No matter what beliefs you hold towards the kind of towering figures created by late-stage capitalism; or the piddly, outdated tomes that contain ‘consumer-and-labor-protection-laws’, one has to admit that WonderWorld — the pinnacle achievement of Walter Wonder — is quite impressive.
Or a monstrosity, if you‘re one of those bleeding hearts.
Walter, or Dr. Wonder, pondered these comments at the plate glass window of his eleventh coastal home, swirling a glass of brandy that was more expensive than some apartments in his hand.
Could it all be true? Could he be some sort of affluenza-afflicted monster, playing god with the unwashed masses?
No, he concluded. It was his critics who were wrong.
With this in mind, he enlisted his (ostensibly) loyal manservant, Chauncey to man a Meconstructive booth and sculpt his middle-aged form into an unrecognizable form, one that could hide a microscopic camera with ease, to capture footage that proved that things weren’t that bad, to prove that all was truly, Wonderful™.
(The out-of-touch coot hadn’t heard of Undercover Boss.)
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