Of Prizes and Politics

I had been watching television (never a good thing; the word is half Latin, half Greek) and then discussing certain aspects of politics with my friend and lover, the Compte de Rienville. In America, the whole political arena appeared to be filled with wolves.

"You mean, as in Kipling, in The Jungle Books?" said the Compte.

"Not even. Those wolves had an ethos. Akela, Raksha, Grey Brother, they all followed a moral code, and straying from that code was ill advised. Listen:

'For this is the law of the wolf pack,
As old and as true as the sky;
Those that do keep it will prosper,
But those that do break it will die.'"

The Compte said, "Sounds pretty harsh to me."

"Only if the code is broken. Now, in many places in the world, the code itself has been shattered. Look at America. Poor Obama-Akela is at his wits end trying to corral that Bandar Log known as Congress. As for Russia, well, there we are dealing with Putin-Shere Khan. And in Zimbabwe --"

"Enough, Simone. Your point is made."

I shut up, and curled up closer. We were in a suite the Compte had obtained at the Georges Cinq in Paris, courtesy of one of his D.G.S.E. contacts. Wonderful set of rooms, delicious food and drink, and that edible dress I had purchased from Sebastian in New York had really proved its worth. As the Compte had remarked, it was not often that two primal urges, to eat and make love, could be satisfied at the same time. Or, if you were very skilled, simultaneously. And the Compte was very skilled.

What had brought me to France was the fact that my Ukrainian sugar beet holding had won first prize for producing better sugar beets than anyone else. Thus, Strunsky Enterprises was the proud recipient of the Golden Sugar Beet award, a beautiful trophy featuring a healthy sugar beet balanced somehow on top of a pyramid. The ceremony was held at Versailles, for a French concern had won a subsidiary prize, for most attractive sugar beet. (Are we surprised?)

I had chartered an aircraft, and brought all the workers down from Lviv for the event. I mean, it was their award, and their work, that was being rewarded. Yes, I take my 10 per cent, for providing the original finance, but the rest belongs to them. Would that certain bankers and financiers -- but I digress.

My Ukrainian supervisor, Bohdan, accepted the award, and spoke well and graciously on behalf of the workers. It was all good.

So maybe things will turn around in this wolf-like world we live in, and a code of ethics see the light again. Not for nothing had Lord Baden-Powell turned to Kipling when seeking a moral underpinning for his Boy Scout movement. In this regard, Tom Lehrer's somewhat scabrous words flashed into my mind, and I leave you with them:

"Be prepared! That's the boy scout's marching song;
Be prepared as through life you march along.
Don't solicit for your sister, that's not nice,
(Unless you get a good percentage of her price)
Be prepared, to hide that deck of cigarettes,
Don't take book, if you cannot cover bets,
And if you're looking for adventure, of a new and different kind,
And you meet a little girl scout who's similarly inclined,
Don't be nervous, don't be flustered, don't be scared --
Be prepared!