Chapter 9: There's No Business Like
"So, do you anticipate a happy Halloween?" Baron Zemo handles a Vermin Louse doll.
"Why, I do!" voices Vermin munching a mint so that a mouse-man's breath smells not like a sewer.
Offshore, the Pacific gently pushes mellow waves to Zuma Beach a piece below the porch upon which Helmut Zemo and Edward Whelan lounge. Copasetic sea breezes complement the crisp sun light kindly warming Whelan's rodent rear, the rat's ass that a rich man gives. Beside Vermin, Baron Zemo lies bundled in his regal purple costume, for he is a bit bashful, being a burn victim of his own devices (see Captain America #168). But, the dallying dastard does have his mask up to enjoy a mimosa offered by his murine host, or rather the Malibu mansion's maid. Malibu is as splendid as people say. Surely, the once-woeful Whelan must savor the set-up in his man thong and cheater sunglasses under the pleasant sky.
Scoping the beach beauties beyond, the baron continues the conversation, "So, you look forward to Halloween. I suppose that Samhain moves some Tinlaw merchandise."
"Majorly," confirms CEO Vermin, "Every rugrat dresses up as a Marvel powerhouse or a Tinlaw princess. Even big kids do kooky cosplay for the spooky holiday, and they 'pukey' profits upon us—after eating junk food with our licensed images on it. Vermin Louse ice cream bars are particularly popular. Also, all October-long, Americans seek sensational entertainment, and we acquire our gotten gains that way. Tinlaw basically owns everything, every IP. We well-nigh have a media monopoly, whether under Wind or Carpenter or Obama, for, when the federal felines stay away, the dirty rats will play, particularly when our 'progressive' politics matches theirs."
"Ay ay. To the day after tomorrow," Zemo will toast Tinlaw's good times, "May it make my man Ed Whelan rich."
Vermin raises his vermouth rose reciprocally, "Thank you. I appreciate my ascent from the actual gutter. You generously gave me golden opportunity in '08."
"You were in tough shape after abandoning Hood's army," Zemo admits, "The Avengers and the Skrulls did a number on you around the Secret Invasion."
"Yeah," Ed admits, "Actually, I got unbalanced initially when Kraven the Hunter's daughter did devilish damage during dual duels while I worked at Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane [see Amazing Spider-Man #566-567]. There, Dr. Ashley Kafka had remarkably reformed me into an ideal, albeit unusual citizen." Most men cannot transform into wererats.
"I recall," remembers the Baron, "While there, fellow mutate freaks abducted you after they too had deserted the service of Arnim Zola and Baron Zemo. They wanted you as their leader. I tracked down you whole lot and offered you the honor of serving me again. However, you insolently rejected my effort to recruit and reclaim you [see Spectacular Spider-Man #194-196]. That was the second time that you had disrespectfully done that [see Captain America #277]."
"I know," acknowledges a contrite corporate American creature, "Back during that Cap caper, I even tried to kill you after you tried to kill me. I am just glad that kismet got us back in each other's good graces."
Hellbound Helmut would guffaw had he a greater funny bone. Good graces? Good gracious! Instead, he goes, "Oh b, boy, our present arrangement is about gold and goals—money and power.
"You were pathetic and über poor, positioned in Manhattan's underground. You plucked pedestrian passersby for pabulum [see Amazing Spider-Man v.5 #19]. Although a denizen of sewers, you still lacked the proverbial pot to piss in—or window to throw it out of. Propitiously, Zemo will always be a patron to his peons. So, I proposed placing you atop Tinlaw productions as operating officer. You accepted the employment—and executive pay more obscene than human hors d'oeuvres.
"I sought a different sort of prosperity: political power. And, plainly, present mass media possesses such. One need only ponder the propaganda pervasive in news programming and popular culture, particularly comic books and motion pictures. At home, the American people pursue propriety, of their personal definitions, in the evening press. And, at the showhouse, they seek 'progressive' prejudice pompously presented with their soda and popcorn. And, in Marvel's pages, they supposedly pine passionately for iconoclastic purification, representative reparation, and placation of their persistent peeves.
"Percipient of the present, I noticed previous nefarious plots of my peers. Outré masterminds, evil geniuses, had appropriated and exploited mass media before. For example, Mysterio is the very model of a madman manipulating perception and reality via movies and TV. He has done it many times. However, mein Herr Red Skull has also run felonious affairs through a film studio [see Captain America #261-263] as has Namor the Sub-Mariner [see Fantastic Four #9, Warlord Krang [see Sensational She-Hulk #12, Japan's the Hand [see Wolverine #107-109, and Chinese intelligence [see Captain America #106]. Quite famously, Jester hijacked the print and broadcast media to malignantly manipulate the masses [see Daredevil #129-137]. He almost started a second American Revolution. In like manner, Kingpin co-opted a television and radio station to play puppet master of public opinion, and Mr. Fear immediately followed in his footsteps at station WFSK [see Daredevil #356-371]. Likewise, Xemnu the Titan even once tried television for worldwide thought control [see Marvel Two-in-One #78, as Tinlaw does.
"I astutely knew of all these cases. They inspired me. Ergo, I installed you at Tinlaw's top in '08. The country's economy was in crisis, and investors cottoned capital from unconventional quarters. Hedge funds ever covet caches and their neighbors' cash cows. Thus, they cued Tinlaw to acquire Marvel Comics, for the composite colossal creative chimera might control popular culture and consumer pursestrings comprehensively. So, coveting its neighbor's goods, the consummate entertainment company purchased comic book characters, and it co-opted nerd culture to crassly recreate it into socially-conscious kitsch pandering and catering to iconoclastic crackpots and the common credulous. Current Tinlaw courted collegiate contrarians who wanted to politically correct characters and the status quo. It needed kids and cretins unfamiliar with canon who found 'new' heroes cool, and it wanted to keep the committed comic crowd as well, their comics like their crack.
"Into these conditions, I conferred you, Vermin, king crook atop the kakistocracy. You became Tinlaw's CEO thanks to my crooked connections."
Chairman Whelan nibbles his lengthy nails during Zemo's long narration. Ceasing, Vermin says, "I am glad to be of service, sir. I have done well, and I now rub shaggy shoulders with such causes célèbres as Cheryl Simon and Gayle Sandburg. I was a small-time supervillain. You saved me from being so Mickey Mouse. How can I be of service now?"
Zemo straightens up and states, "The United States has an election in one week. November 5. After unceasing contentious campaigning, this cranky country decides between Rex Carpenter and Ken Wind. I want Tinlaw to rouse the rabble whether riled conservatives or radical leftists. I shall help."
Vermin rubs the hairs on his chinny-chin-chin, "What do you have in mind, mein Herr?" How might the House of Louse (Tinlaw) help blow America's house down?
"I'll work the right, and you'll work the left," remarks the Master of Evil, "We'll roil them into riots and righteous rage. Ever self-righteous, both America's so-called 'progressives' and 'patriots' are receptive to any excuses and impetuses that okay their actions. It's never wrong when they do it, you see."
"Okey-doke," deems dastardly Edward, "What exactly is our itinerary for incitement? What's the plan?"
Horrible Helmut proposes, "I contact the Watchdogs, Sons of the Serpent, and such wingnuts that may reside from the Sierra Madre to Maine. They monitor the dark web for covert messages that match their existing beliefs. An ersatz messiah—such as handle Citizen V—can manipulate militant masses to mischief such as Ken Wind and co-conspirators did one January."
"Jolly good," Vermin grants, "And, what do I do? How do I dupe the progressive public more than I already do as head of 'dis' Tinlaw?"
"You do America's wolves in sheep's clothing: social media and cable news," advises Zemo, "Like a pestilence, Vermin, visit the progressives positioned at Tinlaw's news pulpits producing opinionated pap. Play on their prejudices. Provoke their pompous rancor. Have the popular press passionately present their pedantic peeves over past tradition and perceived faux pas.
"Then, incite the pseudo-journalists and pretend pundits on social media. The useful idiots sitting at screens from Citrusville to San Francisco. Sucker the self-important plebians into posting spurious propaganda and appeals for petulant avengers to assemble. Plant discord, and play the polis' plain psyches for saps. Sadly, present college pupils are often dumb as dog poop, exploitable, pigheaded, and partisan—although such makes them plum pawns for rotten ploys."
"Oh, the Bombshells will be incited," assures Vermin, "They are the Vermin Louse club committed to cultishly recruiting to their cause. They tell the country. Come along and sing our tune. Join the jamboree—or we'll cancel you and combust your community."
Zemo's exposed lips smirk, "God bless the exploding Bombshells, bursting in err. May the land's little Louseketeers louse-up lots."