The Problem With Agnosticism (An Excerpt)

You want to know something about who I am, I suppose. Other than my name and that I’m some sick fuck who likes to poison himself. Well, I’m a lot like Clint Eastwood in every movie he’s ever made. I like to think I’m a hard ass. I’m set in my ways. I’ll tell you when I don’t like you, but I won’t tell you when I do. I think I know everything. Wait, scratch that last one. This is where I differ from Clint (apart from the fact that he’s wrinkly like my fingers after a long bath and I’m still young and handsome). I think I know everything because I admit that I don’t know everything. That doesn’t sound right, I know. But we’ve been over this. The biggest mistake you can make is to pretend to know something you don’t. So the wisest of us all is he who realizes his ignorance. That is me. You say that doesn’t make sense, right. Wisdom is a result of knowledge, so you must be more than ignorant to be wise, is your point. However, I respectfully disagree; that is, unless you push me at this. Then I’m just going to curse at you under my breath and give you the silent treatment. See, I know that I don’t know. Hence, my ignorance is really knowledge. Because even though I don’t know, I know that I don’t know. Realization of ignorance is knowledge. You may bow down and kiss my feet now. Call me the wise man if you will.