Man is a disgusting animal, incapable of reconciling his baser instincts with his self-proclaimed supreme intellect, which towers over the kingdom of animals in the form of iPods and ridiculous libations like Venti non-fat mocha-caramel vanilla bean powder extra-ice no-foam 6-pump douple-cupped sugar-free whipped macchiato hazelnut extra-hot chai tea lattes. 

But sincerity cannot be found in uninhibited dolphins making sweet, sweet love in the waters of the Pacific. Neither can it be found in the fiery laser eyes of Alison Sanzone’s insectoid offspring, which are only capable of emotions like RAGE, HUNGER, and HIGH HEELS. This is because both monstrous scenes I have painted lack human intention. Dolphins fuck because they are programmed to fuck, whereas human children, one hopes, are not programmed to pull the legs off spiders. They do it because they intend to, incompatibilistic determinism notwithstanding. Only the fleshy breed of thinking machines we call “people” (and perhaps nascent, artificially intelligent search engines, great apes, and Lassie) are capable of doing things because they really truly mean it.

Or, at least, so it seems.

Therefore, good honorable Reverend Andrew Rohman, we may rule out—on account of their thoughtless instinctiveness, their reactionary ineluctability—the vast sea of staple emotions, like fear and anger, glee and sadness, among the acts growing ever rare that we may call “sincere.”