THERE COMES a time in a man's life when he is forced to look back upon his achievements and assess what he has made of himself. Julius Caesar, it is said, was moved to tears when he contemplated a statue of a young Alexander and considered the accomplishments of his own first 20 years. My own first such moment came at age four, when the Kindergarten putsch I had engineered was suppressed by the gym teacher.

More recently I failed in a desperate bid to become the first ex-hippy to rule the Soviet Union, and it's really got me down. Life seems to be holding me back, keeping me away from my dream of dominating the lives of millions of other human beings. But I'm not giving up. No, not this man. I'm going all the way.

I've got a plan. Lately I've noticed that the big trend is toward trends. People are starting to realize that if a trend is recognized and publicized, it becomes de facto a more powerful trend. Positive feedback.

For example: say you've got a million little rag dolls you want to unload, but they've taken up permanent residence in the warehouse. A couple of people buy a few, and you've got a minitrend. You publicize your minitrend in the industry press, and more people start buying. Time magazine hears about it and puts in on the front cover, and bang, housewives are duking it out in the aisles to get your product. Net result: Cabbage Patch Dolls.

I'VE GOT a bigger goal: to warp Middle America's sense of reality in my favor. If I play my cards right, there will come the day that not a single human neuron from Bangor to San Diego will fire unless I say so. I already have a list of trends to manipulate:

Trend number one: The trend towards more expensive political campaigns. It has been estimated that in order to run for re-election to the U.S. Congress a senator or representative must work night and day to bring in $125,000 in campaign contributions every single month he is in office. As it is, then, the legislative body of the United States federal government is too busy grubbing change to pass laws.

THIS IS not necessarily a bad thing. If it is publicized that the average campaign chest is getting larger and larger, paranoid legislators will work even harder to keep the cash flowing in, and, overworked and exhausted, all the old legislators will die. Only one class of people rich enough to levy the funds necessary to run will be left: lottery winners. Thus elections will be completely democritized, since eligibility to public office will be decided by colored ping-pong balls in an air machine.

Trend number two: condoms. The day has passed when you could get a thrill by walking into a drug store full of old ladies and ask for a box of condoms. Now that "riding bareback" is as dangerous as wearing a Springsteen t-shirt in Lebanon, even the old ladies are clamoring for them. The fabric of the eighties is latex.

Of course, the marketing consultants are going wild. They have the rare opportunity to completely distort the public mindset. In the old days, condoms had rough, manly names, officially and on the street. Guys called them "safes," "johns," and "scumbags;" their trademarks implied conquest and domination: "Ramses" and "Trojans." Some of the later brands got a little wimpy. "Excita," one was called--a name as appropriate for a federal tax form as for a condom.

Lately, things have gotten completely out of hand. Now that more and more condoms are being targeted at women--well, you know what I mean--they are starting to turn up under brand-names like "Lifestyles." Apparently the manufacturers want women to think of condoms as chic new additions to their lives. Who knows what's next--maybe a special designer condom called "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous."

Here's how my plan works vis-a-vis condoms: every time somebody wants to have sex, they have to look at the brand name on their box of condoms. Since sex is, ideally, a pleasurable activity, the visual image of the brand name will be strongly reinforced in the user's mind.

Let's imagine, for example, a hypothetical condom with the words "Rutger Fury!" printed liberally all over the box, wrapper, and condom proper. Not only will sex become more pleasurable for the user with such an exciting message prominently displayed, but the consumer will form pleasurable associations with my name. After this I would only have to put my name on any other shoddy product to rake in dollars like so many dead leaves.

Of course, one question remains: what about children conceived via faulty Rutger Fury condoms? Will their parents be resentful?

Well, maybe. But it will give me a warm feeling to think that some day in the future, as some child looks upward at the stars and asks himself, "God, why am I here?", the answer will be an unknowable truth that only I will harbor: "Because of Fury, Kid."

Rutger Fury, formerly national political corespondent for the National Enquirer, is a friend of Jeffrey J. Wise.