Excitement, nachos, fulfillment, continuity... Jedi crave not these things.

The Morning After: Midnight showing of Lucas' best film since 1983 — easily.

Ok, two words for Star Wars fans: Be patient.

I realize now, that it was me that was wrong. You probably were too.

Ok, that's not quite true. Jar-Jar Binks was all George Lucas' fault.

But I've realized, the last 45 minutes (of course, if you subtract 2 minutes towards the end — trust me, you'll know which part) of "Revenge of the Sith" has made the entire prequel trilogy worthwhile.

That's because I have been waiting for Vader. I've been waiting to see the transformation. All along, I've just wanted to see how Anakin turns into the ultimate heel. The bad guy. The imperial Skywalker.

It was my fault I didn't care about lil' Anakin.

It was my fault I didn't want to understand the Clone Wars.

It was my fault I didn't like the petulant teenager Anakin.

It was all me. George was just making two entire movies of filler to bilk whatever money out of us poor saps he could.

I just wanted to see Anakin turn to the dark side.

And it turns out, I wasn't asking too much at all.

Those 43 minutes, easily, erase most of the bad memories. (Nothing this short of a written and signed apology from Mr. Lucas himself can make up for the irrevocable damage he inflicted on us with Jar-Jar Binks.) In fact, there are several scenes in "Sith" that more than make up for the previous movie's flops and foibles.

You've just got to be patient, and — gasp — trust George Lucas.

The payoff, is, well, more than worth it.

And, it turns out, that's really all I was looking for.

Coming Friday: An in-depth review of Star Wars and what it all means.

confessions of a deleterious mind ... it's immaterial my materialism ...

10 seconds down. Running through the aisles of Target. Collecting my addiction. Collaborating with the devil.

Absolutely no sympathy.

Feeding this addiction is tough work. It takes $25 a trip. It takes $6.34 in gasoline. It takes 35 minutes. It takes 10 seconds.

And this happens, almost, every week.

For what it's worth, I can't stop. I won't stop. So, it's no use having an intervention.

You can't tell me to stop buying DVDs. CDs.

I have to have them.

Playstation games.

I keep getting them.

And this is, by far and away, the worst month. The climax of us materialists. With our iPods. DVD players. Laptops. Plasma screens.

Team America. System of a Down. Dave Chappelle — regardless of his emotional state. nine inch nails. Star Wars.

It's like a stoner finding an ounce for $40.

You cannot pass this up.

There we are. In Best Buy. In Target. Even Wal-Mart. Strolling through he aisles. Waiting in line. Browsing the action figures. The $5 bin.

Looking for our new fix. The special collector's edition of Raging Bull.

The prize.

Kill Bill volumes 1 and 2.

The latest piece of our collection.

Ernest Goes to Camp.

The step-children of history. The middle step-children of history.

A generation that can't live without the Criterion Collection's Rushmore.

What will become of us? What will we do next?

25 years from now.

"Hi, my name is Charles. And I'm an addict."

"Hi Charles."

"I knew I was an addict when..."

10 seconds is up.