Lord Vader, we have received the transmissions from our scout ships’ mission to a galaxy whose distance our navigators calculated as “far, far away.”
They’ve discovered a planet whose dominant species looks identical to us. Roughly twenty percent of them speak our standard language, in our exact same array of accents. The odds of this being the case are vanishingly thin, but our asteroid belts do sometimes include humongous shoes and potatoes, so impossible things can happen.
Their technology, though primitive, sometimes overlaps with our own. Several decades ago their most advanced machines employed large, colorful, chunky buttons, like those on your chest-plate, my Lord. Why they moved on from such stylish functionality we cannot determine.
But most remarkably, Lord Vader, you are known to them. Your life story has been told through a series of moving pictures, as well as in written, illustrated and animated forms, although these simpletons have yet to devise anything as sophisticated as our operas in which audiences stare at giant floating orbs.
However, even though they revere you, they believe you to be a mere legend, attributed to the imagination of a plaid-shirted dweeb. Worse yet, this reclusive nerd has perverted the account of your childhood and youth, inserting much forced humor, wooden acting and dialogue that reliably induces cringes. He justifies this, claiming it is a tale intended for younglings.
Ekk!! Gaak!!! My Lord! Before you choke me to death… there is more… I must… tell you!!
Thank you.
Whoo…
Alright.
Their version of your story reaches its zenith as it describes your current exploits, showcasing the weakness of the Rebel Alliance as our Empire delivers its mighty strike back. Your big reveal to Luke Skywalker is widely quoted by these people, although slightly inaccurately.
No… I’m afraid the tale hasn’t continued beyond that yet. Not to my knowledge. Although I recommend the Empire send troops to the forest moon of Endor to exterminate any adorable little teddy bear creatures. They have a surprising proficiency with weaponizing logs.
But what’s most distressing, they use your likeness for questionable purposes.
They have miniature representations of you, articulated at the shoulders and hips. These are used by younglings and adults with the mentality of younglings to retell your story. They mimic your breathing and voice with considerable accuracy.
Gaaakk!! Wait!! There’s more!!!
Whoo…
May I have a glass of water? No? Well, it is true that we generally don’t eat or drink in this galaxy.
Let me quickly relate that they also use your likeness on birthday cakes, umbrellas, lighters, keychains, piggy banks, stickers, umbrellas, toasters, high-end running shoes, powerful strains of marijuana, protective covers for their communication devices, mugs, as carvings on the faces of pumpkins, for younglings’ shampoo bottles and to imprint onto novelty waffles.
My Lord, allow me to save you the trouble of Force-choking me. I shall hurl myself into one of the minimally-railed bottomless shafts our architects construct throughout our stations for this exact purpose.
