I don’t want to get it. But I could. In fact, I think it’s brewing inside me right now, waiting to spread.
No doctor can treat it. There’s no pill to fix it. It’s sneaky bad. And the worst thing: You don’t know when you’ve got it! But everybody else does know you’ve got it! By then, unless there's a miracle, it’s too late.
The late-stage symptoms of this disease were all over the news today. We all saw it:
“My people love me!'” – Muammar Gaddafi
“I am a good person. Everyone was greedy. I just went along.” – Bernie Madoff
“I’m tired of pretending like I’m not special. You can’t process me with a normal brain.” – Charlie Sheen
I don’t know the name of the disease, but Bruce Springsteen once described it in a song:
Poor man wanna be rich;
Rich man wanna be king;
And a king ain’t satisfied til he rules everything
It’s been around a long time; Solomon noticed it, too:
When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with the humble is wisdom – Proverbs 11.2
