Lex Luthor. Darth Vader. Dr Evil. Galactus. All of them evil super geniuses bent on galactic domination. And let’s add one more name to this list: Simon Cowell. The difference isn’t merely that Lex Luthor is in a comic book and Cowell is on TV but that, where all those other famous evil-doers failed, Cowell succeeded. He has achieved global domination on a scale that eluded Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan. There seems to be no Luke Skywalker, Austin Powers or Megan Fox able to thwart his evil schemes.

If the devil’s greatest trick was convincing people he doesn’t exist, most people don’t realize the true scope of Cowell’s reach. They see him as that smug guy on American Idol, wearing the white V-neck T-shirts that accentuate his man-boobs, saying witty things such as, ‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d rather get a golden shower from Herve Villechaize than listen to you sing another song.’ But that is just the tip of the Cowell iceberg.

Cowell is an empire unto himself. Don’t believe me? He’s not just a panelist on American Idol (for which he is reportedly paid US$36 million per year), he owns SyCo records, the company that releases the albums by American Idol and X Factor winners. I think one of the reasons he’s always so critical of the contestants is that he knows he’s going to have to promote and sell records by the winners.

But aside from American Idol, he’s also the creator and producer of X Factor, a show that started in the UK but now has local versions in 20 different countries, including Saudi Arabia and Kazakhstan, and he owns a piece of all of those. And he’s the creator and producer of Got Talent (eg America’s Got Talent, India’s Got Talent, etc), which has at least 25 different versions around the world, and he gets a chunk from each of those. And then there’s American Inventor, Celebrity Duets, Grease is the Word and other reality game-show nightmares. And aside from his TV successes, as a music industry executive we have him to blame for Westlife and Il Divo.

The funny thing is, as much as I hate almost all of the music he’s involved with, I love his public persona. He’s the only judge on American Idol I find myself agreeing with 99% of the time. I suppose that’s not hard, given the other judges on the panel, most of whom have far more dubious qualifications for the job. The over-medicated Paula Abdul hasn’t had a hit record in 18 years and is often desperately in need of someone to translate her critiques into English. Randy Jackson’s biggest claim to fame is that he was the bass player in Journey for almost two years, while his vocabulary seems to be limited to the likes of, ‘I don’t know, dawg, that was a little pitchy for me,’ and ‘Yo! Check it out, dawg!’ New judge Kara DioGuardi has written hit singles for musical titans such as Nick Lachey and Ashlee Simpson; she seems like someone who’d be more at home as a contestant on the show rather than as a judge.

Still, the show is what it is. It’s not American Rock Star; the next Bruce Springsteen is not going to be discovered here. It’s about finding someone who looks presentable, can sing somewhat on key (though with Autotune, that’s increasingly irrelevant) and can be packaged for the masses. They’re not looking for the next Lou Reed, they’re looking for the next Lady Gaga. Cowell seems to have realized that the traditional method of finding new stars – scouring dozens of clubs, listening to hundreds of demos, hopefully selecting the right one and then spending millions in marketing dollars to create a star – is extinct. American Idol and X Factor allow him to get paid millions to let the public think it’s choosing the star and then when the album finally comes out, the anticipation is enough to push the record to No 1. It’s so brilliant, it must be evil.

And now, just when you think his influence couldn’t get any more pervasive than it already is, Simon Cowell has once again stepped in the proverbial shit and come up with Susan Boyle. You don’t know who Susan Boyle is? Then you’re the only one on the planet. The video clip of her appearance on Britain’s Got Talent has, as of this writing, been viewed on YouTube more than 100,000,000 (100 million) times – and that’s in just two weeks.

And let’s face it; it’s a great story, if it’s true. A 47-year-old unemployed self-proclaimed virgin comes on TV, overweight, no make-up, bushy eyebrows like a Schnauzer, stumbling over her words, and then singing a big ballad not only on key but with feeling. The song was I Dreamed a Dream, from the musical version of Les Miserables. Regardless of how you feel about the song, it was an incredibly wise choice, a song about the hopes of youth being crushed by life. ‘They tear your hope apart and they turn your dream to shame.’ Maudlin, perhaps, but at least it wasn’t that song from Titanic or Remember You’re a Womble.

Since then, via satellite, she’s been making the rounds of every chat show in the world. Cowell has already said there will not only be a record (which of course he will distribute), but maybe a movie as well. Of course, we’ve already seen a Susan Boyle backlash. Accusations that the producers set the whole thing up, tongues wagging about lip syncing; it all just seems too good to be true. And naturally there’s now a backlash to the backlash because, well, that’s how internet forums and chat rooms work.

As a native New Yorker, I like to think that I’m the most cynical fellow who ever walked the earth. I’d like to believe that she’s not quite the naïf she’s been positioned as, that we’re going to find out that she spent her youth in the chorus of West End musicals or apprenticed at La Scala. It would justify my belief that everything is fixed and everything is broken.

But for once, I hope I’m wrong. Because it’s a great story and one that speaks to all of us – of living our lives toiling away in a corner, unappreciated, talents buried away, hoping against hope that someone someday will see us for who we really are, that we will get our 15 minutes in the spotlight. And I can attest to the fact that no matter how old you get, that dream never really goes away. My birthday’s coming up in 10 days and I’m going to be far older than I’d care to admit. My company has informed me that my services will no longer be required at the end of the year and the job market isn’t exactly bursting with opportunities at the moment. And despite it all, I still believe that my own Susan Boyle Moment could still be out there. But great story or not, I ain’t gonna buy her record.