If you're going to brag, do it loudly

Here are a few behaviors that make me yawn:

Humble-bragging

If you’ve got something to brag about, say it loud and proud.

On the rare occasions I hit the winning three-pointer in noon-time basketball, I peacock it on Facebook with embroidery about swishing nothing but net after arching the shot over the outreached fingertips of a 6-10 former NBA player.

Of course, I don’t mention missing my previous 15 shots while guarded by the shortest and meanest woman on the court.

When someone humble-brags about how undeserving they are of some accolade, I’m tempted to say, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Physical appearance jokes

My hair started flying south for the winter in my early 20s as a Navy spy in the South Pacific — defending patriotic fortunate sons back home getting deferments for ingrown toenails, 20-21 eyesight and momma-boy-itis.

Not only was I intercepting signals from our enemies and friends, but from the AP to get ball scores. In addition, my co-workers and I interdicted and burned enough Thai weed to have built a tiki bar on the tropical island’s beach outside our antenna-ringed building before the potent herb could make it back home and fry little eight-track minds.

I wanted to protect my hometown friends so they could hold jobs long enough to help me pay for college when I returned home to sell them Old Milwaukee quarts and Boone’s Farm fifths in my lucrative bootlegging business run from the trunk of my 327 Camaro on our dry county’s backroads.

Anyway, despite shaving my head for decades, some guys seem to think I don’t own a mirror and need to be informed with clichéd comments about not needing combs, hairspray, shampoo, etc.

Although it’s the same old worn-out jokes I’ve heard more than “Margaritaville” on robot radio, rather than hurt their feelings, I just smile wearily and resist humble-bragging about the size of my hands.

I’ve lost count of the times I could have taken shots at pot-bellied jesters in return, but refused to sink to their level.

So, if your idea of being witty is making fun of people’s age, height, hair, weight, nose, freckles, wrinkles, ethnicity, speech, acne/surgical scars, etc., don’t embarrass yourself. You have no idea what genetic or medical issues they’ve endured (next week I get stitches for the 25th time).

Speculating about others

Don’t be one of those naïve, pompous sermonizers speculating about others. I’ve had critics opine I have personal or emotional reasons for not believing in their particular religion.

That is partially true. I do have “personal” reasons in that I freely admit I don’t comprehend the forces behind the universe’s creation — but I doubt it is accurately described by holier-than-thou dogmatics howling about eternal punishment for those intellectually honest enough to admit they have doubts about having to jump through hoops to rationalize ancient documents describing women as property and justifying beating slaves (although you’re not allowed to kill them).

Don’t speculate about others about anything. If knowing is important, ask them.

My word count (attention: Betty Williamson) is up, but stay tuned for future yawns.

Contact Wendel Sloan at:

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