The Dance of Diplomatic Decadence: A Tale of Modern Mediocrity

In the towering reaches of Manhattan, where the masses scurry like ants beneath glass and steel monuments to their own vanity, a peculiar drama unfolds that perfectly exemplifies the decadence of our age. The story of Consul General Tom Clark and his $9 million diplomatic dwelling serves as a mirror to the spiritual poverty of our times.

Behold how they scramble to justify their luxuries! These modern men, these last ones, who say "we have invented happiness" while dwelling in their golden cages. They blink and nod, speaking of "accessibility" and "diplomatic functions" - such noble-sounding pretexts for their pursuit of comfort!

The tale begins, as all tales of modern mediocrity must, with denials and bureaucratic genuflections. Tom Clark, Canada's representative in New York, stands before the parliamentary committee, a perfect specimen of what our age produces - men who speak in careful whispers, who claim to have "no role whatsoever" in the very decisions that benefit them.

In the land of the sleepers, where the masses drift through their days in a comfortable stupor, few question why a diplomatic residence must cost $9 million. They accept, with bovine placidity, the explanations of "accessibility standards" and "infrastructure concerns." Such is the nature of the modern herd - they measure progress in marble countertops and smoke gray oak floors.

See how they justify their excesses! They speak of savings over the "life of the property" while their countrymen struggle with the basic cost of existence. These are the symptoms of a civilization in decline, where the shepherds feast while the flock grows thin.

The bureaucratic machinery grinds on, producing documents and emails that contradict one another like so many competing truths. Global Affairs Canada, that great temple of modern mediocrity, viewing 21 properties before selecting their perfect shrine to diplomatic comfort. How fitting that they chose the 11th floor of 111 West 57th Street - numbers that mean nothing, signifying nothing except the arbitrary nature of their choices.

The Conservative MPs, playing their assigned role in this theater of the absurd, cry out about "media buddies" and demand resignations. Yet they too are part of the same system, the same comfortable world where truth becomes whatever is most convenient to believe.

Look upon these guardians of public virtue! They rage against luxury while ensconced in their own comfortable certainties. They demand truth while dealing in insinuations. These too are the last men, who believe that pointing fingers constitutes moral courage.

The most revealing aspect of this saga is not the price tag, nor the denials, nor even the bureaucratic ballet that accompanies it. It is the underlying assumption that diplomatic function requires such luxury, that Canada's interests can only be properly served from the heights of a multi-million dollar perch above Manhattan.

In this land of the sleepers, the old residence at 550 Park Avenue - itself a symbol of diplomatic excess - is deemed insufficient for modern needs. Its infrastructure, we are told, nears "the end of its lifespan." How perfectly this mirrors our age, where nothing is maintained, nothing preserved, where the solution to any problem is to discard and replace with something more expensive.

They speak of saving $7.4 million over the life of the property! As if value could be measured in such terms, as if the spirit of a nation could be calculated in dollars and cents. These are the calculations of merchants, not of those who would lead humanity to greater heights.

And what of the masses, those who must bear the cost of these diplomatic indulgences? They sleep on, content in their belief that such matters are beyond their understanding or concern. They accept the assurances of their betters that all is being done for their benefit, that these expenses are necessary for the proper functioning of their state.

Let this tale stand as testament to our age - an age where men speak of duty while seeking comfort, of service while pursuing luxury, of truth while dealing in carefully crafted denials. In the gleaming heights of West 57th Street, behind custom smoke gray oak floors and within spaces deemed suitable for "representational activities," the last men will continue their comfortable decline, believing themselves to be at the pinnacle of human achievement.

This is how a great nation dims its light - not with the clash of arms or the roar of revolution, but with the soft rustle of bureaucratic papers and the gentle click of crystal glasses in perfectly appointed diplomatic residences.