The Chewbacchus Guide to Parading is an utterly indispensable electronic compendium for anyone attempting to navigate the glorious, chaotic, and often deeply weird phenomenon known as a Chewbacchus parade. Unlike less essential reads, such as instruction manuals for IKEA furniture or terms and conditions, the Guide is considered the definitive source of knowledge, offering wisdom gleaned from years of enthusiastic, sometimes bewildering, revelry.

Its cover is a sturdy, slightly sticky (from unknown, possibly alcoholic, residues) digital screen, and emblazoned upon it, in large, friendly (though perhaps a little smudged) letters, are the words:

HANDLE YOUR SHIT

The Guide explains, with a weariness that only years of patiently answering the same questions can bring, that this is not merely a suggestion, but a fundamental operating principle. It is the core message, repeated in various forms throughout the Guide’s many entries, because, frankly, people have a tendency not to Handle Their Own Shit, and instead expect the already-harried Overlords and saintly volunteers to Handle It For Them.

“Handle Your Shit,” the Guide elaborates in a section pointedly titled “Seriously, Read the Email,” means taking personal responsibility for your own participation in the grand spectacle. It applies to such bafflingly common behaviors as:

• Registering for the parade at the eleventh hour, thereby incurring entirely avoidable, and clearly advertised, higher fees.
• Procrastinating on subkrewe registration until the organizational charts resemble abstract art and the logistics team begins to quietly weep.
• Blissfully ignoring official communications, only to then barrage Overlords and volunteers with questions that have been explicitly answered, often multiple times, in the very emails that were not read.
• Generally assuming that someone else will magically sort out your costume malfunctions, transportation woes, or the existential dread brought on by realizing your chosen fandom is perhaps more obscure than you initially thought.

The Guide does not mince words on this point. While the spirit of Chewbacchus is one of inclusive revelry and shared enthusiasm, it is not, repeat, NOT a full-service personal concierge. Handling Your Own Shit is not just a courtesy; it is an essential contribution to the glorious, slightly tipsy, forward momentum of the parade.

So, if you plan to partake in the saving of the galaxy, one drunken nerd at a time, acquire a copy of the Chewbacchus Guide to Parading. Study its cover. Internalize its message. And for the love of the Sacred Drunken Wookiee, HANDLE YOUR SHIT. The Overlords will thank you. Your fellow paraders will thank you. And you might even find the whole experience remarkably less stressful.