But if they came across people who are deluded about their own abilities, I don't think they would make them the butt of their humour - they would rather try and sort them out and put them on the right path to become better musicians - although that may be because I have met these players in the context of teaching/tutoring....?
That's nice, Bruce I dig it.
Here's another spin on your teaching friends trying to help the "deluded". You've heard these types of stories about the old days of BeBop on 52nd St. in NYC; Bird, Diz and the other greats of that time. Kind of the opposite of your friends who seem to be so nice and patient with the "deluded".
I told this story here a while back, so forgive my repeating.
One of my mentors here in the
Denver area was a BeBop master player/restaurant owner named Ray Iverson. Ray was a self-taught (like I am) multi-instrumentalist; alto, tenor, bari, flute, vibes, bass and drums. To this day, he was one of the funniest people I've ever come across...think Victor Borge + Lennie Bruce.
I was about 16 and one of the "deluded" in terms of BeBop. I had good chops (too good, really). The Thunderbird Restaurant, atop Look Out Mountain, west of Denver was his school room for many successful jazz players. Here is one of his teaching techniques....one night, after an inspirational set (to me) I wandered into the men's room for a leak. Ray was at the communal latrine, pretty well loaded, doing his thing. I pulled up next to him waiting for a nice compliment (On my playing, On my playing!

) His words: "What the **** do you think you're doing out there, you ***-hole???!!! That was the most jive-ass **** I've EVER heard!
I left in tears. He was my hero. BUT, it also awoke another emotion in me. I wanted to show him something. (I know, I already did in the bathroom.

) I went home and practiced with records for two weeks...mainly with Ray Brown for time playing.
I came back up and played. It was really good. My payback and compliment from Ray was, when he went into the bathroom behind the bass, a hearty goose up my *** and a warm

. I was in.
Ray was my father, in terms of music and humor. A bit rough around the edges, but it takes all kinds.