We finally arrive at such sweeping insights as: “Bullshit is unavoidable whenever circumstances require someone to talk without knowing what he is talking about.” And that "The contemporary proliferation of bullshit also has deeper sources, in various forms of skepticism which deny that we can have any reliable access to an objective reality, and which therefore reject the possibility of knowing how things truly are.”

We conclude with, “Facts about ourselves are not peculiarly solid and resistant to skeptical dissolution. Our natures are, indeed, elusively insubstantial – notoriously less stable and less inherent than the natures of other things. And insofar as this is the case, sincerity itself is bullshit.”

Since “sincerity” is actually one of the most fundamental esthetic principals of emotive art, as stated by storytelling heavies like Tolstoy to inviting versifiers like Hammerstein, we will decline to go along with the author’s final statement.

But if this sort of offbeat investigative reasoning is your kind of cow pie, then you might enjoy a perusal of its examination of the subject at hand.