Evangeline is the Benevolent Ruler of a Petite Forest Kingdom

Today while walking past a tea shop in Ballard, a man sipping tea on the patio yelled at David and me, "You don't know half of what I know, and if you did, you wouldn't do a thing with it." David thought he was crazy and this is what I thought at first too, because usually only crazy people have the gumption to yell at strangers. But after thinking about it, I came up with two other theories. The first is that he is an aging philosopher. Thousands of hours of his life were spent in musty, dim-lit libraries, hunched over philosophy books. Ardently, he acquired knowledge, but he never actually did anything with it. The man is growing old, and his mind is deteriorating. Whenever he misplaces his keys he worries he has become a living embodiment of an old man stereotype. All of that knowledge is slipping away with his memory and with the passing years. He goes to the tea shop to try and let his mind relax with a newspaper and a cup of tea. When people walk by, he is distracted as he watches them pass. It is frustrating to see them and to know that they don't know all of the amazing things he does. Even so, he realizes, that they too wouldn't do anything with his knowledge.
My second theory is that he knows a most dangerous secret. With the knowledge he has, he could save lives. But if he reveals his knowledge, it could put him in grave jeopardy. All of his thoughts are centered on the debate of whether to reveal his knowledge or keep it secret. The weight of the secret is making him a tad bit batty. Most likely, either the government or a powerful corporation is involved, and he is just one small person.