One of the things I hate most in life (besides people who put clothes on their pets and that infernal, inane Beggin’ Strips commercial) is arrogance. Arrogance, cockiness, pretention, superciliousness, braggadocio: whatever you call it, I hate it.

Mind you, I have no problem with intelligence or talent. That is all well and good. But when people start to think that they are, in some way, better than everyone else simply because they read Dostoyevsky for fun or know more about obscure European history than I do, it bothers me.

First, because you read heavy tomes or know random facts does not make you more intelligent than someone who reads John Grisham and watches “Glee” in their spare time. And second, being smart does not make you better than anyone else. So wipe that smug grin off your face and go back to Cambridge.

What I hate more than “justified” arrogance, if one can ever justify such a disguising trait, is unwarranted arrogance. Those people act as if they know everything when, really, they know less than most people around them.

These are the people who sit back in their chairs in class, nod knowingly at everything the professor says, and occasionally chime in, repeating what someone has already said, pretending as if it is their own brilliant thought. To all of you pretentious pretenders, I hate you.

The best, though, is when these arrogant idiots are called out on their empty claims. I am rarely more satisfied than when someone who thinks so highly of himself is proven to be flat-out wrong. Oh, how the not-so-mighty have fallen, then! And fortunately for me, this happens quite often. And every time a supercilious slimeball is knocked down, an angel gets its wings.

For me, the best path in life is the Socratic one. I prefer to admit outright my simplicity, my lack of wisdom. I freely admit that I am often wrong and I know little, but I am always ready and willing to learn. It is only then that one can truly learn anything. For if you go into everything in life believing that you know everything there is to know, what, after all, is left to learn? It also doesn’t hurt that the Socratic method consists solely of breaking down the arguments of others and exposing their mistakes and follies.

Modesty, my friends, is far more attractive than pomposity. Unfortunately, the modest seem to be in short supply, especially at Loyola. Abandon your pretentions; there is nothing wrong with not knowing the answer. Stop trying to impress everyone else; you end up looking a lot more stupid than if you had not said anything at all. And my advice to Loyola’s army of pretentious pinheads is to mosey on down to the O.R. and order yourself a big old piece of humble pie.

Rebekah Locke can be reached at [email protected]