All right, since you are opening this thread to some humor, there is a rather amusing story that seems to fit the circumstances very well.
Toward the beginning of the Haskalah [Enlightenment], a certain small-town apikoros [heretic] goes to visit the Great Apirkoros of Warsaw for inspiration in his continuing rejection of tradition. He arrives in Warsaw on Friday afternoon, and finds his way to the home of the Great Apikoros. He is shown to a guest room, and when he is finally introduced to the Great Apikoros, he is astounded to find the man dressed in his best, complete with tzitzit and embroidered kippah.
"You should get changed quickly, or we'll be late for shul [Temple]! We can talk later." The Great Apikoros tells the small-town apikoros, who retreats in dumbfounded silence to change clothes.
The small-town apikoros follows the Great Apikoros and a number of apparent students and colleagues as they walk to shul. To the amazement of the small-town apikoros, the Great Apikoros ascends the bimah [pulpit] and leads a fervent service, chanting the traditional liturgy with melodious facility. After services, they return to the house of the Great Apikoros, where the Great Apikoros makes kiddush [the blessing over wine] and hamotzi [the blessing over bread], and they eat a full traditional Shabbat meal, followed by bentsching [saying grace after meals] and singing many zmirot [Shabbat songs].
The next morning, they go back to shul, where the Great Apikoros leads again, and delivers a learned sermon, with many quotes from Tanach, Talmud, and halachah. After morning services, they return to the house of the Great Apikoros, eat a full traditional Shabbat lunch, bentsch, sing zmirot, and the Great Apikoros teaches a freewheeling discussion of Mishnah and Gemara to a large table full of attentive disciples. They all daven minchah [pray the afternoon service] and when Shabbat draws to a close, the Great Apikoros makes havdalah [the ritual separation between Shabbat and the rest of the week], they daven maariv [pray the evening service], and the Great Apikoros takes the small-town apikoros into his study.
"So," The Great Apikoros says, "Tell me what you want to talk about."
"I don't understand you at all!" The small-town apikoros bursts out, full of angry confusion. "I am the apikoros of my town. I publicly scoff at the teachings of the rabbi and his students. I don't keep Shabbat, or keep kosher. I don't study Talmud or daven. I never go to shul. I don't make brachot [blessings] or bentsch. I do everything I can to reject all this archaic superstitious nonsense and to make everyone aware of what rot it all is! But you-- you keep Shabbat, you go to shul, you lead services, you give the drash [sermon], you keep a kosher home, you teach Talmud, you even wear tzitzit! What kind of apikoros are you?!"
The Great Apikoros nods, thoughtfully. "I think I see where your confusion lies. I am an apikoros. But you're an am ha-aretz [ignoramus]."