The Crippling Effect of the Humblebrag

Urban Dictionary took a break from defining the most grotesque words in the English language to define a useful one. They define “humblebrag” as subtly letting others now about how fantastic your life is while undercutting it with a bit of self-effacing humor or "woe is me" gloss. It’s a popular enough trend that someone wrote a book about it. I pray that book didn’t make much money, but if you take into account that Paris Hilton wrote a book that seemed to sell quite a few copies then I’m sure it sold wonderfully. I’m sure the book is funny, but any book that is just a collection of twitter updates should maybe be defined as something other than a “book”.

We all see humblebragging all the time but twitter and facebook helped it to explode. One especially perfect example of a humblebrag is this tweet by some random dude.

"Why is it that every time I have a softball game someone walks up to me and says , are you on roids ! Hahaha dude I don't even lift weights"

See what he did there. He is attempting to be humble because he doesn’t lift weights but he is in reality just attempting to tell you that his muscles are flippin’ huge. Roid huge. This dude once beat up the Ultimate Warrior. But he wasn’t even trying…so you shouldn’t be impressed?!

Humblebragging is fine. We all do it. We all complain about how we hate going to the gym, run so slow, have kids that are smarter/cuter than us, don’t deserve our spouse, etc.

I just ran 500 miles, but now I have a blister on my toe.

I just got accepted to MIT, can’t believe they accepted me despite my 4.16 GPA.

My 3 year old daughter just passed the bar exam, no idea where she gets it. I’m so dumb!

Again, we all do it. We are all proud of our accomplishments but you can’t just walk up to someone and start listing of facts about why they should be impressed. The problem isn’t the humblebrag. The problem is when we become too aware of the humblebrag. We suddenly become paralyzed in our conversation. Our convenient way of bragging without bragging has been taken away and we become super conscious of how much of what we say could be constituted as a humblebrag,

My wife and I recently completed a Warrior Dash. A 5k with 13 army type obstacles. This was our first time doing an adventure race and was an “accomplishment” for us. We were excited that we gathered the courage to do it, proud we were able to finish it, and honestly just had a blast. After it was all over I was surprised that it was a really, really easy race. This is probably what a person in Somalia has to go through just to get a bucket of water. We completely over trained for it and could have completed it without any training at all. Any of you could.

This event set me up perfect for a humblebrag. Just cool enough to impress most people but just enough to throw in some humility. And honestly I was rather excited to share that we did it.

But….the word humblebrag popped into my head. I can see through my ruse then everyone else can too! What’s a man to do?

Do I just quit sharing all events that take place in my life that aren’t horrible? Do I preface all statements with, “not to brag”. Do I just ignore it and move on?

Forget that. Life is too short to worry about all that. I’m going old school and taking the humble out of the humblebrag. I am now just going to brag….non stop….all the time…about everything.

So next time I see you in public if I walk up to you, slap you across the face, spit at you, and then say something like, “MY MUSCLES ARE MORE HUGER THAN HULK HOGAN’S” just understand that it is my attempt to avoid the internet fueled trap of humblebragging.

*Yes, I realize that this entire post could be construed as just one big attempt to humblebrag about my Warrior Dash. So in the words of the new Brandon, “I DID A WARRIOR DASH AND IT MEANS I AM MORE AWESOME THAN BEAR GRYLLS AND YOU PROBABLY JUST ATE ARBY’S WHILE I WAS DOING IT….PUNK”.

Doritos Locos Taco: Or Why I Hate Zac Brown

It's time again that I critique lyrics to a song. Obviously everyone remembers my much publicized blog post on Escape. It was epic, Dear Abby called me and congratulated me on what it meant for modern relationships. James Dobson wrote me a note thanking me for saving marriages and families across the country. My friends boosted me on their shoulders and chanted Rudy, Rudy, Rudy. So I figured it was time to again lambaste an artist for writing inane lyrics. While I was about 30 years past the release date of Escape when I gave it a good ribbing, I am only about four years behind on this one.

In my blog post on Escape I basically took a few thousand words to say that finding out that someone likes walks on the beach, making love, and eating junk food is no reason to marry that person. Everyone likes these things. If you and I had a discussion and you were to find out that I like these all you would have discovered is that I also, much like you, am a human. That's it! Don't propose to me just because I like worldly pleasures!

Anyway.

Zac Brown has basically taken the formula that ol' Ruperts Holmes discovered back in the 70's and countrified it. Holmes discovered that if you can write a song that is essentially just a list of things all human beings like and set it to a fun little melody you have basically just invented the musical version of the Doritos Locos Taco. Everyone likes tacos and everyone likes Doritos....so if you simply mash the two together and advertise.....you are rich! Anyone who stops and thinks for a moment about the Doritos Locos Taco realizes that Taco Bell simply discovered that people like fattening foods, don't mind if you are unoriginal and simply combine different fattening foods together, and despite watching hours upon hours of Food Network don't really care if an Iron Chef doesn't prepare their food.

Zac Brown took the same basic idea that Rupert Holmes and Taco Bell played on and wrote these life changing lyrics.

"You know I like my chicken fried

A cold beer on a Friday night

A pair of jeans that fit just right

And the radio up"

Time out. This guy likes the meat that is eaten the highest quantities in America, he likes beer and he likes it cold, he likes Friday nights, denim that doesn't bunch up in the crotch, and his radio loud. Notice he also subliminally gets you to turn your radio up when his song comes on! Pure genius. I dare you to not be singing along after the first four lines.

"Well, I was raised up

Beneath the shade of a Georgia pine

And that's home you know

Sweet tea, pecan pie and homemade wine

Where the peaches grow"

So this is the point in the song that Zac takes a moment to appeal to his base. Much like a politician has to occasionally step back from the broadened appeal and instead focus on the core constituency to make sure they are still on board, this is what he is doing here. "Hey all you people that typically listen to country music. I also was born in the south, like sweet tea, pecan pie, and peaches."  Notice that he mentions homemade wine, this is where he focuses in on the really hardcore base. Kind of like when a politician is forced to say something just wacky, like making a joke about Obama's birth certificate or calling a republican a racist. You just have to throw a bone every once in a while to the wack-a-doodles. No one with all of their teeth actually drink homemade wine. But...there are those few guys out there you gotta shout out to.

"And my house it's not much to talk about

But it's filled with love

That's grown in southern ground"

Alright, back to the broad approach. Anyone who would ever be caught dead listening to country music either grew up in a modest home or currently lives in one. People in the Hamptons or Orange Beach might not relate to these lyrics, but they aren't listening anyway. One more quick appeal to the base with the "southern ground" lyrics and you are on your way.

"Well, I've seen the sunrise

See the love in my woman's eyes

Feel the touch of a precious child

And I know a mother's love

It's funny how it's the little things in life

That mean the most

Not where you live or what you drive

Or the price tag on your clothes

There's no dollar sign on a piece of mind

This I've come to know

So if you agree, have a drink with me

Raise your glasses for a toast"

I've also seen the sunrise! I've also been in love! I've also held a child! I also have a mother! The small things in life also matter to me! Ooo, drinking alcohol again! Yaa hoo for liver disease!

"I thank God for my life

And for the stars and stripes

May freedom forever fly

Let it ring

Salute the ones who died

The ones that give their lives

So we don't have to sacrifice

All the things we love"

Woo hoo God! Woo hoo American flag! Woo hoo freedom! Woo hoo ...... Liberty Bell....? Solemn thanks to any soldiers who lost their lives. Woo hoo things we love in general!

And then we hear the chorus two more times and we are out.

There is literally no way you can live in America and make less than $250,000 a year and not have sung along to this song at least once. 

So in closing I will just sum up with one statement. 

Zac Brown IS our generations musical Doritos Locos Taco. Both appeal to everyone, make no one better, and might cause rectal bleeding.

Giant Leaps In Logic, Small Steps In Parenting

If you google “best traits in a man” the first link that will pull up is a poll that Men’s Health did of 1,000 American women. The top ten traits that didn’t have anything to do with physical looks or skills were faithfulness, dependability, kindness, moral integrity, fatherliness, sense of humor, intelligence, passion, confidence, and generosity. I’m going to guess that most women end up marrying a man who portrays about 4 of those attributes, and those 4 he only portrays haphazardly. We aren’t exactly an amazing sex these days.

There is one attribute that all 1,000 of these women soon found that their husband did perform rather nicely. Day in and day out their actions showed that this was one of their controlling personality traits.

And NO, I’m not talking about anything sexual. Ya pervert.

The one attribute that we all seem to share is a tendency towards selfishness. Self seeking is obviously a character flaw in most people, but tends to show more in men. We are the ones who want the hottest girl possible to be on our arm. We are the ones who spend beyond our means to get that dream car. We are the ones have trouble settling down and committing. We are the ones who consistently make cut throat business decisions. We are the ones who make war. We chase what we want, and avoid what we don’t.

If you’ve never noticed, I myself am a man. Sadly I had a realization about myself and my selfishness the other night. When I had this realization I was doing something that would seem the very opposite of selfish.

It was 3 in the morning on a work night. I was wide awake sitting on the couch feeding my 4 week old baby a bottle and taking extra care to routinely burp him so that he would not be kept awake by gas. My wife was sound asleep. My daughter was sound asleep. Most of Columbus was sound asleep. Heck, even the baby kept falling asleep.

If this was a movie it would be the scene that was filmed to show the tenderness of the main character. It would be that sweet moment used to show the protagonists gentleness.

I’ve even got to admit that I use situations like this to remind my wife why I am such a catch. Do most husbands do all night feedings? Doubtful. Are most husbands so caring that they leave the bedroom with the baby to avoid waking up said wife? Doubtful. Do most husbands burp their child like it is an art form passed down from generations passed? Doubtful.

Ok, that last paragraph sheds a little light on  my narcissism, but let’s stay focused more on the selfishness. I can only beat myself up so much in one day.

So, as I sat there feeding my boy I realized something. I am one selfish jerk. All of these things that I was doing weren’t based out of love. I wasn’t feeding him, burping him, and changing his diaper at 3am because I love him. I was doing it all so that he would stop crying so I could go to sleep.

I wasn’t burping him carefully because I didn’t want him to be in pain later. I was burping him carefully because if I didn’t he would wake up and cry and wake me up.

Dang. Thanks God for that 3am wake up call on myself and how much I suck.

This got me thinking further. I could go through this whole parenting stage of life and probably parent rather decent and raise decent kids, but with the wrong motive the entire way.

I could raise children that were obedient because I selfishly want to impress other people and because it is just easier if your kid isn’t pitching fits all the time. I could raise kids who do well in school again to impress others and also because it would make me feel smart to have smart kids. I could raise kids who love the outdoors, because if they don’t love the outdoors I’ll probably personally have less time outdoors. I could raise kids who eat their veggies, because it would make me feel weak to not be able to pick up my eight year old.

Yeah, I could raise some decent kids and never once base a decision out of self sacrifice or love. Their food would be eaten, their teeth brushed, their bodies washed, their books read, the prayers said…..all so they will be happy and leave me alone long enough to watch the game on TV.

And that is what makes parenting so hard! It’s not just the things you do but the reasons you do them. Does it matter? If my baby gets fed, burped, changed, and put back to bed does it matter what my reasons are? Does my heart matter?

Of course it does! Looking a head in life I may teach him to be obedient and stay out of trouble, but what happens when no one is watching or when he is older and there is no one to be obedient to? Crack cocaine…that’s what!

I may force my children to be giving of their time, skills, and finances. But what happens if I don’t teach them the heart behind those actions? Crack cocaine….that’s what!

Yep. Crack cocaine. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. I don’t care if it’s not the eighties anymore. That MUST be my conclusion. It is the only thing that will wake me up enough to not be selfish!

My nature may lead to me being selfish and self seeking…..but even I am not so selfish that I would let my kids fall into crack cocaine!

So, when you are making decisions in parenting make sure you are basing them out of love and out of a desire to turn their hearts toward Christ…..or else they’ll definitely try crack cocaine next time you aren’t looking.

Shaggy Hair, A&F Cologne, and Plaid

Working in business I am often plagued by a specific question that eventually comes up in all business circles. “So, do you play golf”. I am torn because I have two options when asked this question.

The first option is a simple no. No, I do not play golf.

This option typically leads to aghast looks from my business counterparts. Working for one of the local big boy corporations, or at a bank, or as a salesman, or as a doctor makes days on the course a necessity. It isn’t a choice, everyone does it. Working at Subway I am just enough not a typical business person that golf never arises as a work outing. I suppose I could get aggressive with my answer to keep the aghast looks at bay. But that seems uncalled for. I could go off on a rant about how anything that not only allows but almost demands alcohol consumption during cannot be a sport. But I do not.

The other option that I am always tempted to go with but would only garner looks even more confused from my counterparts is that yes, I used to play golf every weekend at the  Northern Little League baseball complex and I once got a hole in one on Rick’s Lung.

That answer requires a back story and back stories are not good for short conversations with business counterparts. But you know what they are good for? They are good for minimally read blogs!

There are different friends that come in and out of this story but the one who was there throughout the entire experience was Jon Keller. I honestly don’t know why we began this tradition but somehow we did and it is such a pure, beautiful memory it almost seems like it took place in a Wes Anderson movie.

Northern Little League baseball field’s became our clubhouse. We discovered that on Sunday mornings from about 10:30am until noon the place was deserted. No little kids running around crying while their dad’s screamed their disappointment at them, no somewhat scary girls playing softball, no umpires to chase us away, and sadly no sweet smells of chicken fingers and popcorn.

Just an empty baseball complex and us.

This could have been fun enough. We could have played homerun derby, or wiffle ball, or wall ball over on the concession stand. But somehow this became our golf course. The Northern Little League Golf Course.

This little club took some serious devotion for college students. Annoyingly we were not allowed by our parents to simply skip church and play our little game with a good nights rest (looking back, good call parents, thank you!). So we as 19 and 20 year old boys had to plan ahead. We had to go to bed at a decent hour, probably 3 am instead of our typical 4am, so that we could get up at 8:30 in time to make it to the 9 o’clock church service.

Most guys our age dressed rather casual to church. Not us. We had a golf outing at the prestigious Northern Little League to attend after. We would get dressed up in our khakis or plaid pants, loafers, and pastel colored button down polos, and after we would throw on a visor for effect.

So, this took work! 

Church would end and off we went. We would arrive at Northern Little League Golf Course around 10:15 and begin our round of golf. Jon Keller, myself, and a ragtag of friends like William Hawk, Matt Phillips, Brian Howard, and Jeff Brannan would pile out of my Xterra. A horrible clash of plaids,stripes, and shaggy hair. Once lugging our golf bags out of the back of the SUV we would stop and look around us. Taking in the surroundings. The beautiful blue skies with wisps of clouds floating by, the tall pines standing proud and rightly so as there soil was red Georgia clay, the smell of the spring air and a bit too much of Abercrombie & Fitch cologne. It was a perfect day for golf.

Now, at a baseball field they don’t typically dig 18 round holes strategically throughout the complex so we had to get inventive. Trees, baseball bases, boulders, and buildings became our “holes”. Old remnants of a bonfire became a hole known as Rick’s Lung (named after William’s dad who had a penchant for smoking a few hundred cigarettes a day). After a few hours on our golf course we would head to Wendy’s and grab some burgers and head to the pool. A pretty nice day if I do say so myself.

So, yes fellow businessmen, I do play golf. But my answer to that question is long, confusing, and childish. So I typically just hang my head in shame and answer, “No, no I do not play golf”.