If You Wanna Topple an Intergalactic Empire, You've Gotta Break a Few Eggs

Combing the web (i.e. the series of tubes) for a suitable picture of the Death Star (II) to convince you all that we're doomed, I stumbled upon a grim reality regarding Star Wars continuity, one that has never occurred to me despite my fondness for following trains of thought until they barrel past their blockades and plunge off the rails and into the abyss. Anyway, when I read this, I laughed out loud, and continued to do so for quite a while, so I thought I'd share it with you:

"When a moon-sized metallic object in low orbit injects its debris and fallout into the atmosphere below, the result is an immensely potent "nuclear winter" effect which will last for years. Darkness enshrouds the ewoks' homeworld, killing plant life. Herbivore and carnivores starve in succession. A handful of ewoks seem to have been evacuated by the rebels, escaping the biocide, since they are seen briefly on Coruscant in Dark Empire. Nevertheless, there cannot be enough survivors to constitute a genetically healthy breeding population. "

Yup, that's right: the Rebels' successful destruction of the second Death Star effectively killed everything on Endor, including the cutest little savage bear race of pigmies that ever tried to cook and eat Harrison Ford (there's more out there than you'd think--the Care Bears really despise him). And doesn't that just add a delicious new layer of irony to the celebration at the end of Return of the Jedi? To be fair, I can't imagine those furry little bastards had any idea what was going on in the first place. We like to think they were inspired by all creatures' desire to be free and the "can do!" spirit of every primative race, but chances are they were just looking for something to crush with a rock. Sure, there is a sad moment when an explosion knocks down two fleeing Ewoks and only one gets back up, but all we get to see is the survivor mourn his friend. I'm sure afterwards he dragged the carcass back up to the tree village and then brutalized it in front of the deceased's mate and offspring so as to assert dominance and claim that family as his own.

My point is that it's probably a mistake to impart too much of ourselves upon those little furballs, but doesn't it make the irony so much more palpable anyway? One moment, they're hosting their new friends from the stars and celebrating the seemingly impossible victory they have only just recently achieved, no doubt emptying their winter stores of food to show an appropriately impressive amount of largesse on their part, and the next moment ash is reigning from a sky that has been dark for three days straight and your "friends" are making one last check of their ship to ensure none of your tribe is hiding on board (save for the ones thrust into cages to be taken as souveniers to rebel children across the galaxy). Clearly, it ain't easy being an adorable species casually included by George Lucas to garner the kiddie audience. But one thing's for damn sure: C3-PO is a cruel, merciless god.