Han Solo Origin Movie

Day 95. 65 pages, 28,547 words. Yeah, I’m not getting this shit done in 100 days, am I.

So according to this typically overblown story on the Internet, there were plans to re-work Han Solo into a comedic-frantic Jim Carreyesque character in his up-coming ‘young adventures of’ movie.

Now, I put “re-work” in extra-heavy quotey-marks because my impression of Han Solo right from Episode IV has been … basically not a huge step away from Ace Ventura, when I think about it. Okay, he was darker and less overtly insane-clown-like, but he did a lot of flailing and getting into madcap situations, he was amusing, and I can easily picture his younger self as being even more so. If you trace shit back from Episode VII through Episode VI, Episode V and Episode IV, the line isn’t hard to follow. He even did a bit of Three Stooges work on Jabba’s barge (“Boba Fett? Boba Fett? Where?” *bump*).


Obviously, I didn’t find it quite as easy to imagine as some people. Credit to the amazing art and creativity of James Hance. Brilliant.

Obviously this isn’t what Han Solo means to a lot of people, and it’s probably going to make some fanboys wail, but I’ve made my opinion of the characters and acting in the hallowed Original Trilogy clear by now. They weren’t cinematic masterpieces or a pinnacle of the thespian arts, in my view. They did exactly what they were supposed to do. They were great. They were fun. Maybe not this fun, but … well, it’d be a step away from the Rogue One attempted grimdark, wouldn’t it?

It wouldn’t be the worst thing they could do to Han Solo, is what I’m saying here. And I for one wouldn’t consider it sacrilege, because it’s goddamn Star Wars.

And now I’m just imagining every hilarious scene and bit of body-acting from Jim Carrey in the Ace Ventura films, repurposed for Han aboard the Millennium Falcon. And it’s really pretty hysterical.

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An open letter to the City of Helsinki

As a permanent resident of Finland although I am not yet a citizen, I would like to extend my thanks to the City of Helsinki and the Finnish Police Force for their strong and civic-minded action in removing the Suomi Ensin hate group from our public space.

Please make no mistake. I, and many of my family and friends both Finnish and non-Finnish, consider such groups a direct threat to our physical safety – as well as an embarrassment to our own sense of what Finland stands for in culture and in attitude.

I thank you, sincerely, for taking this firm step towards a Finland that can stand proud on its 100th birthday, and be a place I remain grateful to live, and work, and raise my family.

And I want to ask you, with respect, not to roll over on your bellies and let these ignorant thugs return to do further harm. I noticed you had already denied them a new permit, which is something for which I once again thank you. The blemish they represented, physically as well as culturally, let alone the assaults and damage they were responsible for and the general threat they posed, simply cannot be borne. I will not stand for it, and I do not pretend to have the proud history of standing up to bullies that the Finnish government can boast.

No, I am not a citizen, but this is my home. I am considering taking the next step and becoming a citizen. This means a great deal to me, because I have only ever been born into a nationality. To make that conscious decision, and undertake all the hard work and bureaucracy involved, is a huge step.

I am not considering citizenship because I have to. I have found a home, employment, and made a family in this country, and I am not going anywhere. There may come a time when I am forced to consider citizenship because government policy and attitudes towards immigrants reaches that ugly final point. But this week you have given me hope that this point may never come.

I am considering citizenship because I want to. For love of this country and its people, and my desire to share its ongoing legacy.

Do I, then, have a voice in defining that legacy? Do I have a say in what I consider to be “Finnish”? Do I have a right to judge what Finnish society and culture should be?

Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.

I am writing to you, as public servants and representatives of both residents and citizens, and asking that you do not give a voice – much less a public home in the centre of our nation’s capital – to hatred, fear and isolationism. I am writing to thank you for having that strength for which I admire this nation and its people. I am writing to you to ask that you do not surrender to these bullies. I am asking for my own sake, and for the sake of my friends, and for the sake of my not-pureblood-Finnish daughters.

The Suomi Ensin people will be writing to you to demand their shitty racist clubhouse back.

You decide whose voice is heard.


Andrew Hindle

[Day 94. 64 pages, 28,019 words.]

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Gee Tee Äff Oh

Day 93. 62 pages, 26,762 words.

I can’t believe it’s only Tuesday.

The past 24 hours, I’ve mostly been laughing at the Finland First shitweasels being swept out of the railway station square like the trash they are.

I thought these guys were Perussuomalaiset (the main bigot-group in Finnish politics), but it turns out they’re a somehow even shittier and white-nationalistier wing of the party, so I sort of owe the Perssut an apology for sullying their good LOL I’m kidding fuck that whole pile of human garbage.

Anyway, after a Midsummer of absolutely-not-terrorism-or-probably-not-even-really-crime assaulting of passers-by and a whole Q1 of failing to clean up their shit and stop being a human centipede of mutual head-up-arseology, the Suomi Ensin crowd have finally been shown the door, which is funny because it’s a square, there are no doors.

buh_bye (1)

Oh wait, there they are. Buh bye, fuckface.

This is a welcome cup of cold water in the face not only to the bigoted-arse shitheels of this country, but also the police themselves, somewhere in the region of a third of whom were also just found to be giant racist douchepamphlets of the most basic kind. Nice to see them doing their jobs.

buh_bye (2)

I’m gonna miss them

In other news, the refugee-friendly protest and help camp on the other side of the square has been allowed to stay, because they’re law-abiding and haven’t cunted up the place.

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Stop Being Dumb

Day 92. 59 pages, 25,222 words. Didn’t get much writing done on the weekend after all. Oh well.

Today, as I stumble back into the work routine after a very pleasant four-day weekend, I would like to broadcast a small public service announcement. I saw this little piece of brilliance by Danny Casale on Facebook today, and was boundlessly amused and impressed at the elegance of the message.

I mean look at it. It’s barely even a metaphor.

Nothing much else to add today. Sorry.

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Sunday, the day after that thing I just wrote

Day 91. 57 pages, 24,081 words.

A day of relaxation (he pre-writes with breathtaking optimism), before work resumes and the after-work activities with my folks kick into their second week.

I think sometime this weekend there was meant to be a Juhannus bonfire and assorted things going on around the village, so we can go and cook some sausages and stuff.

With any luck, tomorrow I will be able to report a solid jump in my word-count … but I’m going to be busy at work, and I’m not sure how much time I will have had to write over the four-day weekend. I’ve severely de-prioritised it in the presence of a summer weekend with my girls – and my visiting parents. And even though I’m pre-writing this on Wednesday and predict that by Sunday I will be feeling pretty crabby about my writing needs, I don’t regret the decision and hope I won’t regret it much by Sunday, either.

Going into the long weekend with a positive attitude planned. I think it’s the only way through the end of June.

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Saturday, Wump’s Birthday, Midsummer 2017

Day 90. 57 pages, 24,081 words.

Back from Sweden as of this morning, expecting it to be quiet in town. I understand that today is midsummer (Juhannus), even though the summer solstice was actually a couple of days back.

It’s also the seventh birthday of my brilliant and wonderful firstborn, Wump.

Seven. Seven years old. Seven.

I mean, honestly. What the actual Hell.


Happy birthday, Wiggles.

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Day 89. 57 pages, 24,081 words.

Today we’re in Stockholm. I don’t even know what we’ll be doing so I can’t pre-write. With any luck, I’ll find a copy of Captain America: Civil War to bring home and add to our collection. I just realised we don’ seem to have it for some reason, and my parents haven’t seen it so I want to watch it with them.

Because I am a masochist, that’s why.

Anyway, that is all. Have a grand weekend, all. If I’ve done the weekend right, as we speak I am stuffed with the remains of a buffet dinner last night, a buffet breakfast this morning, and am footsore from walking around Stockholm for the day.

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