A more evolved species than me

This morning Hastrobal and I went for a wander down the shaded back paths of Hampsteadistan. Our conversation took a few turns before arriving at Pushkin's famous letter to Chaadayev. I delved into the subject, which I, of course, feel so passionate about. As I proudly recounted the poet's view that Russia had protected Western civilization from those primitive Tatars, I noticed Exree kniting his brow. He pensively raised one of his ten fingers to his chin.

"Well, great father of mine," he said, "I hadn't been made aware of your Western leanings while I was but a wombat in the great dark waters of the mother ship. You must know that you are on the wrong side of the issue."

I brought the buggy to a standstill and bent over to speak to the wee sage.

"But, you mustn't be a Slavophile." I implored. "I hold great left-leaning hopes for your future, for the world's future."

Little Throckmorton relaxed his brow. "Come now, father." He stroked my hand. "The world has changed greatly since the 1830s, and along with it this debate."

I gasped.

"I know," he continued, "It is a timeless debate. But you must recognize that the world has evolved."

I took a knee.

"Yes, my great shuttlecock selling father," the little Studebake stared deep into my eyes. "It is true. Just look at the two of us."

I did so.

"Just as Russia in the 21st century has evolved from Aleksandr Sergeyevich's time, I, your heir, have evolved from yours."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, father, simply put, I am a more evolved species than you."

He is right, the little Achilles. This creature I'm pushing about in a buggy is more evolved than me. I am but a finned, gilled, cold-blooded fish, squirming limbless in the great ancient waters compared to this fine-tuned masterpiece of evolutionary (and I dare say, Slavophilic) progress.

Oh, what would Pushkin and Chaadayev have to say about this?

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)