I did not create this list but what do you think about this list?…..source below…..

http://www.soulbounce.com/soul/2008/04/25_things_that_killed_urban_mu.php

25 Things That Killed (and are Still Killing) Urban Music

In the midst of everyone’s declarations that "Hip Hop is Dead" we somehow forgot the slow death that is spreading across all aspects of "urban" music, as the legacy of Soul and its close cousins has devolved into a writhing mass of commercialism, homogenization, thuggification and overall laziness. Now, in no particular order, we present to you the "25 Things That Killed (and are Still Killing) Urban Music" because you love lists and SoulBounce isn’t afraid to say what you’re thinking. Keep in mind that there will be some overlap, as certain items gave way to others that deserve their own spanking.

1. The End of the "Event" Album: There was a time when albums encompassed an era that included a look, a feel, and a style that informed an artist’s videos and live performances for as long as they (or the label) could squeeze revenue from a project by releasing singles. The "event" album can chiefly be credited to Jacksons Michael and Janet, who have entire timelines built around the idea of a "Thriller Era" or a "Rhythm Nation Era". Nowadays, instead of treating albums as what they are (a collection of songs with one unifying theme) artists are more likely to seek out the most ubiquitous Hip Hop beatmakers of the moment and record over a hundred songs from which to "pick" singles. Also, when you have artists that are too scared to release music with a healthy 3-5 year gap in between, the lines to between albums begin to blur, and the eras become indistinguishable, rendering them null.

2. Big Name Hip Hop Producers: With respect due to the beatmakers that introduce a track with the name of their production imprint, ad-lib all over it, and insert themselves as guest rappers 50% of the time, they overshadow the actual vocalist of a song. We certainly don’t begrudge any of them the right to employment, but when an artist has to do an inventory of who produced her project to qualifiy it instead of telling us what the album is about, we have to take exception. Reality check: If you’re trying to goad me into a purchasing your album because you have a Pharrell beat on it and I’m a Pharrell fan, then that’s the only song I’m buying. Your album has to have legs of its own.

3. Deaths of The Notorious B.I.G. & 2Pac: You can probably draw a direct line from the deaths of Biggie and ‘Pac to the current state of Hip Hop. The two of them cultivated a style that even a decade later is re- and misappropriated to the nth. Perhaps if they were still alive, they’d have pushed the genre forward. Or maybe they’d be wack and irrelevant. Hey, at least they died while they were still good.

4. "Neo-Soul": We understand the emergence of the "neo-soul" genre as a response to the growing commercialization of modern R&B. But even the artists lumped into this category began to the see that the term was as much a marketing ploy as the very things they eschewed. The language used to describe these artists ranged from "organic" to "avant garde" and any press materials would claim that he/she looks up to Stevie, Marvin and Donnie. And don’t stand too close to the stage lest you get burned by the candles and frankencense! Before long, the audience would be fooled and we would either grow to love or loathe this music, defending the art of its purveyors and loudly wondering why they couldn’t move as many units as their mainstream counterparts. Simply put, "neo-soul" has become a term used by people to describe music they respect but would never buy.

5. Reality TV: Aside from the manufactured Pop idols that are struggling to stay signed within their prize contracts, we have to question the motives of Sean Combs, Robin Antin and Missy Elliott, who have all aped the reality television format to generate acts for their own stable of artists. To be sure, reality TV has replaced proper Artist Development as a means for these entrepreneurs to cash in, stroke their egos and embarrass people who, 9 times out of 10, deserve it. Speaking of which, what’s O’so Krispie doing?

6. Lazy A&R Departments: Did you know that A&R people are also responsible for Artist Development? Probably not, since these days a newly-signed artist is more likely to be stripped of their identity and given one that falls in step with what’s popular or, even worse, none at all. Take Cheri Dennis for example. While her album has a respectable amount of solid R&B tracks, we still don’t know who Cheri Dennis is, what sets her apart from everyone else or even what she sounds like. But, she has earned the distinction of being signed to her label for nearly a decade with no album to speak of. Did the A&R department utilize that time by playing Spades? Probably.

7. Scarface and The Untouchables: Okay, rapper, we get it, Scarface and The Untouchables are the greatest movies ever made; your life in celluloid, even. But, if you look close enough, you’ll come to learn that you are neither Pacino or De Niro and should stop emulating them by using audio clips from the films in your interludes and the script in your lyrics. Too many of you are still doing this after all these years. Also, tell members of your crew to stop calling themselves "Ness" and "Nitti". Just, please, cut it out. Thank you.

8. Thugs: Not only do we have "Studio Thugs" that use de Palma films to inform their image (see above) but there’s the "Corporate Thug" (robs an artist of his publishing and signs him to a hellified contract he could never fulfill) and the questionable "R&B Thug", which happened somewhere between R. Kelly and Jodeci and continues to this day. Along the way, labels got the bright idea that the way to a woman’s heart was by selling drugs and beating up people. Sexy! This trend has also given rise to something else we’ll never understand: "R&B Beef", in which two singers talk trash about each other to the media. Unfortunately, this doesn’t result in a "sing-off" but pretty much makes everyone involved look kind of retarded.

9. Crime: Between violating probation, not paying child support, being pulled over and caught with an ounce of weed or cocaine, assaulting nail technicians, shooting people, tossing concertgoers off the stage, committing perjury, tax evasion, and urinating on minors, we have to wonder if being a good artist means being a bad citizen.

10. Ringtones: "Real Music Ringtones" were created as a way to distinguish your ringing cellular from someone else’s while also bringing you closer to your favorite artist. Unfortunately, the labels realized this was the only way to generate revenue and started making music for the sole purpose of selling ringtones. Now, we have stripped-down keyboard beats and grunts and "yaahhs" instead of lyrics. Is that my cellphone ringing or yours? We’ll never know, because we both downloaded Soulja Boy.

11. Lack of Music Programs in Schools: Programs like Garage Band have not only made producers lazy, but undercut the importance of immersing young would-be musicians in music history as well as basic composition. Unless a popular musician was trained in the church, they probably lucked into a contract without knowing how to write, play an instrument, or worse, sing a note.

12. BET (and by extension its corporate owner) is on a mission to not only destroy urban music, but poison the perception of Black people in the process. If we were to use this network as a guide (and people unfortunately do), we would believe that "drug dealer > rapper > pimp" is a logical career path, alcoholic beverages can be used as bodysplash, women of exotic or indeterminate race are the standard of beauty, darker-skinned women are only valuable if they have a big ass and a tiny waist, a person’s worth can only be determined by what they drive and what they wear, you ain’t sh*t if you’re over 30, and a week’s worth of debauchery and decadence can be undone with a Sunday marathon of religious programming. It’s funny because it’s true.

13. The Radio: Used to be, you would turn on the radio and hear a variety of artists with a variety of sounds. But due to the "Clear Channeling" of Urban Radio, you’ll hear a T-Pain song followed by 15 minutes of commercials, followed by a song featuring T-Pain, some shucking and jiving by unbearable radio personalities for five minutes, then something that resembles a T-Pain song, but isn’t because just about everyone sounds like T-Pain now. And it’s probably a commercial.

14. Spineless Club DJs: If you’re going out to a club, you might as well sit in the house and blast the radio instead of paying the inflated cover charge. Once upon a time, DJs were tastemakers, but now so many of them are afraid they’ll clear the floor by spinning something new that they just play album versions of songs people are tired of but are too drunk to notice. Then, they add insult to injury by showing off their "skills" with poorly-timed scratches, blends that don’t line up and screaming over the music. And consider yourself lucky if you happen upon a DJ with ACTUAL! VINYL! RECORDS!

15. Mainstream Hip Hop Publications: Back in the 90′s, holding one of these rags in your hands was like holding a monthly Bible to all things Hip Hop and R&B. Now, they’ve all been relegated to chasing blogs and reiterating things we already knew weeks ahead instead of properly utilizing the print medium to do something unique. Changes in personnel and ownership aside, they were already marching towards irrelevance. Even the covers suck now, but you probably won’t get the damn thing delivered on time in order to find out.

16. Bloggers: Guilty as charged! Trifle few of us are qualified to be writing about music with any authority, especially since most of the people behind blogs haven’t been alive long enough to have a healthy perspective on the subject. Although it can be argued that record companies rely on blogs for buzz, most of the music championed by popular websites is the same music that would’ve gotten attention anyway. Also, we have to point out that the commenting system has turned discussions about music into an unholy war of "haters" versus "stans", where everyone is an expert on what they hate or love, but have no concept of anything else including real life. Oh, and providing your readers with the URL to full album leaks doesn’t "help" the artist.

17. Youtube & Myspace: On the Internet, everyone is a star (thank you, thank you). But while sites like Myspace and Youtube can provide mainstream and indie musicians with a means of cultivating and connecting with an audience, it becomes a chore to sort through the muck of people with a webcam and a login classifying themselves as "artists". And damn you all to Hell for having the crap you made in Grandma’s basement on auto-play.

18. Singing Rappers, Acting Rappers & Rapping Athletes: We’ll keep this short. Every now and then you’ll happen upon someone that has been able to organically transition from one career to another. Will and Latifah come to mind. To everyone else (coughCurtiscough), stay in your lane. Again, we don’t begrudge anyone the chance to make some extra ends; it just shouldn’t be at the expense of the audience.

19. The End of Real Singing Groups: Once upon a time, you not only had singing groups that weren’t put together by a reality show, but wherein each member contributed a distinct voice or purpose to the group. Sometimes they had members that barely sang a note, but who actually produced or wrote the song. Point is, throwing a bunch of strangers in a house with one phone and giving them makeovers doesn’t create synergy. Also, name a recent singing group that wasn’t created for a television show or for the purpose of launching someone’s solo career. Exactly.

20. "Kanyitis" is a temporary, yet frequent, illness that afflicts singers and rappers alike, wherein an artist waits until the precise moment they are in front of a camera, microphone or reporter to say something shocking and stupid, which will then be quoted by bloggers and searched on Youtube ad nauseum. Then the artist has to explain what they "really" meant, but by that time everyone already thinks they’re nuts and doesn’t care about a retraction.

21. Death of Aaliyah: Not that Aaliyah took an entire genre of music with her to the grave, but it can be argued that her passing made way for a wave of young, pretty dancers with okay voices and no personality. Only difference between them and Aaliyah is, Aaliyah had personality along with talent, ideas and a willingness to experiment. Also, she wasn’t so full of herself.

22. Money: Even worse than artists releasing garbage because they know it sells is the audience’s obsession with how much an artist makes. Unfortunately, we’ve given lack of artistry a pass because someone’s "making that paper", which totally undermines the hard work of true creative talents that are constantly writing, recording, and performing. When I buy an album I don’t want to hear an entrepreneur, which brings us to–

23. Products & Brands: Whether rappers and singers are inserting the names of designer alcoholic beverages into their lyrics or cable companies are inserting rappers and singers in their ad campaigns, things come to a point where we need to start realizing how owned these artists are. There’s a thin line between businessperson and corporate slave. We’d also like to reiterate a fact that has been pointed out time and time again over the past 10 years: If you can’t pronounce it, why should we care that you’re wearing it, driving it, or drinking it?

24. People That Aren’t in Any Way Associated with Music: Opportunities in the industry are built on connections and there’s almost never been a time when someone didn’t rise to stardom on someone else’s coattails. But now, things have gotten way out of hand. Why be an actual artist when you can be someone that danced in videos, screwed a bunch of rappers and got a book deal? Or, you can be a butler or Executive In Charge of Umbrella-Carrying? Or, worse, be the "Fifth Mic" guy on stage and reliable instigator? Who needs a recording studio?

25. Teenagers: Young people have always had the power to determine trends in all genres of music, which is why corporations defer to them. However, today’s teenagers seem to be slightly more insipid than they were in previous generations and definitely have a shorter attention span. Whether it’s the teens themselves driving the garbage labels are releasing, or the labels that are leading teens down a path of ignorance, is totally up for debate. It’s the chicken/egg question in its purest form.

i love the series and want to own it in my home. Any help besides i tunes? thanks!

…and collects Star Wars memorabilia that includes a real Storm Trooper outfit and Tie Fighter bed complete with laser lights, has a Wookie fur covered sofa and mini refrigerator with choice of Cheez-Whiz or peanut butter for your Ritz crackers….wouldn’t you think this guy’s a catch? What if I told you this guy can sound like Yoda when making love? “Good you feel, about to orgasm I am!” Wouldn’t you think the women would throw themselves at this Jedi stud?

Sadly, you’d be wrong.
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go play with my lightsaber.

POLL: Han Solo or Scruffy-Looking Nerf Herder?

I'm looking for Star Wars Burger King because I have the whole collection except Yoda (the flipping one), Chewbacca (the plush toy), and Obi-Wan (the viewer). Can someone tell me where I could get one?

Improve it? I need honest answers, people.
Thanks….
Here it is….
ONCE UPON A WAR

By
Alex Cubero

Chapter 1

An explosion rocked me and my hiding place. People screamed out. A body thunked next to me. Blood was coming out of his eyes and nose. Another of my friends. Another American troop, lost to the war. Angrily I peeked over the wall. I saw no enemies, but blew a Swastika flag to shreds of fabric. I ran out, hunched over, searching for enemies. I ran inside the giant building. BAM! BAM! BAMBAM! A row of holes shattered the tiles next to me. I ducked behind a tipped-over table. I sighted with my Tommy. A lone Nazi was hunched behind his MG 42, trying to find me. I aimed as carefully as possible, and shot one shot. His head erupted and split, little bits of Evil splashing everywhere. The call aroused several voices from a room just a little ahead of me. “Was war das?” “Was ist los? Sie! Adolf! Gehen Sie dort hinaus!” A shrimpy-looking Nazi came out of the room, timidly looking around. A mouse scuttled out from the wall and he emptied his clip at it. The mouse scuttled away, but Adolf fell backwards, hitting his helmetless head on the ground, knocking him out. I silently stepped over him. Harsh laughs came from the room. 3, I judged. I reloaded my Tommy. I stepped out from behind the wall and emptied my clip, fighting to stay on target. I looked at the gore. A general? Why is a general at a small house in Italy? What am I missing here? I was out of clips for my gun. I picked up that kid, Adolf, that’s right, his gun. I took out the clip. I stripped him of all his Nazi uniform. I pitied the kid, even if he was a Nazi. I threw the clothes behind a table. I took clips out of the other Nazis guns. I cocked the MP40. I sneaked up the stairs. I looked over the wall. A single Italian Blackshirt was asleep in a chair. I went up to him and put my Colt 45 to his head. I pulled the trigger. BOOM! Half the house was gone. I couldn’t think. My ears rung and a giant weight pinned my legs down. Red surrounded my vision. The ringing dimmed. My Brain started working again. Ah. It was an explosion. A big one. A bomb. That is when the red seared my vision. The pain had registered. Dear god! My eyes opened wide. I opened my mouth and bit the nearest rafter. I bit hard, and screamed on the inside. The pain diminished slightly. I took deep breathes. I lifted myself a bit. Ow! No. Most certainly NOT happening. I started lifting and heaving what I could off of me. I tried to slide out a little. It hurt, but I tried anyway. I slid out. After I was out, I felt my legs. Nothing was broken, surprisingly, but that left a bruise. I stood up, very painfully. This is gonna be fun. I ran a little. I climbed the ladder down, and surveyed the damage. Just then the rest of the house collapsed. I coughed and ran away from the dust. I stabbed three Nazis in the way. I jumped in a Willie. I sped past Americans and ran down Italians and Germans. Two sdkfz 2 half tracks swerved in front of me. I jumped out of my jeep just in time, and the three vehicles slammed into each other, tires rolling here and there. I shoved a grenade in the wreckage, pulled the pin, and ran away. An explosion told me that the Nazis were dead for sure, now. Suddenly I thought. I cursed silently. I could have had more ammo. A crunch of gravel made me whip around, gun at the ready. An American soldier was crouching and poking at the melted inferno that was once three vehicles. “I bombed it already. You don’t have to worry,” I said. He looked up. “But…you have an MP40…wouldn’t they have had ammo?” he asked. “Yup. Yes. Yeah. I know. I’m a total idiot. And you’re probably a genius…but waddya expect? College, I said. Who needs it, I said. The Army doesn’t, I said. Well…Don’t get shot,” I ranted. I walked off and the guy watched me go. I walked through ruins. Dead soldiers littered the ground. Guns and shells sat next to them. A crumpled tank sat in one corner. Overturned vehicles were here and there. AA guns sat smoking, dotting the expanse of death and wrecks. I sighed. This was war. This was what I signed up for, making my family worry. Risking myself. Missing out on the groovy 40s. I listened for the first time I jumped out of the plane into this…place. Guns shooting constantly. They sound like firecrackers. Harmless, little, firecrackers. Explosions sounded on occasion, too. Just a bigger firework. If that was all they were, I wouldn’t be listening to them like this. I stood there contemplating for a while. Searchlights scanned the night sky and AA guns fired at Allied bombers. Explosions in the air marked the loss of another good guy. I meandered through the town. My MP40 hung limply at my side. I put it on my shoulder and tightened the strap. The stars shimmered beautifully. Every once in a while the stars were blocked out by a massive shape. If I didn’t know that
The stars shimmered beautifully. Every once in a while the stars were blocked out by a massive shape. If I didn’t know that it was a plane, I would be scared. Bombs fell on certain areas. Three Messerschmitt 109 airplanes flew overhead. I shot at one, threw a grenade at another. The grenade one got his tale blown off. He fell and exploded. The shot-at one escaped, turned around, and started to shoot where I was. It flew by, turned again, and followed his partner, assured he had killed me. BOOM! KA-PWOOM! Explosions. Shot by their own AA guns. Shows just how stupid Axis powers are. I started running. I didn’t know where I was running to. I just ran. I took off my gun and shot wildly. “Ich höre ein! Eintragfaden! Schießen Sie ihn! BEWEGEN SIE SICH HERAUS!” Three hundred, at least, Nazis came pouring out of an alley. “That’s a lot of ammo! Don’t bother shooting, boys! Save the ammo for me!” I yelled at them. I shot in rows, knocking 10 Nazis on average down each row. I showered them with
with shots and showered the ground with shells. Down they went. Helmets fell. Men fell. Guns fell. Blood fell. Click. No. No no no no no!! Out of ammo. Already. Out of my holsters two Colt .45s came out. BLAM! BLAM! BLAMBLAMBLAM! More Nazis fell. 2 were left and my Colts were done. Out. I picked up the nearest Luger and fired two shots. The Nazis fell. I picked up as many clips as I could carry. Lugers, MP40s, Walthers, Mauser rifles, even a Panzerfaust. I walked-no, staggered, really-away with my load. I walked on. My load kept getting lighter with the appearance of Nazis and Blackshirts. American troops sometimes ran past. I didn’t even remember the objective. Something about AA guns. Or was it tanks? A certain weapon? A lieutenant of some sort? Eventually I’ll complete the objective if I destroy everything in sight, right? 15 or so Americans ran past me. An explosion ahead told me that was probably the objective. Three of our guys fell. Gunshots echoed through the town. A giant expl
explosion sank three buildings. I covered my nose and mouth. Dust shot through the alley. I ran down to the rest of my troops. Five lay groaning. One was halfway covered by a building. 3 more were shot. The rest must be buried by the buildings. I looked around the rubble. There was nothing there. Bombs? It must have been bombs. I continued walking. I thought I heard a sort of squeaking sound. Then it stopped. Must have been bats. I never stopped walking. I never stopped thinking. I never stopped being lethal. Shots would ring out along my path. Bodies would thunk onto the ground. Swastikas would be shredded. German eagles obliterated. Clips stolen. Clips. More clips. More deaths. War. A machine. A meat grinder. Why? Why can’t we just…get along? And to think I ponder this while killing people. People who will die for their beliefs. War is an ugly beast, killing, shredding, and feasting on blood. Bang, a body falls. That easily. It takes so much to make a person, to make a life. A pull
pull of a trigger. The life is extinguished. Good, bad, does it matter? In the other sides’ eyes, the other side is always bad. The pain can sear through and through, and all they feel is triumphant. The pain sears on them. They finally feel sorry. It’s not that the Nazis aren’t bad. They are. It just seems wrong that they can believe so hard they would die for it. It being their beliefs. And we kill them. After this war, we’ll probably hunt them down and kill them. Even if they are 96 and helpless, we will kill them. I shook my head. I need to focus. Maybe all this is true, but I still need to kill or be killed-and I want to live. BAMAMAMAMBAM!! Bodies fall to the ground. I stopped paying attention to where I was walking. I kept staring at the stars. Fire streaks showed the downed planes, speeding toward the ground. No doubt the drivers had passed out or were already dead. One streak was farther away than the others. I realized…that wasn’t a plane. That was a shooting star. Finally.
A streak of beauty. WHAM! I slammed into something. Something very hard. I looked down. Oh no. No. No no no! I just hit a Tiger II tank. Made this year. There were only three. That was the squeaking sound. No doubt this was the objective.
Chapter 2

Squeak. Squeak squeak. The turret turned toward me. A single Nazi popped out the top. “Sie sind nicht wert die Gewehrkugeln von dieser Schönheit. Ha, Sie sind nicht wert Gewehrkugeln von meinem Luger,” the Nazi sneered at me. “Möglicherweise obwohl, möglicherweise ich gerade einem ersparen kann.” He removed a Luger from his holster and pointed it at me. “Auf Wiedersehen,” He said to me. Until that moment I had appeared to be stunned. Right then I took out my MP40 and filled him with holes. He looked shocked. His eyes were wide. He chuckled and smiled at me. A kind smile. He threw his Luger down and raised his hands in surrender. “Ich schätze, dass ich dieses in der guten Stimmung nehmen sollte. Ich verdiente dieses. Ich tat wirklich. im Ende waren Sie das gute,” He said. He put his hand on my shoulder. He grinned again. “Ich bin…sorry,” he said. His eyes grew distant, then blank. His hand tightened, then went limp on my shoulder. His body sloped forward.
His chest heaved once or twice, and then stopped. He was dead. Another hatch opened and the radio man came out, firing shots wildly. I ducked just in time and heard the bullet zoom overhead. “Kommen Sie heraus! Kommen Sie heraus! Ich bilde ihn schnell!” I heard him yell. A shape moved behind me and a Blackshirt raised his rifle. BLAM! The radio man didn’t recognize his own man. I heard the hatch close and the tank start. I ran past, careful not to be seen. It lurched forward and crushed the body. I snuck up to it. I quickly pulled the pin on a grenade and tossed it in the exhaust and ran and jumped down into the dirt. The radio man popped out and wondered what the metallic clinking sound was. BOOM! Shrapnel and larger pieces of metal flew by me. A fiery chunk of metal was all that remained. Three Americans leaped out of the shadows, bazookas raised. When they saw what remained of one of the Tiger II tanks, they lowered their bazookas. “You did that?” one of them asked. I nodded.
A piece of metal shifted and a flaming Nazi ran out. The Americans gunned him down before he got two steps. It seemed cruel, but it would be more cruel to let him burn. What would be fitting would be to let him live with such horrible burns. A sudden tink tink sound made me grab two Americans and shove them to the ground. I was reaching up for the last one when a sudden explosion from within the tank sent fire hurling toward my arm. I yanked it back. I got the troop down, but, sadly, a sharp chunk of metal got him first. I’ll spare the details, but suffice it to say, we had to wipe ourselves off. One of the troops talked into his radio. The transmission came in clear; “wait 10 minutes and move into section K-24 at exactly 0600 hours. Bombing and clearing now.” We moved in close. Explosions rocked the ground under our feet. When they stopped, we checked the time and moved into the blackened clearing. The B-17 bomber buzzed and landed. Our Jump Master motioned for us to run and jump in.
None of the others made it. The engines buzzed harder. We turned and took off. “We have to cut through Germany slightly and go through France. On the borders of Italy there are too many AA guns and Axis forces,” said the JM. Hours later he announced that we crossed the border of Germany. By then all the troops on the plane-4 of us-were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. I was on a winning streak and getting the most shells, which we were using as currency. BOOM! AA guns shot at us. We saw the streaks of fire out of the window. Some came way too close. BAM! It sounder like the tail gunner-or what was left of him-was floating toward the earth. BABAMBABAM! The gunners on the top, bottom, and nose were shooting at a squadron of German planes coming straight toward us. Bombs whistled through the air as they tried desperately to make the AA guns go away. BOOM! I looked out the narrow slit that served as a window. I paled and started to get dizzy. “What’s up?” asked one of the guys.
I shifted over a little so they could see the flames leaping through the air from our engine. A sound of shattering glass and the plane leaning to one side and losing altitude rapidly showed us that shrapnel had laid our captain to eternal peace. “Pretend it’s a green light! GO!! We don’t have much time!” The JM said, and jumped out the door. We hooked our hooks on the rails on the ceiling. We ran and jumped. Our parachutes opened, and our fall slowed. I saw the JMs’ chute get shot up. Luckily, he was near the ground, and landed rather well. He shoved off his chute and got his Thompson out. I saw him firing, motioning with his hand for us to wobble of behind the bushes, get tangled in a tree, and drop. We did as we were told, and got out our Tommy guns. We rushed out to help our JM. A Stielhandgranate flopped itself down next to me. I kicked it back and it exploded, sending Nazis flying without a plane. A sound of MP40s cocking behind our head sent a ripple of terror shattering my spin
shattering my spine. “Angegangen! Lässt den Führer über diese kleine Sache sehen. Angegangen! Zum Bomber! JETZT!” Said the general behind my head. I put my hands up and dropped my Tommy. He pushed me towards a Heinkel bomber. We flew to Berlin, making bets with who was Hitlers’ “main squeeze.”
Chapter 3

The Heinkel bumped up and down, and we could see concrete rushing past, as if in a hurry to run from the Nazi base ahead. The tires squealed as brakes were applied, and smoke poured from them, as if by magic. The smell of burning rubber wafted through the small slits that served as windows, and one of us gagged. A Nazi looked at us and chuckled at the gagging American. I wanted to rip off his lips, but if I did I knew I would have an MP40 shoved up my nose and shot. The bomber was slowing, then stopped. We all got up, and were shoved out of the plane. We were led into a big building with two SS guarding it, and with a huge Swastika flag that said “Heil Hitler” and an engravement on the building that said “Hitler ist Deutschland, unt Deutschland ist Hitler.” I stopped for a moment, considering attempting to escape. I knew that I could probably take out the first two guards guarding me, and maybe one of the SS guards.
I knew, however, that after that the rest of the guards would shoot me. I considered using that as an excuse for suicide to avoid any horrible tortures they may have lined up for me, but decided against it. I can tough it out. I might even survive through it. I was still standing motionless, so the Nazi behind me gave me a brutal shove. I careened into the troop in front of me, who fell into the leading Nazi. I said sorry, but as I was, the troop in front turned around and started to say something to the troop I careened into-who was accepting my apology and passing it on. The leading troop waved his arms in the air, yelling at the other troop, who was trying desperately to get his sorry out. The leading Nazi watched in entertainment for a couple minutes before raising his Mauser rifle and knocking him out. The troop fell to the ground, and the two SS guards ran to him, picking him up under the armpits and by the ankles, and dragging him off to a truck.
They radioed in their absence from their post, and drove off. I knew that this would be the best time to make a revolt, if ever. I decided that now-now was the time. It’s going to happen. I swung my fist around into the nearest Nazis nose. He fell backwards, his nose bleeding. I ran to the side, grabbed his MP40, and shot the next 3 guards. I got the other troop into the Heinkel, which was starting its engines-I don’t think it saw me-and climbed in, tossing the pilots out and shooting them. I had no clue how to drive the plane. I pushed the throttle forward as far as it would go. I felt the bomber speeding up and this odd drop feeling in my stomach. I pulled up slowly, and the dropping feeling sped up. I looked at the clouds. I looked at a dial. We were 1000 feet above the ground. I turned I looked, my eyes wide, for a button to release the bombs on the German base. I called the other troop up. “Man! The bomb button is somewhere in the back! It ain’t up here, man!” He said.
I made a mental note to smack myself for not knowing that when we landed. I just turned. I thought I was going toward Poland. Poland, where German forces are stationed. Oh well, It’s better than circling around Berlin. Above a base that might contain Hitler. That has thousands of SS pouring out, trying to find us. I was just waiting for them to make the realization, and start shooting the plane out of the sky. Suddenly I turned the plane. I could hear the troop cursing. I brought back all the old memories of maps I had studied. Denmark was under Axis control. However, they would not shoot a German Heinkel HE 111 bomber down. I flew in the general direction. A radio transmission came in, “Seien Sie auf entführten Heinkel HE 111 vorsichtig. Wie man glaubt, ist Luftpirat äußerst gefährlich. Schießen Sie jeden Heinkel HE 111 Flugzeuge unten am ersten Zeichen der verdächtigen Aktivität.” I just understood the name of the plane-which caused me to push the throttle all the way up.
I flew a little higher. I saw search lights turn on all around. I flew carefully around their ever-twisting path, careful not to be “enlightened.” The other troop with me was in one of the gun bubbles. I wondered, with a sickened knot in my stomach, where my JM was. We flew for many, many hours. By that time we were at Denmark, so far in I could see the ocean-and beyond that, I knew, was the UK. “Heinkel HE 111, indgå. Identificere dig selv. Hallo? Hallo? 1009, indgå. Selv om jer lave ikke identificere dig selv vi vil lukke op give ild. Genganger – selv om jer lave ikke identificere dig selv , vi vil lukke op give ild,” Said the radio at me. I started to panic. Denmark was trying to contact me, and I had no clue how to speak Danish. Or, for that matter, German. “Vi er omkring hen til lukke op give ild. Identificere dig selv nu , eller omkomme,” said the voice again. I wobbled the plane ever so slightly so I could see the ground-what I saw was a whole lot of AA guns turning to face my
Heinkel.

Chapter 4

I thought that I could possibly bomb them-but again; I didn’t know how to bomb. I could see the ocean. I tried to go as fast as possible. I was close to the ocean. I could get there. It was just a matter of a few hundred feet…as soon as I could get out there…I jolted the plane higher. I was over the ocean, finally. Shots flew past the plane, just barely reaching me. Soon, they missed me completely. I was home free-and on my way to the UK. Ocean whizzed by underneath. I stayed for hours, trying to figure out how to bomb. I watched for hours as the fuel needle dropped, and hours became days, and finally, finally, while tracing my map, I realized we should be over the UK. I looked down and shouted happily, for the familiar trees and pristine, freezing water sloshed upon the shore.

ive searched the web even You tube for the title..the intensifying music played by orchestra..uhm ..anyone??

We have a Playstation 2 and are trying to figure out how to be able to fly the ships once all levels and ships are complete. Can they be flown or are they just for decoration?

(This is Lego Star Wars – the first trilogy – not the original trilogy)

Thanks for any help!

My boyfriend knocked over a tiny candle with his Star Wars book.
The wax is now on the wall and on the carpet behind my bed.
Have any of you spilled wax on your wall and on the floor?
How on earth do you clean it up?
You guys are awesome.

Im talking about the TV series released after the movie, the clone wars.

Does any one know (or know where to find) prices for Star Wars Episode 1 KFC/Taco Bell/Pizza Hut unopened toys, cup holders and promo material (unused window posters, stands, ect)? I don’t think they’re worth much, but I’ve been hanging on to them for years now…

i have all of them and want to get rid of them

like unto the new S:S;B song i had given the school age kids in the Education category:Star spangled Banner spelled out.imagine if you could add in the Ex Drill instuctor voices of gunny from the History Channel and the guy from Mr:Steven Segal movie.Dangerous Ground where the Ex Marine had to defend the oil rigg deep in Eskimoe territory Alaska.i had been known to talk in this voice myself from time to time:example when they have a War Lord Whom only speaks and understands the lingo of the Gun they send these Fuy's and gal's in too train the troop's.(my god man this is the new Navy with high tec huge Rotary barrels & computer sequenced fireing of each battle ship's multitude of gun's) you could drop these guy's and gal's off at the artic circle and they would show up with a brand new set of Battle ship toy's and send you the star spangled banner with a cherry attatched.good god allmighty don't you hear those round impacting the ground singing Rocketts red glare bomb's bursting in air:(Why) that's a sound straight out of the land of milk and honey.with this much artillery fire it is enough to make a full grown devil run for cover.let's get too high ground where the smart guy's live and stay alive.and watch this from way up high.if i could i would hire one or both of these and make a kick butt modern Rock video with actual impact clips borrowed from old war movies and live fire demo's the royalties help buy the kids school supplies and swells their chest and our sailors and soldiers chest with pride.we have apon this land mass alone thousands of those marines with children in school whom could not afford school supplies and these were once very goo with a battle ship's gun's. tell the Royal navy guy's they can go back unto the Scottish kilt's for now till i need them too become a pair of Britches again standing apon the deck of our fine naval ship's.sme are old enough too remember when we called them this(britches) drafeted on our way too the blockade sewn into the star spangled banners star field. the other two sides are blocked only one path exist toward the back side of the stars and stripes.this was around 1942 just before the battle at battle ship row.yet the other would make a nice comedy skitt from two very well known field commander's military style voices.mixed in with the Rock video version.and school attorney's see that the kids and their school's recieve the royalty payements for the muzik or music.spelled both U;K and U:S way's or methods.good luck.i hope i get too steal mcKenzies Canadian side of the Royal military. here in the (K)U:S;A the Enemy still snatches our citizens while my Royal military is trying too authenticate my kingship peddigree.both U;K and canada sit quiet as if dead in the water.just because we help the U:S do'nt mean we have quit you here apon this soil.note it's radio station must use the K call sign.we were allowed too have atleast two versions of the U:S;A.
good luck school kids make it rock.do it both ways old and new.make some use of my royal marines whom still wear the hat that looks like a big Duck step'd apon his or her head.they know how too make each gun sing in harmony with the music.we have both girl's and guy's now.so i must account for both in the text.i have a son myself whom would bennifit.thus wises ov good luck is Naval tradition.i like the Fayetteville Seven hill's homeless shelter Navy calender yet it is suppose to have neptunes U;S anchour in between the word Navy and the U:S letter's is it not?.naval men.kilt's = Bell Bottom style Britches await you all.

In star wars episode 2 attack of the clones. when obi wan is on kamino (right before he battles Jango) the prime minister is showing obi wan the clones that they have made, and then they show a view of all the clones in formation marching onto the ships what is the name of the song that is playing during that???

I have evry episode of star wars on DVD! LIMITED EDITION! every night i unplug my xbox 360 and put it next to me in bed so the robbers dont steal it. I have over 3000 games in my library. The lowest mark I ever got in school was a 87! Thats all I can think of. Oh yea, I have lots of comic books, like 900!

Witch code is to unlock darth vader in lego star wars 1 for gamecube i was stuck to get darth vader can you help!!!!!!!!

Im trying to make a Clone armor costume for my brother for christmas… Captain Rex’s clone armor from Star Wars the Clone Wars to be exact. I am just wondering what would be a good site to go on for templates, ideas, and material suggestions to make this armor.

For my English class, I am doing a project on science-fiction and I want to include a little montage-type music video showing different clips of various works of the genre. I can't think of any songs to use, though. I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking for, just something to make it look and sound exciting. It can be with or without words.

If it helps, I am considering using clips from the following works (suggestions are welcome in this category as well):

-The Matrix
-Stargate
-Star Wars
-Firefly/Serenity
-I Am Legend (possibly, depends on if they have clips that suit what I'm going for)
-And for humour value, I may throw in the odd clip from ALF or Jimmy Neutron.

Thanks!

Frank and Paul were elves in Santa's workshop who had invented a new toy. It was an Ewok chess set, with real hair on the pieces. They were showing it to Santa and noting the popularity of Star Wars stuff. Frank said, " Paul wants to keep the prototype for his collection." As they discussed this new item, Santa's pet Kolala, he'd picked up in Australia, got out of bed and joined them. Santa wanted him to go back to bed and the Kolala became irritable and tossed the chess set all over the floor. Santa, not wanting to ruin his reputation for being jolly, just too a sleigh ride to cool off.

And you could hear him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
Give the hairy chess mess to Paul,
and Kolala, Good Night!

My kids want to give their dad a star wars birthday party in the house.
They have made some costumes fro their dressing up box and have some star wars toys and the films, but need some more ideas. Thanks!

There is this Star Wars tune that is a fast version of the tune played at the end of Star Wars Episode 3, when Obi-Wan Kenobi brings Luke to Tatooine.
Thanks in advance!!!

1st to answer will be chosen best answer!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can anyone find a video of when Yoda says "That is why you fail"? (Not a sound clip)

she replied. On the morning of her birthday he arose early, made her a bowl of Coco Pops & then took her off to the local theme park. What a day! He put her on every ride in the theme park:
* The Death Slide
* The Wall of Fear
* The Screaming Roller Coaster
Five hours later she staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling & her stomach felt upside down.
Right away they journeyed to a McDonald's where her husband bought her a Happy Meal with extra fries & a refreshing chocolate milk shake. Then it was off to the movies: the latest Star Wars epic, a hot dog, popcorn, all the coke she could drink, her favorite lollypop, & M&M's. What a fabulous adventure!
Finally she wobbled home with her husband & fell onto the bed, exhausted. He leaned over his wife & lovingly asked, "Well dear, what was it like being 8 again?" Her eyes opened & her expression changed. "I meant my dress size!"

The moral of this story: Even when a man is listening, he's still going to get it wrong!

After upgrading my computer, my Lego Star Wars 2 games were wiped. It will take me a heck of a lot of time to catch up to where I was. I just can't seem to find any sites that offers saved games to download.

The game is listed as having Fantasy Violence. Can you please give a description of what this is? How violent is it?

We did not mind Jedis, Chewbacca, R2D2 and C-3PO; we relished them. We didn’t question Sauron, Gollum or Balrog. Then, why is this outcry when Shyamalan introduces Narfs, Scrunts and Tartuics? What is the explanation? Why is ‘Harry Potter’ not ridiculed? Agreed, the ‘Star Wars’ is set in the future, and ‘The Lord of the Rings’ in the past. The Lady in the Water is a bed time story. Can’t the critics accept a few non-real characters in a bedtime story?