Friends, Disney is dropping a documentary series about The Mandalorian on Star Wars Day. You know, I typically think Star Wars Day is lame as fuck. An excuse for dudes who wear airbrushed Star Wars t-shirts to go “dur, dur, May the Fourth Be With You!” and shit. But now this year? I’m actually excited.

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True or False: Wicket totally crushed Leia ass in the dense forests of Endor? C’mon. It’s a bit obvious. Who wouldn’t give it up to this pocket-sized batch of sex? I know I would.

Discuss.

It’s Star Wars Day. May the Fourth. May the Force. See the connection? Ha! I know, right? I didn’t think it up. I was going to hate on the Prequels today, as I am usually wont to do at any mention of Star Wars. But why, right? Why mourn on the death when you can celebrate the life?

God bless Star Wars. God bless the whiny farmer, and the walking carpet, and the sexy space pirate, and the princess with no bra. God bless Kenobi, and the ultimate swagger pimp Vader. God bless John Williams, and George Lucas. Lucas, wherever you are in that fat bloated meatskull that carries your name, I tip my cap to you.

As lame as it sounds, Star Wars introduced wonder into my life. The sort of “gee whiz, anything is possible!” sort of mentality that while incorrect, is empowering. It showed me a galaxy full of oddities and it gave me a bildungsroman to follow as I myself was coming of age.

It consumed hours of my life, it still does. It gave me a mutual interest with friends, and in a way, it probably drew me in closer with Pepsibones. Prior to the Force, Pepsibones was just some kid I ripped bare-assed farts on and made fetch me bagels. But our mutual respect for Lightsabers and Falcons gave us something to get closer through, and now the piece of shit is my favorite person in this galaxy.

So yeah, may the force be wit ya’ll. Take this day to drop the snark and dream but for a moment.

(I’ll try my hardest.)