We’re very sad to hear that Sylvia Anderson, co-creator of Thunderbirds, the original voice of Lady Penelope and of course, Great Aunt Sylvia has passed away
:(
“The Clones, over their development time, because of their relationship with the Jedi, they had colorful armor, they wore symbols, they had individual names, they disregarded their numbers and they became real people. And then the Empire took a bunch of real people and turned them into a bunch of numbered clones.”
-Dave Filoni
Star Wars: Comics vs. Movies.
Yes, but the point is: which one hurts us more?
Luke the Jedi, strong in his conquered suffering, carrying the lifeless body of a man who was once prone to striding as proudly as Luke does now, strong and untouchable, but is now brought low and helpless by a final act of love. A stoic hero holding up a spent sacrificial victim.
OR
Luke the boy, recently tortured within an inch of his life, dragging a weight too heavy for him, but still struggling on with all the painful determination of a lonely child who’ll do anything to hold on to the dying father he has finally truly found again.
Discuss.
Here’s a novel idea: how about we dispense with the assumption that everyone in a wheelchair is paraplegic or tetraplegic?
Take me. I use a wheelchair. Not always, but often. My legs work reasonably well; it’s my spine that’s the let-down. It’s fragile, bent and riddled with painful metastatic cancer and I can’t stand upright for long periods or walk very far. So, for long journeys and/or bad days, I’ve got my wheels.
And sometimes, when I’m out in public, it’s necessary for me to stand up for a few seconds. Usually it’s because there’s at least one step between me and somewhere I need to go, and I refuse to put my poor husband through the strain of lifting both chair and me up that step. So I stand, stumble forward two gruelling paces, leaning on my stick, wait a few seconds and then – with great personal relief – resume my seat in the chair once my husband’s got it through the door after me.
Well, I say I do this. I used to. But one can only tolerate so many astounded-shading-to-judgemental stares from total strangers, gawking at this wheelchair-using lady who’s either experienced an impromptu miracle or is – more likely – just a scurrilous fraud pretending to be disabled.
My cancer is incurable and I’m dying. Slowly but surely. However, I would like to leave the world at least a little bit nicer than I found it. So please feel at liberty to reblog this. I’m sure that the majority of people simply lack understanding…not compassion.
Okay, but just imagine HOW miserable Finn must’ve felt at the end of Crossover.
He finally reunited with his family. His mom was there. His father was ecstatic to see him. He finally got the happy ending he longed foe since he was abandoned.
Except it didn’t happen to him. It was like a dream. His reality stays the same.