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By now you're probably aware that Star Wars Kinect features a dancing minigame which depicts Han Solo, Lando Calrissian and various Empires Strikes Back background players busting a move to a parody of Jason Derulo's "Riding Solo" on the Carbonite Freezing Chamber set; and that this is the most recent thing that The Internet has decided is an atrocity more worthy of its ire than the massacre of civilians in Syria, the vigilante murder of an unarmed teenager in Florida or the development of the Hot Dog Pizza.

It's not hard to see why it so offends the people it offends which, at least tangentially, includes myself. Reducing what's probably the second most defining dramatic moment of the entire saga into lame dance-pop larf is as close as these things get to sacrilege. It's cultural graffiti, an affront to the dignity of one of the defining works of popular art of the 20th Century. A work of fiction so important to so many that some have taken it as an article of (literal) religious faith.

It's also pretty damn funny.

Oh, c'mon. It is. The solo/Solo word-association swap is exactly the sort of thing that nerd icon Weird Al Yankovich built a media empire out of. The fact that the Carbonite set really does look an awful lot like a cheesy dance club at the right angles, complete with Disco/Motown-era icon Billy Dee Williams as Lando, is kind of clever. Let's be honest with ourselves: If Weird Al had recorded "I'm Han Solo," or if this was a cutaway gag on Family Guy, or a skit acted out with Lego figures on Robot Chicken, or a short-subject animated with sprites from the SNES Empire game on College Humor/Machinima/Dorkly, or any of the hundreds of other places where stuff like this is okay, we'd laugh at this, Facebook-like it, Tweet it to our pals and then go back to our day until such time as the next "AT-AT Does Something An AT-AT Would Not Typically Be Expected To Do" video hits Youtube.

But, for some reason, this is an "official" Star Wars thing, coming from Lucasfilm, and so it offends us. Because it reminds of the indignities we willingly forked over money to endure with The Prequels and the Special Editions. Also, I think, because imagining that there's some kind of imaginary rule in place that Lucas and his companies are required to be the last place where Star Wars is still holy writ allows my generation of thirtysomething geeks to avoid the inescapable fact that the lumbering Post-Post-Irony Ouroboros of endlessly self-referential contemporary pop-culture is a monster of our making.

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