Two men are lounging in the virtual drawing room of The Post. The year is 2018

“Isn’t that petty?!” Adam asks while looking in a silver plated pocket mirror which opens up like a locket.

“Who?  You or Christine?” Karl, a stocky old man with a bushy beard asks, “I don’t think she has felt pretty for a long time. The adjectives used on facebook are more bombastic than that, as a matter of fact.”

  “Why, I said petty, not pretty! Although she has the most adorable hairdo, I would ask her where she gets her wig done if I wasn’t so shy.”Adam smiles sweetly as he adjusts his wig, “What I mean to say is that the poor girl had to point out gaffes these countries are making one after another, it’s not her fault they failed. “

“I disagree, the bankers are screwing up once again, it’s almost like they are doing it deliberately like they have a stake in this collective failure” Karl says, “These bail-outs are convenient and big money for them you know. In lack of any real direction to give people, don’t you think this silver-fox should just shut up about it?”

Adam frowns, “Hell no, I don’t think so. I’m all for compassion, but her job is to clear up the mess; she can’t do that by tiptoeing around anybody who acts hurt, can she?”

“Well, for somebody whose positions imply that she probably never experienced any suffering full-stop- she has put both her feet in her mouth, ankle deep, once again.”  Karl rolled his fiery eyes, and looks at Adam suspiciously. “Why are you defending this Lagarde woman?”

Adam blushed and says, “I’m not. I just said I like her wig.”

“Short from shutting up, you shouldn’t take any sides;” Karl looks worried, “Sam is already getting enough comments.  We don’t want this whirlwind of indignation to blow thousands of hate-mails our way. What ends up on his plate, will be served on ours.”

“Lord almighty, don’t be silly now, my dear boy. We are cloned to be objective observers, to give our honest opinions no matter what will be served on whose plates, but trust me, nothing will be served on ours.”  Adam says confidently, “Your Manifesto of Compassion couldn’t have been better timed.”

“You really think so?” Karl asks, “Don’t you know that optimism is the first mistake of the intellect?”

 “Why are you so nervous?” Adam turns his entire body to face Karl, “This is so unlike you. Where did your oomph go, your bravado?”

 “Do you know what it’s like to carry the guilt of a gaffe like the one I made last time? My god, what a gaffe that was.”   Karl confesses, “The trauma of my last manifesto is lingering in my mind and I just can’t face another one…“

“Oh poor boy, don’t you worry now,” Adam closes the mirror and put his pale thin hand on Karl’s gigantic knee, “We fixed it and you are now going to prove that both you and I both had a point rather than being totally right.”

“Pardon me for being so long-winded and going over it again, but the notion of Compassion has been explored, for better or for worse.” Karl looks tortured as he pulls away slightly and crosses his legs, “Gandhi, Martin L.King, Ayn, and Milton all had their say about compassion and the world is divided by an abyss as far apart as heaven and hell. The most passionate advocates of compassion must have been Gandhi and Martin and famous as they were, you know how miserably Gandhi was towards the end of his life which he considered as a failure and how disillusioned King was about their ‘non-violent’ stance, don’t you? And they were both assassinated.”

Adam takes his monocle off, “We’re virtual immortals, young man. We have nothing to worry about, ” He declares, “And please note that compassion’s most passionate advocate is I, Adam Smith, who wrote ‘The Theory of Moral Sentiments.”

“Bottom line is that people are not as kind or good as most of us imagine us to be, I’m sorry to say.” Karl shakes his said, and peered over his bifocals, “I wish it wasn’t true, but most of us can be nasty sons of bitches, who will exploit everything around them for their own gain. That’s how I failed last time and I’m not too comfortable about this notion of ‘Compassionism’ you are talking about.”

 “People have been coaxed to be heartless in the name of Capitalism, even Christine,” Adam sighs, “And she mentioned me by name on her facebook page, but if any of them understood me, they would have tried to be more compassionate, but it’s fine, Karl. We’ll set it right with your new manifesto.“

    “What makes you think they will listen this time?” Karl broods while burying his huge head in his large hands.

 Adam shrugs, “Who else would stick out their necks apart from us, two old fools, or even talk to them nicely? I shouldn’t think that is, because only the two of us are this way inclined, do you?”

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