Just trying to come up with titles for a biography of Conrad Black, Lord Lightfingers of Piddle Puddle. Wait, how about, "Black, the Dotage Years" or "Conrad Black, You All Look So Small From Way Up Here" or "Conrad Black, I'm Still a Baron.That Must Count for Something"? How bout "Black, These Boots Were Made for Licking, This Butt Was Made for Kissing"?
What I admire most about Conrad is that he did nothing wrong. Why, he says as much himself. I'm sure Barbara does too and now even Donald Trump, Exalted Pharaoh of the United States of America vouchsafes Conrad's innocence. How else can you explain that except to conclude that Conrad did nothing wrong?
You see, here's where the confusion lies. If you or I or any of our fellow "lessers" had done that, well then we would be justifiably and inarguably guilty as charged, guilty of fraud and obstruction of justice. And we wouldn't be getting any four or six years for it either. No siree, our butts would be in the slammer for a long, long time. But isn't that really our problem, not theirs? We know it's wrong but that doesn't mean they have to.
Crimes do not cross class lines naturally. Here's a perfect example. If a pleb deprives another pleb of that person's lawful property, it's theft or worse and only jail will do. He knows he's committing a crime. It's a criminal act. When the privileged do it, it's business, a way of life. It's almost a public service to keep the wheels of wealth turning. It is them, our betters, honouring a tradition that predates even Runnymede and Magna Carta. The distinction is lost on us but it's practically a way of life to higher order people such as Conrad and his benefactor, the Moist Regal Sultan of the United States. They know things so that we don't have to. Noblesse oblige.
Let us not forget Conrad's service as a champion of prison reform. He reminds us that prison is no place for the privileged, those of high birth. The low are not familiar with such things as pedicure and silk boxers so they can't experience the depths of despair endured by their genetic betters. The unwashed never had private chefs or waterfront estates or so many other accoutrements that the privileged must forego in the Greybar Hotel.
Try to show just a little compassion when Conrad says he won't answer criticism of his pardon because it's "not worthy of response." Conrad has spoken and I believe that settles it.
And let's be mindful, politely mindful, of Conrad's age. Perhaps we ought to be grateful if he doesn't put up too much of a fuss at bath time. And let's celebrate a lifetime of service even if it has been spent mainly feathering his own nest and inflating his delicate ego.
Now, all in favour of imploring the Marquis to accept a reinstatement of his Canadian citizenship, please raise your hands. A show of hands. Anybody? The gentleman in the blue shirt, third row from the back. I thought I saw your hand. No? Oh, alright. Damn!
7 comments:
How about calling a book on Lord Tubby, "Just Another Trust Fund Brat With A Big Mouth?"
mr perfect
Sorry, I should have titled it, "Just Another Trust Fund Brat/Felon With A Big Mouth."
mr perfect
" I inherited millions from my daddy and blew it. Donnie did too so he pardoned me ". How's that ?
Poor, Conrad. His life as been one injustice after another -- since the day he got kicked out of UCC.
Is there something new here? When did rich kids decide that they could add to their jollies through public displays of a type of mutual fellatio that we would presume was traditionally performed in private? Is there a greater message here that the boys want to ensure we get by rubbing it in so shamelessly? I think so.
I recall attending dinner at a fancy restaurant as part of a party that included, among others of my betters, the drunken son of a national brand who in the course of conversation proudly entertained the rest of us with tales of his infantile profligacy. When, at the end of our enjoyment, this fucker stiffed us with the cheque, an up-and-comer in attendance, this one a fellow slug, patiently explained to me something that he felt I didn’t understand: “These guys are in a different world, and the last thing that would happen in that world would be that they should care for a minute what lesser beings think of them.” Self-respect based on the expectations of others is for losers.
I got Junior back real good later. That’s another story.
I think what most of us do not understand is that few people would take the time out of their prison day to lecture disbelieving soft criminals on how Napoleon could have easily won The Battle of Waterloo if he had just followed Conrad's plan. But Lord Black of Crossharbour raised the intellectual level of the petty criminals with whom he was incarcerated in minimum security discomfort out of pure intellectual altruism. I ask you: how many people would have done that?
He had already lectured the British aristocrats on their own history for their enjoyment and education, while running the Daily Telegraph, the paper of note for enlightened autocrats worldwide who had perhaps not been quite so sure of their superiority until the Gentle Lord assured them that the other bipedal creatures they interfaced with each day were a mere intermittent step between chimps and true humans like he and they.
Dear Babs organized garden parties for Conrad to greet upper class Brits, where she acted as Spencer's Faerie Queene in both costume, grace and excessive application of rouge. Nevertheless, it must be reported that the average Duke who met Conrad considered him a mere colonial prat in the Beaverbrook mould of a confounded gritty newspaper businessman too big for his britches by far, a notion he constantly tried to disabuse them of. He had finally met his match, wallowing in the 'you're a silly little twit' disdain from even more superior mortals who knew innately how to dress properly for dinner, and brushed aside his book larnin' as inconsequential.
Having ditched his Canadian citizenship as a snub to his fellow citizens in order to become an aristocrat in Blighty, then caught on camera removing incriminating papers from work back at Canadian HQ as the suers closed in on his charade, Black snarled back at American justice for convicting him. Following appeals that dropped several charges, he still stoically held up through three years of mac and cheese with ketchup, grits 'n gravy appetizers and KFC Tuesdays in a Florida jail, writing letters to everynastyman harper, Prime Minister of Vacuous Land from whence he had sprung. Mr Kenney, Immigration Minister and well known pudgy Alberta MP drawing double expenses for officially living in two places at once, let his public servants work out how Conrad could be accepted back in Canada for a year following his prison release, when he was in fact a Brit. The subsequent years had Conrad take up the full time hectoring of his former fellow citizens while his official citizenship status remained unknown and Babs wept in grief at the injustice of it all.
Luckily, by buttering up a well-known US businessman of no intellect whatsoever, Conrad's master plan prevailed as Donald J Trump reacted to the charm offensive of a man who in fact reviled him as a gutter rat, and granted the World's Leading military historian a full pardon for his felony. Victory at last! Too bad he then discovered by a short perusal of the UK press that the Brits don't want him back. Canada will therefore no doubt continued to be showered with his intellectual diatribes for some time to come. Maybe we'll all learn things like those Floridian convicts did, and realize that some humans tower over the rest of we pimply unintelligent mortals, and be thankful for the trenchant advice, so unsparingly given for the good of us all.
BM
You have brilliantly captured the moment, BM. I am in awe and extremely grateful for your considerable effort. Many, many thanks.
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