Mar 042003
Ordinary people have houses or apartments. Perhaps, in time, you acquire a summer house, or move up to a mansion, even an estate. But why do only far-flung criminal enterprises, like the Corleones or the Kennedys, have a compound?
Ordinary people have houses or apartments. Perhaps, in time, you acquire a summer house, or move up to a mansion, even an estate. But why do only far-flung criminal enterprises, like the Corleones or the Kennedys, have a compound?
Surely any decent compound must include the following: kennels for blood-crazed Alsatian guard dogs; ample accommodation and leisure facilities for Neanderthal-jawed henchmen (pool table essential); swimming-pool well-filled with bikini-clad cuties within easy reach of personal cocktail bar; helipad for visits from cigar-chomping Mr Big for suitcase-full-of-money-style deals; on-site lab for boffin who ensures compounds security with the latest in hi-tech devices (electric eye and voice-activated gate, walkie-talkies for perimeter-patroling heavies- woah, cutting edge!); huge garage/workshop with a decent supply of motor spares where you can lock up the A Team and from which, much to your surprise, they will emerge forty-five minutes later, guns blazing, in a fully-equipped self-built Armoured Personnel Carrier.
Naturally. I note only that the billiard cloth can never be green. Black or tan only. I learned that from MTV Cribs.
Jonestown was called a compound, too. It’s an interesting usage which I’ve never pondered before.
You don’t live in a "compound" until
a) you profess to like guns;
b) a federal agency surrounds your house or cabin looking for publicity;
and
c) the media decide to make you seem more sinister.
Then your house, or cabin, becomes a compound.
It also helps if your wife is gunned down while brandishing a dangerous assault baby.
(Yipe, I’m a mite bit cynical today!)
Ian has it exactly right
Ian does have a point. I was thinking of aspiring to a compound (after I get a job), but now I’m not so sure.
Supervillains usually go one better than a compound and get a whole island of their own, complete with private army and subservient peasantry, e.g. Kananga in Live and Let Die. Or Fidel Castro, come to think of it.
That’s exactly it. Thugs: compound. Supervillains: lair.
There’s a gaming company called Cheap-Assed Games that makes, well, cheap-assed games. They usually have cheap paper components and cost $3 or $4. One of their games is called "Before I Kill You, Mr. Bond." You are an evil supervillain; spies come into your lair and you get points for killing them.
But not many. To get a lot of points, you must taunt them. Your hand is full of "taunt" cards such as:
Before I kill you, Mr. Bond, would you like to sign a declaration of your incompetence using your ordinary-looking fountain pen?
For each Taunt there is a matching Escape, so taunting carries the risk that you will not score any points at all.
I’ll shut up now.