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Audrey's Valentine's Day

Audrey in her jeans, and Tutor in his priest pants are sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of her bedroom in The Castle making hearts from red construction paper. Audrey is signing in magic marker with a big A and XXXX for kisses. She has cards now for Big Momma, of course, Tutor, Rex, and Cook. Tutor says to make one for Cook’s cat, Zephyr, but Rex hates that haughty cat. So a discussion ensues on ethical theory. A compromise is reached with Tutor adding T and XXX to Zephyr’s card. Master Jack, Big Momma’s Most Trusted Advisor, is another matter. There will be no card for him this year. Last year, when Audrey presented him with a big red Valentine with lace and a ribbon on it, he took it, then, drew back in horror. He exclaimed, “I cannot possibly, as your Fiduciary, accept a Valentine, much less one, apparently, with kisses. It would be a violation of my moral code as Mentor to Heirs. It would violate both the terms of my ADV II, and also my E and O policy. How is it that I have even touched this vile card? I must destroy it immediately! Let us agree, Audrey,” he added, ripping the card in fragments, “that there was no card and we never had this conversation.” When Tutor suggests maybe giving Master Jack a second chance, Audrey says, “F him!” Tutor has his work cut out for him as the Morals Tutor to the World’s Wealthiest Kid.

The Good Prevails on Halloween at the Castle

Some killjoy servants to wealth, who got no candy on Halloween, and didn’t give out any either, private messaged me to ask if Audrey got honored for giving back what she had pillaged from the downtrodden waitstaff.

Honestly, she did and she deserves it, too. Yes, she extorted the candy at sword-point, but it was all in fun, and she could have kept all the candy. Instead, she gave it all back, giving the most to those who need it most. The waitstaff hoisted her onto the big trestle table in the servants’ kitchen, and raised a hearty cheer for our once and future Queen. She is back to Joan of Arc, The People’s Queen to Be.

Is this not our ideal outcome? If we are to be ruled by buccaneers and their heirs, wouldn’t it be best that they be generous with their ample gains? Not all will be. But Audrey is. We must work diligently to help Big Momma bankrupt, buy out, or roll up, all Contenders and Pretenders. Rally, all ye Wealth Advisors for the greater good! One World, one Market under God, one Heir! Let us just make sure the heir who prevails in the war of all against all is a good kid, our Audrey, who at this moment has tied Cook’s Siamese cat, Zephyr, in a pillowcase and put her into the washing machine on spin cycle. But that is another story, and The Happy Tutor will treat it as another teachable moment. Audrey isn’t perfect; in fact she is a hellion, but she is the best available option. Surely, we can all agree on that much. 

Opportunity Cost of an Oxbridge Arts Degree?

Per The Economist, the lifetime opportunity cost of an Oxbridge arts degree, as opposed to an Oxbridge Econ degree, is 500,000 pounds Sterling. In The Happy Tutor's case, he computes his own forgone earnings since the Renaissance at well over 2 b pounds Sterling. Yes, that is offset by the great intangible value of the wisdom literature with which his Dumpster is well provisioned. As Morals Tutor to the world's wealthiest, he computes that the money he has lost is offset, in the larger view of things, by the value to the body politic of the wisdom that he has passed on to Kings and Queens, Senators and Fine Ladies, Builders of Empires, Presidents and their Heirs, and most recently our once and future Queen, Audrey, she who will inherit a controlling interest in the World's Stock and Trade. "When money is the measure of all," says Tutor, "Wisdom goes for a bargain  price." The Holy, like Tutor, take vows of poverty, which helps when working with the wealthy who pay only for Results. As for chastity in Wealth Bondage that too comes at a price. No moral judgement here. Wait! Wisdom is free for a moment. May I get you towel? 

Hermes at the Crossroads

Controlled violence patrols the perimeter of the walled city, protecting hearth and altar, and protecting the trade routes. Among the merchants and thieves goes a god in disguise, asking all, "What is wealth?" He is Hermes the trickster, god of the crossroads and boundaries of life and death, of physicians and quacks, healers and poisoners, intercessor for conmen, poets, and false prophets. He asks his mark what wealth is as a setup. He then offers a potion to perfect it. Swallow. A big bolus. Open wide!

Family Systems in the Castle

Tutor has noticed what other's have not. What puzzles Master Jack, makes perfect sense to Tutor. In all the market turbulence, Big Momma, with collars and straddles, and options, increased her share of the world's wealth from 51% to 72%, bankrupting several undeserving billionaires. Yet, her pace was slow, her face drawn, even the music from her flute, as she paused to watch the waves, was sad. Reason? Her beloved, Audrey, she who will one day rule us all, was depressed. "The Polar Bears are dying." She had seen a picture. Big Momma will own and rule the world. But only Audrey can save it. Tutor, a 2,000 year old child himself, will accompany her as she does. Civilizations rise and descend to barbarism. Species die out. Humans mutate into whatever comes next. But always there will be a Queen, and when she no longer needs a Tutor, he can always play her Fool. Of course, he can also double as hangman. "Innocence must be protected," say he, turning the wheel of his rack, on which a miscreant is torn asunder. If only Tutor did not enjoy it so much. But in truth we all have issues. And you can't blame a moralist for loving his job.

Saving Polar Bear Families, too

When Audrey and her Tutor have serious work to do, in owning and saving the world, they retreat to her enormous wooden toybox, and sit facing each other soles pressed to soles, peddling as they ruminate. Audrey’s coverlet is pulled over the top of the crate, making a canopy. Master Jack and his protege, Master Bliffil,  are on other business bound. They may be talking to Momma about Family Systems.  Trust Protectors. Mentors. Black Sheep. Heirs, in general, and Audrey in particular, as Asset or Liability on the Family Balance Sheet. Who knows what all. Our business is different. “Did you know polar bears are falling through the ice, Tutor?,” Audrey asks. “How can we save them?”

Planning Holiday Festivities in the Castle

Yet ideas can be true, although men die:
For we have seen a myriad faces
Ecstatic from one lie.

            Auden, "Sonnets from China"

Among Master Jack's tribe there is a proverb, oft told, to justify Premium Services from Trusted Advisors, "Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations." Tutor has seen that cycle among upstart families, in the financial centers, and now Silicon Valley, how they rise and fall, from obscurity to wealth to folly to obscurity, or worse, and some have hired him, as Tess has, to provide a patina of culture, a touch of class, to the barbaric heirs. But that beating that proverb has not been the focus of his personal brand or business model. He follows Aristotle's theory of the polis. First democracy, then the rise of the nobles and autocrats at war with one another, then the demagogue or warrior king. The people turned against one another, while their pockets are picked, or turned against a common enemy. Then consolidated power, in king, queen, emperor, or figure like Tess who already owns a controlling interest in the world's assets, then revolution. Then over again, like shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves, but on a national or planetary scale. How to beat that proverb? Tutor is Old School and has an obvious answer. When the Leader or Owner rises above the law, when her power is the law, when she can point at the sea and say it is calm when it rages, and all agree; when she can point to night, and call it day, and all put on sunglasses, what matters is the Leader's character.  

Tutor sewed the diamonds into the vest of youngest heir of the Tsar, and protected her from that first fusillade in the death pit into which she and her family had been cast. It was he who taught geometry and ethics to the Princes in the Tower, and gave them last rites, as they slept on the night before the emissary of the new king, strangled them in their beds. It was Tutor who counselled restraint to the adolescent King Charles the Second, and taught stoicism to the young Sun King, or tried. For us, however, for our time, for our body politic, there is hope. In Audrey Tutor has found a Once and Future Queen who will rule, like Elizabeth in Shakespeare's time, virtuous and just, warlike and kind, magnificent, and beloved of nobles, tradespeople, soldiers, bankers, and shopkeepers of all sects. First among savage equals, he is a Trusted Advisor of Last Resort. Committed to wisdom and virtue, as are all the best Trusted Advisors, he and he alone is an ordained monk. He alone has taken vows of chastity, poverty, and silence, keeping one of the three for now over one thousand years. His ignoble peers, most rooted in law, banking, or family counselling, serve families to preserve them. They call that their "fiduciary standard," and deem that their "noble trade." Tutor serves the best families to preserve God's Will on Earth. 

Teachable moments for she who will rule us all: Holidays in the Castle. Pursuant to his Learning Objectives (the inculcation of wisdom and virtue) Tutor and Audrey will cook and serve a superb meal in the Great Hall to the servants and cooks, and to Seal Team Seven. Not Momma, and not Master Jack. They will neither serve nor be served, but for one meal serve themselves, as if they were middle class, who must open a can of tuna and chop celery unaided. Our future queen and her faithful Tutor will slave in the kitchen, all Christmas morning, and by 2 pm the help will roister in the hall, calling for seconds, and demanding service, drunk on wine and power, however temporary. But what will be on the menu? Tutor suggests a whole steer, roasted on a spit, or whole pig with an apple in its mouth, or peacocks or swans with feathers intact. But that would mean butchering an animal, a thought repugnant to Audrey. Tutor suggests lobsters boiled alive. And that is rejected out of hand as totally cruel. How could he even think like that? Even Rex the Rescue Dog whines at the thought.  So, they have settled on hamburgers and hotdogs. (Logic? Have I not already explained that facts are malleable to power? Stow your logic. Smile. You want a hamburger? Or would you rather starve amidst plenty?)

 

Audrey's Family History in a Leather Binding Stamped in Gold Courtesy of Wealth Bondage Private Client Services

Audrey is flipping to D in the index of her Family History, provided, with gilt pages, by Master Jack, as a Value Add from the Private Bank of Wealth Bondage. “Where is Dad?” Awkward silences. She throws the book at Master Jack, Momma’s Most Trusted Advisor, and takes to her bed, eyes open and unseeing. Body rigid. Will not eat. Will not talk. Rex licks her face, but gets no reaction. Who can blame her? What use is a Family History if it leaves out the parts we really need to know? Doctors come and go, recommending strong drugs, or forced feeding, intravenous life support.  Ultimately it is Tutor who called in to help. His is a mixed reputation. Preferred Clients are uneasy with his delight in taking Penitential Scenes too far, but he is good with children. They consider him a defective child to be patronized. Which is how he sees himself.

So, lanky Tutor in Hawaiian shirt and faded black priest pants, kneels by Audrey’s bedside, letting his breathing synch to hers. “Are you westing in you Westinghouse, you little wascal?” No smile from her, but as a cartoon scholar she is processing the allusion. “Sad wabbit! Your big ears are all flopped down!” Tutor points in heartfelt consternation. “They are all folded over!”

Her hands clap to her ears. “No they are not!”

Tutor hops heavily off, hands making big upstanding bunny ears. Audrey leaps from the bed. “That is not how bunnies hop!” And it is true, she bounces and bounds much more like a real bunny. He has to admit defeat, as she crows in victory.

The little moments that matter most don’t get into the history books, but history turns on them. The world will be saved by a wascally wabbit, or not at all. The next time you work for a billionaire family, even in the most humble capacity, mowing a lawn, driving or repairing a car, teaching high school or prep school English, providing investment advice or a full body massage, watering plants, providing wisdom, facilitating the sorting of values-cards, creating a family mission statement, writing a family constitution, conducting an offsite family meeting, or just following orders conveyed down the line through your immediate superior, remember that you may be the difference between saving that Dynasty, and having it fall into tawdriness, opportunism, and chaos like the rest of the world. 

A Morals Tutor fit for a King

Lounging naked in my Dumpster of Broken Dreams today, at the intersection of Wealth and Bondage, reading the most recent issue of Family Office Magazine, looking at the babes in bikinis on the yachts, I was pleased to note on page 48, an article, A World of Educational Possibilities, highlighting the benefits of an Itinerant Tutor, hopping around the globe with the kid, and parents. Things may be looking up for me and The Happy Tutor. He has his hands full with Audrey, but if your kid needs a Morals Tutor, or your wife does, or you yourself need a Morals tune-up, or a better grounding in the Humanities, have your Most Trusted Advisor knock on my Dumpster Wall. I am not doing much of anything at the moment, and my probation officer says I am now free to travel. Will work for tips.

Audrey's Mysterious Aunt

This much is as clear as a New Yorker cartoon. The scene is Manhattan, 8:30 am, Madison and 32cnd. The Mysterious Aunt to the left, Tutor to the right, Audrey age 6, in a skirt, which she only agreed to wear because she is allowed to wear her blue jeans underneath, and in one of those chest harnesses with a leash that kids have in NYC. Traffic is piling up, horns are blaring, taxi cab drivers are gesticulating. Why? Because Audrey, like a husky in her harness, has powered her way, against the light, into the intersection. Her left hand is raised in a commanding gesture, to signal stop. Aunt and Tutor are pulled along behind her. The caption reads, “I’m Audrey!” Which should be sufficient explanation for any NYC cabbie.

As for the Aunt herself, I am pretty sure she works near this intersection. Maybe a compliance attorney for New York Life, Met, Axa (in the old Equitable Building) or in a nearby law firm. I have a sense that she is involved in Advanced Markets, Estate Planning, Private Family Services, Family Governance, or the like. She is educated but not a philosopher. She may not have read Laplace, Leibnitz, or any other theodicy. She has not read Virgil's paean to Augustus. She has not read Pope’s "Essay on Man," but she has heard of Candide, having read it in high school. Still, she has a confused sense that virtue, wisdom, wealth, power, and spirituality, and maybe good taste and good sense, go together somehow. She feels that the richest, being the most wise and virtuous, the strongest and most noble, form a natural hierarchy, with the richest and most virtuous subordinating, dominating, buying out and ultimately bankrupting the lesser nobility, until all wealth and all wisdom and all virtue culminate in one person. That person's heir, if properly mentored, will rule us all; and all will be well with the world, and all things in it, as long as the dynastic chain remains unbroken. “I’m Audrey!”