Love In The Time Of Apps (31 page)

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.”

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 maneuvered 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

S
ome 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.

The Direct Cause of Sydney Maxine’s Death

Sydney Maxine was depressed. Sheila, the woman that he loved, had left him. Since he first saw Goodwin’s email wish that he die a horrible death, Maxine lived with a daily gut wrenching fear that Goodwin’s “Death Wish,” the term used by the press, would come true. He became agoraphobic and, inexplicably, angoraphobic at the same time. The unfortunate consequence of these dual phobias was that he would just sit around his house wearing flannel shirts, since he could no longer wear his beautiful angora sweaters. Worst of all, the stress flowing from Goodwin’s email had led to an odd form of a bi-polar disease. Maxine would shift from being Hyper-Humoresque to Hypo-Humoresque. As a result, he would spontaneously blurt out very funny jokes, but due to his Hypo-Humoresque condition, not get them. Nothing seemed to help him out of his funk.

It was his mother, Sandy Maxine, who suggested that maybe they should do something fun together, perhaps some weight reduction followed by window shopping. The prospect of spending quality time with his mother brightened Sydney’s mood. He agreed to venture out of his house for the first time since receiving Goodwin’s original email and to rendezvous with his mother at the Jiffy Lipo center, which was strategically located next to Vogue. Virtually all Jiffy Lipo centers were located next to clothing stores because it enabled Jiffy to promote its
services with the slogans: “Alter yourself, not your pants.” And “Drop before you shop!”