Miscellaneous/Toby/Jedi 040708

Toby’s Column...The Jedi Dog

Hi Readers! It’s another of those sunny warm days just right for a nap in the lawn. Yawn...I’m dreaming of zipping along with my buds on the flight deck of the Millennium Falcon. In another galaxy far, far away I am known to them as Toby-wan Kenoby, the Jedi Dog, or just ‘Tob’ for short. Suddenly, Han exclaims, “Guys, we are coming up on Tatooni. Remember that’s where they have that cantina full of really colorful characters. Maybe we should stop in for libations!” It didn’t take Chewy long to set us down, and we soon found ourselves in that more than just colorful, but dangerous hangout for a variety of galactic beings.

Adobe Photoshop Image

Attending the long bar, was my old friend, Butch. Hey, I thought, he is supposed to be working the Pink Palace on Earth, but then this is  my dream and I guess any events are possible. After warm introductions and greetings, Butch hands Chewie something with a subtle green glow and just a bit of a cloud emanating from the surface. Han orders a beer, but the thing has tiny yellow balls which float to the surface and emit a small pop as they disappear. Me? I get my standard shot of milk. At least that doesn’t have any fireworks. “ How is it going?” I ask Butch. He replies, “Never a dull moment Tob, and the experiences never seem to become ordinary.” “How’s that?” I ask as a basketball-size creature brushes by me with a four foot neck topped by a baseball - size head with eyes evenly distributed around the periphery. This guy is most likely not having an easy time of getting a date, I surmise.

Butch goes on, “Just yesterday there comes in a plain old hydrogen atom and nestles forlornly up to the bar. ‘How’s it going?’ I make the mistake to ask and woefully the atom replies” Really bad; I just lost my electron. Butch says, “Then I ask him - Are you sure?” “I’m positive!” “the electron says...”

Chewie makes one of those deep nasal groans as only a Wookie can, and I realize Butch has been in this dream too long already.  But he continues, “ Tob, I’ve got to build the image of this Cantina. You know, attract some creatures with class and maybe without blasters. Got any ideas?”

“ Butch,” I replied, “ Use the force! You really need to get some visibility with both Batteries Digest Newsletter and the BD Website. It’s got class clientele from every known civilization in the universe and interest is big and growing. Now we all know that information in space is limited to light speed, but the Web content is always there propagating to every galaxy 24/9. (There are nine days a week on Tattoni.) Then those thousands of dedicated monthly Newsletters sent only to readers who request copies, can be crammed into a sideband of the hyperchannel which starships use to get to places like Kessel in less than twelve timeparts. That means that intergalactic readers get their latest issue on the first day of each space month. Is there any question why such distribution coupled with great content slanted to the business reader has this publication growing?”

“Great,” says Butch. “What’s the cost?” I quickly replied, “Less than your margin on drinks sold in one hour each year.” “And you think it will get me some great image and clientele?” I confidently state, “No doubt, Butch, you will be so popular that you will put rugs on the floor and add a room out back for a pool table.” “Hold on, Tob, I only ask for a little bit of respect,” he replies.

Well, Butch is on his way to integallactic respect and we are back on the Falcon making the jump to hyperspace. Going to new places is fun, but that push from the hyperdrive gives me a case of diarrhea every time. I’m going to curl up by Chewie’s furry leg. “Night all...” Bang, the wind  slams the screen door open and closed bringing me back to the real world of fluffy clouds on this beautiful earth day in my own back yard