Watch The Ego - Theirs And Yours!

Hello Peeps!  It's about that time again.

In this week's Bible portion, our heroes keep messing up again.

Joseph was, you guessed it, a favorite son.  The son that Israel/Jacob conceived with Rachel, his intended bride, blessed by Israel over the other 11, rockin' the multicolored toga.  So what does he do with his most-favored status?

He flaunts it, probably unintentionally, in his family's face.  He dreams about his brothers' sheaves bowing down to his, and then about the sun, moon, and 11 stars bowing before him . . . and then foolishly tells everyone!  So bad that his brothers dump him in a pit and lie to Israel, telling him that he was killed by a wild animal.  Say it ain't so, Joe.

So then he gets sold to a high-ranking Egyptian, and his wife decides to "flirt with the pool boy."  Of course, when it becomes his word against hers, her word counts, and he gets thrown in jail.

So, as luck would have it, his cell mates turn out to be Pharaoh's wine distiller and baker, both of whom have their own dreams.  So Joseph, having a knack for all this, interprets them to mean that the distiller will be restored to his former station, but that the baker will be executed.  And wouldn't you know, Captain Paumanok really does get his job back, while Poppin' Fresh gets popped.

(most people gloss over the innuendo in Judah's house in Chapter 38.  I don't blame them)

What makes people, such as Joseph, better than anyone else?  Could be a lot of things.  When people start talking about how super cool and snazzy jazzy they are, it's very easy to interpret this positive statement as something negative.  What, your (sweat) doesn't stink?  Think you're so much better than us?  What a narcissist!

Did he really mean it?  Maybe, maybe not.  Those two dreams made it pretty obvious that he expected his 11 brothers to acknowledge him as superior.  We don't know about the other brothers talking down to him before all these dreams happened, so maybe he wasn't trying to prove himself to them.  Maybe he naively thought that since his father treated him like he was special, that he wasn't causing trouble by acting special.  Maybe his father, who was also far from perfect, could have 'splained him that acting like you're better than the rest of your brothers wouldn't endear him to them.

Lately, I've been tweeting about the alphaganda.  This story ties in with that concept.  Trash-talking about your wonderful strengths and everyone else's weaknesses, telling other people that they are less than you, and expecting everyone to become your sychophant, follower, and hanger-on, even with no ill intent, is a gross miscalculation.  Yes, we do see people who become famous with this attitude, and yes, there are tons of yes-men and boot-lickers to keep reinforcing this misperception.  But apparently the lesson Joseph needed to desperately learn was that flagrantly announcing your perceived superiority to everyone else, and expecting them all to acknowledge it, does not engender respect, or love, or anything close.

Even if the sports statistics, profit/loss margin, and percentage of gorgeous young honeys available prove that you really are superior in some way, that doesn't mean that rubbing it in someone else's face makes it even better.  If you really are that super-awesome, then your accomplishments should speak for themselves, and the adoring public should be able to perceive them standing alone.  Unless you are employed by Vince McMahon to spew these types of statements into a microphone before your match starts, you never tell someone that you're the top and that they're less than you.

And for those on the other side of the fence who feel miffed by this display of cockiness, you've got your own work to do.  Just because someone else may or may not be better at something than you are, why let that crap get under your skin?  Chances are, you didn't even care about whatever he was better at until you heard him thumping his chest about it.  And if he really is better than you at it, why not just let him have his stupid little prize?  Why should you feel inadequate or jealous just because he's running his mouth?  Yeah, it may sound like annoying mom-and-dad stuff to hear, but chances are you have strengths that homeboy doesn't even come close to matching!  Screw what that blowhard, loud mouth, BS artist is saying.  He's got no clue!

And if he does it too many times, then maybe  . . . maybe maybe maybe, just maybe . . . it's OK to call him out on it.  What's the worst he could do, talk about himself even more?  The other 11 dudes got so fed up with Joseph that they dumped him in a hole.  You don't need to go to that extreme, but if he crosses the last boundary, there's nothing wrong with having the fortitude to say, "Enough already!"  Just because he speaks the loudest and sounds the most annoying, that doesn't mean he gets to make the rules.  He doesn't decide what's cool and what's not -- it's your life, so you do!!!!

Ummmm, Dave?  I think you just combined the Bible post with your regular inspirational message.  If you're not careful, they'll think this is only a religious-based blog.

Thanks for the heads up -- but on the bright side, I got the message out with one post instead of two!  Ain't that a pip!

That's what I have, Thanksgiving is coming up.  That is to say, Thanksgiving, and not Five Weeks Till Xmas So Start Buying Crap!

Enjoy . . . .

Did You Have A Dream?

Hey All -- It's About That Time!

A few nights ago, I was chatting with a friend from college on Facebook, and a few memories came back.

When I was active in Alpha Phi Omega, the National Co-Ed Service Fraternity, we would have the weekly Brotherhood meeting every Sunday night.  These meetings were usually divided into three topics:  Part I was the actual organization and administrative issues that the chapter needed to address (zzzzzzzzzzzzz).  Part II discussed pledging (drama, insults, slander, divisiveness, and crocodile tears).  Part III, and my favorite, was Open Floor.

After all the serious, oh-so-serious, business was concluded, all of the backstabbing and childishness that went with discussion of pledging was documented and tabled, this was the time for anyone who felt the need to do so, to speak their minds.  And that's where the legend began.  ;)

I realized that the chapter needed a little humor as a release from the aforementioned drudgery and drama that would usually engulf Sunday nights.  So I started telling people in Open Floor that I had "The Dreams."  No, I didn't really dream them, but I did use fantasy scenarios that would require me to compare people in the chapter with well-known celebrities or characters.  For example, I knew someone who seemed to resemble Dan Aykroyd in his SNL years, and told people I dreamed he was a Conehead.  Or maybe there was someone who had a distinctive, and loud, Long Island accent, so I told people I dreamed she was The Snapple Lady.  I cracked myself up, as I sometimes still do.

For some reason, these humorous images did not sit well with everyone.  While common sense would dictate that this simple act of storytelling would be more entertaining than Old Business and New Business, and would be significantly more pleasant than idle gossip and reinforced animosity, these miscreants instead met my jokes with rancor, exaggerated objections, and well-rehearsed groans and moans.  However, after the meeting had adjourned for the evening, at least 5 times as many people would privately tell me that what I'd said was hilarious, very accurate, allowed them to head back to the dorms smiling, and that I should be proud to continue them.  And so I did, up until the very last meeting before I graduated.

(then again, there were other people who would tell me they didn't want to hear the dreams because it was fun for them to be part of the act that way.  Deep down, they loved them just as much as I did)

It's frighteningly easy to give up on your dreams just because some blowhard or loudmouth tells you they think your dreams are stupid.  It's even easier to give up on them when the blowhards and loudmouths try to flaunt their intellect and tell you that they have every reason in the world to show you up.

Even if it defies the supposed logic that these bullies and miscreants try to trap you with, the dream stays.  You never give up on it, now matter what those 'holes have to say, because it is yours and yours alone.  It's not relevant to me what that dream actually is, because if it's truly yours, a plan to make it work will follow naturally.  Every chance you have to yourself, when you get bored of watching "Werewolf Hunter" on Syfy and surfing Facebook gets less thrilling, you'll diagram, plan, consider, re-consider, research, edit, and present it.  Or maybe chuck it and do it again from the beginning, that's your call.  But keeping it alive somehow, even with the hustle and bustle that everyday adult life throws at you, is the most important quest you have.

One major step in this process is to stop reacting.  The more time you spent being upset that you have to handle a negative comment or insult, the less time you'll have to prove those bandejos wrong.  If you are able, then as I've said before, you can treat these parasites with the options of eviction, expulsion, rejection, or banning from your life.  If you can't, you can grown your skin several degrees thicker.  And if you have enough ammunition to operate from a position of strength, shut 'em down and shut 'em down hard!

That way your head will remain clear, as you should always strive to keep it.  Granted, your dreams are probably more genuine than a few made up stories about how that big guy who disses everyone looks a lot like Chris Christie.  All the more reason to keep at them.  ;)

In future posts, I'll refer to a few people I've known over the years who've had dreams, despite insurmountable challenges.  Before I do that though, I'll need to get their permission.  See, even if you have a dream, even if most of it is a no-brainer, you sometimes have to think part of it through.

Whew!  On fire tonight, peeps.  Here comes the video!