You remember it: Jacob had 12 sons, but spoiled one of the younger ones (Joseph, a perennial daydreamer) rotten. The other brothers got fed up with it, so they took matters into their own hands. Kidnapping Joseph, at first they intended to just leave him to die. Upon reflection, they decided that idea was the pits, and besides, there was a greater prophet to be made selling off their extra inventory. Joseph was scalped to a band of Egypt-bound traders, and the brothers returned home, where in the very best Family Tradition (see Genesis 27) they proceeded to pull the multi-colored wool over Jacob's eyes.

Meanwhile Joseph, sold to an officer in Egypt's armed forces, made the best of a bad deal. He figured, when in Thebes...

Things were going pretty well, he was moving up the corporate ladder (albeit it for slave wages) when the boss's wife made a pass at him. Joseph got away, but his clothing didn't. Dressing for success wasn't Joe's long suit. The boss made an impromptu return, and his wife, no slouch in the quick-thinking department, pointed the accusing garment at Joseph and theatrically swooned. Joseph was sent to jail.

Ever the optimist, Joseph embarked on his career as prisoner with patented alacrity. He soon was in charge of meals, exercise, guard duty and dream interpretation. Organization of the former and a flair for marketing the latter led him eventually to Pharaoh, who, figuring he'd better keep this boy in plain sight, named him a distant second to his exalted self.

The rest you know: 7 years of bull markets, 7 years voodoo agriculture. The brothers came for a handout and Joseph, ever his father's son, deceived and terrified them before letting them know it was all just some good family fun. Jacob and relations moved to Northern Egypt where they took up permanent residence until Cecil B. DeMille hired Charlton Heston to relocate them.

The moral of the story is self-evident: Had Jacob possessed better parenting skills, Moses would have been a nobody.