger on Spaceship Earth. The Empire Strikes Back isn’t just a credible sequel or a fantastic piece of science fiction, it’s one of the most affective stories I’ve ever experienced.

What makes the movie magical isn’t the mind-blowing special effects or the incredible battles – although they are appreciated – it’s the abundance of relatable elements of humanity. Friends are torn apart. Lovers seek passionate infernos, only to have complications extinguish the embers. An individual pushes himself to the limits of his capabilities, only to undermine his progress by leaving early. Hell, there’s even a suave black dude with a cape.

I have no doubt in my mind that without Irvin Kershner, The Empire Strikes Back would not be the masterpiece we know it as today. Hopefully he’s chilling in Heaven blue-ghost style, chatting it up with Richard Marquand. Hell, maybe they’ll even take it upon themselves to haunt Lucas on Christmas Eve, showing him the error of his ways.

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