It seems the uber-nerds I wrote about a week or so back continue to camp out in front of Grauman’s Chinese. They’re apparently making some kind of gesture of defiance, or holding out a slim hope that some corporate suit somewhere will bend to their whims. Or maybe they truly don’t have anything better to do than hang out under an awning on a hot sidewalk in the middle of Hollywood despite the fact that their friggin’ movie is not going to be playing at that theater.

Honestly, guys, it’s hard enough to own up to being a Star Wars fan these days without you contributing to the disreputable stink of nonsense that now hangs over the whole damn franchise. It isn’t just the fact that you ended up in such an embarassing situation, very publicly waiting at the wrong theater and all. It’s also the fact that you are squabbling amongst yourselves about whether to go see the movie at the theater that actually is going to be playing it. And it’s the fact that you’re baying for Wil Wheaton’s blood because he dared to see the humor in your situation. At least you were nice to that blogger chick who brought you pizza… but then she probably pulled some Jedi mind-tricks on you, like being pretty and giving you free food.

I’m so tired of all this overheated fanboy stuff. For me, loving Star Wars was probably the most fun back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, when most people had stopped talking about it and it was just my own personal little thing that I could carry close to my heart and occasionally bring out when I found myself in the proper company. Back then, Lucas would throw out the occasional bone — a videogame, or a new spin-off novel — and it was like manna from heaven, a gift that brought a surge of pure, child-like joy. Even better was finding a tattered ’70s-vintage paperback with the familiar Star Wars-ian font on the cover, while the easiest way to bond with a new acquaintance was to exchange The Story of The First Time We Saw The Holy Trilogy.

Now when I meet someone new, I dread the topic of “favorite movie,” because it will inevitably lead to questions about what I think about the prequels and the Special Editions. Once it seemed like my entire generation shared this great communal experience; Star Wars was like the lingua franca of those who came of age in the ’80s. But then we were sundered into The True-Believers who think Uncle George is a genius, and The Disillusioned who bitterly resent feeling like they got conned by The Great Flanneled Hack. And there are also those who think the whole damn thing isn’t even worth talking about. Maybe they have the most reasonable position of all, because what has Star Wars really become in the last few years anyway? Heavy-handed marketing tactics, pointless debates, and the nagging sense that it’s all just kind of… meaningless. Arg. You really don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone, do you?

For the record, I am looking forward to Episode III. I’m even daring to hope that it will be good, or at least better than the last two, and I will no doubt have many discussions about it in the months to come. But I honestly hope that this is it, that all of this attention is about to peter out and go away. I want SW to go back underground, back to the way it used to be, when it was my secret treasure that I could pull out and enjoy whenever the grown-up world got to be too much of a downer. Dammit, I want Star Wars to be fun again… is that too much to ask?