by Jay Begler
“One month from today, you and The Sheila will meet at the Federal Courthouse, and we’ll pick your legal teams. We draw the names of each of your law firms out of a bingo like wheel. I can assure you all the lawyers in our pool are quite extraordinary. Two weeks later we’ll have a trial. So sign here and you get the $50,000 right now.”
Goodwin, to the satisfaction of his friends said, “Well, if I do the deal, I prefer to stay with my friends in the SoLo district. I’d want you to make a donation to the SoLo Fund equivalent to the cost of the Plaza.”
“Sure sure, but it has to be an anonymous donation. It would be curtains for the network if it were known to be an Abettor.”
Goodwin and his troupe convened in a separate room. While Goodwin had serious reservations about accepting Lazar’s offer, he desperately needed the money. He also relished the thought of a skilled lawyer cross-examining the Two Sheilas. On the other hand, he and his friends knew that his chances of winning the trial were not slim to none they were none to none.
“Even so,” said Kass, “you’d be helping us all. You could be the public voice and get the message across about the evils of the PPR system. And, imagine if you won. There is no telling what would happen.”
“Wait,” said Schnell. Without saying anything else, he exited the room. When he returned a half hour later, he said, “Okay. I’ve got them to up the offer to $500,000.”
A surprised and delighted Goodwin said, “You’re a hell of a negotiator. I’ll sign and if I lose everything, to hell with it. And the money goes to the defense fund and you guys take what you need, too.”
“Except my 10 percent,” Schnell chimed in. No one argued with him.
Lazar, with the signed contract in hand said to the group, “Now, here’s what we do. Starting immediately we issue the announcement about the divorce of the century. You’ve got to start getting on the air to influence the American public. That could be the key to success here. So, go for it boys.”
That evening, an impromptu party for Goodwin was given at the Persona Non Grata bar. The bar had a sardonic sign on its outside which read “ONLY PPRS WITH 10 AND BELOW ARE WELCOME.”
Goodwin had said to his friends, “How much of the $450,000 do you guys want?” In other times under other circumstances, they might have asked for $100,000 a piece, but they had taken up the mantel of helping the Low Lifes.
“Just give us $5000 a piece. The rest should go to the fund. Obviously, take some for yourself.”
“I’m going to take $5000 and let the chips fall where they may.”
It was, in a way, an inspiring evening. People were truly grateful to Goodwin for his generosity and courage. Many told stories of how their lives were transformed and how they wanted to fight back against the “artificial social curse,” as one person put it. The last speaker, an eminent former Federal judge, told the story of how after sentencing 12 Mafia racketeers to long prison terms, he suddenly found that his 27 PPR was down to an 8. He was absolutely certain that this precipitous drop was due to manipulation of the ratings by a criminal enterprise. The criminals’ defense team then argued on appeal that the judge was not qualified to hear the case in the first place because of his low rating. Rather than have the Court of Appeals make an egregious decision, the judge resigned from the bench.
With his hand on Goodwin’s shoulder he said, “Someone spoke earlier about courage. I think that getting into this very public fight, one you very likely will lose, takes a lot of courage. Beyond that you’ll need a lot of fortitude. Things may get pretty rough for you, but all of us are in your camp win or lose.”
“I’m ready,” replied Goodwin. For the first time in his adult life, Goodwin was fighting for a cause and an unpopular one at that. The irony of this didn’t escape him. As he left the bar with his three friends, he said, “Nothing like being a victim to get you involved.”
The America’s Most Unwanted Show
If Schnell was any hotter under the collar, his neck would have been on fire. Referring to the morning papers spread out on his conference room table, Schnell said to Goodwin, “We’ve been ambushed.” It only took a quick glance at the advertisements in The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal for Goodwin to know that Schnell was right. Each paper carried several political style, full-page, advertisements supporting the Two Sheilas in their upcoming court battle. Insidiously disguised as serious politically oriented pieces, their only objective was to sway the American Public. A full page advertisement in the Times with the banner: “MINISTERS AND RABBIS SUPPORT THE SHEILA,” proclaimed “As religious leaders in this country, the undersigned support the wholesome family values of The Sheila and urge the American Public to vote in The Sheila’s favor.” Several thousand names appeared below this message, including most cardinals and rabbis. A group called “Beyond REM United” had an advertisement showing a large photograph of Sheila above the notation, “The Sheila can beat Goodwin in their sleep.” The Comedically Challenged Lobby, now a powerful political force in America took out an advertisement with the headline: GOODWIN IS A JOKE AND WE DON’T GET IT. VOTE FOR THE SHEILA.
These and a multitude of other advertisements were a prelude to a television blitzkrieg that Goodwin and Schnell watched during the day. The Two Sheilas attempting to get the most coverage possible appeared separately on virtually every interview show on the air. By the end of the day Goodwin considered Kildare’s earlier remark about him being hopelessly outnumbered in the battle of the sexes quiet prophetic. The Two Sheilas were in a virtual love fest with every television celebrity who interviewed them. Goodwin, by contrast, was not asked to appear on a single program. Except for the defamatory things being said about him on television, he had no exposure whatsoever.
A portion of the money received from Lazar bought him a single full page advertisement in the New York Times which spelled out the evils of the Pragat Rating System and how the concept of Low Lifes should be abolished. This provoked a massive retaliatory advertising campaign by Pragat Corporation to counter the claims made by Goodwin. Its highly effective tag line “How can you believe anything a five tells you?” virtually eliminated any impact of Goodwin’s advertisement.
As the first week of Undue Influence ended, Pragat published its readjusted rating of Goodwin, giving him an across the board rating of two. The sole entry in the comments section below the across the board two ratings were authored by Aunt Hilda “Hilly.”
Goodwin is a puerile, pathetic, problematic, perfidious, paranoiac, pompous, predisposed, pungent, painful, pesky, plastic, prurient, pushy, pugnacious, pointless, putzy, putrid, pertinacious, and pitiful person.
When asked why she used this unusual form of description, Hilly replied, “I’m taking a class in alliteration.”
The Two Sheilas by contrast now had a rating of “30 Plus.” The rating prompted a cover page on the daily news with a side-by-side photographs of America’s best known adversaries juxtaposed over the notations, “Beyond Perfection” and “Philip Goodwin is Number 2.”
Schnell had little doubt that Lazar had conspired with the Two Sheilas and had planned to set him up well in advance of the time Lazar contacted him. “Think about it,” said Schnell, the Two Sheilas cut off your credit cards, and take your money, but they don’t cut off your phone service. Ask yourself why. It’s because they wanted Lazar to contact you. Who could have given him your mobile number? They realized early on that if you went the distance with them in a real divorce proceeding, you would have been awarded half of the marital property, a considerable amount. They wanted it all, however. Their two-week stay in the Meditainment Center, was not only to augment their looks, but also to give them time to devise a plan to manipulate you to the point where you would lose control and do something really foolish, in this case sue for divorce.”
Though it was only 10 am, Goodwin poured two large glasses of scotch for himself and Schnell. Goodwin raised his glass and said sarcastically, “Happy days.”
Schnell continued, “They m
aneuvered you into a position of total desperation and then had their co-conspirator, Lazar, convince you to sign a winner take all contract. Lazar also wants the Two Sheilas to prevail, because the American Public loves them. Their victory will only contribute to the continued success of his program. “I would call him a rat, but that would be insulting to the species.”
“I’m really screwed, Schnell, aren’t I?”
“Actually, you may not be in as bad a position as you think. My sense is that they made a big mistake by getting all of their advertisements out so early. They may have peaked. I think what we do is the reverse. We keep a very low profile. Then, just before your first court appearance, when the media really wants you, you go on one very high profile show with a prestigious and fair host who will let you tell your story.”
“And the PPR story,” interrupted Goodwin. “I want to speak out about the plight of the Low Lifes.”
“The day after that interview we go to court and pick your lawyers. They’ll be able to guide us on a public relations strategy from that point on. With the talent in this pool of lawyers, we should be in good hands. They can show just how evil these ratings have become. I just have to figure out which show and how to get you on it.”
Schnell’s prediction about the Two Sheilas peaking was correct. After about two weeks, the pro-Sheila advertisements ended. Their appearances on television dwindled and then stopped all together. The networks and media turned to Goodwin, whose refusal to appear on camera began to stir up a real interest in him. Several days before his court appearance, Schnell said to Goodwin, “Good news, I got you booked on the 9:30 pm Sydney Glick talk show.”
“What show?”
“Americas Most Unwanted. It’s a talk show where really unpopular people tell their side of the story. Glick started the show because he turned out to be the most unwanted host in television. He now has a substantial following and my guess is that your appearance will pull in an enormous viewing audience.” It was the first time in months that Goodwin smiled. “Excellent.”
“But you simply can’t go on and speak. We need to prepare. The story you tell and they way you tell it needs to be perfect and highly compelling. We have 48 hours.”
When Goodwin sat before the television cameras, he was fully prepared to state his case. He felt calm, confident and optimistic. He was wearing a 10 Below cap. Virtually every resident of SoLo tuned into the show. All had the collective hope that there would now be a voice to speak for them. In a way, it was if they were at a sporting event. Everyone was wearing a 10 Below cap.
Glick spoke. “Tonight our guest is Philip Goodwin, perhaps the most controversial and most unpopular person we have had on our show. We are going to permit Mr. Goodwin to tell his side of the story. As far as we know, no one has really given a chance to Mr. Goodwin to really state his case. He has indicated that he also wants to talk about the plight of the Low Lifes. Pursuant to an agreement with Mr. Goodwin there will be no questions following his presentation. Mr. Goodwin, take it away.”
When Goodwin came on camera cheering erupted throughout SoLo. Goodwin looked directly into the camera. “Thank you, Mr. Glick and thank you, ladies and gentlemen for hearing my side of the story. But first, I’d like to talk about the plight of the Low Lifes and the rampant discrimination against us.” A unified shout of “Yeah!” arose from the Persona Non Grata bar.
The camera suddenly shifted to a very somber looking Glick. His face was ashen. His hands were trembling. He had tears in his eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have terrible breaking news. We have just learned that Sydney Maxine, the lover of Sheila Goodwin, just as Philip Goodwin had wished, has died a horrible death. According to initial reports, just as Mr. Goodwin wished, he has had the life sucked out of him. This regularly scheduled interview is now pre-empted by coverage on this tragic event.” The unified “Yeah!” uttered seconds earlier by Goodwin’s 10 Below fans was now replaced with a collective, muted, “Shit.”
Jiffy Lipo
The Theoretical Cause of Sydney Maxine’s Death
Some students of the science of causality might say that the cause of Sydney Maxine’s death, like all things, could be traced back to the Big Bang, reasoning that but for the Big Bang, the Universe, Earth, people, and ultimately Sydney Maxine, would not have been created. Alternatively, if the Big Bang had been a tad smaller, just the “Bang” for example, or had occurred a little bit to the left, Maxine might not have been in harm’s way. Those who are interested in more proximate causes, however, might argue that in the chain of causality, the Atkins Diet, while not the immediate cause of his death, figured prominently in Maxine’s demise.
Decades earlier, a company named “Jiffy Meat Technology,” named after its founder, Lorenzo Jiffy, and his two brothers had developed an extremely sophisticated piece of equipment which was dubbed the “Jiffy Dilipidating Device” or simply the “JDD.” Awarded the “Invention of the Year” in 1986 by Meat Technology Magazine, the JDD provided an ultra fast way of removing fat or lipids from meat. This was extremely important given the sentiment at the time that fat was linked to a host of ills, such as heart disease and cancer.
Within a year of the development of the JDD, Jiffy Meat Technology was turning out tons of totally fat free meat a day. Its accounts were nationwide. Everyone wanted fat free meat. Armed with a bevy of patents, the company faced no competition. Since Jiffy could produce perfect fat free meat at prices substantially lower than its competitors, it had a lock on about 20 percent of the wholesale meat market. When a competitor attempted to use a similar device, it would receive a “cease and desist” letter from the company’s attorneys. Invariably, the competitor opted to stop manufacturing. Within five years, each of the three principals of the company was bringing home in excess of two-million dollars a year.
In the mid-90s, however, a new view of fat was emerging. Its platform was the “Atkins diet.” Dr. Atkins had been espousing his diet for many years, but it wasn’t until the mid-90s that it began to have real credibility and popularity. Fat was no longer the foe. Not only was it touted to be good for you, fatty meat tasted much better than super-lean meat. Orders for “thin” meat dwindled, royalties evaporated, and mega-meat processing companies, who had lost significant market share to Jiffy, were “licking their chops,” (not literally) at the prospect of dethroning what they regarded as an upstart company. By the time the new Millennium was a teenager, Jiffy was at the edge of bankruptcy. If the three partners were to salvage anything, they would have to close the company.
On a late spring evening Lorenzo, Bernie, and Anthony Jiffy sat in the cavernous hall of their now dormant meat processing plant. An environment that once was full of active machines and scurrying workers was now completely quite and devoid of all products. Sitting on bridge chairs by the first JDD that had been built and with an air of nostalgia and melancholy, the men toasted each other and reminisced. It was, all agreed, a great ride. The three men, essentially street kids with no backing, but with determination, ingenuity and chutzpah, had shaken up the meat industry. Each still had a few million dollars in the bank, not enough to make them rich, by any standard. A couple of million would buy a reasonably nice condo in Manhattan, but not much more. Still, they couldn’t complain. They put their kids through college, and lived pretty well.
“So, what do we do now?” Lorenzo asked.
Bernie, the scientist of the group and inventor of the JDD did not answer directly, but instead yelled loud enough for his voice to bounce off of the surrounding walls, “Son of a bitch!” He began to laugh hysterically.
“You okay, Bernie?”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph” Bernie yelled. “It’s so obvious.” He was laughing and talking at the same time and, it seemed, was deliriously happy. He put his arms around his brothers and hugged them. “We’re so dumb!” With that, Bernie removed all of his clothes, placed himself naked into the very large chamber of a Jiffy Dilapidating Device, adjusted some mechanisms internally and said, “Turn it
on for about 30 seconds.”
Lorenzo and Anthony were temporarily paralyzed with wonder and stood dumbfounded until Lorenzo pleaded, “Come on Bernie, your life’s not over. Things will get better. Come on out.”
“Turn on the machine and focus the electrodes on my gut.” Bernie said authoritatively. By this time, the device had become so sophisticated that it was enhanced by computer technology. A technician could aim the instrument, via a digital screen, at a specific part of a meat product if necessary and remove discrete areas of fat. While Bernie was hyper, he did appear to be rational. Lorenzo turned on the machine. After 30 seconds Bernie emerged and was considerably thinner. About 20 pounds of fat had been melted away from his gut in under a minute.
Just as the horse and buggy was replaced by the automobile, the rotary dial phone by smart phones, the propeller by the jet, and reality by reality television, the old method of lipo-suction, one in which a physician employed a canella device under the skin of a patient who had doled out thousands of dollars, was about to replaced by an invention that would forever change this aspect of plastic surgery.
It was not long before Jiffy Lipo centers were as numerous as McDonalds. Customers would pay an initial fee of $300 for a session and $50 for every pound of lipids removed. The whole process would take no more than 10 minutes and remove as much lipids as the customer required. Customers would simply lie in a very elegant, cat- scan like device, listen to various music channels as the process occurred and walk out moments later lighter and very happy.
Ultimately, Jiffy Lipo was purchased by a company named, “Mary’s Little Red Cottage Candles LLC,” for four hundred million dollars. Mary’s sold pastel candles bearing a red and white logo of a sweet little old lady standing in front of a ginger-bread style cottage. It used the same logo on its fleet of oil tankers, arms that it sold to any buyer, its genetically engineered and toxic corn that it fed to Mary’s branded cattle in its insidious slaughter houses and on the uniforms of mercenaries that it hired. It was rumored that the impetus for the acquisition was the apparent value of human lipids both in candles and land mines. The Jiffy brothers retired as very wealthy men.