I explain (to myself) my obsession with (my) ego*

So, what’s with this obsession with ego? I’m forever wailing about ego-fodder (since you ask “the audience at any public event (big or small) which has not been structured by the organisers to provoke the highest possible amount of participation, engagement and mingling.”). I’m forever banging on about the damage that a “sage on the stage” can do to the enthusiasm of people, and the “stickiness” of their social movement organisation. Sometimes I even take a pop at surgeons or pilots.

I, I… I

Why? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out. It’s because I know just how much damage an out-of-control ego can do – to its host, but more importantly to those people in the immediate vicinity. And – believe it or not – I have mine on a leash a bit. It has taken a long time, a lot of fuck-ups and scarred/destroyed friendships/acquaintanceships etc. That’s not a bid for approbation. I just had to do some remedial defuckwitisation** of myself. And it’s not as if I’m exactly done, either. Still a work in progress.

So, I focus on the damage egos cause to social movement organisations/patients/passengers for two reasons.
a) it’s a real problem, and I don’t see many other people writing about it (maybe I am not looking in the right places?
b) it’s therapeutic, or rather, (I hope) prophylactic. I fear my rottweiler-staffie cross slipping those surly bonds and savaging the nearest flesh it can get its jaws into. Probably mine in the first instance, but it wouldn’t be satiated there.

Footnotes
* Yes, that there is intentional irony
** But then again, I am not claiming to be the biggest fuckwit who ever lived*** because that would be like the thing you get where alcoholics at AA compete for the Most Degradation Endured/Inflicted,
*** No, that’s the turd-in-human-form who lived chez Towers for a year