Con man: (n) a man who cheats or tricks others by persuading them to believe something that is not true
Every once in a while I take a stroll through the Ten Commandments to take an inventory on how many I’ve broken.
That is one of the more ridiculous aspects of that top ten list–it does not serve as a guide to our lives, but rather, a reminder of how futile our
attempts often are when we pursue self-righteousness or any form of superiority that makes us feel that we’re near to the heart of God.
For instance, I’ve been a con man.
I didn’t do it for a living. That’s probably good. Otherwise, I might be writing you from Folsom Prison, with the blues, or from Sing-Sing without a song.
But I have presented claims as facts, trying to impress people around me, when in actuality the legitimate information was far less than my boast.
Here’s the only difference between me and the standard con man: I actually believed my own bullshit.
I had thoroughly saturated myself in fictitious notions that twisted my brain to such an extent that they squeezed out common sense and replaced them with Thanksgiving stuffing.
So not only was I a con man to those around me, but I did a remarkable job promoting it to myself.
This is why self-awareness is probably one of the greatest virtues that a human being can pursue–it makes you stop off every once in a while and read the Ten Commandments and realize how far you have fallen short–as you chuckle over your own inadequacy.
Published by Jonathan Cring