Love In The Time Of Apps (33 page)

After their moment of prayer, the Two Sheilas were escorted to Sandy Maxine who sat adjacent to her son’s casket. She was sobbing uncontrollably, but turned off her tears spigot for a moment to admire their perfect dresses, as did many onlookers. “Perhaps” she said, “you can wear those lovely dresses sometime in the future at a happier event.” Off camera and away from Sandy Maxine, the Two Sheilas chortled because they knew that they would never wear the same dress twice.

“Do you have any bitterness towards your estranged husband in light of what happened?” a reporter asked.

They replied in unison, “Well not bitterness so much as deep and unmitigated disappointment by his behavior. We will never know if our husband can somehow be blamed for the tragic death of this wonderful man who was a healer and a war hero. But at least he could have had the common decency to attend the funeral. We had to pull some strings to get him an invitation. As everyone expected, he didn’t even respond, nor he send his regrets.” The reporter shook his head in disgust as did, no doubt, millions of Americans who were glued to their television sets. Goodwin and his fellow patrons were also shaking their heads, but for totally different reasons.

The following day, Sydney Maxine’s coffin was taken from the rotunda and placed in a horse drawn wagon, which a spokesperson for Ford said proudly, was a predecessor to the Model T. The carriage moved slowly down the streets of Washington, D.C. Ford did not
neglect to pitch to the public that use of its horse drawn wagon was its way of helping the environment. “I know,” a vice president of Ford said, “that Sydney Maxine would have been happy to know that his was the first truly green funeral in America,” to which Goodwin retorted to his fellow Low Lifes, reconvened at the bar to watch the funeral, “I wonder how happy he would be if he knew he was dead.”

Sandy Maxine and the Two Sheilas walked at the head of the cortege. They were followed by hundreds of dignitaries and celebrities who needed good PR exposure; particularly actors and actresses who were having movies released the following weekend. Depending upon their bank accounts and desire for exposure each person in this large group paid to be in the cortege; $50,000 for a “First Class” position, the first five rows, $17,500 for “Business Class,” the next 12 rows and $12,500 for “Coach” the next 40 rows. The Two Sheilas also sold cortege sublets that allowed individuals to march in the cortege for 5 to 20 minutes depending upon how much they paid.

The Original Sheila’s “very best daydream of her life,” shortly before she was struck by lightning, her funeral fantasy, had come true. The Two Sheilas, dressed in exact reproductions of the original impromptu funeral dress she had tried immediately prior to the Sheila Bolt, were in a major impromptu funeral procession with paparazzi and members of the public calling out “Sheila…Sheila…over here.” Realizing that the Original Sheila’s fantasy had just come true the Two Sheilas turned to each other and said simultaneously, “It doesn’t get much better than this.” Then said simultaneously, “Oh my God! You were that other person walking next to me that seemed so familiar. Amazing!!”

Sydney Maxine’s coffin was placed on the stage of the cavernous Washington National Church. A veritable who’s who of celebrities and government officials, as well as senior military types, all of whom had purchased their tickets through Ticketmaster at exorbitant prices, filed into the Church. After a single prayer, songs from several notable rock stars that seemed to sing at every important funeral, and a very dignified dance recital by the previous winners of
Dancing With The Stars,
the eulogies began. Former comrades in arms spoke of Maxine’s heroism
and bravery. Couples whose marriages were saved by Maxine spoke of his skillful counseling and dedication. Friends spoke of his warmth and generosity. While the subject matter of all of these eulogies differed from each other, the common theme was the same: How could anyone wish that such a wonderful person die a horrible death? Some, in anger, asked questions like, “Philip Goodwin, are you satisfied now?”

The Two Sheilas stepped up to the podium. This was such an enormously anticipated moment, that a few people in attendance and watching the event on television even turned off their smart phones. “Ladies and gentlemen thank you for coming,” one of the Sheilas said. The other Sheila interjected, “The outpouring of grief throughout this country is evidence of the great affection held by America for this war hero and healer. Above all, Sydney had a great love for the American people. He told us as much before his tragic and unnecessary death. And we know that the American people loved him as well.” A camera focused on the VIP audience all of whose members were shaking their heads in agreement while secretly glancing at their smart phones.

“We, like all Americans, are deeply saddened by his
jinxed
death, and we are also angry, very angry.” The Two Sheilas then began a prayer like presentation akin to responsive reading.

Sheila Left, “Sydney Maxine was a wonderful loving person, and who wanted him dead?”

Sheila Right (signaling to the audience), “Philip Goodwin. I can’t hear you.”

The Audience, “Philip Goodwin.”

Sheila Left, “And he risked his life to fight to protect this country.”

Sheila Right, “And who wished him dead?”

The Audience (now without prompting), “Philip Goodwin.”

Sheila Left, “And after he left the Marines and he devoted himself to save many marriages.”

Sheila Right, “And who wished him dead?”

The Audience and now many television viewers: “Philip Goodwin.”

Both Sheilas, “And then the Original Sheila found the love of her life. He had finally found the love of his life.”

The Audience without even waiting for the question (and Goodwin thought all of America), “Philip Goodwin.” Goodwin was certain that that everyone in America had joined in at this point was correct because he and everyone in the bar were mouthing the words, “Philip Goodwin.”

Holding up a large portrait of Sydney Maxine the Two Sheilas spoke in unison, “This is a sad day for all of us, but knowing our Sydney, the last thing he would want would be for his fellow American’s to be sad. In fact, when going through his belongings, his mother found this note tucked in the band of his combat helmet. We understand that it was written while he was in combat. It was a short poetic message in case he was killed. We’re certain that if given the choice Sydney would have preferred to die in combat for his country than having the life sucked out of him in a Lipo Center salon. Here is his message, “If I should die this very day, I’d ask America to go out and play.” Wal-Mart immediately bought rights to the poem and placed it on memorial wall plaques, which it sold for $12.95 and for $22.95 when combined with a digital clock whose arms were placed above an image of Maxine’s combat helmet.

In view of the looming impingement on prime time, the funeral party, lead by motorcycle police sped to Arlington Cemetery. A television camera, mounted to the top of Maxine’s horse drawn carriage enabled viewers to see the approach to his gravesite in real time. A headstone had already been prepared, but instead of a religious symbol at its top, for example a Star of David, a Cross or a dollar sign, there was a silhouette of a shoe, no doubt a Manolo, and below that, “Brigadier General, Sydney Maxine, USMC.” Apparently, he had received a posthumous promotion. With the exception of a very large PPR 30, a “special six point promotion” from Pragat, no other information appeared below Maxine’s name, not even his date of birth or death. As the camera panned the cemetery, Goodwin caught sight of a sign that months ago might have surprised him: “This section reserved for 27s and higher.” Goodwin suspected that he was viewing a wave of the future, but then said to himself, “The future is now.”

There were a few final heart wrenching and blame casting eulogies and then the lowering of the casket. (“This segment is sponsored by Forest Lawn-Check out our Time Share plan”) The American Flag was presented to Sandy. There was silence for a moment and then a ten-gun salute. (“This moment brought to you by the National Rifle Association because guns create memories.”) On the cusp of prime time, viewers saw the Two Sheilas each place a rose on Maxine’s coffin (“This segment sponsored by FTD”) just before it was lowered into the ground. The only sound that was then heard was the solemn playing of Taps. “They’re playing my song” Goodwin whispered to himself.

Part Eight

The Trial Of The Century So Far

Grasping Lawyers’ Balls

T
here are actually two Federal Courthouses in lower Manhattan, a relatively new one on Pearl Street, within a stone’s throw of the Brooklyn Bridge, if you are a professional baseball player, and on nearby Foley Square an older one, built in 1932 and named the “Thurgood Marshall Federal Courthouse.” The courtroom selected by ABC was in the older courthouse, chosen because it was not very busy and because the government in effort to attract new business had offered four trial days for the price of three.

Midst a sea of reporters and aggressive paparazzi shouting his name, Goodwin, accompanied by Schnell, climbed the stairs fronting the courthouse, cleared security, took an elevator to the 5th floor and entered Courtroom 501. The buzz of those in the visitor’s gallery, (big shots whose corporations bought tickets for the trial and little shots who scored tickets through a lottery) stopped immediately as Goodwin came into view. Knowing that all eyes were focused on him, Goodwin walked towards his assigned litigants’ table down an inordinately long aisle, one that seemed, as if in a dream or nightmare, to continue to get longer as he walked. His table was set a discrete distance from the Two Sheilas’ table. As soon as he sat down, the buzz of the spectators resumed.

Goodwin was unaware that this particular courtroom had great historical significance. It was only when he perused a small informative promotional brochure and rental pricelist, which had been left on his table, that he learned that he was in the courtroom of the late
Judge Irving R. Kaufman, the jurist who had presided over the famous 1951 espionage trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg and who sentenced them to death after a successful prosecution by an ambitious young prosecutor named Roy Cohn. He thought that it was a bad sign when he read further and noted that he was actually sitting at their table.

Looking rather somber and dressed in their official Armani designed courtroom outfits, each bearing a large gold encrusted American Flag lapel pin, the Two Sheilas did not acknowledge Goodwin, but stood, within a large group of their corporate and civil trial attorneys. A court stenographer sat in front of the raised judge’s bench and a law clerk sat at a table next to the bench. Three television cameras were positioned in key places in the courtroom. The clerk went to the door behind the bench, knocked on the door, and said, “All set.”

The vast American television audience was all set as well. Virtually every Low Life watched and hoped Goodwin would achieve at least some level of success. Everyone else in the television audience hoped he would fail.

A distinguished looking man who seemed vaguely familiar to Goodwin walked to the front of the courtroom and a microphone dropped down to him from the ceiling. From a place Goodwin could not discern, there were two clangs of a bell. As soon as he heard this, Goodwin recognized him. It was the iconic boxing announcer Michael Buffer.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Let’s Get Ready To Grumble! In the right corner of the courtroom and hailing from Long Island and dressed in black with a Pragat record of 3 and 0, that’s 30, (now with his voice inflecting) theeeeee Sheila.” His announcement was drowned out by earsplitting cheers and applause. “In the left hand corner, at the infamous traitors table, wearing an old suit and presently hailing from the Low Life ghetto, SoLo, with a Pragat record of 0 and 2, that’s two,” At this point his voice was flat, low and fast, “is Philip Goodwin.” Boisterous booing and jeers erupted from the courtroom’s visitor’s gallery. “And now I have the pleasure of introducing your host and the creator of
Divorcing With The Stars
, Speedy Lazar.”

“Thank you, Michael. It’s always a pleasure to be at an event with you. All of us at ABC are thrilled at this new and groundbreaking series. We hope that the television audience will enjoy some of the really exciting divorce trials we have in store for them. I should mention that we are still looking for really good new divorce cases, particularly ones with salacious sex tapes. So if you are a celebrity and are in the midst of a divorce or are contemplating a divorce, and you want to be on the show just go to our web site www.divorcingwiththestars.com to learn how to audition.

“Now, just a word about our opening case and which, in my opinion, is the divorce trial of the century so far. By agreement, this is a winner take all divorce. Whoever wins gets all of the marital property, in this case over fifty million dollars. The only question that the jury will have to decide is who is to blame for the demise of the marriage. The jury in this case will be you, the American Public, who can dial in your votes. But you can’t do this until the trial is completed. We will tally the votes and the following day we will announce the results. We have arbitrarily selected telephone numbers for the parties in this case. For those of you who wish to vote for The Sheila after the trial, dial 1-800-888-0002.

For an instant Goodwin’s spirits were lifted. This probably meant that his number was 01. He had just read an article in the
Wall Street Journal
which stated that when audience votes are tallied via phone there is a strong bias in favor of 01 over 02. “And the number assigned to Mr. Goodwin is 1-800 888-0001.

“Yes!” Goodwin shouted.

Lazar looking a bit annoyed continued. “As I was saying if you wish to vote for Mr. Goodwin dial: 1-800-888-0001-394587494ccmmd ++sljf** [e]x6.” Goodwin hit his head in disgust and yelled, “What the hell are you doing? You just can’t stack the votes like that. It isn’t fair.”

Lazar smiled in a condescending manner and while looking directly into the camera and not at Goodwin said, “Read your agreement, Mr. Goodwin. See the fine print on page 42, the 1000 word footnote partially in Aramaic at the bottom of the page, it says, and I quote, ‘Goodwin acknowledges and agrees that the allocation of dial in numbers shall be in Producer’s total and absolute discretion.’”