There is this man I don’t really know who is named Robert.
There is nothing special about this. This doesn’t make me special. There are a lot of men named Robert, and even more men who I do not know, and almost no men who I do know, so without even doing the math I can say there are far more Roberts I don’t know than Roberts I do.
And even if I tried I could never know every man named Robert. There is nobody in the world who knows every Robert. Really anyone out there could say “there is this Robert I don’t know” and they would be telling the truth. There is nothing special about this.
And even if I knew every man named Robert – if I wasted a genie wish on this just to prove a point – I am sure that the very second I got to know the last unknown Robert, transforming him into a known Robert, a new Robert would be born and I would have to get to know him, too.
It would go on like this forever. It would take up absolutely all of my time.