I had to deal with a poorly misguided, pretentious know-nothing this past week who thought that he knew everything—and I tried to do it in the kindest way possible. But the poor fellow couldn’t stop running his mouth so consequences hit him hard. Before that regretful end the collectivist oriented challenger used the Florida Seminoles as an example of collective excellence—where the many are greater than any individual as a validation of his faulty philosophy. As he did, I felt sorry for him, but yet became enraged because like most people trained in the conventional way—he was blind to the real truth—that we may play as a team in life, but we win as individuals. Teams don’t win. Individuals do. It is when individuals play better than everyone else that teams win. The second string cornerback on a Seminole team still won a national championship off the back of Jameis Winston’s quarterbacking a few years ago—and all of the campus of FSU proclaimed that “they” had won. But in reality, it was just a few individuals who had done all the heavy lifting. Everyone else just rode on their coattails—which is how it is just about everywhere else. Thus, those who believe in the nonsense that many minds are better than one, or that victories only come to those united together are mislead into a frail existence which allows the most lazy and lackluster to believe that they are equal to the most excellent. They aren’t. My style of doing things is to find the excellent by putting them through the rigors of competition, then putting the exceptional in position to win as an individual so that they can drag all those band-wagon riders with them to victory. Those who hide behind others cheering for uniformity yet do nothing to contribute to victory are just fans in the stands chopping to a fight song uttered by collectivists when the real battle is on the field of play conducted by the loneliness of individual excellence and bold maneuverings in the face of valiant opposition.
For fun I have been killing a lot of other players on the Uncharted multiplayer on Playstation 4. For those who want a piece of me and walk around their apartments and talking among each other fantasizing about “teaching me some kind of lesson” you can meet me there and we can fight all you want. My Playstation handle is Overmanwarrior of course, so I’m easy to find. The first thing to realize in life is that words are cheap. When you sit in a chair and do nothing to perform, you make no decisions to help make a victory taste sweeter, and simply ride on the coattails of other people’s hard work—you haven’t done anything in life to justify empty words that come from those lips. Yet those who come from collectivist oriented backgrounds, like labor unions, college campuses, and even Masons all fail to understand fundamentally the keys to life success. Yet the definition is quite clear on multiplayer video games like Uncharted 4. Titanfall, and Call of Duty. I personally like Uncharted because it suits my personality much better than some of those more serious titles. At the end of a team death match when your team wins, Nathan Drake says playfully, “There is no I in team, but there is in win.” Upon hearing that I realized that there was a lot of wisdom in the statement, so I put it up in my office for everyone who enters to see. That is essentially the entire thesis of the great novels Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, and the foundation of the Donald Trump presidency. Yet it was playfully inserted into a videogame for the masses to consume unwittingly and I found that compelling due to its raw truth.
Typically in team death matches during online play, there are four to five people on your team going up against an equal number on the opposite team. Many times, when you are the strongest player teamed up with a bunch of newbies, no matter how good you do individually, you will lose, just like in real life. This simple observation is what union slugs and people who are voting for Hillary Clinton believe to be the foundations of their rationalization. But you have to go a few steps further to uncover the true essence of this phenomenon. Usually, if I can get at least one other player who can hit hard and keep the opposition fire directly off me, I can tip the scales toward a win. The other players on the team have to at least run around and engage the other players so that they can’t concentrate all their fire on my position. I am that guy who is constantly trying to herd other players into mass to attack our targets with overwhelming force. I am also that guy who is constantly reviving other players to keep them alive longer. I am also that guy who is the first to engage the enemy—nearly 100% on every round I play. I don’t hang back. I’m a very aggressive player, not just in video games, but in real life. That is the exceptional element that often changes the nature of a game. Winning or losing has everything to do with the exceptional ability of just a few of the players. If you are lucky you will find that out of the five players you play with, two or three of them are all exceptional, which just about guarantees a victory. At the end of each match, if your team wins everyone wins. If you played exceptionally, your score will be between 1000 and 2000 points. If you were mediocre, somewhere around 500, and if you were bad, the score would be under 100. But everyone wins. Yet the team didn’t equally contribute to the win. We played as a team, but we won based on individual exceptionalism.
And that’s how it works in real life too. We are not stronger—together. Weak players can easily cripple the efforts of the exceptional. Having too many weak people in a society will off-set the efforts of the best and most gifted. However, if the exceptional are empowered to perform at their full potential, then even the weak and lackluster, mouthy, union, slug will win by default like the fans tomahawk chopping the air at a Florida Seminoles football game. A star quarterback might throw a deep bomb to a star receiver for a winning touchdown. The linemen might have played just well enough to let the play develop, but the crowd in the stands do very little to help that process—short of providing some inspirational encouragement. All the participants are not equal—yet they win as a team because they all played. The victory was captured by individuals.
I am not interested in conventional thinking. It is the way that everyone does everything—so that is boring. I am always looking for the exceptional, for the “super.” I have even less patience for the backseat driver who criticizes and moans about “fairness” when it was I who took all the risks and has done all the heavy lifting. When those people assume from the comfort of their little chair that they are actually equally participating to the victory of a “team,” it’s an insult to me. Those people are just bench warmers and they are not equal to the exceptional so therefore “fairness” is not applicable to their circumstances. They have a role to play in case of an injury, or to meet the accepted rules of the games we play, but they are not “equal” to the exceptional and are not therefore prone to the justifications of fairness. Fairness is getting a championship ring even as a bench warmer when the heroes of the team won the game. It’s not the team that actually won—it was the individuals on it that played better than those on the opposite team. It is never fair to the exceptional to have to share victory with the lack luster—but individuals usually don’t care about such things. The best among us don’t cry about things being fair, because usually they make their own fates anyway, and they get on to the next challenge. It is those powerless to do for themselves who are always crying about fairness—because they need others to win in order to carry them to victories in life. When fairness is demanded its rooted in the fear that they must wait for more exceptional people to enter their life in hopes of achieving more chances at victory. Otherwise, they are powerless to do for themselves.
I don’t get pleasure in ruining people’s lives. I give everyone a shot to impress me—equally. But there is a reason that I’m in a position to garner such judgment—and it’s not because we are all equal. When someone works as hard at life as I do, they can challenge me for equality. But until they put the level of effort that I do into things, I’m going to be harsh when they challenge me, because they have no right or authority to do so. And when they try to hide behind some collectivist diatribes about the “many being stronger than the one,” it’s really going to make me angry. When I find talent out there with the potential toward exceptionalism—which I may see, yet is completely invisible to others, I will put in the time and effort to breed those with my personal coaching to become winners in the future. Sometimes it takes over ten years to perform this coaching and honestly, I’m not open to other people’s opinions on that matter because they don’t have the same skills at pulling the exceptional out of people where I do—so their opinions are pointless. Sometimes I might identify an exceptional diamond in the rough, but they reject my efforts to make them better. I still work at it, and if they turn away, they do so at their own detriment. I move on knowing that I tried and I don’t look back. But that game is one I offer to people as a gift. I’m not open to the opinions of the “collective,” to the “everyone thinks” crowd. If those people knew what they were doing, they’d be better off in life. I don’t listen to the ranting of a mob sitting in the stands when the football is in my hands. Their opinions are irrelevant because all they want in life really is to cheer on a win. Once you give them that, they love you—because they can’t give it to themselves.
When critics can orchestrate a multinational job creating endeavor while managing huge capital expenditures and pulling the faulty philosophies of the overly educated into a functioning “team” mentality while appeasing the individual needs of many dozens of direct employees then I might listen to their interpretation of “fairness.” But if they think they’re going to get away with that through underhanded insurrection, and fancy quotes from dead race car drivers while sitting around bringing no reputation to the table as an offering of success, they have another thing coming—and I don’t put up with that stuff. I don’t like people like that, and I have little respect for their placement on the bench. I respect people who get out there and fight hard. In Uncharted, I like people who play the way I do. I look at the people who hang back and snipe at others from the comfort of distance as chickenshits and in life there are literally millions of them sitting on benches or in the stands cheering on the exceptional so that they can ride their coattails to victory. There is no “I” in team, but there is in “win,” and that is what decides winners and losers in life. Teams don’t win. Individuals do, and my bets are always on them to give a competitive advantage in the marketplace of existence. The keys to success are always in identifying, and developing the exceptional among us and catching those people before they even realize that they may one day be that star on the field of play for which all others rally behind—hoping to be the benefactors of their individual heroics.
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