A bomb in a parachute: how to keep dreaming on the road to destruction.

The Parachute Sinclair Dumontais, translated by Patricia Claxton Key Porter 138 pages, softcover ISBN 1552637344

[Editor's Note: A book written pseudonymously by a Quebec writer has arrived in our offices. It purports to be a monologue, delivered by a brilliant, cynical and successful marketing consultant who has been persuaded to leave his Greek island to address the board and management of a major multinational shoe-manufacturing concern.

The shoe company's problem? Like every other globalized company based in North America, it has managed to shrink its workforce by outsourcing everything overseas, which means that it has now hollowed out the middle class that used to buy its products.

Mr. Dumontais's solution? Sell the newly impoverished population cheap illusions they can afford instead of quality products they can't. In the shoe world, this means providing customers with a sturdy wearable sole for free and then thousands of silly "shoe-tops" to choose from at $3.75 apiece.

But why stop there? Other things in our society are too expensive now as well, things such as quality health care and education. Who better to provide illusions of health and education than private companies that are already in the business of selling illusions?

The book's title, The Parachute, neatly symbolizes what Mr. Dumontais thinks these corporations can provide to the world: we are all in a burning airplane hurtling toward the ground, and illusions are the parachute we need to make our approaching destruction as painless and carefree as possible.

We invited the LRC's resident marketing consultant, David Dunne, into the boardroom to reply to Mr. Dumontais's proposals.]

The scene: the boardroom of Athena Shoe Company Inc. Around the large mahogany table are seated several board members, all wearing dark suits and white shirts. The sole female board member is seated close to the door.

Are you sitting comfortably? And you, Mr. Dumontais, do I have your attention? Yes, thank you, a glass of water would be most welcome. Mr. President, shall I begin? I don't think I will need the laptop and projector after all, but will speak from my notes.

It is a delight to stand before you, but I must admit to feeling a little intimidated. After all, Mr. Dumontais, you gave such a convincing, and witty, presentation that there seems little left to be said.

Mr. Dumontais, let me just recap so I am sure we all understand your argument. The world is an aeroplane on fire. You are proposing that Athena Shoe Company provide it with a "parachute" in the form of disposable shoes, and thereby dominate the shoe market and, ultimately, the world. Yes, I know I've left a few things out, but I only have a few minutes to speak. I have to catch a plane myself and I hope my (non-disposable) shoes will get me there on time.

Perhaps you were inspired by the "shoe bomber" Richard Reid, who tried to blow up a plane by lighting his shoes. After all, you are proposing that Athena Shoe Company market its shoes as a political statement: protestors--pot-bangers, as you cutely call them--could use them as a way of protesting against consumption, a piece of anti-consumption consumption, if you will. But unlike Richard Reid's shoes, the "parachute" brings consumers a delicious feeling of ecstasy as they slowly approach their inevitable end.

Fiendishly clever, Mr. Dumontais. And if I had spent the last three months on a Greek island I might have been fiendishly clever too. But alas, my consulting fees are not as high as yours and the best I could do is take the family to Disney World for a few days.

But while I was in Disney World, I had a few ideas of my own. The world we live in is not so different from Disney World, after all. It is a world of illusion, in which the dream of a better reality trumps reality itself. Who wants to live with the reality of environmental destruction, religious extremism, corporate domination? Jiminy Cricket has it right. Believe in your dreams. They will never desert you.

Yes, dreams are the foundation of our economy. When you dream, when you believe, you can change the world. That's why Apple tells us to "think different." It's why IKEA sells us a dream of a beautiful home filled with disposable furniture, and when we dispose of it, sells it to us again. It's how Swatch turned watches into a fashion statement, again a disposable one that can be sold back to us time after time.

But Mr. Dumontais, this is supposed to be our professional secret. If we let it out, who knows what people will do? If the dream dies, people might stop buying our client's products, our client will stop paying us, and so much for Greek islands or trips to Disney World. Do you really want to publish a book about this?

Madam, you may leave the room if you wish. I know that there is a shoe sale at the store down the street. But please bear with me if you can. I won't take up much more of your precious time.

Mr. Dumontais, before you pack your briefcase, I want to congratulate you. Your book is clever, witty and compelling. It is cheeky and pointed. And, frighteningly, not as far from reality as even you might think. Marketing theorists these days talk openly of "hijacking" brands by co-opting consumers into becoming brand advocates, of identifying and infiltrating "tribes" of consumers, of "tormenting" consumers by deliberately holding back supplies.

Yet I have to admit that The Parachute, while clever and cheeky, is depressing. The world is going down and our only salvation is ... disposable shoes? People are so gullible that they will buy these shoes, and our client will quickly dominate the market and the world? The only salvation for health and education is to turn them over to companies such as that of our client? I don't doubt any of it.

And that is what is so depressing, Mr. Dumontais. Before long I am agreeing with you that Hitler was not so crazy, that power belongs to the greater will, that I should invest in arms dealers. It all makes me want to jump off the nearest bridge.

And there's the rub. The nearest bridge to me now has a "suicide barrier" so I am not free to jump off it. (I wonder which corporation sponsored the barrier?) I am trapped in this burning plane. The only choice left to me is to continue to exist, and continue to consume. And make companies like the Athena Shoe Company richer. And, of course, make consultants like you and me richer in the process. I may not be able to commit suicide, but perhaps one day I will be able to afford that holiday on a Greek island.

Yes, Madam, thank you for your attention. I know you have to get to that sale. But if you will permit me, I must ask you to leave the book behind. For those of us in this room, members of the elite with the education, wealth and imagination to understand The Parachute, it is compelling reading. But the rest of the world, the undereducated, hopeless masses, are interested in dreams, not nightmares. This book is packed with ideas that are as dangerous as Richard Reid's shoes. It is an explosive device, not a parachute.

David Dunne teaches marketing and advertising at the Joseph L. Rotman School of Management at the University of Toronto and consults to global marketers of packaged goods and pharmaceuticals. He lives in Toronto and hopes to visit Greece one day.