NOTE: Many Bothan Spies died to bring you the following column. ..... At least, that is what happened last night when I played “Columnist In Peril” with my Star Wars toys. That is all.

Yesterday, I went to the store and dropped 120 large on an original Millennium Falcon.

See, I had just come into possession of a $24 Chewbacca to go with my Han Solo, C-3PO and others. My goal to recreate scenes from “Stars Wars IV” was complete.

I rushed straight to my man room, flipped on the black light, lit up a big, fat John Williams score, put on a Storm Trooper helmet and let loose with my Millennium Falcon. I have never known such bliss.

As for my man room? Rest assured, nothing kinky. It is the room in our home that my wife has graciously given over for my hobbies. She thinks I'm building spice racks, doing taxes and writing letters to a Bulgarian restaurateur for advice on opening a fried chicken restaurant.

If she only knew I use it for comic books, video games and collectable toys.

Then there's TV. The man room is where I do most of my watching. Then again, writing about TV ain't like dusting crops, boy. I could misplace a comma or mangle sentence structure, and that would end this trip real fast.

So what do my man room, “Star Wars” toys and TV all have in common? Simple: Seth Green and Matthew Senreich and “Robot Chicken: Star Wars.”

I love me some “Robot Chicken,” on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. I was hooked from the moment I saw Optimus Prime struggle to pee because his prostate was inflamed.

Now the creators of the stop-motion animated show will join forces with “Star Wars” to create what I'm calling the greatest TV show ever! (Read that last line with an echo.)

When you combine “Star Wars” toys, moments from the movies and the comedic genius behind “Robot Chicken,” you get a show we'll all end up hating.

Well, maybe envying is closer to the truth. But hate works because it keeps us warm. We will sit and lament with each new episode, thinking to ourselves, “crap, I would've done that very same thing. Crap, damn!” All the while clutching an X-Wing to our breast and crying from the injustice.

Blast you, Green, Senreich and your delusions of grandeur!

Truly, the two of you and your crew have reached the nirvana for nearly every Gen-X male. You get to play with “Star Wars” toys for a living. Where's the justice, I say?

The first episode kicks off June 17. And it would take a herd of Krayt Dragons to keep me from watching. I may even play along. Who am I kidding? I'm already lining up the 501st for the assault on the Tantive IV.