ElementalTurnip

And like. The Jedi are a culture. They’re a religion.

You know that, right? You know that many cultures, including generally peaceful ones, have sacred weapons, right? You know that the bond between a Jedi and their crystal(s) is an extremely sacred thing that requires the consent of both parties and is integral to their way of life, right?

You know that lightsabers are not intended to be only for killing, right? That the first thing Luke learns to do with his lightsaber is to shield and defend? You know that a culture having sacred weapons doesn’t mean that they view killing as sacred, right?

I put special emphasis on "practiced for a number of reasons such as physical, mental and spiritual development; and the preservation of a nation's intangible cultural heritage" because that's exactly why the jedi have lightsaber combat: it's part of their culture, as essential to it as the Force, and it's a way to train and connect with themselves, each other, and the Force. plenty of martial arts use weapons like swords and staffs, and it's most notable on asian martial arts like kendo, which is literally what lightsaber combat in the movies was inspired on. the weapons don't mean they're more violent than unarmed martial arts, or that they are meant to kill. they're just a different style of martial art, much like music has so many different genres.

plus, lightsabers are extremely limited in range, they are obviously meant for defense over offense. they can only cut down people who get close enough to be within range of the blade, and even though they can deflect blaster shots they still need to have been shot at first. using a lightsaber to kill is easy. anyone who gets their hands on a lightsaber can do that. using a lightsaber to defend, to save lives? now that requires plenty of training, discipline and understanding of oneself and one's weapon. that's what lightsaber combat is. that's why jedi carry lightsabers.

A pair of hands gently, reverentially, picks up the cells and takes them out of view. The camera cuts to a box. The cells go in, on top of hundreds of others. The hands pick up the box, and again remove it from view.

Outside. It's a brilliant, sunny day in a drab, otherwise unremarkable parking lot. A man carries the box to a pile of others. You instantly sense that the whole episode, an absurd number of individual drawings all piled together, occupy those boxes. The whole of the last episode of The Simpsons, stacked in physical form.

The man leaves frame.

He returns, and begins spraying lighter fluid on the boxes. Maybe you are horrified. Perhaps you are in awe. Or you're just curious.

But it doesn't matter.

This was all pre-recorded. Whatever happens next has already happened. Neither you nor your OLED screen have any say, not anymore. Sure, you could turn it off.

But you won't.

A zippo is produced from a pocket. The man lights it. He seems to contemplate the gravity of his next action for a moment, but with absolute certainty in his face, he casts the metal brick into the waiting fuel, and the boxes are slowly wrapped in flames.

The man leaves frame, and the camera doesn't move. Nothing but flames consuming thousands of hours of artwork occupies the screen.

As the boxes blacken and occasional sheets of plastic curl and flutter away, dancing like burning leaves, a song starts to play.

At first, you believe it's an aria, but within seconds you identify the theme song, slowly being sung by a choir. A funeral dirge might have been more expected, but this simple, beautiful, joyful tune, almost like angels at play, somehow feels more appropriate.

The song ends, the boxes have burnt. The screen goes dark. White, cursive letters come into focus on the dark background.