You stumble upon a curious news item: X, renowned and very active public intellectual, has committed a wide world risible gaffe. (Or not) In one of his books he cites copiously from the books of an artifact-author, a dummy concocted by a journalist, Y, and his team of smarts. Their farce, reportedly, includes 2 books, a website, and a collection of published articles, digitally generated in various scholastic databases and records of publishing outlets. First, I find it hard to believe that X made this error; if he were a famous recluse, writing from the dusty corners of his ivory tower, this quirky anecdote might conjure up a certain side of truth and sense. But X is an active player, he overwhelmingly seems to either cite from his known peers and foes, or from dead luminaries. However, it strikes you that it really doesn't matter at all. Anyone can dupe anyone if they set their mind to do so. And if, let's say, they add an ideological veneer to it, they may trick their own selves to think: it's not a scam, but an act of hygiene of moral reach and ethical specter. Except: a scam is a scam is a scam. And while X wrote a book, Y secreted a scam. If you are only to weigh the intent of the two, you can tell the actual laughable aim.
Another day, yet closely related: the juvenile tale of total aesthetic convergence and coordinated synergy of meanings
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