I finally saw Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith.
When you watch a movie where the hero gets his legs cut off and then is burned alive by lava and he’s still whining like some punk ass genocidal maniac, saying “I hate you! I HATE YOU!” and all you feel is a sense of relief and an intense desire for Obi-Hot-Wan to finish the job instead of wiping away that So Fake tear, things ain’t going so well. Darth Vader was so much better when he was a mystery and a manly man beneath that helmet, instead of the older version of some kid who out of L-O-V-E decides to murder children and then is stupid enough to think that’s going to be a total turn-on to his Very Pregnant wife. For more on the ETERNAL SHAME that is Padme Amidala, please click here.
As for me, I am still hurting from the movie. So. Much. Pain. I love Star Wars. I love it so bad. But I could have lived without knowing the origins of Darth Vader if this was all I was gonna get. The mystery was so much better than the truth.