Thursday, November 1, 2012

The ethical problems of being a fanboy

Disney bought Star Wars. Movie 7 is on the way. I am extremely happy. Gleeful.

But I have a conundrum. [By the way, the comments on this thread regarding the plural of conundrum are some of the best grammar Nazi reading I've done in a long while. Brilliant.]

Surely Darth is going to make more appearances at Disneyland now. He's a much more practical autograph character than Solo or Leia, R2 can't sign very well, and 3P0 has fairly limited mobility. He already shows up a few times a day to test the kiddies' Jedi reflexes, but doesn't stick around for autographs.

Yet. Suppose he does. What is a fanboy in development economics supposed to do? Somehow it just doesn't strike me as right to squeal like a little girl [not that there's anything wrong with that] while asking a genocidal mass-murderer for his autograph. I mean, it would totally encourage real life mass murderers!

I do know he's fictional. I am rationally aware that it would be the caps-locked scrawl of an 18 year old, not even the Scottish guy whose name has been forgotten since the masterful James Earl Jones gave his voice. But for some strange reason the thought of standing in a one hour line to get that signature seems vaguely appealing.

And I'm worried that is sick and wrong.
Some of you may try to comfort me that he repents because he chose "fruit of my loins" over "skin of evil" in movie 6 and got his hologram digitally changed later on. But that's after the mask is taken off, and this guy will still have his mask on. It's not an Anakin Skywalker signature - it's a Darth Youngling-Slaughterer Vader signature, a Darth Nice-planet-you-had-here Vader signature, a Darth Torture-and-abuse-his-children Vader signature.

But you already knew I take things like this way too seriously in fun. Yes. I know. I'm the one who spent my lunch hour writing this after all, between giving an oral midterm exam and a meeting to decide what to do with failing students instead of eating my lunch. Call it therapy. It's all fun and games until someone loses a hand.