First post. Fade in. Star field. Opening crawl.
Go check out Captain Rick’s Armor Party at the Star Wars Comic website.
Very funny stuff! I should know, I wrote it! As well as produced, directed, and some times star in it. Who am I?
Captain Rick Uranus, that’s who.
Captain Rick Uranus, commander of the 162nd Legion of the Imperial Empire. Fuck the 501st! We have cooler armor and hotter women; what more could you need?
Come check out the Armor Party! It’s got galactic incest, bad language, and unnecessary blasterings! All your favorite nerfherders are there, and they’re drunk and sexually harassing each other! It’s like a Death Star office Christmas party!
“Hey! Darth Vader just pinched my ass! Should I report him to HR? But, he’s the boss. And he’ll probably just force choke the entire Human Relations department all at once. Hehe, that would be a sight to see though. . .wait a minute! That doesn’t change the fact or give him the right to sexually harass me!” or something to that effect.
Galactic realities.
Star Wars is not my life; life is Star Wars.
Blogger. Sounds like robber, or mugger, or Clubber Lang.
Squidoo. Techno tentacles. Don’t seem to have the reach they used to.
So now I’m trying to put some Word Pressure on the search engines. Will they rev or will they seize?
Get yer motor runnin’, head out on the information superhighway (with your speeder bike), lookin’ for adventure, or whatever group of rebel scum that we can repress in the name of the Empire comes our way.
Yeah, rock and roll and Captain Rick make it happen.
Fire your Death Star and explode into space.
Love & Blasters,
Captain Rick
