Overtly looking down on others based on differences of race, religion, gender, ethnicity, sexuality or physical appearance is justifiably condemned by decent people everywhere, and by quite a few otherwise indecent ones as well. The general contempt with which society shuns ISIS, the Ku Klux Klan, and other over-the-top intolerant types illustrates this.

But snobbery done on the sly can be deliciously satisfying. Covertly feeling disdain for others provides much-needed affirmation for those temporarily (or chronically) feeling poorly about themselves. Quietly feeling superior to others who’ve been arrested for drug possession or been caught having an extramarital affair can be immensely satisfying, assuming of course the secret scorner has never dabbled in (or been caught dabbling in) either of those vulgar pastimes him/herself.

Case in point: I firmly believe I am a better human being than one particular presidential candidate because I do not publicly denigrate those who were born in other nations or who practice religions other than Christianity. I also don’t shout insults at women I don’t like, or ridicule disabled journalists who ask me questions I don’t care for. I never run down anyone who spent five-plus years in a North Vietnamese prison camp, or loudly shout utter falsehoods and then deny lying about my lies, even when faced with tangible evidence of my previous whoppers. Plus, I have better hair than this particular person, though not by much.

OK, maybe I don’t have better hair than he does. But at least all of mine is real.

But gaining self-esteem by quietly and privately passing judgment on others must be done thoughtfully and extremely selectively, because inevitably something will occur which will mortify the judger by revealing his/her utter hypocrisy. This assumes, of course, that the individual in question is capable of feeling embarrassment. Not everyone is. The toupee-sporting White House aspirant who crassly, loudly, and incessantly belittles those who cannot defend themselves and lies with regularity and impunity is a current example of someone who is clearly untroubled by the prospect of feeling that emotion.

For years, I’ve quietly looked down on people who accumulate numerous possessions, and not just ostentatious types like former baseball star Reggie Jackson, who at one time had accumulated over 100 classic automobiles. When I grew up, items that weren’t used every day got stored in a wooden trunk that was consigned to the attic. Today, people pay outrageous monthly fees to “storage facilities,” just so that they can stockpile the belongings they’ve amassed that no longer fit where they live! What’s going on with that?

But recently, my children and I moved from where we’d been living for the past nine years, an experience which revealed that I am just as guilty of collecting “stuff ” as those I’ve privately sneered at all these years. All the condescending abuse I’d been silently unleashing on those selfabsorbed materialists? Turns out it was all self-loathing.

I have too much athletic equipment, too much sports memorabilia, too many books, too many T-shirts, too many baseball hats, too many college-era souvenirs, too many old Christmas cards, too many games, and too many knick-knacks. I also own too many clothes, which is surprising since I generally wear the same five shirts and three pairs of pants (in different combinations) every day of the year. How do I explain all those sweaters? I can’t recall ever buying even one!

I’ve made some donations to Goodwill recently, and no doubt will soon make more. But to all those I’ve judged harshly over the years because of all they have accumulated, I humbly apologize.

And now that I’ve admitted to yet another character flaw (the inclination to hoard), I’ve decided to embrace it. After all, finding a unique, long-forgotten item is like unearthing a time capsule! When I was unpacking after our recent move, I discovered a pristine, still-in-its-plastic-wrapping, page-a-day calendar from 1988, a Leap Year that began on a Friday. And wouldn’t you know it: the Leap Year we’ve just begun started on a Friday as well! My stubborn refusal to throw out a perfectly good calendar 28 years ago probably saved me at least $10! Plus, so far “The Far Side” is still funny, too .

That calendar was in such mint condition that I was tempted to leave it unopened until the next time a Leap Year starts on a Friday. But I might not be around in 2044. Or, even worse, what if I am still breathing at that point, but have forgotten where I put that 56-year-old vintage collectable? If that scenario wasn’t an episode of “The Twilight Zone,” well, it should have been!

Copy the Story Link

Comments are not available on this story.