Look, there are some rules of decency that I just think most people should live by, especially little green Jedi Masters! I think one of those rules should be, "Don't send your fellow Master into the middle of a crowd of farting Wookies"! My God, am I the only adult on the whole Council?!
For those of you who didn't read Yoda's post yesterday (as I didn't, which was a huge mistake), that little man was invited by Chewbacca to go to a Tootie and the Blow-Sith concert on Kashyyyk. But he copped out and sent me in his place.
Oh sure, he made it sound on-the-level, like it was something important I needed to do. "A good gesture your presence at this concert would be. Get along so well with the Wookiees you do not. Heal the breach this may."
Yeah, I've had some friction with the Wookiees, especially since the "incident". It took place during my "Love Your Skin, Love Your Head, Love Yourself" educational tour of the Republic. You see, in my zeal to demonstrate to those neanderthals the benefits of going bald and shiny, a few Wookies ended up getting shaved. Let's just say the results were not pretty. Besides, I thought they were consenting to it at the time.
I mean, is it my fault their stupid language is so confusing? It's just a bunch of grunts, for crying out loud! How am I supposed to tell the difference between "Mwaaaaar!", which means "Sure, I'm game", and "Mwaaar!" which means "Get away from me with those clippers, you freak!"? I mean, come on!
Even their written language is hopeless. Take the name of their home planet, for instance. How the heck do you get kah SHIK' out of "Kashyyyk"? What's with all the extra y's, man?!
Before I knew it, the whole Wookiee population had it's collective knickers in a knot over a little hairlessness. It will grow back, man! Anyway, I have not been exactly the most popular person on Kashyyyk since then.
So in the interest of fostering good relations between Kashyyyk and the Jedi Order, I agreed to go to this concert. Unfortunately, Yoda "forgot" to tell me that Wookiees applaud by passing gas. Even less fortunate is the fact that the crowd enjoyed the show - I mean really enjoyed the show. After fourteen "standing ovations" and five encores, it was all I could do to keep from passing out. And that's not to mention how much my eyes were stinging and my face was all puckered up from having to put up with the funk. You have no idea what that does to your skin, man! It will take me a month to get my pores to open up like they used to!
During the whole trip home, all I could think about was getting that god-awful stench off me. This was important, man. No matter how good you look, you can't be truly pretty unless you smell pretty. The funk was seriously hampering my true prettiness. So as soon as I got home, I took off all of my clothes and burned them. Then I showered over and over again, making sure to repeat my entire shower/exfoiation regimen each time. I went through each and every one of my aromatic botanical soaps until they were nothing but suds. In desperation, I even let Yoda spray me with his pressure-washer. And let me tell you, he was just a little too eager to comply.
Yet, I still couldn't get rid of the smell! Everyone else tells me it's all in my head, that they don't notice it anymore. But I know it's there, man. I can feel it, like it's some ghostly presence that keeps haunting me.
In summary: I need a hug.
Yoda will be back to talk to you people tomorrow.