"Everybody's Free (To Watch Star Wars)" alternate lyrics to
"Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)"
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '79:
Watch Star Wars.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, Star Wars would be
it. The long-term benefits of Star Wars have been proved by critics,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own
meandering rebel experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of the force. Oh, never mind. You will not
understand the power and beauty of the force until you've turned to
the dark side. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at
holographic photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp
now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really
looked.
You are not as fat as Jabba the Hut.
Don't worry about the future of the Rebellion. Or worry, but know
that worrying is as effective as trying to destroy a death star by
chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be
things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that eat you
in a hole on some idle asteroid.
Do one thing every day that scares C3PO.
Celebrate with Ewoks.
Don't be reckless with other people's Wookies. Don't put up with
people who are reckless with yours.
Blow up Alderaan.
Don't waste your time on bounty hunters. Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's
only with Boba Fett.
Remember advice from dead wise people you receive. Forget the
invitations from Darth Vader. If you succeed in doing this, tell
me how.
Keep your old X-wing. Sell your old speeder.
Avoid tractor beams.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with the
force. The last interesting Jedis I know didn't know at 22 what
they wanted to do with the force. Some of the most interesting
400-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of carbon scoring.
Be kind to your hands. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll rescue Leia, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll like Ewoks,
maybe you won't. Maybe you'll become a hermit at 40, maybe you'll
get the Millennium Falcon on your 75th wedding annversary. Whatever
you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself
either. Your choices are half-destiny. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your light saber. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of
it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest weapon
you'll ever own.
Use the force, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Listen to Obi-Wan, even if you don't follow him.
Do not read sci-fi magazines. They will only make you feel geeky.
Get to know your aunt and uncle. You never know when they'll be
killed by stormtroopers.
Be nice to your droids. They're your best link to the past and the
most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that Jedis come and go, but with a precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in hyperspace and
Imperial entanglements, because the older you get, the more you
need the Jedis who knew you when you were young.
Live on Tatooine once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Cloud City once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: the Empire will rise. Jawas will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize
that when you were young, smuggling prices were reasonable,
ambassadors were noble, and children destroyed their fathers.
Destroy your father.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a freighter
captain. Maybe you'll have a Jedi master. But you never know when
either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your R2 unit or by the time you're 40, it
will look 85.
Be careful whose droid you buy, but be patient with those who supply
it. Negotiation is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of
fishing the droid from the garbage compactor, wiping it off, painting
over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on Star Wars.
"Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)"
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '79:
Watch Star Wars.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, Star Wars would be
it. The long-term benefits of Star Wars have been proved by critics,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own
meandering rebel experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of the force. Oh, never mind. You will not
understand the power and beauty of the force until you've turned to
the dark side. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at
holographic photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp
now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really
looked.
You are not as fat as Jabba the Hut.
Don't worry about the future of the Rebellion. Or worry, but know
that worrying is as effective as trying to destroy a death star by
chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be
things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that eat you
in a hole on some idle asteroid.
Do one thing every day that scares C3PO.
Celebrate with Ewoks.
Don't be reckless with other people's Wookies. Don't put up with
people who are reckless with yours.
Blow up Alderaan.
Don't waste your time on bounty hunters. Sometimes you're ahead,
sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's
only with Boba Fett.
Remember advice from dead wise people you receive. Forget the
invitations from Darth Vader. If you succeed in doing this, tell
me how.
Keep your old X-wing. Sell your old speeder.
Avoid tractor beams.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with the
force. The last interesting Jedis I know didn't know at 22 what
they wanted to do with the force. Some of the most interesting
400-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of carbon scoring.
Be kind to your hands. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll rescue Leia, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll like Ewoks,
maybe you won't. Maybe you'll become a hermit at 40, maybe you'll
get the Millennium Falcon on your 75th wedding annversary. Whatever
you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself
either. Your choices are half-destiny. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your light saber. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of
it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest weapon
you'll ever own.
Use the force, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Listen to Obi-Wan, even if you don't follow him.
Do not read sci-fi magazines. They will only make you feel geeky.
Get to know your aunt and uncle. You never know when they'll be
killed by stormtroopers.
Be nice to your droids. They're your best link to the past and the
most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that Jedis come and go, but with a precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in hyperspace and
Imperial entanglements, because the older you get, the more you
need the Jedis who knew you when you were young.
Live on Tatooine once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Cloud City once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: the Empire will rise. Jawas will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize
that when you were young, smuggling prices were reasonable,
ambassadors were noble, and children destroyed their fathers.
Destroy your father.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a freighter
captain. Maybe you'll have a Jedi master. But you never know when
either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your R2 unit or by the time you're 40, it
will look 85.
Be careful whose droid you buy, but be patient with those who supply
it. Negotiation is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of
fishing the droid from the garbage compactor, wiping it off, painting
over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on Star Wars.