Yes, I need to pay attention — In a million little ways.

I’ve been duped, tricked, schemed, scammed, bamboozled, hoodwinked and hoaxed.

And, well, OK, so I’ve discovered that I live inside a self-inflicted bubble of ignorance.

I know I should watch the news, read the papers, browse the Net, or do anything that’ll at least give me the headlines for the day.

But there are those days I don’t. And somehow, I learned from “South Park” of all shows, not only that I’d been made a fool but that I could have avoided it altogether.

Recently, I read “A Million Little Pieces,” and I believed every word of it. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t four months after the book was exposed as false.

In case there’s someone out there who did the same thing I did, at least now you can be comforted by the fact that you’re not the only one.

And for those of you who haven’t heard about it (please God, let there be someone) here’s what I’m talking about:

The author of the book, James Frey, wrote “A Million Little Pieces” as a memoir of his struggle with drug and alcohol addiction. He said he meant to create hope for those struggling with similar afflictions and to share his story with the world.

Oprah Winfrey picked it as one of her favorites and the book topped best-seller lists, becoming an instant favorite of many who read it.

Then in January TheSmokingGun.com, a popular investigative Web site, exposed Frey as a fraud. After further investigation, he admitted that he had in fact “embellished” parts of his book.

So why am I writing about this now? Because I’m one of the idiots who fell for it. But mostly, because I fell for it after all that had been publicized. It wasn’t until last week when I was watching a “South Park” rerun in which the incident was referred to, that I even had a clue.

And I still didn’t get it. I asked the friend I was watching the show with. She didn’t say anything for a little while. At first, she looked at me like she thought I was joking. And then, then she said it out loud. “You’re kidding, right?”

Those were NOT the words I wanted to hear.

I completely fell for Frey’s heroic story. He endured a root canal without anesthesia or any other painkillers for goodness sake! Even if I hadn’t liked the book, how could that not leave an impression on me, true or false?

Of course, now that I think about it, a root canal … without anesthesia … or painkillers … and if I remember correctly, he stayed conscious through the entire thing.

Or maybe he didn’t? I can’t remember. Let’s pretend he did. It’s easier to prove my point, just like Frey claims he did.

I should have known at that point. Even if I do live in a bubble. Without the Internet. Or television. Or newspapers. Or ears.

But no, I spent $14.95 at Target that I could have used to buy three pairs of underwear or an automatic jar opener or enough stale Easter candy to give me six cavities instead.

It was just sitting there on the shelf, such an honest-looking sky blue — what’s with the hand covered in sprinkles on the cover anyway? I was just going to let that go, but now that I know the story isn’t true … oh, excuse me, “embellished.”

I was inspired by that book, and, no matter what defense Frey gives, it was every element of that story that sold me. It made me believe that no matter what I came up against for the rest of my life, things could always get worse. If he could do it, I could too. Classic.

All the while, I’m searching for something or someone to blame.

The publisher? Sure, in part. Frey? Of course.

TheSmokingGun.com and others have criticized both. And poor Oprah? Well, ha ha, I say. I don’t like her anyway.

As for me? The only person I can point a finger at is myself. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good story.

The worst part is, I don’t even really like “South Park”.