The dimwitted disease of self-esteem

Scurvy. Rickets. Smallpox.

Many a disease that plagued pirates of old.

And while most have disappeared, from the crow's nest we spy a new one rearing its selfie-framed head on the horizon:

The disease of self-esteem.

The plague that turned us into a world of Cumbayah, hand-holding types, searching frantically to feel good about ourselves and inflate our sense of self, whatever that means.

Call us old-fashioned, Bucko, but in the pirate world, self-esteem is as good as a brolly in a blizzard.

Self-esteem is inflatable, like a balloon.

Pump it up, and it looks nice and shiny....

....for a while.

But a day or two later, the party's over, and it's all crinkled and flat.

Easy come, easy go.

A fence that goes up fast, comes down fast.

Not something you want to anchor yourself to.

What we like instead is something much harder to hornswaggle:

Self-respect.

The difference?

Self-respect is earned, not inflated.

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