My friend and mentor, The Happy Tutor, Dungeon Master to the Stars in Wealth Bondage, and Moral Mentor to Ruling Families, is out and around doing Confidential Client Work, involving his new 9.6 year old charge, Audrey. (You may remember her from the newspapers a few months ago, for the Annie Oakley Incident, which caused international alarm. She had gone to the Halloween Ball at her Private School as Annie Oakley, with a long buffalo rifle she had borrowed from the Queen Mother's Gun Case in the Trophy Room. Audrey shot out the lights in the gym by mistake, is now on the Terror Watch list, cannot leave the Castle except with a tracking bracelet, and requires home schooling, since no school in the world will take her. It is a long story, involving almost every Trusted Advisor in the Registry of Trusted Advisors, all of whom got shut down by Ms. Audrey, but that is why Tutor ultimately got involved as the last resort of a desperate UHNWI mother. He is good with the worst of the worst clients, the hardest cases in Flourishing Families. Whatever they have done, he has done worse. Acting out? Even Audrey cannot keep up with him, and so he earned her Trust, along with the vigilant suspicion of her mother, who is good person, with a gift for making money, who loves Audrey dearly, and only wishes she were less of a menace to herself and others.)
Audrey is sole heir apparent to a fortune that is rapidly approaching 51% of the world's wealth, a controlling interest in the planet. The prophecy at her nativity, spoken by the squint-eyed Scottish nursemaid attending Audrey's mother in the Old Castle, is that Audrey will save the world in the nick of time. I would like to believe that, and do believe it. If Audrey inherits, owns, and rules the world, there will be hope for us all, the rich and the poor, the just and the unjust alike, as Tutor, in his role as her surrogate Dad-for-Hire, and Morals Tutor, and favorite Clown, is reinforcing all her worst habits: idealism, a concern for the poor, a sense of silly fun, insubordination to properly constituted authority, a love of animals, disdain for hypocrisy, and distrust of Stupid Grownups, generally. But - and here I do need help from readers who may have experience in Family Governance for Governing Families - how can we prevent Audrey's mother, The Warrior Queen of Wall Street, and her Most Trusted Advisor - the Villain of our Piece - I dare not mention his name, since he could make or break me or you as Advisors to Wealth, but we call him the Godfather, though he prefers to think of himself merely as Consigliere, Secular Priest, and Regent, from arranging it so Audrey has only a Beneficial Interest in the All the World's Wealth? How can she inherit, rule and save the world, if it is all owned on her behalf inside a Dynastic Trust, whose corporate Trustee forevermore is The Private Bank of Wealth Bondage?
Sad to say, one of my peers here, a well built blond from the Wealth and Wisdom Scene Room, who, in one of those togas exposing her left breast, generally plays Goddess Athena in the Pageant in which a young wealth holder is cast as Telemachus, and the Senior Corporate Trustee of The Private Bank of Wealth Bondage is installed in the role of Mentor, his brows encircled with ivy, has already been dispatched to teach Audrey her first lessons in The Art of Being a Good Trust Beneficiary. It starts with age appropriate training on being a good girl who is seen, not heard. Good girls do as told. Good girls say please and thank you. Good girls take lessons on right and wrong from The Wise and Virtuous consultants in Wealth Bondage who know what is best for little girls. Good girls do not eat with their fingers, or flip the bird when chastised for bad manners. Good girls do not read in bed after lights out with a flashlight under the covers. Good girls do not sneak down into the kitchen at 3 am to make blueberry pancakes, with butter and maple syrup, when it is not good for their diet, or for their teeth, and they have already been warned. Good girls do not pretend to be rabbits bouncing around the bedroom during nap-time. Good girls do not show their bum out the squad car window when taken away after shooting the lights out in the School Gym, by mistake.
I cannot imagine how all this will end well for Mistress Athena, my esteemed colleague, Audrey, or Tutor. I can just see The Goddess trying to get Audrey to wear a nice party dress, white hose, and patent leather shoes. Athena would do better if she could get The Happy Tutor to wear any clothes at all, other than that rolled up towel around his crotch, like (as Tutor points out) Jesus on the Cross. The only time he dresses respectably, in a worn black cassock, with scholar's hood, is to take confessions or give communion, or preach the sermon, or collect the offering in the Castle's Chapel, and only then as a sign of respect for his calling as a real priest, with a divinity degree from Oxford, circa 1500, where he roomed his senior year with Rabelais and Erasmus, carousing and whoring with the one, and fasting and praying with the other, until he got mixed up, from loss of sleep, and got sent down for a semester for whoring and feasting during Lent and fasting and praying during Carnival. All in all, though, he has done more in Mentoring the Heirs of Dynastic Wealth than all the great pretenders in our noble trade ever since. Only Falstaff, of the old crew, did more. Not that Tutor, or I, or Falstaff ever got any meaningful reward. Our goal, which has nothing to do with self advancement, has been to Save The World, starting at the top, because nearer to God, one Multi-Billionaire Dynastic Family at a Time. To keep the World's Wealthiest Families in Power for 100 years or more is its own Reward. As long as Audrey inherits outright, upon coming of age, a controlling interest in the world's wealth, and she has a free and liberal hand, then the world will be saved, and even ordinary people will not get any further exploited, just because they don't see it coming, or know the difference. Someday, God willing, all of us will cheer, "The Queen of Wall Street is Dead; Long Live Queen Audrey, friend of all including those who go in rags."