PURPLE

Check this shit — You got this Royalist Nubian Jedi, Master  Mace Windu, Black Panther Party poster boy, blue-black funky baldhead Soul Brotha. 

And then you got Darth Sidious, the whitest caucusoid in The Galaxy, storm-front god!!

Now, Sidious, he's a spiritual fellow, down with The Force and all that bad shit - Then this Nubian — Windu — gets his hands on a purple lightsaber and the boy decides •he's• gonna run the fuckin’ universe...!! gets a whole posse of Jedi together and they go •bust-up• The Dark Lord’s private office, the chancellory —

Now, what the •fuck• do you call that..?!?

Intergalactic Civil War?

Mace Windu vs Palpatine - "I am The Senate" Scene | Star Wars Revenge of The Sith

 

 I thought I was a Good Guy, and there’s ABSOLUTELY no reason for me to think that.  

You’re not a Good Guy unless you've really made a bloody effort to be a Good Guy.

You’re just not. It’s not easy. 

And so you’re probably a moderately Bad Guy. 

That’s a long ways from being An Absolutely Horrible Guy, but it’s also a long ways from being a Good Guy.

 

 

"At the same time, another thing was happening to me. I was noticing my intellectual arrogance, and I started to understand what that meant. I also started to understand that there was more to life than the intellect—much more. I smoked too much, and I drank too much, and I weighed like 130 pounds. I wasn’t in good physical shape. I had a lot of things to do, when I went to graduate school, to put myself together. At the same time, I was trying to understand why things had gone so crazily wrong with the world—its encapsulation in the Cold War, and what role I might be playing in that—if any—and what role any of us were playing in that. At the same time, I was working at a prison, only a little bit. I worked with this crazy psychologist. He used to put jokes on his multiple choice tests. He was a really eccentric guy. I really liked his courses. He taught a course on creativity, and he was also a prison psychologist. He was an eccentric guy. For some reason, he liked me—maybe because I was eccentric, too. He invited me to go out to the Edmonton maximum security prison with him a couple of times, which I did. That was a very interesting experience. I was trying to figure out what role each individual’s behaviour bore to the pathology of the group. It was something like that.

I went out to the prison, and I met a little guy, smaller than me. I was a little bigger by then. He was a pretty innocuous guy. The prison looked like a high school—which is really quite telling, in my estimation—and I was out in the gymnasium. There were all these monsters in there, weightlifting. I remember one guy, who was tattooed everywhere. He had a huge scar running down the middle of his chest. It looked like somebody had hit him with an axe. I was in there, and I had this weird cape that I used to wear, that I’d bought in Portugal, and some boots to go along with it. Yeah…It was like a 1890s Sherlock Holmes cape. It was from the 1890s, because this little village was up on a hill. It was a walled city on a hill, and they sold these things. I don’t think they’d changed the style since 1890, so I though they were really cool. So I was wearing that, which wasn’t, perhaps, the most conservative garb to don if you’re going to go to a maximum security prison.

Anyways, I was in the gymnasium, and the psychologist left. God only knows…I mean, that’s what he was like. All these guys came around me, and they were offering to trade their prison clothes for my cape. I was being made an offer I couldn’t refuse. I didn’t really know what to do. And then this little guy said something like, the psychologist sent me to come and take you away, or something like that. And so I thought, well, better this little guy than all these monsters.

We went outside the gym, into the exercise yard. We were wandering around, and he was talking to me, and he seemed like a kind of innocuous guy. And then the psychologist showed up at the door and motioned us back, which was kind of a relief. I went into his office. 

He said, "You know that guy that you walked out in the yard with?" 

I said, "Yeah."

He said, "One night he took two cops and had them kneel down. While they were begging for their lives, he shot them both in the back of the head."

 

I thought, "Hmph…"

See, the thing that was so interesting was that he was so innocuous, right? What you’d hope is that someone like that would be very much unlike you, let’s say, and certainly wouldn’t be like someone innocuous that you’d met. 

 

What you’d want is that the guy would be like half werewolf and half vampire, so you could just tell right away that he was a coldblooded killer. But no. He was this sort of ineffectual, little guy, who was certainly not ineffectual if you gave him a revolver and the upper hand.

That made me think a lot about the relationship between being innocuous and being dangerous. Another thing happened—I met another guy out there. A week or two later, I heard that he and a friend of his had held another guy down and pulverized his left leg with a lead pipe. The reason for that was that they thought that he was a snitch, and maybe he was. That time, I did something different. Instead of being shocked and horrified by that—although I certainly was—I thought, how in the world could you do that? Because I didn’t think I could do that. I thought that there as a qualitative distinction between me and those people. I spent about two weeks trying to see if I could figure out under what conditions I could do that—what kind of psychological transformation I would have to undergo to be able to do that. That was a meditative exercise, let’s say. It only took about 10 days for me to realize that not only could I do that, but that it would be a hell of a lot easier than I had thought it would be. That’s sort of where that wall between me and what Jung described as the shadow started to fall apart. That, also, was very useful; I started to treat myself as a somewhat different entity.

I thought I was a Good Guy, and there’s no reason for me to think that.  

You’re not a Good Guy unless you've really made a bloody effort to be a Good Guy. You’re just not. 

 

It’s not easy. 

And so you’re probably a moderately Bad Guy. 

That’s a long ways from being An Absolutely Horrible Guy, but it’s also a long ways from being a Good Guy. 

 

But I had a little more respect for myself after that, because I also understood that there was a monstrous element to the human psyche that you needed to respect, and that was part of you. And I understood that you should regard yourself, in some sense, as a loaded weapon. It’s very useful to regard yourself as a loaded weapon around children, because, around children, you are a loaded weapon. The terrible experiences that many children have with their parents are testament to that.