You might be thinking some fruit would come of our ensnaring the Millennium Falcon as it fled Hoth. You would be a damned fool optimist. My elite squadron of StarDestroyers proved itself utterly incapable of a securing a single unescorted freighter travelling less than the speed of light. I mean, come on. OMFG! That's it, right there...game over... Where's Luke's blog? "Well, I just came back from the house to see it was burned down by Imperial Storm Troopers. Needless to say that Owen and Beru are dead....f*ck 'em! That old piece of Jawa dung Owen was an idiot, anyways. I mean, come on...moisture farming?!?! He could have made more money scrubbing toilets at Jabba's palace than moisture farming! And aunt Beru...man, what a slut! The guys down at the Mos Eisley Cantina will probably have a four day wake in her honor. Damn, I can't wait to get off this rock. I gotta catch up with Wedge and get that cheap SOB on that pod race bet we made right before he left..."
Luke was a joke of a Jedi. He only became one because all the other Jedi are dead, otherwise who would want to train that joker?
I beg to differ A-Train...this one had me in stitches... Dear House of Ozzel, I regret to inform you that your son has been killed in the line of duty. He was an incompetent, yammering boob and he will be missed by none. I have allowed the men to pillage his personal belongings, which is why we have enclosed nothing but the sole remaining item: a torn advertisements page from a magazine of midget p*rnography. May it shock and disturb you, and may you think of it always when you remember your dearly departed son, the ninny. Know also that his limitations as a sub-par military professional caused the deaths of many of the Emperor's loyal soldiers, whose funeral expenses will appear on your next tax assessment. Sincerely, D. Vader
