blue-beetle

SHIT Beetles

The problem with getting started on your journey to badassery is that the only thing you really have is the SHIT people have thrown at you over the course of your life. And since it's all you have, you kind of don't want to get rid of it.

Just like your typical dung beetles, who carry their ball of shit around with them forever and eat it and mate on it and hatch their children in it. Most people will never transcend this beetle brain stage.

Hey, want to see the reason why we can't have nice things, as a general rule?

It's basically because of this shit.

Seriously, this is why we can't have nice things.
Seriously, this is why we can't have nice things.

See, all these pie slices are colour-coded to the rough proportions of people who will actually get there. Half of the population is never even going to have a goal. They're going to sit around wherever they happened to be in life and not go anywhere. Anywhere at all! They are going to wait for life to come to them. They will bucket-brain for their entire lives.

Half of the rest are going to beetle-brain their way through everything, just wandering around trying to hold onto what they have and hoping that somewhere along the line they find more. That's 75% of the population never getting beyond this.

And then half the rest - a little over twelve percent - are going to start actually having a goal in their lives. They're going to lizard-brain and look around, then head in the direction of what they want when they can see it. A bit more than six percent will dog-brain into actively hunting down what they want. Three percent will hit the monkey-brain stage and start actively participating in communities and societies and tribes.

That's the 97% of people who fail as entrepreneurs, right there. Count it up. 50 + 25 + 12.5 + 6.25 + 3.125 = 96.875% of the population never gets past this. And when you add in the just-over-2% who make it to the man-brain stage, that's your 99% right there. Your chief-brains make up the overwhelming majority of the 1% everyone keeps bitching about.

Everybody wants to blame someone else. Everyone in the bucket-brain and beetle-brain stages is sitting there going "I have little and they have much, some of that must be mine."

My bucket is too empty. My ball of shit is too small. It must be someone else's fault.

But it's not. Nobody is making that happen. Your bucket is empty because you aren't really filling it; you're just standing around waiting for it to rain. Your ball of shit is too small because you aren't really trying to expand it; you're just wandering around hoping to find a bigger ball of shit.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Everything you want in life belongs to somebody else. Probably one of that 1% up there. And if they don't like you, then you can't have it.

Screaming at them about how unfair it is and how they don't need it and you need it so much more? That is not friendly. It will not make them like you. "If you give a mouse a cookie, sooner or later he's going to want a glass of milk."

What sticks people in the beetle-brain stage is the idea that their stuff matters to other people. Gerry Spence, in his early days before his name was well-known, went into a famous trial lawyer's office and said "man, you have so many cases, why don't you give me one?"

And that lawyer looked at him and said "Every single one of those cases is worth the price of a brand new Cadillac. Give me one good reason why I should want to give you one of my brand new Cadillacs."

Spence could not think of one. And in that moment, he was enlightened.

What you have to understand... and one of the hardest things to understand, really... is that this ball of shit you are carrying around with you?

It's just shit.

It's not special. It's not important. The only reason you think it's important is that it's yours.

But it's still, you know... shit.

There's an old Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson where two bugs are sitting in their house, and one of them is looking out the window. "Oh, no, honey," he says. "It's the dung beetles... and they've brought their you-know-what with them."

Nobody likes your shit. Nobody wants your shit. Nobody cares about your shit.

Now, you - the amazing and incredible person wasting your life pushing a ball of shit around - you, people care about. Once they get to know you and not your shit.