A Field Guide to Spotting Hypocrites in the Wild

The hypocrite can be seen in almost every form in all cities across the world.

Hypocrites are everywhere. They lurk in offices, infiltrate gyms, stalk your Instagram feed, and most dangerously, infest family group chats with the subtlety of a raccoon rifling through a neighbor’s garbage. They look harmless at first glance smiling, polite, even inspirational but leave a trail of contradictions so glaring, you start wondering if the universe is trolling you. I spoke with “hypocrisy expert” Dr. Philomena Trout, who warns, “Hypocrites are like dandelions: they seem cute until they’ve taken over your lawn, your feed, and your trust in humanity.” Here’s how to spot them before they multiply.

You’ll recognize this species on Instagram, flexing in gym selfies captioned “no excuses”—usually taken four minutes before driving through Taco Bell. Their natural diet consists of protein shakes, regret, and the occasional regretful protein shake. “I once saw a guy with six-pack abs post a gym selfie while simultaneously holding a foot-long chili cheese dog,” says anonymous barista and social observer Mia Rodriguez. “I’m still recovering from the cognitive dissonance.” If you’re looking to blend in at a gym, just remember: they can smell hypocrisy—or queso—from a mile away.

This particular hypocrite yells “STOP YELLING!” at their kids so loudly the neighbors call the police to file noise complaints. Bonus points if they deliver it with a slipper in one hand and a Bible in the other. “I swear I’m just trying to raise well-adjusted children,” said one self-proclaimed parenting influencer, just after launching a tantrum worthy of a toddler over spilled almond milk. Remember: if the sound of moral outrage could be measured, these parents would power a small city.

They demand silence during films, then spend the next twenty minutes loudly explaining the plot you already understood. This species also rustles family-size candy bags like they’re operating a snowblower. Theatergoer Jake Thompson recounts, “I just wanted to watch Top Gun: Maverick. Instead, I got a full lecture on aerial cinematography while dodging popcorn fragments.” Pro tip: if they’re in your row, keep a seat cushion handy—it doubles as a shield and a megaphone silencer.

This hypocrite starts every sentence with “I don’t like gossip, but—” and ends it with three names, a conspiracy theory, and the phrase “you didn’t hear it from me.” They are essentially the unpaid, human version of TMZ. According to Dr. Trout, “The gossip denier is evolution’s cruel joke: they survive by spreading rumors faster than humans can fact-check them.” If you spot one in the wild, nod politely and slowly back away, preferably toward the exit.

These saints of the internet preach “Log off and live your life,” all while holding five phones, live-streaming themselves meditating, and posting motivational quotes. They can usually be spotted glowing softly in yoga retreats or vegan cafés. “I tried to unplug once,” confesses one exhausted onlooker. “Then she posted a ten-minute Reel about the joys of being present while I was trying to pay for a latte.” Moral: the Digital Monk isn’t evil—they’re just aggressively ironic.

This hypocrite is a self-proclaimed health guru who preaches discipline and clean eating… then posts a mountain of burgers with #CheatDay. Translation: “This is the only joy left in my life.” Fake influencer Chloe Banks admits, “I tell everyone about kale smoothies, but really, if I don’t eat fries at 2 a.m., I start shaking.” These humans are proof that morality and calories are inversely proportional.

Behold the rarest hypocrite: the religious group who screams “tax the rich!” on Twitter while legally hiding $293 billion behind a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and still buying companies that would make a small country jealous. They sip ethically sourced lattes while watching the poor play Monopoly with their rent money. “I donate to charity, therefore I am good,” said one such billionaire while lobbying Congress to keep loopholes intact. If you see one in the wild, remember: do not make eye contact, do not challenge their logic, and definitely do not mention the words “IRS audit.”

Finally, we have the “Kids these days need to unplug” hypocrite, the person who hand-feeds their toddler an iPad at full volume while whining about screen time. These folks are directly responsible for Baby Shark achieving 14 billion views. “I wanted them to read a book,” says one frazzled parent, “but instead they were hosting a virtual rave with animated fish.” The moral? If they offer to babysit, hide your devices and your dignity.

Hypocrites aren’t necessarily malicious they’re just people who think the rules apply to everyone else but themselves. Treat them like wildlife: observe from a safe distance, never feed them, and if they approach you with unsolicited advice, clap loudly or pretend to sneeze. And remember, in the words of Dr. Trout: “Hypocrites are like raccoons. Loud, messy, and somehow impossible to train.”