For those of us whose path is out of The Light… the prayers of The Dark Side.
Give us leave to express our feelings on machines. Grant us freedom from the moral compunction which leads us to spare the messenger. Grant us an unlimited budget and spare parts and minions to take care of the mess afterwards.
May our attempts to win others to our side be persuasive and well timed. And if we fail in those attempts — may the consequences be short of catastrophic. May we avoid underestimating our enemies and overestimating our partners of convenience.
Lend us your ability to avoid helmet hair. Alternatively, grant us the savvy to work helmet hair to our advantage.
Help us to find the stubbornness to adhere to shaky doctrines in the face of love, compassion and commonsense. Make us blind to those arguments that contradict our choices. Make us blind to those portions of history which undermine our current trajectory.
Bestow on us a sense of drama, along with delusions of grandeur and of how bad our parents actually are. Teach us to love black capes, monochrome rooms and unnecessary headgear.
And in the event that we are torn apart, let it be our hand from off our wrist — since that is traditional.
Ah, Hux — patron of downtrodden dictators, antagonistic work relationships, really big guns and the bearers of bad news. Although you are disinclined to the compassionate consideration of your followers — both great and small — hear these our prayers, to which you may be sympathetic.
Lend us your penchant for impeccably curled lips and flashing looks of disdain.
May our most irritating co-workers always be less important than us. And if they are, by severe misfortune, more dangerous or more necessary to the plots of our betters, let them constantly screw up so that we can be the favorite. Defend us from those who are more competent. Defend us from architects who fail to keep the persistent and unlikely luck of our puny enemies in mind.
Give us the articulation to argue for massive spending on greater and more destructive technology. Give us the wherewithal to illustrate increased destructive capability by making it bigger.
Send us multitudes willing to follow us and perish for our poorly thought out schemes — and we can find no such multitudes, then let us have the technology to brainwash them instead. Send us ideologies so backward that it becomes difficult to untangle them.
Finally, let us look good in black — for surely there is no color more dramatic or demonstrative of authority than well-fitted night colored garments with high collars — perhaps featuring a touch of crimson or ermine.
These are our prayers — oh Hux — to you.
You can find the entire Idols of Star Wars series starting here.