Philanthropy in Vogue at Hudson Institute

As a guest of the Hudson Institute's Bradley Center for Philanthropy and Civil Society here, at the Cosmos Club, is where I had supper tonight. This place is so posh that the black man checking coats by the wall of honor with photos of members like Kissinger and Archibald McLeish refused my tip.  I had a lot of fun discussing philanthropy with the distinguished guests, most of them associated with foundations or academia.  Tomorrow a case study I wrote will be enacted. I get to play the role of a good-hearted but naive tree-hugging liberal named, Sarah. I was hoping to get the part of her Neocon brother, a funder of conservative think tanks, and all around finagler. The villain always gets the best lines.  Albert Ruesga will attend; I hope he does not get me laughing.  I will be sure to work in "Root Causes" because otherwise Bill Schambra may not pay my airfare.  I met a few Root Causes tonight, but, actually, in person they are quite charming. 

Comments

[archy]

darth vader is narrating the video. creepy.

[You Know My Name]

Phil, Bill and Al close The Cosmo Club.

[Gerry]

To be considered for membership in the Cosmos Club, an individual must be a person of "distinction, character and sociability" who ...

I hope Dumpster Dwellers aren't automatically excluded. Oh well, I'll never get in anyway, maybe they will let me park the cars, and while the hot shots are hobnobbing we can party out back. Tutor, come on out back, the real party is starting. Grab a bottle of the good stuff. Why should we have only the Bird when all that fine quality hooch is wasted on the upwardly mobile hicks that pass for socialites these days.

[Gerry]

YNMN, too bad you didn't get video.

[Albert]

Just for the record, I was not invited, which, I feel, was a great snub. I had pressed my jeans in anticipation. Even went online and bought a share of Exxon. I can talk posh just like the rest of them.

Phil gets to sit at the head of the because when the pack starts closing in on him he throws out some question like, "What is the frame?" Dust in their eyes. What is what frame, they're all thinking, too embarrassed to ask. Meanwhile he sits there like some goddamned enigma, ready to follow up with a quote from Seneca.

[Gerry]

Albert, you are more than welcome to commiserate around the dumpster with us. You can give us your imitation of Phil, no doubt to uproarious laughter. If only Tutor could overpower Phil and join us as well, but I just can't quite imagine him putting on the cap and bells in public. He may be ready for that at some point, but probably not until he is enjoying his active retirement.

[Albert]

Thanks, Gerry. I assume Lear's fool got a few laughs from the parody of the toothless scullery maid as she waved her knife and shouted, "I'll keep my coxcombths mythelf! I'll keep my coxcombths mythelf!"

Even though I was barred from the Cosmos Club, I was able to sneak into Phil's talk at Hudson by crouching behind the UPS man. I fear we might have lost our rabbi. Imagine the lingering effect of an evening of stimulating conversation with people educated at the best schools; the infinite languor marshaled by those used to deciding the fate of the world over a snifter of the finest brandy. Then follow that with two hours of civil discourse on the public good or some such thing. (I couldn't follow the whole of it. There was a book plug by some fellow named Wooster; another speaker described the latest advances in donor MRIs.)

What a fall it must be to return to your old dumpster after engaging in the finest conversation that money can buy.

[Enzo Meatrium]

Why can't black people accept tips? Thirty years after Martin Loofah King?? The world really IS inside out!

[phil]

Tips are demeaning. They suggest the appearance of inequality. I do not accept them myself even from my best morals tutorial clients. Welfare is even worse, of course. Ir corrupts people. Better to earn your money in the coat room, or in your cubicle. The CEO, Candidia, goes by her first name. We are all Americans.