Is This A Sherlock Reference? I Never Thought You Would Be The Type, Tech.

Cadet Tech: Its called the pauli exclusion principle

Cadet Tech: basically we are made up of these tiny little atoms

Cadet Tech: and all these atoms can't reside in the same location which qualifies as touching

Cadet Tech: so technically we never really touch anything

99: right...but you're still going to apologize to your brother *referring to crosshair*

99: for punching him the the face

Nah, I just know the sound of someone getting the crap kicked outta them when I hear it. Just wanted to embarrass you :)

Not an actual tooka but rate my tooka?

Dark markings over half his face. Always looking up at me. Maintains a good attitude despite the circumstances. Absolutely don't need another one of these, 4/10

The Princess Bride (1987), dir. Rob Reiner

“For some time, Hollywood has marketed family entertainment according to a two-pronged strategy, with cute stuff and kinetic motion for the kids and sly pop-cultural references and tame double entendres for mom and dad. Miyazaki has no interest in such trickery, or in the alternative method, most successfully deployed in Pixar features like Finding Nemo, Toy Story 3 and Inside/Out, of blending silliness with sentimentality.”

“Most films made for children are flashy adventure-comedies. Structurally and tonally, they feel almost exactly like blockbusters made for adults, scrubbed of any potentially offensive material. They aren’t so much made for children as they’re made to be not not for children. It’s perhaps telling that the genre is generally called “Family,” rather than “Children’s.” The films are designed to be pleasing to a broad, age-diverse audience, but they’re not necessarily specially made for young minds.”

“My Neighbor Totoro, on the other hand, is a genuine children’s film, attuned to child psychology. Satsuki and Mei move and speak like children: they run and romp, giggle and yell. The sibling dynamic is sensitively rendered: Satsuki is eager to impress her parents but sometimes succumbs to silliness, while Mei is Satsuki’s shadow and echo (with an independent streak). But perhaps most uniquely, My Neighbor Totoro follows children’s goals and concerns. Its protagonists aren’t given a mission or a call to adventure - in the absence of a larger drama, they create their own, as children in stable environments do. They play.”

“Consider the sequence just before Mei first encounters Totoro. Satsuki has left for school, and Dad is working from home, so Mei dons a hat and a shoulder bag and tells her father that she’s “off to run some errands” - The film is hers for the next ten minutes, with very little dialogue. She’s seized by ideas, and then abandons them; her goals switch from moment to moment. First she wants to play “flower shop” with her dad, but then she becomes distracted by a pool full of tadpoles. Then, of course, she needs a bucket to catch tadpoles in - but the bucket has a hole in it. And on it goes, but we’re never bored, because Mei is never bored.”

“[…] You can only ride a ride so many times before the thrill wears off. But a child can never exhaust the possibilities of a park or a neighborhood or a forest, and Totoro exists in this mode. The film is made up of travel and transit and exploration, set against lush, evocative landscapes that seem to extend far beyond the frame. We enter the film driving along a dirt road past houses and rice paddies; we follow Mei as she clambers through a thicket and into the forest; we walk home from school with the girls, ducking into a shrine to take shelter from the rain; we run past endless green fields with Satsuki as she searches for Mei. The psychic center of Totoro’s world is an impossibly giant camphor tree covered in moss. The girls climb over it, bow to it as a forest-guardian, and at one point fly high above it, with the help of Totoro. Much like Totoro himself, the tree is enormous and initially intimidating, but ultimately a source of shelter and inspiration.”

“My Neighbor Totoro has a story, but it’s the kind of story that a child might make up, or that a parent might tell as a bedtime story, prodded along by the refrain, “And then what happened?” This kind of whimsicality is actually baked into Miyazaki’s process: he begins animating his films before they’re fully written. Totoro has chase scenes and fantastical creatures, but these are flights of fancy rooted in a familiar world. A big part of being a kid is watching and waiting, and Miyazaki understands this. When Mei catches a glimpse of a small Totoro running under her house, she crouches down and stares into the gap, waiting. Miyazaki holds on this image: we wait with her. Magical things happen, but most of life happens in between those things—and there is a kind of gentle magic, for a child, in seeing those in-betweens brought to life truthfully on screen.”

A.O. Scott and Lauren Wilford on “My Neighbor Totoro”, 2017.  

For us or for you?

What if, theoretically, someone had a Gonk droid that they droidnapped but would now wish to give the Gonk away (this is definitely not my case)? What would someone (not me) do in that case?

I would advise you to look up the definition of "theoretically" and consider choosing a different adverb.

Can anyone show me how to disassociate to the point where I enter the void?

Yes. Just yes

yknow what i think the clones would really like?

can you imagine? someone would tie like fifty of them together and then drag it across the ship. they’d be in helmets, shoes, hanging from their blasters. Ahsoka makes one move all by itself and the boys start screaming. Hardcase has like twenty peeking out of his pack “so they can breathe.” Kix bans them from the medbay until someone lays one in a cot under the blanket like its getting treatment and just breaks down laughing/crying. Fives starts a game of seeing how many worms they can tape to Rex without him noticing.

Rex, with a cape of worm-on-a-strings: what’s wrong is there something on my face?

Cody, deadpan, about to pass out from not laughing: nothing

Fettuccine Alfredo. I know I'm basic

Send me your favorite pasta dish that isn't spaghetti and I will tell you an obscure thing that makes Captain Rex cry on a normal day.

if Crosshair and Wolffe met

Crosshair: we don’t usually work with regs

Wolffe: yeah well i don’t usually put up with talking twigs.

Wolffe: *catches toothpick*.

Crosshair: *violently shakes

Vader: [opening a desk drawer in Obi-Wan’s old room] Let’s see what this old fool kept in here…[picking up a piece of paper]  Obi-Wan: [in a letter] 

Dear Anakin, 

If you’re reading this, then you must be rifling through my belongings, which means you are either extremely bored (in which case I suggest going and tidying up your quarters, which I don’t need to see to know are a disaster,) or I’ve been missing for an extended amount of time and the Order needs the room to store extra chairs, or I’ve died, possibly while trying to rid the galaxy of General Grievous. If I am in fact dead, I hope this letter finds you well in spite of it, and that you have not gone off the deep end or murdered anyone in an attempt to avenge me. (…unless it’s Grievous, I suppose.)

You will find attached to this letter the receipts for several items in my room, such as the electric tea kettle. I hope you can at least return them for store credit. 

I’ve set up a college savings plan with the Galactic Bank of Coruscant, because I noticed that Senator Amidala is obviously pregnant, and since I am not nearly as dense as you apparently think I am, I presume the child is yours. The account information is in my safe, which I would give you the combination to except that I know you have been breaking into it since you were 14. 

If you do intend to eventually leave the Order, as I suspect you might, please make sure that you give the Council two weeks’ notice. It’s only polite, and you never know when you may need to use them as a reference. Even though I know you clash with them, they do care about you.

Finally, please make sure Duchess Satine’s nephew gets the inheritance I’ve left him (the information is also in my safe, and no, I’m not going to tell you any more details about this. I realize how much this is going to torment you, and I’d be lying if I said that’s not bringing a smile to my face.) 

Your blanket is in the hamper. Wash it on the gentle cycle. The password for the wi-fi, in case you’ve forgotten, is BuyYourOwnDataPlanAnakin.

Be well, my Padawan, and I shall see you again someday – hopefully many years from now – when you, too, rejoin the Force. Don’t forget to change the payment settings for Netflix now that I’m dead or you’ll fall behind on your programs. 

Yours,  Obi-Wan Kenobi  PS: Don’t let Vos speak at my funeral.