A forty-foot tall LCD screen showing movie clips perfectly timed to the music couldn’t hurt either.

These are the lessons I learned at Star Wars in Concert.

Simply put, it was one of the most entertaining things I ever saw: an entirely new way to look at orchestral music. Classical music for the ADD generation – you have to present images with the sounds because our brains can’t conjure the images anymore. I couldn’t honestly tell you if showing battle scenes behind a performance of the 1812 Overture would cheapen or enhance the experiment but I’d sure like to see it tried by a serious orchestra.

On top of boiling jets of fire, smoke, lasers and very-big-teevees; Anthony Daniels came out to narrate the whole thing complete with a very nifty wardrobe malfunction at an appropriate moment.

A triumph. A tour de force. I am damn glad I went.

Holy Jeebus. I don’t know whether this is the total revenge of the 80s or 90s: a Terminator TV series, an imminent Knight Rider revival and 90210 characters popping up in hideously inconsistent places.

I have invented my own Newspeak word: hipcom. Or hipprocom. Or sochipcom? It’s a bizarre world and we do need a new language to describe it. Guess what it means.

I have commented before on the inverse relationship between the number of times a nation refers to its supposed egalitarian instincts in its offical name and the actual quality of life for its people: People’s Republic of China, for instance. The only applicable word there is China. Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. Again, only Korea is true and the addition of Democratic implies they’re even more repressive than China – which is also true. I find a similar logic applies to group nomenclatures, like the theatre troupe that put on this show – The People’s Branch Theatre. Don’t know what the branch is meant to refer to, except possibly the one they’ll use to hang folks like me come the revolution. But I suspect the use of the word “People” is meant to appeal to all their patchouli wearing brethren and demonstrate solidarity with everyone. Of course, if these folks ever actually came in contact with the “people” they’d probably run screaming in whatever direction is likely to lead to an overpriced cup of coffee with a bizarre sizing ritual.

It’s a shame. Orwell would merely shake his head in the conviction he was right. It’s just that the thought police aren’t actually agents of the government.

So, how f***king annoying is it that two of the least-likely contenders in Hollywood have been cast as Johnny and June Cash? I will give you that Joaquin Phoenix is a pretty decent actor. I will even give you that he resembles the Man in his heyday. But Christ, man! Is there a less manly fellow working in Hollywood today? And Jesus, how is he supposed to do the Voice? Brother’s got as trembly pitched a tenor as I do. OK. I’ll give a brother the benefit of the doubt for now but here’s the travesty – guess who plays June Carter Cash?

Greasy Reese Witherspoon.

Hellfire and damnation! That lady can’t even play an effete cheerleader right! How the hell is she supposed to play a classy broad?

I tell you, if I ever find out who Lisa Beach, Shirley Fulton Crumley, and Sarah Katzman are there will be hell to pay! Goddamned wimmen casting directors thinking with whatever the female equivalent of their johnsons are and picking pretty-boy weirdos and brain-dead blondes instead of real men and talented women.

But who ought to play the Man? That’s a tough one.

I’ve got my towel and copy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide safely ensconced in a satchel and soon to be joined by at least two packets of peanuts.

Are you ready?