The OC Register has published a silly piece entitled, The politics of play on Disneyland’s Millennium Falcon in Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.
What is this silly article about? The subtitle says it all:
The attraction requires cooperation and teamwork for each group’s mission to succeed.
Galaxy’s Edge pesters kids with a collective, collaborative, cooperative, community. How exciting. Who knew war (as in Star Wars) could be so cooperative? Maybe SJWs are conflating Star Wars with Star Trek. Or maybe they’re just using the Star Wars franchise to push their “cooperative” socialist political agendas. If so, then like the school group project that is intended to do the same, kids will discover that there are always one or two kids in the group who don’t pull their weight, but who get the same rewards as those who put in all of the effort. So it becomes an unintentionally accurate microcosm of socialism indeed. Those who don’t put any effort in, but who reap all of the rewards love the concept.
Sadly, the article continues:
The last thing I expected to find in Disneyland’s Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge was a political statement. But it’s there, concealed within the Millennium Falcon like a Hidden Mickey.
Millennium Falcon: Smugglers Run is the new ride inside Disney’s Star Wars land. The backstory is that Hondo Ohnaka, from the “Clone Wars” and “Star Wars Rebels” TV series, is hiring visitors to crew the Falcon for a “perfectly legal” mission that just happens to involve stealing a bunch of coaxium, the hyperspace fuel that Han Solo was smuggling when he made the Kessel Run that he bragged about in the original “Star Wars” film.
Once aboard, visitors are grouped into crews of six, then escorted to the cockpit of the Falcon for their mission. On most theme park attractions, you’re just along for the ride. Perhaps, on interactive rides such as Buzz Lightyear, you might get to shoot at stuff to earn a score. Maybe even you can benefit by working with a partner, such as on the Little Green Men screen in Toy Story Midway Mania, where two people working together can unlock a score-boosting Easter egg.
But Millennium Falcon: Smugglers Run takes cooperative play to a new level never before seen on a major theme park attraction. Each rider is assigned something to do on the ride, and the more successfully each person carries out that task, the more successful the mission will be.
Conversely, the less successful each person carries out the task, the less successful the mission will be. No wonder The Last Jedi boringly spent half the film with nutcracker Holdo berating the individualistic fighter pilot about his cockpit. It goes on:
The first time I rode, I was a gunner, assigned to shoot TIE fighters attacking the Falcon. I did OK, hitting about a third of the enemy ships. But we ended up wrecking the Falcon and collecting only the minimum one container of coaxium, since our pilots kept running into things and our engineers could not hit the right buttons fast enough to repair the damage in time. The ride attendant told us that Hondo had put a price on our heads. Not good.
The second time through, I talked through the upcoming mission with the other visitors who would be on our crew while waiting to enter the cockpit. A couple of us who had ridden before explained the process to the other four, who were surprised to learn they could have so much control over the action on the ride. Inside the cockpit, we killed it, snagging extra coaxium and making a nice chunk of change for Hondo.
Walking out of the Falcon, I recognized that Disney’s Imagineers had just taught us a few sneaky social lessons, ones that resonate politically in an increasingly divided nation.
Sneaky and deeply stupid all at the same time.
First, you have to take control, because sitting around waiting for someone else to act is no way to do what needs to be done. Second, you have to work together with everyone to make things happen, even though you might not get to pick your crew. And finally, to do all this, you have to find a healthy, productive way to communicate with others, even people you do not know.
If only the real world worked in the same fashion as this fantasy based simulacrum. Control-freakism, the inner need to control the actions and speech of others, is in fact a form of mental retardation, that normal people tend to flee from. You might have to work together, but there is no guarantee that everyone will, and many simply won’t. Crews are often chosen through hirings and firings. Not everyone is capable of healthy, productive communication, because perfect equality is non-existent in our reality. It continues:
Getting angry, blaming others, or just laughing as the whole thing comes crashing down — none of those helps your mission succeed.
Lucasfilm representatives should perceive this as a potential allegory for the Star Wars franchise. Yes, there’s more:
After riding, I wished that Disney could build a hundred of its Millennium Falcons. Not just because it’s a fun ride, but because it also offers some lessons that a whole lot of Americans would do well to remember.
Yes. Remember that the real world never works this way.
The SJW will scream something to the effect of “all art is political,” or some variation thereof. What the SJW can’t possibly understand, is that all SJW art is political. And that’s because the SJW doesn’t have the capability to conceive apolitical art.
Originally published here