The Miserable Ones

Carol and I WITNESSED Les Misérables yesterday. I was chilled, scorched, turned inside out and buried alive. Carol merely cried. We each have our own reactions to Art. You can email an Oscar to Anne Hathaway anytime. For kicks, I googled for reviews of the film and several critics who write for high and mighty media outlets scorned the work, denouncing it as “false”, “over-the-top”, “mediocre”, and similar adjectives. At first my heart nearly exploded with rage, but anger turned to pity as I foresee these soulless men dying alone in garbage bins, drowned in puddles of pig’s blood, the stink of cheap red wine reeking from their toothless mouths.

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