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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
“Whatcha gonna do, Jerry Falwell, when the leader of the evil Galactic Empire runs wild on you?!” 
Saturday, August 11th, 2007 | 02:09 pm [humor, writing]
Today is the birthday of three of the most evil men who ever haunted the 20th century. The first, Jerry Falwell, born today in 1933, is dead, thank fucking Christ, but the other two breathe still, and continue to spew their poison to unsuspecting audiences all over the world. They walk free because none have the courage to challenge them, for to do so could mean a painful, lingering death. But know this — there can be no peace, so long as they live.
Ian McDiarmid was born on this date in 1944. From an early age he showed an interest in the dark side of humanity, as evidenced by the degree he earned from the University of St. Andrews — in psychology. Soon after he deepened his commitment to blackest evil by acting in the theater. He has been featured in productions of Hamlet, The Tempest, The Merchant of Venice, and King Lear, all written by homosexual Satan-bride William Shakespeare, and was even able to convince Superman’s own father, Jonathan Kent, to direct him in several productions at the Almedia Theater throughout the 1980s and ‘90s.
In 1983 McDiarmid appeared as the Emperor in Return of the Jedi, the third and final entry in George Lucas’s trilogy of Star Wars films. In Lucas he found a malevolent kindred spirit. Having won the public’s heart with his tale of plucky hero Luke Skywalker’s triumph over the dark side, Lucas laid plans to unleash upon his anxiously waiting audience a new trilogy of films so unspeakably awful that it would crush the soul of an entire planet. As the willing accomplice of George Lucas, McDiarmid embarked on a decade and a half of cocaine-fueled debauchery. Traveling under cover of darkness, they moved from continent to continent, brazenly flouting the law, taking women as they found them and killing all who stood in their way. Lucas financed this drug-addled perversion excursion by continuing to aggressively merchandise his Star Wars films in the form of books, comics, action figures, and customized versions of popular board games; and by bullying naïve Hollywood director Steven Spielberg into sharing credit for his film Raiders of the Lost Ark and its sequels.
By the mid ‘90s, shortly after the pair brutally deflowered the then-ten-year-old Olsen twins, the well had run dry and the swath of depravity and destruction carved across the Earth by Lucas and McDiarmid appeared at its end. It was then that Lucas announced he was beginning work on his ultimate weapon: the Star Wars prequel trilogy. McDiarmid, now nourished daily by the blood collected from the hymens of a dozen virgins, eagerly signed on to reprise his role as the Emperor, who would appear in the prequel films as Senator Palpatine.
Since Palpatine initially appears as a normal human being in the prequels, McDiarmid had to wear a state-of-the-art prosthesis to hide the ravages wrought on his body by his recent lifestyle. Knowing that McDiarmid, his close friend and rape partner for over twenty years, despised wearing the prosthesis, Lucas wrote Palpatine’s disfigurement into the plot of the final prequel film, allowing McDiarmid to perform many of his scenes without make-up.
As Lucas had hoped, all three Star Wars prequels were among the worst cinematic atrocities ever filmed. The first two were so awful that after seeing them many people gave up and claimed to have enjoyed the third without ever actually going to see it. Thanks to the slavish repeat attendance by the army of zombies Lucas had by this time amassed, the third prequel was nevertheless a huge commercial success. McDiarmid and Lucas celebrated the night of the premiere by ritualistically murdering and then raising from the dead Natalie Portman, followed by a meal of Labrador puppies eaten off a table made from the bones of Alec Guinness.
And the third guy born today is Hulk Hogan, which speaks for itself.
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