Hidden Pictures

Woah! What do we have here?

ooks like ol Ben has been keeping more than his left over baloney sandwiches hidden in a shoebox. Look at the pictures I found hidden away. I’m not sure what to make of them. They seem very odd to me. Maybe some of you out there can make heads or tails of what’s going on in these pictures?

#1 Like this one? Who are these people and why do I feel like I'm watching a sit-com?

#2 Hey, did someone crazy glue his claw to his head?

#3 What's Obi-Wan saying that could distress Padmé so much?

#4 Woah! What is this guy? Lord of sausage heads?

#5 "Wanna smell somthing?"

#6 "I've fallen and I can't get up!"

#7 "Maybe if I pretend I'm asleep he'll stop staring at me..."

#8 ...Geisha disco?

#9 ???

#10 Okay...everyone looks fine...everyone is just standing around for oh...I don't know. Waiting for someone to speak, to start the- Wait! What's with Yoda?

I don't know. Maybe I was better off not finding these. Anyone else have a clue what's going on in them?

New Music Friday

Every day I spend here at Obi-Wan’s château de filth, I am constantly surprised by what I find. No, I’m not talking about the half eaten Hungry Man T.V. dinners stuffed under the cushions of the couch or the old Silly Putty eggs in the freezer or even his old 7-11 super-hero slurpee cup collection he keeps in the dryer. No, today I found an old record collection he had stashed away in the back of a closet stuffed full of jumbo 24-packs of toilet paper. (Why does he need all that t.p.? He expecting a run?)

Anyway, I thought I’d take a gander at what ol Ben calls good music. Frankly, I was a little surprised at this one…

And if that wasn’t bad enough, I found this little beauty tucked in the back. I guess there are just some things in his past he just doesn’t want the rest of us to know.

Too bad for him. This little bad boy is going on E-Bay.

Game Shows these days...

Living in the Jedi Temple has its advantages. Take for instance the other day when I just couldn’t take the stench of Obi-Wan’s old socks any more. I just had to get out of the place for a while. So I found myself wandering around for a few hours waiting for my head to clear.

And who did I happen to come across? Master Yoda, Master Windu and Master Ki-Adi-Mundi. They seemed to be taking part in an odd game show. (Odd because I wasn’t involved in it.) So I skulked back into the shadows and watched as they came out of commercial break.

Announcer: Hi, I’m Chuck Wookari. Welcome back to the Bald Dating Game. Our lovely contestant is settled in and is about to ask our fine bald bachelors some questions.

Girl behind wall: Thanks Chuck *giggle*. Bachelor number one: What fruit most describes your bald head?

Yoda: Hmmm…very difficult, that question is. Never thought my head as a fruit, until now.

Mace: Try an old green prune…with some white furry mold on it…unlike my gorgeous shiny head which gleams in flawless beauty.

Girl: Bachelor number three, same question.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Well I suppose if I had to pick something I would have to say it most resembles a banana. A rather…pale banana.

Girl: ewww. Okay. Bachelor number two; how would you describe your perfect date?

Mace: I would first spend a few hours using my mini floor waxer to polish up my head until it acquired the perfect balance of luster and reflection. I would then spend another hour exfoliating and moisturizing. Finally I would give myself a very long look in the mirror checking for minor flaws and imperfections while basking in the overall glory that is me. I would then walk over to the corner of the bathroom, have myself a good cathartic cry then pick out a fresh robe to wear. Of course, I would have to go back to the mirror and make sure my eyes didn’t get all puffy and red. But if they did, all I would do is take out some Preparation H and smooth out those…

Girl: Thank you. Eh…bachelor number one; if you woke up one day and found out you had lost your baldness…what would you do?

Yoda: The question I understand not. Saying you are, what would I do if my hair I had again?

Girl: Bachelor number two, same question.

Mace: Weep. Weep for the senseless destruction of a perfect skull.

Yoda: Wait. Finished my answer, I did not…

Girl: Bachelor number three, same question.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Well, that would be very difficult, my dear, since I never had any hair to begin with.

Girl: ooo! Bachelor number one; if your bald head could talk…what would it say?

Yoda: hmmph! Silly these questions are. No more charity work will I do if endure this silly game again I must.

Girl: That’s nice. Bachelor number three, same question.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: um…beware of speed bumps?

Mace: Man, why do we even have to bother with these questions. Everyone knows Mace Windu has the perfect bald head. Pick me. I mean come on. Next to these two I should be in a bald head hall of fame. The contestant on my right still has a little hair on him which I would think automatically disqualifies him and the other contestant’s head is so lumpy, it looks like oatmeal.

Yoda: Unfortunate, contestant number two’s comments are. Thinking of a number between one and a hundred, I am. Number of times force wedgies I am about to deliver to him. Hint I will give you. Small number it is not.
Chuck: Well that’s about all the time we have. So who have you decided to go with?

Girl: Gee Chuck, they all sound so smooth. *giggle* But I suppose it would have to be….bachelor number three.

Mace: What!?! I am so much prettier than him! So much shinier…

Chuck: Ki-Adi-Mundi, you lucky guy, come over and meet the girl who picked you.

After that it just degenerated into Mace sobbing uncontrollably while Yoda made good on his threat.

I just don’t get game shows these days….

A Good Way to Start Your Day

I awoke early to the sound of some strange grinding noise and the acrid smell of burning machinery. I crawled out of my sink and put on my fuzzy slippers to investigate. Unfortunately, I realized a moment too late that I never brought over my fuzzy slippers. Who would have thought two month old moldy sandwiches could be so comfy?

I noticed ol Qui-Gon was out side on the balcony hovering in his morning meditative state. I suppose he couldn’t hear the grinding noise out there.

Obi-Wan was nice enough to let us stay with him while our place was being remodeled, but what a pit. And the kitchen was the worst. That’s where I found him making what I could only guess was breakfast.

“Hey, I’m making some smoothies? Ya want some?” he offered scratching his butt.

“eh….maybe….what’s in there?”

“Oh, the usual power smoothie us Jedi Knights start the day with. Some orange juice, tomato juice, sun-ripened womprat tails, a krayt dragon egg (raw, of course), silly string, silly putty, beer, essence of Cheeto, warts from a worrt, green legs and spam, toenail clippings (my own), saturated wookiee fur, and a dash of Tabasco for a little kick.

Ulp! I though I was going to be sick right there. “Eh….that’s okay. I think I’ll go out and try and find a Korellia Kream.”

Obi shrugged and continued grinding the ingredients away in his thirty year old J.C. Porkins blender. It didn’t sound too good. The lights in the apartment also flickered when ever he turned the thing on. I followed the cord to the wall and saw a huge mass of exposed wires tied together and fastened with duct tape. A few sparks jumped out whenever he turned on the blender.

“eh….did you do this?”

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder. “What? Oh that. Sure. I modified the wiring in this whole place. It was the only way I could get my speakers to go to 11.”

“Yeah, but is it safe?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.” He then returned to blending his concoction to a pulp.

Elsewhere in the Jedi Temple….

Temporary housing.

With the place in shambles from the F.O.O.F. crew, Qui-Gon and I have been forced to find temporary shelter. I decided to go with a new rebuilding crew and spared no expense. The only problem is that they said it would take a good two weeks before we could return. That left us high and dry for a place to crash at. That is, until Qui-Gon mentioned that Obi-Wan had some extra room at his home.

I was a little leery at first, but QGJ assured me it would be fine. Besides, we’ve been getting some strange people in robes breaking and entering our place of late. (Normally that wouldn’t bother me so much…it’s just that incessant cackling grates on my nerves.) So we sped on our way over to the Jedi Temple housing with only a duffle bag of clean robes and a toothbrush and some…eh…video tapes to my name.

But when we opened the door, I began to think that the YMCA might have been a better option. The place had a thick orange haze hovering in the air, his big screen TV was firmly fixed on the wrestling channel, and there was an odd, sour smell coming from the bathroom. The kitchen looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a month while dozens of empty beer bottles dominated every possible counter space. Funny that the garbage can under the sink was the cleanest thing in the house.

Then I got my first good look at Obi-Wan…

Man, has he let himself go. I thought Jedi’s had weight restriction rules. But I told myself it was only temporary. I could live with this for a few weeks. After all, I use to live out of a dilapidated sandcrawler for months on end, I could do this. I just need a little office space and a bed and I would be fine.

Obi-Wan snapped his fingers (releasing a fine plume of Cheeto dust) and grabed a TV dinner tray. “Eh….here’s your office,” he told me.

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Okay, where’s the bed?”

“Um….I don’t have an extra bed…”

“That’s okay. Which couch do I get?”

“Um….I can’t spare any couches at the moment. It’s bass fishing season and I got to let the frogs out.”

I tried not to think to hard on what he said. It only made my head hurt. “Okay…so where do I sleep?”

Well…aint this cozy.

This ol' Hole

Time to get this ol place in order.

I haven’t had much time to clean up the pad since that crazed Sith ewok trashed it. What a mess. I would have liked to fix it up myself. We Jawas are pretty good with our hands. –And no, not just picking pockets either. But with my hosting demands and a snack empire to control, I just don’t have the time.

So I got my local Coruscant Yellow Pages and let my stubby fingers to the walking. Who would have thought there were so many redecorating contactors? So I did what most people do; closed my flashlight eyes and picked.

…I think that may have been a mistake.

It wasn’t until late in the evening that the F.O.O.F. Redecorating Inc. people came. Let me tell you, they didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

Their names were Frick and Frack. I didn’t bother to ask which one was which, but they assured me they would fix up the apartment good as new.

They started in the bedroom where they immediately connected the pluming pipes to the lava lamps. Needless to say, those floating globules will never be the same. Next they rewired the toilet to a Clapper™. I suppose I could see some advantages to that. But then they tore down the wall from the kitchen to the study and hung a towel over the hole. This was quickly followed by another hole from the living room straight to the outside. They then took my severed bed and stapled it to the wall where they proceeded to delicately hang tensile over it.

By the time they made the blender into a bidet, I had to stop them.

“What are you doing?” I yelled at them. “This place is a mess. How is this helping?”

I must have startled them because they just stared at me like frozen hamsters. “Okay! What’s the deal here? Are you guys really redecorators?”

“Oh sure! Ya, ya, ya, ya, ya, sure, ya, ya, uh-hu, sure, yup, ya, absolutely.”

“………really?”

“…………no. Not really. We were purposely wasting your time.”

“Then why does your add say you’re redecorators?”

“It doesn’t. It says F.O.O.F. Recruiters Inc.”

Hastily I flipped open the yellow pages and took a second gander. Sure enough, that’s what it said. I think I need new lenses for my eyes. “So…what are you guys then? What’s F.O.O.F.”

“Why, that’s our organization,” replied Frack.

“We’re the ‘Followers Of Ol’ Fluke’. Can’t you tell by our nifty blast helmets?”

“y-you mean…Fluke Starbucker?”

“You’re darn-tootin! He’s got a huge following. And whoever doesn’t want to follow in his fancy footsteps…well, we come around and try to recruit them into our club. So you wanna join up?”

I smack my head in disbelief.

“Oooo! Look, Frick! He already knows the secret handshake! All right, buddy, you’re in!”

Great! The place looks worse than it started…but at least I got this cool plastic F.O.O.F. secret decoder ring.

A Meeting of the Snack Minds

After spending a few days at ‘Watto’s’ clearing my head, I knew it was time to finish putting thing to right with my little snack empire. Qui-Gon, Fluke, Han and I had secured enough spice to choke a rancor but there was still the problem of McDooku’s. (Still ongoing here.)

I thought it was time to cut to the chase…and go to the top.

Scene: Palpatine’s office

Palps: Why J.J….what an unexpected surprise.

J.J.: It couldn’t have been that unexpected. I’ve been in your waiting room all morning. That Gran secretary of yours just kept giving me the eyes.

Palps: Yes, well…it is so hard to get good help these days.

J.J.: Ya, sure. Oh, here you go.

Palps: What’s this? Oreos?

J.J.: Ya. It’s a gift box. I hear you just had a kid or somthin’.

Palps: Ahh, I see. No that would be my nanny, Tahara Jade.

J.J.: You mean you ain’t the father?

Palps: I should say not. It seems she got involved with…let’s just say she got knocked up. But I’m offering to help her out because she’s so good with little Maul.

J.J.: Ya ya. Let’s not get all Family Affair, Uncle French. I came here for a business proposition.

Palps: Indeed? And what could a lowly peasant jawa have to interest me?

J.J.: A mutual interest…snack foods. I’ll get right to the point. This feud we have going on Serenno is costing both of us money. I know Dooku works for you. I know McDooku’s is a subsidiary of Dark Side Foods® to which you are standing chairman of.

Palps: Yes. That’s nothing new. What do you want? I’m a very busy man. I’ve got a galaxy to dest-….eh…I’ve got to pick up some diapers for Tahara.

J.J.: Just this, my oh so sneaky senator…That we end this feud now. Today. I want your word that Dark Side Foods® will no longer offer any kind of sweet snack or dessert.

Palps: What? You must be mad?

J.J.: And that you will close down some of your McDooku’s especially along the inner part of the outer most inner rim where most of our snack stores are located. I have no problem with you keeping the stores on the outer part of the inner most rim. In exchange, I will allow McDooku’s to start offering ‘Uncle Jinn and J.J.’s Super Fudgy Special Spiced brownines ™©’ to be sold in your restaurants where you can keep half of those profits.

Palps: This is absurd. Why should I agree to these terms?

J.J.: Because I don’t think a senator and fast food mogul will want the public to know about this….

J.J.: Your little love tryst with a certain Jar Jar Binks!

Palps: But…I was…we were just…everyone experiments with other species once in a while…we had too much to drink…hey! How did you get that picture anyway? We were on our honeymo- eh…I mean…business vacation.

J.J.: That, my friend, is not important. What is important is that I have more pictures like these. It would be a shame if they were leaked to the public…wouldn’t you say?

Palpatine then gave me a menacing stare that nearly made me piss my robe. But I held my ground. We both knew the stakes.

Palps: Yes…I suppose so. I underestimated you, young J.J. You are more resourceful than I gave you credit for. A mistake I will not make again.

J.J.: So do we have a deal?

Palps: ….very well. For the time being.

We then shook hands. Man, that guy’s got clammy hands. Eeeesh.

Palps: You know…you would make a good business partner, J.J. I could use someone of your…cunning nature. Perhaps we should join forces…we could-

J.J.: I don’t think so, Palps. Besides…your 401k plan sucks Mynock ass.

Palpatine looked down, ashamed.

Palps: Yes…unfortunately it does.

J.J.: Well, I got to go. Enjoy the oreos.

Palps: Thank you. Enjoy your life…or what’s left of it.

J.J.: Whatzat?

Palps: Oh, nothing. I’ll see you on the squash court.

As I left his office I could have sworn I heard him cackle. Maybe it was the secretary.

My Empire is Crumbling

No sooner do I put out one fire in the universe, then do I have to stop another.

I’m referring to me and Quiggly’s brownie empire. It seems everything is suddenly going wrong.

I first send off Qui-Gon and Han to secure spice from the evil Yatta the Hut but in the process, they get captured….

Recently deceased Yarael Poof is going after Count Dooku at his own McDooku warehouse in hopes of staving off a delicious fast food takeover….

Poor, addicted Fluke Starbucker started seeing talking goats who tell him to save Han and QG, so I decide to tag along…

Meanwhile Laura tells Luke that she is having the love child of Stavros Cassadine while in actuality she is her evil twin but doesn’t know it due to the amnesia she suffered when her car exploded during a bank robbery.

Eh……wait a second….scratch that last one.

In any case, I’m gone for a few days. Me and Fluke have got to save Qui-Gon and Han.

In fact you can read the amazing rescue all right here.

An Important Messege from Uncle Jinn & J.J. Inc. ™

The brownie shortage has been devastating. And none are hit more hard than the poor addicted customers. Case in point…

This here is Fluke Starbucker as he was only a month ago. As you can see, this young, strong, happy "Founder of the New Jedi Order" wannabe, had his whole life ahead of him. But that was before the Great Brownie shortage of 2005.

This is Fluke today.

The lack of spiced brownies flowing freely through his blood stream has turned this once bright lad into an aged shell of a human being destined to pick through other people’s outhouses in search of leftover brownie bits.

Won’t you help Fluke and others like him?

For only pennies a day, you could keep Fluke and those like him in a semi-permanent vegetative state out of harms way until the spice shortage is over, allowing him to sleep through the worst of the withdrawals. Please send your help now. People with mallets are standing by.

We don’t have a secure stock of spice for our brownies yet, but with your help we can prolong the agony.

Won’t you help?

Send your donations to the Spiced Brownie Emergency Relief Fund today.

Remember, every little bit helps.

Do it….for Fluke.

Contest Winner!

And the winner of our “Choose that Slogan” contest…

Master Yoda with his winning slogan “Jawa tested, dead guy approved!”
As a result, a new Uncle Jinn & J.J. flavor has been added to our line of famous “Special Spiced” Brownies.

That’s right. Now you can get those great brownies with or without nuts!

Thanks again for everyone who sent in slogans and voted.

We promise to get these new brownies out to you…once we take care of the spice shortage problem. We understand that you may have trouble finding your daily fix of our spiced fudgy goodness, that’s why we are currently looking into the situation. We hope to resume production as soon as possible.

Thanks for your patients and understanding.

Oh, and please don’t kill your local store keeper in a fit of withdrawal rage. –We need them.

J.J.