redneck lightsaber
This is our only flannel shirt. Honest!

Bear with us, this is going somewhere. [1]

Amidst the horde of books MojoFiction has either received or bought for our son during the early years, there was one title that stood out, “If You Give a Pig a Pancake.” It’s a funny little book about the improbable chain of events that would happen if you had a pig at the breakfast table and offered him pancakes.

This got us thinking. What if you gave those sometimes-mocked mid-westerners mentioned in our blog title some lightsabers?

First we should state that we’re highly qualified to study this important metaphysical question by virtue of having once lived in Missouri for a few years and having owned Cabela’s Big Game Hunter: Trophy Bucks for the Nintendo Wii (if you’ve blown away a dozen deer and twenty or so ducks/quale/turkeys in just two minutes with your CGI shotgun – while some announcer tells you all that carnage wasn’t even enough to qualify for the next round – you might be…qualified to write this blog). We also have two skunks living under our house that we can’t seem to dislodge and we’re pretty sure they’re going to have skunk babies soon.

TIE Fighter Sport Hunting
This is so wrong. A real hunter would be holding a beer to go with that shotgun.

So now that we’ve verified our street cred, what about those lightsaber-toting country persons?

Obviously there would be a lot less Ford F-150s on the side of the road during hunting season and a lot more TIE Fighters. This would be highly entertaining because the hunters wouldn’t have to sit for hours in the bushes. They would wait in the trees for a buck to come by and then just drop down on to them like an orange-vested blur. Duck hunting, however, would involve a lot of throwing and could get messy.


Now, when Carrie Underwood gets mad at her boyfriend for cheating, she doesn’t have to slash a hole in all four tires. She can just thrust the lightsaber through the hood and melt the engine. Take that Mr. Three Dollar Bathroom Polo!

Now Keith Urban might actually seem manly.

Speaking of American Idol, the season 9 finale between Scotty McCreery and Lauren Alaina would have been a lot more entertaining as a lightsaber duel. Right?

The neighbor’s eight dogs bothering you again? Just turn them to the dark side. Now they only poop INSIDE the neighbor’s house.

Possums living under the back porch? They better hope they can do the Kessel Run in under twelve parsecs when you turn that Jedi blade on.

Speaking of Star Wars, do you think Darth Vader would have even tried messing around with a rebel wearing a leather Stetson and one of those belt buckle flasks that’s filled up with Gentlemen Jack?

Jedi with a hat
There is a disturbance in the boot scoot…


The Country Music Awards just got a lot more interesting.

Branson Missouri just got a lot more dangerous.

She’s a little bit country, he’s a little bit rock and roll?  Guess who’s winning that one now?

The National Lightsaber Association. “This is not the gun-loving American you’re looking for… You do not need to perform a background check…”

(Actually, we’re not sure the NRA doesn’t already have lightsabers.)

The more we think about this, the more it sounds like a great idea.  We understand that George Lucas or Disney or someone is going to own the rights when a real lightsaber is invented, but let’s get those out to the people as soon as possible.

The thing is, we here at MojoFiction consider ourselves a little more country and a little less city, so we’re poking a little fun at ourselves here. But it gets a lot worse. That picture that opens this blog? We took a photo of ourselves, Photoshopped it (that’s a verb, right?), created a lightsaber blade in a program called Blender, Photoshopped it into the pic, and then Photoshopped some more. The results were okay.  But the point is, we’re a total nerd wearing jeans and a flannel shirt (when we’re not in the office). So the real question is, what happens when you give a lightsaber to a total nerd?

Never mind.  The world has been answering that since May 25, 1977.


1. Not really.

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