I've been meaning to read this philosophy-lite essay for years, and I finally managed to get through it:
Harry Frankfurt's "On Bullshit". The first few paragraphs are pretty dry, but it improves dramatically after the section on "humbug." Some Wittgenstein references to stir up happyfun Rom Harre memories (Jesse? Rachel? Loren? Evan?).
And from Dana, because it reminded her of me:
Sigh. So true.