Title Sponsors for a War (#9 of the Pride Series)

Part Nine of ‘Pride, More Pride and Quite a Lot of Extreme Prejudice’ (see previous part):

There is nothing new under the sun, so the philosophers say. And it is certainly not a novel idea that wars beget reasons rather more often than reasons beget wars. It is less than 200 years, since one Captain Jenkins brandished a severed ear in an English parliament chamber. He claimed – probably falsely – that the ear was his own and provoked a war with Spain entirely for the benefit of the South Sea Company. That war went badly wrong, and led to the downfall, after twenty-one years in power, of Britain’s first prime minister, Robert Wallpole.
Not that President Frussterer would know anything about that. He never studied history, for as Churchill famously said, “To fail to study history is to guarantee the perpetual repetition of the past” – or something like that – and when the past has been better to you than to everyone else, that’s not a bad thing.
Frussterer’s task now, in pursuit of his Middle Eastern oil war, is effectively this: sell tickets.
He turns on the charm. He didn’t get where he is today without the guile of a snake oil salesman. If Max Bialystock can sell a story about a dancing, painting Hitler to little old ladies, then Zackary Frussterer can sell war franchises to corporate America.
Witness this: the man now entering the Oval Office is dressed for the poster – the one of Yankee Doodle Dandy, with the top hat, the bow tie, the blue jacket, and the red and white striped trousers. But don’t worry, the White House has not gone crazy. This man is the owner of Yankee Burger, and he likes to appear in his own adverts.
Not many heads of corporations appear as spokesmen for their own products anymore. The TV has allowed actors to corner that market, just as they will corner the market in Presidencies elsewhere. One day, history might expose the difference between acting and sincerity, but until then, we have ‘the method’ and the pretty faces.
Melvyn P. Snook, the ego in the suit, is a man of great vanity and he can afford to be. Yankee Burger is now America’s No.2 in fast food franchises. The Company Mission Statement: “Conquest of the world will follow.”
The mission statement, as Presidential Aid, Beverley Daville has pointed out to Frussterer, makes Yankee Burger the ideal choice for the sponsorship proposition the President has in mind. And where better to bring a man of vanity than into the President’s private office and how better to put the proposal than ‘great man’ to ‘great man’?
Melvyn gets the handshake – the full on, 20/20 version, special edition with director’s commentary track that goes like this: “It’s a pleasure to meet a fellow American with the true spirit, [insert name, in this case: Melvyn]” while simultaneously pumping the arm and holding the guy just below the shoulder with your free hand.
“Now, Melvyn,” says the President, using the name again after he has offered the corporate dandy Coke and served him Pepsi.
“Yes, Mr President,” swoons Melvyn. “May I say once again what a great honour it is? And don’t you have just a lovely office? Do you think I could get one of those carpets for my office back in Delaware?”
“You live in Delaware?”
“Hell, no, who’d go to Delaware if it weren’t for the taxes? But we have to keep the company office there. Actually, I go as little as possible.”
“Quite understandable,” Frussterer agrees, “but don’t tell any registered voters I said so.” He smiles beguilingly. “Let me come right to the point.”
“Yes, Sir, I like a man who comes right to the point.”
“Very well, Melvyn. It’s like this: I’m taking the country to war.”
“That’s very interesting, Sir.”
“In the Middle East,” adds the President. “I understand you don’t do the Middle East?”
Melvyn rubs his beard. “No, Sir, I don’t believe we do, not yet. That’s the big one next to Brazil, ain’t it?”
“Far to the right of Brazil,” Frussterer says; he’s looked it up only this morning. “We’re taking them democracy, Melvyn. Yes, Sir, packing it up in our war ships and delivering it with a big pink bow. Hallelujah!”
Frussterer stops himself getting too carried away. He coughs and lowers his voice. “However, it has been pointed out to me that in such an action, there is the possibility of a ‘humanitarian crisis’.”
“What’s that, Sir?”
“Lots of hungry people, Melvyn.”
“That’s good,” says the dandy, thinking of the sales possibilities.
“With no money.”
“That’s bad. They won’t be able to eat, Sir.”
“Not unless we give them food.”
“Give, Sir?” Melvyn’s brow furrows.
“Melvyn, isn’t it obvious? If we have to kick the shit out of a starving country to make it free, we need to take catering. I cannot let these people starve, Melvyn. You know why?”
“Bad PR?” Melvyn suggests.
“Compassion, Melvyn, compassion.”
Frussterer neglects to mention the preconditions imposed by his European friends. He prefers to present the trailing humanity as his own, and the devastation as a playground for the patriotic entrepreneur.
“Ours is a quest. We are talking morality here. And we can’t have our morality compromised by a lot of people dying… not slowly in front of cameras anyway. Where there’s killing to be done, we have to get the bodies in bags and out of there, you know what I mean? We can rely on the military for that.”
“I hear you, Sir,” says Melvyn, “but what do you want of me?”
“Melvyn,” says the President. “How would you like to be an official participating sponsor of the war?”
Melvyn puts his hand to his mouth and pulls at his lip thoughtfully. “Well, Sir, that’s an interesting idea. Does this war of yours have a….?”
He hesitates.
“A prospectus. I thought you’d never ask,” says Frussterer with a smile. He hands him a pack of glossy paperwork that the Yeses have been working on for a week. “We had our people produce a goodie bag for potential partners.
“There are three packages available, the Gold, the Platinum, and the Nuclear. I don’t mind telling you, Melvyn, we’re looking to you as a prime candidate, perhaps even the lead partner. What do you say?”
Frussterer has run election campaigns all his life, of course, and it is worth pointing out that it is impossible to run successfully for any official office without a budget bigger than the opposition. Hence, the President is always the best fundraiser of all, even if his politics are somewhat flawed. Having made the initial pitch, Frussterer switches into a mode that crosses baton-twirling cheerleader with advertising salesman.
To Melvyn, he says, “Man, you can’t believe how many column-inches and screen-minutes this war – I mean, freedom mission – is going to attract. You’ll see on page 3, the projected audience shares for the live shows and the highlight reels. We’re thinking of calling the whole operation ‘Yankee Hope’ by the way, did I tell you that? As a main sponsor, you get your logo on all the tanks and the soldier’s hats.”
“And the ambulances too?”
“If you want it. We’re thinking of selling off the health concessions separately. Do you know how many square inches there is of real estate on a Doctor’s white coat? And another thing, we’ll be bringing oil on home on the back of delivering democracy, so NASCAR, Indy car and everyone from Detroit will be out there singing your praises too. And, think of this, all those foodies who’ve been saying you got too much salt and fat in your product and you’re killing our kids will have to go screw themselves. You know why?”
Frussterer is building up to his killer finish (not exactly literally, that comes when he gets the drone bombers into position). Melvyn looks confused. He’s opened the goodie bag but he’s still on page one of the sponsors’ brochure.
“Think of it,” Frusstere says, using his hands to conjure the picture in midair, “your ad-slot, twenty seconds during the Superbowl… You got these pitiful people being fed by soldiers from a mobile unit, desert fatigues, sweaty armpits, everyone’s grabbing at the food like it’s manna from heaven. Yum… yum… Yankee burger. The platoon commander’s laughing and a kid with a toothy smile’s got his US hard hat on while chowing down on a Double Quarter with Cheese. The strap line goes: ‘Yankee Burger – field-tested by the American military. Proven to save lives.’ Who’s ever gonna say they’re bad for you again, Melvyn? You show me the guy who’d do that, and I’ll show you an un-American prick.”
Melvyn’s smiling to himself now. He sees it. “And what about the planes? Do we get logos on them too?”
“Absolutely,” says Frussterer. “Even the Stealths, though, of course, no one can see those suckers.”
“Hmm,” says Melvyn, sipping on the dream. “Great Coke by the way.”
“Thank you, Melvyn,” says the President. “Think what you can do for your country and your country will surely do for you.”

….. To be continued: on the 1st Jan