An Ithorian sits on the curb outside the Outlander Club, clutching a bottle and swaying gently in a drunken haze.
Suddenly, a Jedi approaches him. “You there, Ithorian! Don’t you know that drinking such beverages will dull your connection to the Force?”
“How would you know, Mas’er Jedi?” slurs the Ithorian.
“It’s true! I heard it from Yoda himself.”
The Ithorian perks up. “Then you’ve never taken a drink?”
“Of course not,” snorts the Jedi.
“Then lemme buy you a drink,” responds the Ithorian, “if you hate it, I’ll stop drinkin’, promise.”
“Certainly not! How could I, a respectable Jedi, be seen having a drink with you?”
“Easy. I’ll tell the bartender to put it in one of them mugs they use for blue milk. Everyone’ll think that’s what you’re havin’. You just wait here.”
The Ithorian picks himself up and walks back inside. He finds the bartender and whispers, “Hey buddy, another bottle for me — and three shots of Dodbri whiskey. But, uh, listen… could you put the whiskey in a blue milk mug?”
“Wait a sec,” says the bartender, “it’s not that Jedi again, is it?”