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The Style Best Suited to Subaltern Advisors Writing on Governance of Flourishing Familes of Wealth

To say that for a priest, Tutor is a bit macho, in a 1540's kind of way, is putting it mildly. His true calling was Dungeon Master to the Stars in Wealth Bondage; the priest gig was just because in his day, under primogeniture, the career choices for a younger son were not many. The army, the church, or the law. The priests were the biggest drunkards, gluttons, and whoremongers at Oxford so he went with them for his Masters of Divinity. In our times, he would have been an attorney.

Today, I was talking to him about prose style, the style of our Noble Trade, as Wisdom Consultants to the World's Wealthiest. I was asking him what he thought the right style should be for writing about dynastic families and to help them flourish, from our position as spiritual guides and trusted underlings. I asked if it seemed to him that the prevailing style was more masculine than not, even from the pens of the women. "You mean the virile plain-style?, Phil?," he asked. "Yes," I said. "You mean the prose of the honest man?" "Yes, I said. "You mean the prose that descends to us from insiders in the courts of Emperors and kings, like Horace, Seneca, and Dryden?" "Yes," I said. "You mean the prose of the Courtiers to Louis The Sun King, as it descends from...." "Well, yes, Tutor," I said. "You mean the prose of the coffee house, the prose of the earliest English magazines, like those of Dr. Johnson, Addison, and Steele?" "Yes, Tutor," I said. "And all these highly educated, highly professional women write it. Even when writing about family, and surely that is when we ought to be speaking female. And if they did we could all learn from them." "You mean," said Tutor, "that these females you mention, who do family governance and dynamics, write the prose of Strunk and White, at best the urbane prose of those New Yorker Talk of the Town pieces that E.B. White did, in imitation of Horace, the occasional essay?" "Yes," I said. "The best women in the field sometimes say that the field is male dominated, but they have internalized those very conventions, and don't need to be dominated, because they now quite handily dominate themselves in favor of dynastic, hegemonic, mostly patriarchal power and its prose." "Well," said Tutor, "domination is certainly an interesting topic. Which females do you have in mind?" But we were interrupted.

Audrey hobbled over to Tutor, like a pintsized miscreant in foot manacles. The shoelaces of her faded red Keds, were tied together. "Audrey," said Tutor, "what are you doing, kid?" Says Audrey, "I tied my shoelaces for fun, and now they are all  knotted up and I can't get them apart!" At that she almost toppled over. Tutor picked her up and put her on his lap, working the knots with his deft fingers until they loosened.

Now, Audrey has called Rex her "mascot," and is doing her cheerleader routine for some World Class team in her own imagination. The crowd is roaring. The best of her moves is the cartwheel, from one end of her room to the other.

Now, where were we?

Questions to Ask Before Engaging a Wealth and Wisdom Consultant for your Flourishing Dynastic Family

We in Wealth Bondage know you have many choices today for Wealth and Wisdom Consulting and for passing on family values and for insuring that your family remains dynastic for 100 years or more. We recognize that we are not the only "Trusted Advisors" who have read Virgil, Chaucer, Dante, Freud, or dipped into the Bible. But we would like to suggest that before engaging any of our competitors you ask these simple qualifying questions. Our answers are provided for your reference.

Q: Have you taken a vow of poverty?

A: The Happy Tutor has, Phil has remained broke all is professional life without the benefit of vows. 

Q: Have you taken (and observed) a vow of chastity? 

A: The Happy Tutor took that vow and acknowledges an improvement opportunity in this area; Phil took no such vow, but reports long term success in keeping it

Q: Do you hold a Divinity Degree?

A: Tutor: from Oxford, 1551; Phil: no.

Q: If yes, have you been defrocked?

A: Tutor: technically, no. 

Q: As to Wisdom, can you keep a straight face?

A: Tutor: yes. Phil: yes. Our clients find us hilarious. Two straight men, with no need of a comic. 

Q: But how can you keep a straight face?

A: Tutor: to master others I must master myself; Phil: we wouldn't be funny if we didn't

 Q: As to Virtues of Flourishing Families, do you mean filthy rich families only?

A: Tutor: yes. Phil: yes. This is a wisdom-and-wealth-industry-wide best practice. 

Q: As to a Flourishing Family of Wealth in a Flourishing Society of the Non-Wealthy, where do you find support for your position?

A: Tutor: in Rome, Greece, Moscow, London, New York, Rio, wherever dynasties have flourished at the expense of the people. Phil: in the Gospels properly understood while reading them standing on my head. 

Q: If you two clowns are so wise and virtuous why aren't you rich and famous?

A: Tutor: as a monk, took vows of poverty and humility. Phil: I will be soon; I am dating one of my best clients, rich, dumb, old, and ugly. No living heirs. My intentions are honorable. 

 

Solemn and Silly on the World Stage as Seen from Audrey's Family Room

Audrey scowls spread-eagled on the couch in the family room watching the news. Beside her is lanky Tutor. Ivanka?, Tutor can see Audrey thinking, if she inherits the world, what about Audrey, who has been promised as much by Momma? Tutor reassures her, "Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations is a proverb in all nations. Ivanka is Gen-2, the one that coasts, and her kids, if she has any, will be those who squander the family riches, moral, spiritual, political, financial. That rise and fall of dynastic families is what leaves room open for new growth, as when in a forest a mighty silver beech falls, and opens a space for, say, an oak to replace it." Audrey knows from his portentous tone that Tutor is pretending to be Solemn, his own straightman. Ivanka has her Wise counselors, Audrey," says Tutor, "but you have me." "But you are just a Silly Grownup!" says Audrey. "My point, exactly!," smiles Tutor. "You have a Silly Grownup. Who do you think coaches Ivanka?" To which Audrey and Tutor chant in unison, their faces red, ever so loud it brings Momma running in exasperation, "Stupid Grownups!"  

Tutor's mood is darker of late

Tutor is hiding in Audrey's big toy box, what he calls her Dumpster, drinking again into the wee hours, and regressing to the surly moralist he once was, under emperors and kings and queens long gone.  I only hope he does not cast a pall over Audrey, she who will inherit and rule our world, if it continues past the dynastic family now in charge. Even our future queen deserves a few years to grow as a rose grows in a well tended garden, to flourish as herself. "Come on, Tutor," she says, sensing his despair. "When I get sad, I do somersaults, really fast." And so, he trundles up and down her room, following her high rpm rolls with his slower more majestic ones. Now, exhausted, he is lying arms outstretched like the crucified Christ, as Audrey jumps up and down on his chest. But he is smiling. This Private Morals Tutoring of a nine year old, even for short money, is still his ideal job. Spanking The Wealth Creators, while they shrieked in delight, certainly had its moments, as Dungeon Master to the Stars in Wealth Bondage (Ah, the tales he could tell of important people you might know from the news!), but G-2, before the hormones hit, are more fun. If only every parent could afford a full time Moral Mentor for a kid, the world would be a better place.

The Business Model (Skipping Rope)

Audrey has tied one end of the rope to her doorknob. Tutor is holding the other end, and twirling the rope, as Audrey skips and chants to the slap of the rope on the stone floor. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Turn around. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Touch the ground. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Show your shoe. Teddy bear, teddy bear, That will do. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Go upstairs. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Say your prayers. Teddy bear, teddy bear, Turn out the light. Teddy bear, teddy bear.... Who taught her the song? Not Tutor, he recognizes it somehow from ages past, but never taught her. Maybe Cook's daughter? From my own perspective as a Wise Man and Gift Counselor, who achieved lifelong poverty without having to take the vow first, and chastity, too, unfortunately, I wonder what is the business model for that song and my work? The things we do for love, maybe that is the answer. Wealth Bondage: The Things We Do for Love. Maybe I should get a philanthropic planning job in a Private Bank. But at my age prostitution is a pro bono activity, too. Maybe like Tutor I can become a babysitter and moral mentor to some rich kid. His rap sheet is longer than mine.

How the World Ends and Why

All of Tutor’s tutorials directed to Audrey are pointedly unheard. Yet the fate of the world is determined not by a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil but by whatever a Morals Consultant may once have said to 9.5 year old Ivanka. A missile strike in Syria, the world’s largest bomb in Afghanistan, nuclear war with Korea, Russia, or China, perhaps the End Times, pivot on the aphorisms of Pubilius Syrus, a freed slave, read to a child playing jacks as her rescue dog runs off with the red ball.

It Takes A Wisdom Consultant to Raise a Child of Wealth

In Africa, maybe, and in the wrong circles in the US, it may "take a village to raise a child," but among my clients and Tutor's all it takes is a budget. You as a Dynast today work with advisors at $1,000 an hour to prepare the money for the heirs; isn't it worth twice that to prepare the heirs for the money? That was a trick question. You know damn well that an attorney, or professor, or trust officer, or wealth manager, or therapist billing by the hour at an outrageous rate for "wisdom" is not the kind of sanctimonious hypocrite any self respecting parent would want messing with the mind of a child. What you need - forgive me if it seems self-serving of me - is a Genuine Morals Tutor like me who has lived all his life in poverty (without even needing to take a vow of poverty), or one like my own mentor, The Happy Tutor, who can provide moral counsel to a minor, at babysitter wages, and  discipline OTK to the parents, at no extra charge, pro bono publico.

I ask you, the non-rich among us, if paid morals tutors to Dynastic Families are doing such a great job in inculcating morals, why is this country, all the but rich part, going to hell? If the morals being taught to Dynasts at my competitors' shops were real morals, you would see a flood of civic virtue and philanthropy that would rain down like justice by the trillions. You would see tax rates on the rich rise, and estate tax doubled. You would see minimum wages at $15 an hour. Instead, what do you see among Dynasts? Every day in news. In the Cabinet, even higher in The Family Enterprise, inclusive of our Country? My fellow Wisdom Advisors have much to reproach themselves for. They have treated Wisdom like their Bitch, another product to sell.

If this rings true to you, and you are worth one billion or more, please contact me care of this blog,  so Tutor and I can begin to restore your virtue and wisdom to the original factory settings, and to protect your heirs from your family values, at a price that will not make a dent in your morals budget.  If you are beyond saving, beyond even the grace of God, please contact my competitors to expedite Your Journey (to Hell). You have much in common and will get along well.

Moral Maxims of Pubilius Syrus for The Instruction of Future Casino Owners Charged with The Public Trust

Tutor has a favorite Ancient, Pubilius Syrus, a slave from Syria, freed in Rome because of his gift for sententiae.  Tutor identifies with him because a) Syrus was a slave in the greatest empire in history and Tutor was a wage slave in Wealth Bondage the greatest corporatiorn in history, b) Syrus did moral maxims and Tutor has his tooterisms, c) Syrus got his start doing "mimes," as Tutor is best known for mimicking the Wise and Virtuous under the guise of a Fool and a Rogue, and mostly because c) all but tiny fragments of Syrus's works have been lost and Tutor (so he claims) is the author of a Work of Genius, now lost somewhere in his Dumpster under the old books and a sack of garbage. 

So, at this very moment, Tutor is lounging on Audrey's bed, in the Castle by the Sea, reading out aphorisms, to form the moral sensibility of she who will one day rule us all. 

Audrey is on the floor teaching herself to shoot dice, because - bright young lady that she is - she has noticed that owning a Casino is probably the best path to understanding the General Public, winning their votes, if votes are needed, and ruling them as they wish to be ruled, with Dreams, Folly, Cupidity, Lust, and Rage. 

Tutor to Audrey: "Depravity pretends to goodness, that it may be worse than before!"

Audrey ignoring Tutor, blowing on her dice: "Lady Luck don't fail me now!"

Tutor to Audrey, just doing his job: "The less Fortune has given, the less she can take away."

Audrey caught up in the game: "O Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Snake eyes!"

Tutor to Audrey: "Excessive indignation is sometimes evidence of a great crime."

Audrey hopeful again, with the energy of youth: "Sweet Jesus, make me a winner, please motherfucking Jesus!"

Tutor to Audrey: "In the art of praying, necessity is the best of teachers."

More rides on the patience of a Tutor, of Generations 2-4 in Dynastic Families than can ever be corrected by Congress, Nato, or The United Nations. At $14 a day plus room and board in the old Dungeon, Tutor is doing the work of God-in-History. I am not worthy to touch the ragged hem of his Hawaiian shirt. All I claim is that I am one of his lineage, his chief descendent, intellectually speaking, the founder of a peripatetic Dumpster Dwelling School, the Infallible Peter, the rock upon whom my Master  has founded his Church. To me and to me alone has he entrusted his Word. He gives it away, pro bono publico, like a sower of seed in the asphalt wilderness, as freely as a breeze through the trees, or the promptings of the holy spirit, but I own and have reserved all the rights! "It is," as Tutor wisely saith, "all Wealth Bondage after all." 

 

Charles Koch Foundation Funds Eudaimonia Institute and Why Not?

So, the Charles Koch Foundation has funded a $3.7 million Eudaimonia Institute at Wake Forest. For those Billionaire Clients in Wealth Bondage who do not read Greek, eudaimonia is Aristotle's word for a life well lived, for human flourishing, a good life in a just community. Aristotle was the Tutor (I hasten to point out) to Alexander, a prince in Macedonia, who went on to become Alexander The Great. Alexander is said to have carried Aristotle's work, including the Ethics, The Politics, and Poetics (on tragedy) as Alexander conquered the world. In Plutarch's Life of Alexander, Tutors don't come into it much, but Trusted Advisors do and so do Physicians. When Aristotle got good advice he did not like, from doctors and subordinates, he, in one case, speared the counselor, and in a second had him crucified. His doctors wondered if they would survive their treating him. Of course this is a parable about human flourishing under conditions of great power disparity, isn't it? Is it the kind of input Charles Koch wants from Jim Otteson, a professor of political economy at Wake Forest U who heads up the Eudaimonia Institute? I doubt it. I can only add that there is an unsubstantiated 2,000 year old rumor that Aristotle, Alexander's original Morals Tutor, got so fed up with his protégé's lust for power, conquest, glory and luxury, that he sent a packet of poison in a donkey's hoof, that was sprinkled by a Macedonian Patriot into the great man's cup, which may have been why Alexander died young. 

You could draw similar morals from Aristotle on Tragedy. To achieve happiness...  Do you know that story? How the city was sick and the cure was the conviction of the King himself for high crimes and misdemeanors, so that the King became the sacrifice, scapegoat, or pariah, the pharmakos, whose disgrace and suffering  saved the town? At the end of the cycle, Oedipus blinds himself, and wanders out of the city. "When I had eyes I could not see, now I am blind and can see. Call me happy." Happy meaning it is a happy ending, a just and fair ending, since with the sacrifice of the king, the city is healed of the plague the king's crimes caused. And happy too because the king finally sees what kind of person he really is. He is redeemed because in his self-abasement he affirms the moral order by which he has finally and appropriately been crushed.

When Wake Forest convenes the conference, as I hope they will, on Philanthropy and the Polis, I will go naked, carrying a pottery lamp, in search of the honest man, not that I will have been invited, and not that I am particularly honest. But that lamp in broad daylight is just another old joke, drawn from Diogenes, whose conversation about eudaimonia with Alexander the Great is legendary. This Dumpster at the intersection of Wealth and Bondage is my homage to that great man's (Diogenes's) barrel.  I even have a copy of The Ethics in here, if you want to thumb through it while I take a leak.

Tending our Garden (Raising Responsible Dynasts above the Law)

Audrey, our future Queen, heir to all that can be owned (and what can't be owned? Can you think of anything?) is sitting cross-legged bouncing a red rubber ball against the wall of her room in the Castle by the Sea, so Rex can get some exercise. The walls, hundreds of years old, are cut volcanic stone, and the physics of the bounce is perfect, with just enough unevenness in the stone to make the rebound unpredictable, and more fun for Rex, the scruffy Rescue Dog. He is leaping to see if he can catch the ball before it hits the ground. When he does, he gets patted. "Good boy, Rex!" Tutor is on her bed, stretched out, feet in flip-flops, ankles crossed, reading what Audrey would call "a hard book." The book is grubby from having been read so often.

"Whatcha reading, Tutor?"

He is reading The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy, by Martha Nussbaum.  Audrey is a grown up in the body of a nine year old. She likes hard books, as long as she does not have to read them. She likes being told what hard books say, so she can take it in and understand why grown-ups are so messed up. She heads for the bed, as if it were to be a bedtime story, and says, "So, what's it about, Tutor?"

Now, those of you with Degrees in Instructional Design, or maybe who are parents yourselves, know that this is what a Teacher calls a "Teachable moment," or "Learning Readiness." It is a good time to knock out a few "Learning Objectives" and "Competencies." As a Knave, Rogue, Dupe, or Fool yourself, that is to say a good consumer and citizen, what would you want the Heir to the Earth, she who will by law be above the law, who will rule you and your children, and her heirs your children's children, to know, feel, or be able to do? Good question, right? And here it all comes down to this disreputable, broken, Tutor in Priest pants, making what? $12 a day plus room and board and a safe place to hide from the FBI, NSA, NY Police, his former employer, an outstanding warrant for vagrancy, and several irate husbands. 

While well meaning Field Leaders in the Wealth Bondage Planning Business want to be a Trusted Advisor, or Consigliere, to the world's wealthiest families, and everyone knows that it is not about the numbers anymore, or the tax and tools, it is about Family Systems, and Family Dynamics, and preparing the heir for the money rather than just preparing the money for the heir, and while everyone wants to present themselves as a Mentor, and Paragon, and Role Model for the Heirs, and some quote Vergil to that effect, implying that they were sent by a goddess, Athena, goddess of wisdom, to impart priceless wisdom at $10,000  a day plus tax, and expenses, no one has the patience or the low self esteem, or the limited career options, to serve as a glorified babysitter for a stubborn kid in her formative years, as she bounces a red ball annoyingly against the wall of the Castle, while you are trying to read a hard book. So, it falls to Tutor, who lives for this, and has since Seneca suicided himself under Nero, for speaking truth out of turn, and Tutor took over as the Mentor to emperor's kids.

Dynasties, family enterprises (inclusive sometimes of entire countries), entire civilizations, religions, even languages, come and go, but always there are the Powers that Be, and always there are the little kids growing up to one day run the world. Tutor lives for the pleasure of playing with their heads, to help them be just and fair and kind and ruthless as we know our rulers must be, if they are to be above the law, by law, and do what is right not only for themselves, but for all of us, and all living things, too. Facts, laws, don't hold Power back. Power can decree Fact and double dare you to object. Law says what lawyers say it says, and judges, and they can be cultivated as Assets to those with the Wealth to do it. Happens all the time, and always has. So it comes back down to what the Owner/Leader wants and decides. That is why we have a "Decider" at the top. So things get done.

"Well, kid, it is about flowers and a garden."

"OK, what about flowers and a garden, Tutor?"

"Well, kid, it says that you are, we all are, like flowers in a garden."

"Ok, so?" She is really asking, her attention span is short, yes, but intense. She is focused. But easily bored, if truth is not forthcoming.

"You mind, heart, soul, how you are is a garden with a big wall around it, that Momma built, but the wind blows over the wall and in come seeds of weeds, and they grow in the garden, and they choke out the flowers inside."

"So, we have to weed it, right?" Smart, kid. She is always one step ahead. Catches the point, like Rex leaping for the red ball.

"Yes, we weed our gardens, and spade, and harrow, and tie the up delicate rose tendrils."

"Like when you tell me not to pick my nose and eat it?"

"Exactly! But you do anyway, right?"

"Because you told me not to."

Exactly!"

"Is that a weed?"

Tutor, puts the book down, and whispers in her ear, "Eating snot on purpose is a flower, kid. Keep it up!"

Audrey cuddles closer. She and Tutor are like two travelers on the bridge of time. She is a child who acts like a grownup, passing the grownup, traveling into a second childhood. They are at the balance point, where either has much to teach the other, true things, that stay true, even when the Supreme Courts agrees unanimously they are false, and the Pope concurs, and the Leader denounces the truth as fake. Even when fake stuff is against the law, and you pay for it with your life; fake includes art, which includes tragedy, and stays true.

"So, if we did pull out the weeds, we would have more flowers, right? Like my ballet? And Akido? I would get better and better?" Audrey leaps to the floor and begins her Akido kicks and chops.

"Exactly, kid. But the book is a true book and says more." Curious, Audrey climbs back on the bed.

"What?"

"It makes me so sad, I don't want to tell you. No one will ever tell us, except the artists. No one wants it to be true, and no one will say it is true anymore. We are not able to accept the truth, and so it takes us by surprise, and we are ashamed."

"What truth?"

"You may spend your whole life weeding the garden, tending the flowers, watering, pruning, and guess what?"

"Come on, tell me!"

"A worm will come in the night, or a storm will come, or drought, or hail, or a pestilence, and no matter what you have done the flowers will die."

"Inside me?" Audrey is pointing to her heart.

"Inside you, yes, inside you. You will become like a Real Grownup...."

"I love you Tutor." She puts arms around his neck and kisses his grizzled cheek.

"I love you, too, kid. You have to promise me you will never ever grow up. You will always be a kid, ok?"

"But I have to grow up, Tutor, I can't help it!" Audrey is waving her arms over her head.

"Well, maybe, but look at me. Did I ever grow up?"

Obviously not, but the moment has passed, and Audrey has vaulted onto the floor, and is now on all fours, pretending she is a dog, and barking to Rex to see if she knows dog language well enough to make him roll over. But he just sniffs her nose, which is a start.

As a free born citizen myself, I only wish that Tutor had gotten to World Leaders young enough to change them for the better. You talk about weeds! And when they get so big, who has the courage to pull them out by the roots? Not I. God bless Tutor and our once and Future Queen.