God I miss the days when you could show up to a stranger’s farm and he’d say “What’s your name, boy?” and you’d take off your hat and hold it to your chest to better let him see your face and reply “Why I ain’t got none, sir, on account of my mammy passed on before she could give me one” and he’d tell you he’s real damn sorry to hear that and ask what he can do you for and you’d tell him that you can’t read nor even write neither but you’re mighty good with horses and can mend them fallen fence posts what you saw on your way in and won’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in and he’d keep his wife and daughters inside but send his boy who ain’t got married yet even though his mama tells him he needs a woman out with a lantern and some stew at night and the two of you’d get to talkin and he’d throw you his flask to take a swig from and watch you drinkin from it while he leant against the door frame and when he finally got called back on up to the house again he’d take a sip from it too real slow-like like it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour
you see you don’t get posts like this on twitter
every day at least once while on a walk i think to myself “it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour” and sometimes if i am alone i say it out loud
people on here give yoda a lot of shit and say that he was a bad mentor but i’d like to contest that Yoda is and has always been cool as hell and the real problem was that in the days of the Republic he was forced into a shitty managerial position, where he had to worry about paperwork and massive unauthorized clone orders and vetting chosen ones and shit like that when really all he wanted all along was to be a delightfully shitty impish little grandpa living in a hut giving cryptic advice to teenagers
Like remember that episode of the Clone Wars where the jedi council finally tries to put yoda in a retirement home because he starts talking to Qui Gon’s ghost and yoda calls anakin over like “hmmm…. friends, we are, young skywalker. help me escape this silly place, you must. in it for you, a handful of Werther’s Originals is” like that’s who Yoda is, at his core, and the stifling weight of Force monk bureaucracy took that away from him
Hand to god if all of the like administrative work of running the Jedi Order had been left to someone just slightly more competent and business savvy like IDK Mace Windu or Plo or Luminara or even That One Guy Who’s Allowed To Fuck and yoda had been allowed to scamper off and just like, occasionally impart funny wisdom to jedi children and cheekily break all of the rules in front of them, this Darth Vader shit would have NEVER happened. Instead Anakin would have had the fun-loving, devil may care, “as long as in the house, you do it, young Skywalker” Bad Grandpa influence he desperately needed to balance out frazzled and terminally high-strung Teen Dad Kenobi
Anakin is out on one of the Temple balconies just stewing angrily about his sexual frustration towards Padmé and how Obi-Wan keeps warning him that he will be expelled from the Jedi order and then thrown into a big pit of lava if he ever even talks to a girl and that makes him sad and angry and emotionally confused, when he notices tiny little old man Yoda’s hobbling over to stand next to him with a knowing expression on his face.
“Forbidden emotional attachments, we both have,” Yoda winks at him and pulls out a box of cigarettes. “To nicotine, mine is”
“Wish to save your mother from a life of unlawful bondage on Planet Shit, you do. Very well. Feel like being bad, I do. Tell anyone I am helping you, you must not. Murder me, the rest of the Council would. ;)”
