The video store I work at part-time is fun. Especially if you’ve been there for almost 10 years because you get away with saying shit (going for the that R-Rating) that would get you fired from most retail jobs. I can’t remember what lead up to this exchange, but here is the good part.

Regular: You have to enter to win, Howard.
Me: I bet you say that to all your tricks.

Geeks and nerds have many things in common. In my reality the differences boil down to one thing: social skills. Nerds don’t got ‘em. I experienced this Wednesday night at the Naruto movie. In line were people with Naruto pins, jackets, headbands, etc. You know — fun stuff. We all stood in line, joked about coming to see the movie and complimented each other on our various stage of costumage. I even got asked twice where I got my Hidden Leaf Village Headband ballcap.

It was a party. Fun and exciting while hanging out in the theater as if it were the host’s kitchen.

And then — out of the underbrush — the nerds attacked. One had brought his Naruto trading cards. No biggie. Everyone needs a hobby. Except that this guy, who was obviously the recipient of a Nell Carter lung transplant, states that he has some specific rare card. He then says it again louder. He sucks the atmosphere right out of the theater and repeats for a third loudest time of all how he — and only he — has this card. That’s right. No one else does.

I had just witnessed my first real-life evidence of my theory of the geek-nerd difference. This guy and his friend — who, by the way, thought it appropriate to give us all color commentary during the movie — are nerds. No social skills. Why? Most likely a lack of self-esteem. They were like dicks cocks in a new chicken coup — verbally strutting their stuff. Well, this hen was not impressed. They didn’t have try to impress us this way. Just showing up in public visually showing off your love of something that many wouldn’t dare did that.

You had us at “one ticket for Naruto”. Pump the brakes on the overcompensation and you’ll get to have some lovely geek companion sooner than you think. Ignore me and you get to keep your virginity far past the return of your Saturn.

Unless there is liquor involved then you’ll just feel dirty, used, stinky and sloppy in the morning. You have been warned!

“Your denial knows no boundaries”
- Me, April 20, 2007

Said to Cameron in the midst of one of our battles of wits whilst spending the day together watching the second season of The Venture Bros. and trying to out-sarcasm one another.

Today is the 30th anniversary of Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope or as it was simply called on Wednesday, May 25, 1977 — Star Wars. That summer I was 10 and in a close Mormon-family unit. Dad worked a lot and was going to school. Mom was working part-time when my dad was home.

The funny part? I hadn’t even heard of the movie. Honestly. We were that out of touch with the outside world. My parents exposed us to much more music than television. I do remember that a bunch of kids at church were acting out the movie, but I think it was only the commercials and trailers they had seen. It only dawned on me much later that they were talking about Star Wars.

My dad and I were always watching sci-fi and other fantasy type shows on television like “Star Trek” and “Wild, Wild West” — both of which I still love today. The interesting part of this story is that mom and dad had come to me and said that Dad and I were going to see a movie together. Just us. No one else. I thought I was going to burst with excitement. I didn’t care what we saw just that Dad and I were going to do something together.

Dad told me that it was a space movie and that it would be a lot of fun. I was all for it thinking it was going to be like “Star Trek”. We got there early and even though the theater hadn’t filled yet (because it did), I still made Dad sit in the third row. I was in heaven. I’d be able to see a science-fiction movie on a big screen and see every pore on every alien. Yes, even if their skin was latex.

I’ve still never experienced the excitement and anticipation of a theater crowd more than then. People were actually talking to complete strangers about what to expect and poking fun at my dad for letting me force him into that third row seat. He just played it off and allowed me to have my say to where we sat. I’m pretty sure that not only was I hyper as hell, but he was pretty damn excited to see it as well.

The lights dimmed and we had to sit through some previews which were taking far too much time. Then the lights went all the way down and the 20th Century Fox March started. I had heard it before, but that music will always to this day remind me of Star Wars. Silence. And the prologue sentence — in blue — that will forever be itched into the brains of generations of people:

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

And then I about jumped out of my seat when the John Williams’ opening fanfare scared the crap out of me and panicked when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to read the opening scroll. After that, I settled in and discovered how fun cinema could be. My favorite scene? The trash compactor? The moment Darth Vader appeared? When Luke and Leia kissed (EEW!)? The assault on the Death Star?

Nope.

It was the Cantina Band. I fell completely in love with Williams’ freaky jazz music, the unusual musicians and the weird instruments they were playing. That was how much music was — and still is — a part of my life. In fact, I loved everything about that Mos Eisley (”You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.”) sequence: first meeting Han and Chewy, Luke trying out bravado for the first time, Obi-Wan’s father-like protection of Luke, even the weird drinks they were serving.

And when I got home? I completely geeked out and reenacted the entire movie for my brothers.

…and then he was all like ‘beezzzuuu’ and the bad guy was like ‘I’m all better than you now’ and the lasers were all like ‘Dzoo! Dzoo!’ and then he killed him. It was sad…

So thank you, Mr. George Lucas, for entertaining and inspiring us even today. We may be a little hard on your later career, but it’s only because you made us see how wonderful the images projected on silver screen in darkened theaters could make us cheer, love, think, gasp, cry, laugh and smile. And even though I think The Empire Strikes Back is the superior film, Star Wars will always be the penultimate father/son bonding moment in my life.