One of my favorite scenes in Star Wars is in the conference room on the Death Star, where Grand Moff Tarkin is getting a status update from his lieutenants on the fate of the stolen battlestation plans. When I was nine, it was cool because Darth Vader used the Force to strangle an uppity bureaucrat. Now that I’m 40, it’s cool now because it almost exactly resembles every corporate meeting I’ve ever been in, with sniping and pettiness and ass-covering. And walking embodiments of galaxy-spanning evil.

My kids recently brought home a reprint of the first issue of the Star Wars comic — a quickie affair, obviously drawn from storyboards instead of the movie itself — and the scene is even better.

Darth Vader — Sith Lord, Jedi killer and what remains of the broken soul of the hope of the galaxy — uses his mastery of the elemental force of the universe to summon a hot cup of joe. None of this pouring from the admin-provided urn over chit-chat before things get started, oh no. He floats it to him right in the middle of an argument. Total dis! Oh, I’m sorry. Where you making a point? I was thirsty. Man, who makes this sludge? Am I right?

The only problem being, of course: How does it drink it, exactly?