HOW TO RUiN AN EMPIRE EPISODE VIII:LANDLORD VADER

Greetings loyal followers and thank you to Gavvet… excuse me. I apologize. My assistant Vera, who is an absolute doll, is calling me.

Ugh. She reminded me that as part of The Empire's initiative to raise much needed funds, these transmissions are now sponsored by...

Steemit: The new social media platform where everyone gets paid to post on the internet! It combines a blogging site/social networking website, with a cryptocurrency, known as Steem.

Hey galaxy! Keep on Steeming!

Are you happy Vera? I hope that didn't sound sarcastic. I really want Vera to be happy.

As I am sure you recall, my master (the old, shriveled up, disgusting bag of stink dust known as "The Emperor") gave me a mission to raise funds to repair the damage caused by the pretty, pretty Princess and her three stooges. We figured we could rent out some extra space in the Death Star. We underestimated the demand and sold out the 1138 dwelling units and 327 offices in record time. My assistant, Vera (who is an absolute peach) could not keep up with the paperwork.

So a raging success right?

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WRONG

It seems old Emperor poops in his pants forget to mention that the building is rent controlled... oh wait I'm sorry that term is too negative. The building is "rent stabilized". Yeah it's stable alright. The price just sits there at about 600% below what I could have gouged these suckers for. And speaking of the suckers, you know who moved in? I'll give you a hint. Not hotties. Seriously, there were exactly 0 females on this giant floating "bachelor pad". You would think that at least 1000 of the new tenants would be metal bikini wearing ladies. But no. I delegated the job of selecting tenants to a few of my dimwits. But I forgot one very important detail... clearly none of them can see. If they could, maybe they would hit something with their blaster every one out of one thousand shots (and even that one is always just in the shoulder). And if they could see, maybe now we would have some new talent around here.

So instead of thousands of nice young ladies, we got a few thousand Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru looking geezers. Great. Just what we need. A ton of retirees or people about to retire. That will liven this joint up for sure. By the way, I think I had a cousin named Owen when I was a kid. Nah. I would remember. I never forget anything from my childhood. Oh wait. Maybe Owen was the name of a droid I built. Hold on a second. "Vera, did I ever build a droid when I was a kid?" She said "No". Ok so nope. I never built one of those. Vera really is the best, I should give her a raise... but I can't because of this stupid stabilized rent!

I want to party with this guy... said no-one ever

Bad Robot, Lucasfilm, Walt Disney Pictures

So here's my new problem (once again caused by my moronic and smelly boss and the incompetent sacks of garbage he hires): I need to get these old, fixed-income living, one foot in the grave, leeches out of here so I can really pimp this place out and bring in some hotties and high rolling spice traders.

But please don't fear. Of course I have a plan. We all know what this calls for... a little number I like to call "Force Choke the last bit of life out of the crusty old fogies". Sweet. Done and done. Wait. Vera is calling. She is a true life saver.

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Great. Vera just reminded me that the Emperor said I can't kill them. Bad for the image. Bad for the image? We are flying around in a giant planet destroying sphere called the freaking "DEATH STAR". I think wasting some old farts would fit right in with that image. But he's the boss... for now.

Ok back to the drawing board. I have some ideas on which I need to meditate. I will report back tomorrow with a new plan.

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