By Colleen Kruse
In the movies, when rich, smart, powerful people suffer indignities and disappointments, they usually morph into a more reckless, stylish evil version of themselves. I think it’s the Type A thing just playing itself out.
Tommy Lee Jones in “Batman:” Vat of acid? Two-Face!
Willem Dafoe in “Spiderman:” Lousy severance package, untested serum? The Green Goblin!
And now, Martha Stewart: CEO of Martha Stewart Omnimedia. Host of the Food Network’s “Cooking With Martha.” Gracious living guru to all and prime suspect in a French lace doily of financial deceit. What will become of her?
Since the Imclone insider trading scandal broke, Martha’s Omnimedia stock has plummeted, resulting in a net loss of $235 million to Our Lady of Perpetual Perfection. Sure, when you’ve got so many cookies in your jar, you can afford to have a few crumble, but Martha’s business relies on her
spotless reputation-if this keeps up, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Martha withdrew to her sewing room to whip herself up a chic lycra jumpsuit with a flowing jadeite green cape, along with a recipe for revenge.
Of course, like all master criminals, Martha’s decent into villainy must have been a gradual one. Layer by layer, like a tiered wedding day masterpiece, building her corporation. First, write a cookbook or two. Second, systematically infiltrate all media outlets. Then, create name awareness so powerful that it actually changed her name into an adjective, (as in, “Nice duvet cover, Very Martha.”) Convince America that we couldn’t even make our beds until she showed us how. Yes, total control was almost in her grasp.
And then, it was suddenly snatched away. People began to gripe about how inhumanly perfect she is. How the beautiful pictures she presents us with each month make us feel inferior. How she inflated prices at garage sales by declaring them “quaint.” Suddenly K-Mart goes bankrupt. And now this Imclone disgrace is chipping away at her, forcing her to decoupage a smile on her face for the camera. Even sugar has a boi
ling point, folks, and what’s left behind is a hard, glassy, splintering mouthful that will hurt you if you’re not careful.
A lot of the accoutrements are already in place. Martha has her supervillian mode of transportation. A helicopter. Celebrities usually buy jet planes, like John Travolta. Martha’s choice of aircraft implies that the fewer eyewitnesses that are onboard, the better. I can see her now, thwock-thwock-thwocking over the congressional investigators, crop dusting them with purple clouds of lavender aromatherapy mist.
Martha: “You’re getting sleepy, Greenspan! Don’t fight it! It’s a gooooood thing. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!”
No need for henchmen. Having already lived in fear of Martha for as long as they’ve known her, her underlings are a standing army of experts ready to create carnivorous flower arrangements, blinding color swatches and heart-stopping cream sauces.
At this writing, Martha has taken leave of her CBS “Morning Show” duties, to avoid confrontation and chooses instead to tape video messages from her lair in Connecticut.
Watch the skies, Gotham.
Next page: Scrutiny by Omaur Bliss
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