Wikipedia: "Act I of Jesus Christ Superstar

... Infamous apostle Judas Iscariot is concerned by the increasingly crazed followers of Jesus, correctly predicting that they may threaten the powerful Roman Empire and be punished...

The other apostles anxiously anticipate entering Jerusalem alongside Jesus and inquire of his plans, but Jesus tells them to calm down and worry less about what's to come. Meanwhile, Mary Magdalene assists Jesus's relaxation. Judas warns Jesus to avoid Mary, because a relationship with a sex worker could be seen as inconsistent with his teachings and be used against him. Jesus scolds Judas, saying he should not judge others unless he is free of sin...

Mary reassures Jesus while anointing him. Interspersed, Judas fumes that the money spent on fine oil should have been used to help the poor. Jesus reasons they do not have the resources to end poverty, and that they should treasure what comforts they possess..."

Unfair and Unbalanced

Maligned Madam Does Fox News
(An ahistorical, speculative interview)

“And now we have, for our next guest,
A lady of the night,
Who has, for reasons none too clear,
Agreed to speak what we shall hear:
Some ‘answers’ meant to bring a leer
To lips that freely grin or sneer
When overhearing questions queer,
Profound, or simply trite.”

“We thank you, Madame Magdalene,
For giving of your time
To scandalize the girls and boys
With lurid tales of wanton joys
Supplied for rent to Jews and Goys
Entrapped by your seductive ploys
While honest men, your hapless toys,
Must suffer from your crime.”

“But au contraire! I say to you,
My bogus blowhard host:
I only serve your vain desire
And offer up what you require,
And, yes, I do it all for hire,
While you ejaculate, retire,
And afterwards feel only ire,
Or else the urge to boast.”

“I only see the truth too well,
And live by what I do.
I understand men’s vanity,
And lives filled with inanity
Till driven to insanity
By Murdoch, Fox, and Hannity
You use me like profanity
And swear: ‘GAWD told me to!’”

“But, Madam, what of Juliet,
Whose virtue fiction tells?
Does not her pure, Platonic love
Deflect the need to rudely shove
Some Romeo without a glove
Into an orifice above,
Below, or in the region of
Some pulchritude that sells?”

“Oh, no, dear sir! Such fantasies
Just fan the flames of lust.
As I have often told the priest,
My holes are not for sale, just leased
To poles whose sweaty palms have greased
My own with cash, and not the least
With ‘love’ for me, a meager feast
For wretched lives gone bust.”

“Then might I ask, Ms Magdalene,
About Ophelia’s tale?
You know, the Danish maid who pined
For Hamlet’s love: the crazy kind,
Both unrequited and resigned
To ambiguity; designed
By Shakespeare, meaning: ‘Never mind.
Such tragic love must fail.’”

“Ophelia, just like Juliet,
My case could never plead.
Because – as fiction, unlike me –
She lives in books for men who flee
From nature, like the urge to pee;
Who make up tales that don’t agree
(Except when offered on TV)
With what they really need.”

“So have you any final thoughts
Here as we end the hour?
Do you not have a heart of gold
Despite the johns that you have rolled
Together with your pimp who sold
Your services to young and old
Who wanted heat but got the cold
Of sordid sex gone sour?”

Mais oui, Monsieur! but let me say
To males by us enthralled:
That we who ply the oldest trade;
Who make our living in the shade;
Who walk our alley promenade
Until our looks begin to fade
Know men will call a heart a spade
To get their ashes hauled.”

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2009-2023