A few weeks ago, a few hundred filthy-rich people from around the world gathered in London for the inaugural Conference on Inclusive Capitalism, which billed itself as seeking to "to define concrete steps that all of modern capitalism's stakeholders can take to renew trust and deliver better social and economic outcomes for all."

Bleh. I shudder to think how much some think-tank-lackey got paid to write that gibberish. But I digress. Or do I? I guess we'll get there in a minute.

The conference brought together CEOs and bankers and professors and ex-presidents and other members of the global 1 percent, who sat in an 800-year-old manor and dined on sea creatures most of us have never heard of and drank cocktails made with the finest booze and bemoaned how terrible it was that capitalism had made them all so rich. Because, hey, if you're going to jet-set around the world to scowl at income inequality, I guess you might as well drive home the point through copious consumption of fois gras.

Irony has a face, and it has truffle sauce dribbling down its chin.

The purpose of the conference, in the words of Unilever CEO Paul Polman -- a man who makes $7.9 million per year running a company that hocks consumer goods to Europeans -- was "the capitalist threat to capitalism," according to press reports of the event. Luminaries such as Bill Clinton (net worth: $55 million), IMF Director Christine Lagarde (yearly salary: $550,000, tax free) and Bank of England Chair Mark Carney (who's annual housing allowance alone is $424,000) delivered speeches on how capitalism just isn't working anymore. Higher taxes, they postulated, would be a good start.

Gee, how original.

My favorite speaker from the conference, though, had to be Prince Charles. As an ultra-coddled monarch whose most difficult daily decision is how to split time among his 35 royal residences, the Prince of Wales undoubtedly has a prime seat from which to judge international tax policy -- scratch that; let's try world history.

"I remember when the Iron Curtain came down, there was a certain amount of shouting about the triumph of capitalism over communism," said the good prince during his keynote address. "Being somewhat contrary, I didn't think it was quite as simple as that."

Tell 'em, Chuck; communism just got a bad rap.

I never received my invitation to the conference, but gold-plated envelopes have a way of disappearing, so maybe it was just lost in the mail. I wish I had been invited, though, because in combing through the press reports of the conference's speeches, I couldn't find a single person who mentioned the super-secret loophole in capitalist doctrine that could have solved a lot of the attendees' problems.

If ever you find yourself troubled by the number of zeros in your bank account; if ever you grow tired of diving into a pool of gold coins à la Scrooge McDuck; if ever you discover capitalism has made you too rich, there's a quick and easy work-around to put your conscience at ease:

They let you give it all away, anytime you want.

That's right, anytime you feel guilty about your ability to turn your talents and work ethic into cold, hard cash, you can grab your checkbook and make it all go away. You can give your money to a charitable foundation and spread it around or you can give it to a bum on the street. Heck, even poor columnists could be a potential outlet for your guilt.

Granted, giving away all your money will mean fewer caviar-laced conferences and fewer trips to London. But at least you can sleep tight knowing that although you're no longer rich, the world-changing gears of capitalism were left intact, should ever you decide you'd like to work your way toward "inclusion" among the ludicrously wealthy once again.

NATE STRAUCH IS A REPORTER AND COLUMNIST WITH THE SHERMAN-DENISON (TX) HERALD DEMOCRAT.