Bullshit-policing ain’t no crusade for purity, a quest for some virginal realm of unadulterated truth. It’s a game of borders, a cartography of the permissible lie. We’re not cops of the cosmic con, cracking down on falsehoods. No, we’re boundary cops, enforcers of the bullshit zone. It’s about the fence, not the field. Where does the freewheeling fantasy, the casual concoction, cross the line from playful to perilous? That’s where we draw the bead, not on the bullshit itself, but on the reckless disregard for the rules of the bullshit game. We’re not truth warriors, we’re zone defenders, protecting the delicate ecosystem of the allowable lie.

Lies-policing ain’t no truth-crusade. It’s a game of borders, a cartography of lies. We don’t patrol the land of fakery,searching for the pure coin of truth. We’re border guards, manning the ramparts against the unchecked flood of bullshit.Axelrod’s got it right: it ain’t about truth or lies, it’s about where the fuck those lies belong. We’re not policing bullshit,we’re quarantine officers, keeping the contagion of indifference contained. The CI zone, that’s the safehouse, the red light district for lies. Step outside those lines and the bullshit police are on your ass, man.

Bullshit-policing ain’t no crusade for purity, man. It ain’t about some righteous war on lies. It’s a control freak’s wet dream, a grid laid over the chaos of language, a fence around the bullshitting range. We don’t police the bullshit itself, no, that’s a fool’s errand. We police the boundaries, the edges of the bullshit zone, where the free-floating, weightless lies start to solidify into something dangerous. We’re the customs agents of the mind, checking passports at the border of the bullshit empire.