Weekday Post #51: My Brother the Judas pt 2

Saturday at my brother’s house started out nice. My mom and my sister-in-law went shopping for baby stuff while my brother and I played some video games. I wanted to play Star Trek: Pinball, but I left in it the city. Besides, as I’ve mentioned earlier in this blog, my brother has a Mac and Star Trek: Pinball wouldn’t be caught dead running on one of those suck machines.

My two nephews spent part of the day watching Sponge Bob Square Pants. I can remember some Christian guy on TV saying that Sponge Bob used subliminal messages to turn children gay. I don’t care much about the gay stuff, but I did watch closely to see if the show used subliminal messages to turn children into Star Wars goons. Everything checked out okay so I had no problem with the show, other than that the children should have been watching Star Trek: TOS. They also watched something called Powerpuff Girls. I’d never heard of this show, but I monitored it pretty carefully and didn’t find any hidden Star Wars pandering.

After the generally pleasant day had ended, I told my nephews the bedtime story about Anakin Skywalker getting his ass handed to him by a Tribble. I’ve previously published the story on this blog so I won’t repeat it. After telling the story, I immediately went over to the stupid Macintosh and typed it in for the blog.

As a side note, I find it very distracting that the ‘maximize’ and ‘minimize’ buttons on a Mac window look like traffic lights. I’ve got news for you, Apple Computers. Green means ‘Go.’ It does not now nor will it ever mean ‘Maximize.’ It’s no wonder that the only people who use Apple Computers are Star Wars goons. Just as Star Wars stole all their ideas from Star Trek, Mac stole all their ideas from Windows. I have a hunch that when I destroy Star Wars, the ripple effect will also destroy Macs.

After keying in the story’s incredible ending wherein a triumphant Captain Kirk and his Tribble friend beam to the USS Enterprise leaving a weeping Anakin Skywalker behind, I heard Natalie Portman’s voice. At first I ignored it, thinking that it was perhaps a television commercial for V for Vendetta, but then I heard the unmistakably wretched strains of a John William’s score. I followed the horrid sound down the hallway to my nephews’ room and threw open the door.

“It’s Fat Uncle!” screamed the youngest. The eldest tried to conceal something with a blanket but I had already seen what it was. The impressionable seven and four-year-old boys were watching Star Wars Episode II on a portable DVD player. I snatched the machine from his hands and called for my brother.

Not just my brother, but my mom and sister-in-law came into the room. My mom was glaring at me in her demeaning way and my sister-in-law uttered a word that is unprintable on this blog but that it is far too common among vile Star Wars goons. I ignored both of the foolish women and held the DVD player up for my brother to see. “Look at what I just caught your sons watching.”

Even at this point, I did not suspect that my brother was guilty of owning the Star Wars movies. I thought that the naïve children must have borrowed them from a classmate, unbeknownst to their parents. So I was utterly heartbroken when my brother proclaimed his disloyalty to me by saying, “I told you boys not to watch Star Wars when your uncle was here.”

I started to yell; I couldn’t help it. I simply could not understand how he could possibly throw out his Star Trek movies yet allow his children to watch Star Wars filth!

My brother interrupted me and said, “Stop yelling. The kids like to watch them. It’s just a stupid movie so lay off.”

My sister-in-law said, “We shouldn’t have to hide kid movies and pretend that we just loaned out movies that we don’t like when you come over!” She had the gall to add, “Grow the [expletive] up!”

I turned my back to my sister-in-law and told my brother, “You know how I feel about these movies. You know the facts about them. They aren’t harmless movies. You’re letting your kids watch a movie that will probably turn your children brainless goons obsessed with masochism.”

My sister-in-law continued her unwelcome rant. “What the hell is wrong with you? Obsessed with masochism? What are you even talking about? We don’t tell you not to watch Star Trek or not to write that asinine blog, so what gives you the right to come into our house and tell us what to do? What gives you the right to tell violent bedtime stories to my kids about Captain Kirk cutting off people’s feet?” (Obviously, she hadn’t understood my story, simplistic though it was. Her incomprehension of the detail that Anakin cut off his own foot—singular—long before Captain Kirk arrived confirmed my suspicion that Star Wars had long-since rotted her brain. )

I looked my brother right in the eye and said, “I see that the Star Wars goons have gotten here before me. Or maybe you willingly brought one into the house.” I eyed his wife knowingly. I noticed that my nephews were crying, but it was better that they should learn the truth than continue to believe that watching Star Wars was an acceptable pastime.

My mother spoke for the first time. “There is no such thing as Star Wars goons, or the Star Wars militia, or the Star Wars army. You blather on about them every day and everyone is getting sick of it—”

I stopped her. “First off, I have never mentioned a Star Wars army. You just made that up. Secondly, denying that they exist only makes them stronger. Star Wars goons thrive in darkness.” My sister-in-law sighed and started to say something but I ignored her and turned my attention to my nephews. “I’m sorry that I got here too late. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here to protect you from the Star Wars goons.”

My brother said, “There are no Star Wars goons. The kids just like to watch the movies because they think they’re cool. They’ll grow out of them in a few years just like I grew out of Star Trek. Maybe it’s time for you to do the same. Honestly, you live in mom’s spare bedroom writing a blog about hating a movie that most people don’t give a [expletive] about anyway!”

I glared at him. “You didn’t grow out of Star Trek; you never loved it as much as I do. I’ve got two pieces of advice for you. Don’t use harsh language like that around your children, and don’t let them watch Star Wars. I’ve seen what it can do to people and I guarantee that you’ll be sorry if you let this continue.”

I walked out of the room and went to my bed. I could hear my sister-in-law whining about how she wanted me to go to a hotel because she didn’t want me spending another night in her house. My brother talked her out of it though, which made me think that perhaps there is hope left for him. Nonetheless, I went to sleep that night fearing that my sister-in-law would never allow me in the house again and that she would utterly decimate my young nephew’s lives as well as the life of the unborn child that she carries. Still, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few; my brother has only two children and one on the way. Of course I love them, but I’ve got a world that needs me. I knew that the Star Wars goons had attacked my family in an effort to distract me from this blog. If I let the blog suffer just because my family needed me, I would be letting the Star Wars goons win. I could never let that happen.

To be concluded…