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We were sitting down at Waffle House last night and far be it by me to let the greasy spoon inhabitants get bored, but hey, you'd be amazed what your brain can come up with at 3 in the morning, without the benefit of cocaine and hallucinogenic mushrooms. What? I put them on my sandwiches.
For some reason the conversation turned over to Star Wars and we were already on the subject of going to the bathroom (Go figure), so I considered the largest object ever conceived in science fiction and whether or not it had any restrooms. Of course, when movies are set in a very serious and epic format, going to the toilet is never mentioned. Now, in order to make my case, I had to do actual research for something..... a little nerdy. I don't care what you say, I had to have some numbers to go by. Before I get comments about how it's not real, your mother is and so were her orgasms last night.
Ok, here we go. According to The Technical Book of Science Fiction Films, the population of the Death Star was approximately 31,622,963. I have no earthly idea how someone thinks of this, but those same people probably also have no idea how I get my ideas. I got this information here, so check it out yourself (yes, people do talk about these things). I'm fairly sure someone got beat up and urinated on to come up with this number, but we're going to use it for the sake of argument. Now let's say the average person squeezes the dragon at least three times per 24-hour period. The average output of urine daily could be somewhere around a healthy 2000ml, which is about 0.53 gallons. This means every day the
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Firing streams of urine would result in giant yellow icicles moving at speeds only the Flash and William Hung's singing career can compete with. At 65,881 gallons per minute, you can be sure that eventually planets, spaceships, and the occasional droid will be impaled by an enormous pissicle the size of the Kraken's penis and utterly humiliated by anyone that narrowly escaped death at the hands of this golden shower javelin - A much more embarassing death than falling out of one of Bob Ross' happy little trees.
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The next time you're at Waffle House, I guarantee you're going to remember (and most likely fear) Star Wars and the deadly tinkle spears falling out of the sky. If the atmosphere's like ours, it might just splash down over you with a slight chance of Sith juice. Then the force will be with you like you wouldn't believe.
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