Would I rather be a Jedi or a Sith Lord?

My colleague Jonathan just posed this challenge to me: Write an in-depth analysis of whether you would be a Jedi or a Sith lord (minimum 500 words).

Quite frankly, I’m insulted that he even had to ask.

No-one in their right mind wants to be a Jedi. Jedi life eats it raw. You’re supposed to worship Yoda, a grammar-mangling piece of green snot who alternates between being a Muppet, a messy piece of CGI and a crappy cartoon. Strong in him the shittiness is.

You know you’re probably going to have to spend your teenage years stuck on some featureless desert planet hoping someone interesting eventually shows up. Or you have to pretend that Jar-Jar Binks would make a good senator, when the truth is that his hide wouldn’t even make a good suitcase. Or you have to incestuously kiss your sister and then never mention it again.

Plus you end up with some ludicrous name like Qui-Gon, and your side completely loses whatever tenuous grip it has on galactic power every three movies or so, if not sooner. Also, you’re likely to be a brain-dead idiot: before trying to hide yourself away so no-one can find you, you figure it would be a good idea to leave behind a map of your exact location. Bitch, please.

Being a Sith Lord beats that hands down. You frequently get to wear black, which is a better fashion choice and also more slimming. Your family name is Darth, which seems cool. Rather than focusing on bringing balance to the force, you can think about your bank balance instead. It’s all good, even when it’s about being as bad as possible.

As well, embracing the Dark Side gives you absolute licence to murder Harrison Ford, thereby reducing the possibility of any more abysmal Indiana Jones sequels. (I refuse to consider this a spoiler, by the way: the damn movie has been out for months and taken billions. And also, adopting tyranny means spoilers are the least of my villainous plans.)

Sure, as a Sith Lord you’ll eventually end up slaughtered by some Jedi jerk to satisfy the apparent sub-conscious demand for a conclusive “happy ending” every three instalments. But we’re all going to die anyway. Years of absolute power in a black robe beats handing out in a swamp or on an island for decades before having to pass on your skills to some little prick upstart and then meeting your doom at the end of a disco-themed lightsaber, let me tell you.

Finally, there’s an important issue to consider which is often overlooked. There has been one constant amongst the ridiculous flip-flopping over what does or doesn’t constitute Star Wars canon: everyone seems happy to agree that the infamous Star Wars Holiday Special from 1978 never happened. I reject this stance as a crime against nature, against history, and — most importantly of all — against Bea Arthur.

As Darth McIvor, I pledge that once I am in full control of the universe, which is merely a formality, the Holiday Special will immediately be restored to its rightful place as the most important Star Wars creation of all. Yes, I’m really that evil.

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