Title: Make George Costanza Great Again: The Rally
The venue was packed with confused onlookers. A banner above the stage screamed, “Make George Costanza Great Again!”—a baffling call to action if there ever was one. Woke Hipster, clad in a vintage corduroy blazer, a polka-dot bow tie, and ironic loafers, stood at the podium, radiating theoretical energy. His beard glistened with artisanal beard oil, and his glasses screamed unread Marxist manifestos.
“My friends,” he began, holding up a soy latte for emphasis, “George Costanza represents the unfiltered self—the raw, unedited humanity that modern society tries to suppress! He is the everyman. The anti-hero. The king of authentic mediocrity!”
The audience exchanged puzzled glances. Was this satire? Performance art?
Frank shot to his feet, veins bulging. “I didn’t spend years perfecting the art of Festivus for my boy to be labelled as some two-bit bum!” He pointed accusingly at Woke Hipster. “You want to make him great again? He wasn’t great in the first place! He’s my son—he’s fine just the way he is!”
Estelle Costanza: “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Frank! Sit down before you have another episode!” She turned to Woke Hipster. “And you, young man—what gives you the right to speak about George? He’s too good for this nonsense. Why, just the other day, he landed a job at Vandelay Industries!”
Frank: “VANDELAY INDUSTRIES? That’s a LIE, Estelle! That’s George’s fake company! He’s been lying to us for years! I KNEW IT!”
The audience erupted in laughter, unsure if this was scripted or some sort of guerrilla comedy routine. Meanwhile, Woke Hipster tried to regain control.
“Let us not stray from the point,” he said, adjusting his bow tie nervously. “George represents the archetypal struggle against societal norms. He is a prism through which we view the absurdity of modern life. If we elevate George, we elevate ourselves—”
Frank: “ELEVATE OURSELVES? What kind of mumbo jumbo is that? The only thing George has ever elevated is his cholesterol!”
Estelle: “Leave him alone, Frank! He gets that from your side of the family!”
Woke Hipster’s face turned redder than a beetroot latte. He tried to rally the crowd. “This is about more than George! This is about us! About breaking free from the constraints of—”
Frank: “I’LL BREAK YOUR CONSTRAINTS, PAL! HOW’S THAT FOR FREEING YOURSELF?”
Estelle leaned over to a bemused audience member. “He’s been like this since the war.”
The rally dissolved into chaos as Frank climbed onto the stage, demanding to see “the receipts” for George’s alleged greatness. Estelle started rummaging through her purse, yelling, “If I find out you’re behind this, George, you’re in BIG TROUBLE!”
Woke Hipster threw his hands up. “You don’t understand! This is a metaphor for—”
Frank: “I’LL GIVE YOU A METAPHOR! IT’S CALLED ‘GET OFF THE STAGE!’”
The crowd erupted into a standing ovation. Woke Hipster slumped over the podium in defeat, muttering to himself, “Nobody ever understands the metanarrative…”
From the back, a voice yelled: “Get a job at Vandelay!”
