The Know-It-All Knows Nothing
He Doesn't Even Know that He Doesn't Know
“What’s a vicar?”
“A vicar is a person who Vicks.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’ — a vicar is a person who vicks! It’s just like a hunter is a person who hunts, and a welder is a person who welds; a vicker is a person who vicks.”
“Well, then, what is vicking?”
“What is vicking?!? Don’t you know anything?!? It’s when a person calls another person ‘Vick’ when their real name is Victor or Victoria.”
“Who even does that?”
“Lots of people. Bozos. For example, vickers call VapoRub ‘Vick’s VapoRub’ when its real name is Victor’s VapoRub. And they call Michael Victor, ‘Michael Vick.’ Imbeciles! Scallawags!”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not? It’s as plain as the nose on Cyrano de Bergerac’s face — VapoRubbers are Vickers and NFL fans are Vickers.”
“So who was the Vicar of Wakefield?”
“I’ve never heard of such a person.”
“It’s right here — it’s the title of this book by Oliver Goldsmith.”
“Let me see it … ah, you’re mistaken. Look at how it’s spelled: it’s Vi-Car, not Vicker.”
“What’s a Vi-Car, then?”
“First of all, ‘Vi-Car’ is a corruption or misspelling of the word ‘Vie-Car.’ A Vie-Car is a person who is against cars.”
“Who’s against cars?”
“Lots of people — for example, Luddites, who want us all to ride around on donkeys so that we can pollute the ground instead of the air and provide make-work for donkey-following pooper scoopers; race car drivers are also against cars, in that they are vying against the cars driven by the other suicidal maniacs; and motorcyclists, who vie with cars because they consider car drivers to be menaces to society and the terror of the highways.”
“But this book seems to indicate that the titular vicar is some sort of religious appointee.”
“Well, that makes sense, since Luddism is a religion — and so is NASCAR.”
“NASCAR is a religion?”
“Yes, it stands for New Age Spectators Compete Against Reality.”
“You lost me.”
“No I didn’t — you’re right there.”
“Not for long; I’m outta here.”
The know-it-all watched his acquaintance walk away without looking back or even waving goodbye. “He’s probably a Vicker himself,” the know-it-all thought, raspily rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I should have known it.”
Another time, the know-it-all was asked what it meant to curry a horse. He responded, “Well, that’s obvious. After all, East Indians don’t eat cows; therefore, it’s easy to deduce that they do eat horses. To “curry a horse” means to put curry powder on the meat while it’s being prepared.”