by Jon
There is an ancient fable that tells of a man who had a magic chicken that could lay diamond eggs. The chicken could do this at anytime and any place. All he had to do was request that the chicken lay a special egg down on the floor and plop out it would come. The man grew rich and powerful. He ate the best meals, lived in the finest homes, and told the loudest stories. Indeed, he led a long and boisterous life, a life any person might be jealous off. It was at the end of this life, lying on his deathbed surrounded by his many friends and children, that he peered out the window and saw a man plowing his field. The man was dirty and scarred, his skin burnt and ruined from all the years of hard work in the fields. The dying rich man sighed and told his family; “If only I was as lucky as that man to be able to stand and enjoy the sun today”.
What does this fable teach us?
Nothing. I made the whole thing up, but it shows a side of life that really seems to be spearing us all. No matter what we have or how great our lives are, we will ALWAYS be miserable and want more. And after time I don’t think it’s about money or a foxy significant other, I think it’s for unbridled power. Even then, not the kind of power that we may think we want. It is the power over people to think we have walked a harder, tougher, more boulder ridden, troll dominated, scary woods encompassing path. You can recognize it in any group when someone is telling a story. Rarely, at the story’s end, is there a jovial “good work” or “that was quite a story friend, dazzle us with another.” Instead we hear counter stories each person trying to top the other. I started noticing it so much in group circles that I tried telling ridiculous stories about being shot at and another one about being approached by a potential alqeida syndicate looking for a mole within America. Without fail someone would have a counter story, regardless of truth, that would focus the attention back onto them. Which in all honesty is fine, anyone who knows me knows I am not a shy man when it comes to attention and the like, but it got to the point where this was getting ridiculous. I tried another experiment; Counter-counter stories. A person would tell a story, it would be “counter storied” and then I would counter story that very counter story, not with something regular but with a gregarious story that could in no possible way be real. For example….
Manly Man 1
“I went on an African Safari last summer as a part of an internship.”
Manly Man 2
“Yeah, I went to Africa a few years ago, saw some Hippos and went diamond diving. I found one, but the guy said I couldn’t take it, but that I was very talented for being able to see one in the murky water. But that’s how my mom describes me; I’ve got great eye-sight and an even keener eye for shiny things…..I’m awesome.”
Jon
“Yeah that’s great. When I was five my stomach hurt really badly so they did an MRI of my whole body they found out my spleen was riddled with diamonds. They had to have a 27 hour operation to have them all removed. I’m fine now though.”
It seems to me it is not so much about telling a story than about making sure everybody knows that you are one interesting motherfucker. I always thought that if you had to say you were awesome, crazy, sexy, insane, or fucked up then you really weren’t. People who are fucked up never talk about it, because they are REALLY FUCKED UP, and a really fucked up person doesn’t want to discuss it because it is usually pretty fucking miserable to be fucked up! Yet so many people talk about it as if it were a badge of honor. If what distinguishes us from the crowd is that we have to go through something messed up or THINK we went through something messed up then call me Jonny Normal Pants because I would rather be revered in my inner circle for my jumping ability rather than how many priests happened to rape me when I was 6.
Another slice of hell for all of this is that we all seem like experts willing to give advice on any situation even ones where we have no idea what the fuck the other person is going through….
Dick 1“My mom just died and left all the money to my Stepfather. My sister and I are not going to get anything, not even heirlooms from when I was kid.”
Dick 2“This sounds a lot like the problem I went through last year when I was apple picking…”
It all seems focused on the issue I yelled about earlier, getting attention focused back on to you. If someone comes to me with an issue, especially an issue that I have never faced then I give NO FUCKIN ADVICE! How can I, I don’t know what the fuck they are going through. All I can be is supportive and a good listener, but if little Tammy wants advice on how to stop her raging periods, I’m gonna have to take pass. Or at least send her to someone who does know what the fuck they mean. In this situation, If I knew what “a period” actually was, I would send them to the appropriate professional. Maybe a period is a type of weapon? So in this case I would send Tammy to a Marksman. See, I have been unselfish, I have been helpful, and I ended up becoming the very person I am claiming to be every damn day in every conversation circle I enter….
THE MOTHER FUCKIN SMARTEST BEST SUPER WELL KNOWN CELEBRATED GOD DAMN PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE WHOSE LIVED A MUCH HARDER LIFE THAN YOU COULD EVER IMAGINE BOW DOWN AND SHOW YOUR RESPECT TO A TRUE HERO!
That’s me.
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