The Monseigneur
May 17, 2011
– Comments (13)
"Monseigneur, one of the great lords in power at the Court, held his fortnightly reception in his grand hotel in Paris. Monseigneur was in his inner room, his sanctuary of sanctuaries, the Holiest of Holiests to the crowd of worshippers in the suite of rooms without. Monseigneur was about to take his chocolate. Monseigneur could swallow a great many things with ease, and was by some few sullen minds supposed to be rather rapidly swallowing France; but, his morning's chocolate could not so much as get into the throat of Monseigneur, without the aid of four strong men besides the Cook.
Yes. It took four men, all four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and the Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches), poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to dispense with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high place under the admiring Heavans. Deep would have been the blot upon his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three men; he must have died of two."
A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
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Whenever I am told that our problems would be solved with just a little more regulation (which can't ever be quantified, even by those who think you should quantify everything) or just a little more government control (how much exactly is never spoken), I like to think if the Monseigneur.
The Monseigneur was caught with his pants down (pun intended) the other day. He wanted some Afternoon Delight but perhaps she did not. As the head of the IMF, our hero knows a thing or two about involuntary exchange. He's been taking his whole life - taking from you - whether you wanted it or not.
There are many Monseigneurs in modern government. This is not an isolated case. This is standard operating procedure. They tell the academics what will be in the textbooks. They guide the money to research projects. They pick winners and losers in the market. They have an army of intellectual prostituters - men like Paul Krugman and Phil Jones - lined up to provide justifications for their sick desires.
Involuntary exchange is their game. But the Monseigneur needs something else to keep eating his chocolate.
He needs suckers - the guy at the poker table that doesn't know he's getting outfoxed. The Monseigneur needs people to think that life would be worse without his fat, incompetent, bloated existence. He needs you.
David in Qatar
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