Tag: Les Miserables

The Miserable

by earlthepearl137

Victor Hugo died in 1885, so I don’t think he’ll mind too much if I have a little fun with his great story Les Miserables.  My version is pretty close to the original, except that Donald J. (Jean Valjean) Trump is the bad guy.

The Miserable

Our story opens on Donald Jean Valjean Trump, a wealthy real estate mogul who is convicted of 34 counts of fraud, and is sentenced to spend just one day in prison.  “I hope that just one day in prison,” says Judge Merchan, “will be enough for you to see the error of your ways, and turn your life around.”

Outside the courtroom after the trial, Valjean constantly complains that he’s innocent.  He didn’t commit any fraud.  All he was trying to do was to give a little bread to a poor starving porn star named Fantine, and her poor starving daughter, Cosette, who reminds him of his own daughter, who he has always wanted to bang.  With the help of cult members, Valjean escapes the court house, but the court deputy Alvin Bragg vows that he will someday recapture him.

Valjean gets a job as a banquet waiter at a fancy hotel in Florida and steals all the silverware.  Using the money he got for the silverware and the pseudonym Jean Barron, he goes on to hawk every snake-oil product he can find – Barron Wine, Barron Bibles, Barron Sneakers, Barron Cologne, Barron Steaks, a Barron University Doctor of B.S Degree, and red Barron University Base Ball Association caps, (with BUBBA embroidered on them).  He becomes very wealthy.  So wealthy, in fact, that he runs for President of the United States, and with the help of 10,000 stand-up comedians and one Russian Dictator, he actually becomes the President.

His term as President is, quite frankly, Miserable.  His first decision, to give the ultra-rich a tax cut, is a disaster for the economy and the National Debt Grows.  Then, a worldwide epidemic wipes out over a million Americans.  On top of all that Inspector Mueller in the Justice Department recognizes him from his past and starts investigating all his shady business deals.  Valjean winds up being impeached, but he convinces the Senate to look for evidence of his innocence on Hillary Clinton’s laptop computer.  They can’t find the laptop, so they acquit him.  However, the American public is slowly turning their back on him and they vote him out of office.  But he likes being in office.  He can play golf everyday, while a group of Secret Servicemen make sure that none of the many people he’s screwed in his life can get near enough to kill him.  So, he reveals his true identity as D VJ Trump and asks for his old cult followers to storm the Capital and change the election results to make him the winner.  The coupe fails, and he is once again impeached.  His unpaid lawyers tell the Senate that he was only trying to bolster tourism in Washington, D.C.  The Senators don’t believe this, but they acquit him anyway since he was now living in Florida with Rudy Giuliani, and they figured that was enough punishment for anyone.

Over the years, Cossette married Jared, and Trump realized that he would never be able to bang Cossette while Jared was around, so the only thing he can do to feed his ever-expanding narcissistic appetite is to run for President again.

Then Alvin Bragg shows up to arrest him, but Trump gets a Saudi Arabian Prince and an unnamed Russian to put up a bazillion dollar bond to keep him out of jail pending appeal.

Finally, there is fighting on the street between regular citizens and Trump loyalists.  Trump rushes out to encourage his cult members, but he is tackled by his former lawyer, Michael Cohen, and an angry group of unpaid lawyers, who beat the shit out of Trump, and then beat the shit out of his shitty diapers.  Alvin Bragg stops the fight and Arrests Valjean.

Alvin Bragg is sitting in a chair next to a bed where Trump is handcuffed. It is his deathbed, and he still denies ever doing anything wrong.  He calls his wife Melania to join him at the hour of his death, but she is visiting her lawyer to make sure that her share of the will is insured.  So, Trump asks for his daughter to join him, but she’s avoided his lecherous advances all her life and won’t let him score in the end.  She tells him that she has children of her own and must go to a PTA meeting.  Then his son Eric shows up, and Trump says, “Who are you?” and dies and farts loudly.

The End.

I know.  It needs work, but at least it has a happy ending.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

More Miserables

by earlthepearl137

Les_Miserables

 

The last time Debbie and I went to the Fulton Theatre, she had to get up in the middle of Act One to go to the bathroom. I should have realized that a few hours of drinking before the show would have led to that, but I didn’t, and our seats were right in the middle of the row. Everyone in the row had to get up in the middle of the show as she excused her way to the bathroom.

So, the next time I bought tickets to a show, I told the ticket seller that my girlfriend had a weak bladder and we needed aisle seats near the bathroom. The ticket teller put us in a special section, where she said that we could get up any time we wanted. Cool.

Before the show, Debbie took me out for dinner at a nice pub near the theatre. She informed me that she wasn’t gonna drink so she wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom. Then I told her that our theatre seats were very bathroom accessible, and she immediately ordered us a pitcher of beer. After we poured out the first two glasses from the pitcher, the barmaid filled a plastic cup with ice and floated it in the pitcher. It kept the beer cold all the way to the last drop.  All my years of drinking, I never thought of that.  (Though I often thought about resting my beer in a Slushie at the Ballgame.)

After dinner we walked to the theatre, and it turned out that we were in the handicapped section. Great seats, in a private section, 16th row center. There was only one problem, there were handicapped people in our seats.

“That’s okay,” we told the usher. “We’ll just sit in their seats.”

“No, you get the seats you paid for,” she told us as she rousted a group of blind people out of our seats and off to where they belonged. It was quite the production, as they shuffled off blindly looking for their seats. Debbie and I were slightly embarrassed, but grateful that at least the blind people couldn’t see us. They probably figured that we must have been in wheelchairs or something, because they didn’t grumble when they had to move.

The seats were excellent, not theatre seats but padded chairs that weren’t bolted to the floor. We easily had enough room around us to maneuver wheel chairs, so we were able to stretch out and get real comfortable. The show was excellent too. I had seen Les Miserables before on Broadway, but I actually enjoyed this performance more. It helped that they had a special screen off to the side that displayed the words as they were being sung. So, I was finally able to understand what was going on.

I had always assumed that Fantine’s “I Dreamed a Dream” was a happy song. When I saw Susan Boyle sing that song on Britain’s Got Talent, it brought the audience and judges to their feet. Now I was able to read the lyrics and I learned that it was a very sad song about dreams dying. A lot of the great songs in the show were sad songs, but at least now I know how to keep my beer cold on a hot day while I’m listening to the soundtrack. So, Fantine’s dream may be dying, but my dreams are coming true.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl