ducttape wrote:

"It doesn't matter if it's true or not, its more of an exercise in critical thinking."

Nietzsche wrote:
When a philosopher today gives us to understand that he is not a skeptic—I hope the foregoing account of the objective spirit has brought this out?—all the world is offended to hear it; thereafter he is regarded with a certain dread, there is so much one would like to ask him ...

indeed, among timid listeners, of whom there are nowadays a very great number, he is henceforth considered dangerous. It is as if, in his rejection of skepticism, they seemed to hear some evil, menacing sound from afar, as if some new explosive were being tested somewhere, a dynamite of the spirit, perhaps a newly discovered Russian nihiline [Nihilin, a play on Anilin (aniline, a posionous chemical)], a pessimism bonae voluntatis [of good will] which does not merely say No, will No, but—dreadful thought! does No.

Against this kind of “good will”—a will to the actual active denial of life—there is today confessedly no better sedative and soporific than skepticism, the gentle, gracious, lulling poppy skepticism; and even Hamlet is prescribed by the doctors of our time against the “spirit” and its noises under the ground. “Are our ears not already filled with nasty sounds?” says the skeptic as a friend of sleep and almost as a kind of security police: “this subterranean No is terrible! Be quiet, you pessimistic moles!”

For the skeptic, that delicate creature, is all too easily frightened; his conscience is schooled to wince at every No, indeed even at a hard decisive Yes, and to sense something like a sting. Yes! and No!—that is to him contrary to morality; on the other hand, he likes his virtue to enjoy a noble continence, perhaps by saying after Montaigne “What do I know?” [“Que sais-je?”: the motto of the Essays (1580) of Michel de Montaigne (1533-92)]

Or after Socrates: “I know that I know nothing.”

Or: “Here I do not trust myself, here no door stands open to me.”

Or: “If it did stand open, why go straight in?”

Or: “What is the point of hasty hypotheses?

To make no hypothesis at all could well be a part of good taste. Do you absolutely have to go straightening out what is crooked? Absolutely have to stop up every hole with oakum? Is there not plenty of time? Does time not have time? Oh you rogues, are you unable to wait? Uncertainty too has its charms, the sphinx too is a Circe, Circe too was a philosopher.”

— Thus does a skeptic console himself; and it is true he stands in need of some consolation. For skepticism is the most spiritual expression of a certain complex physiological condition called in ordinary language nervous debility and sickliness; it arises whenever races or classes long separated from one another are decisively and suddenly crossed. In the new generation, which has as it were inherited varying standards and values in its blood, all is unrest, disorder, doubt, experiment; the most vital forces have a retarding effect, the virtues themselves will not let one another grow and become strong, equilibrium, center of balance, upright certainty are lacking in body and soul.

But that which becomes most profoundly sick and degenerates in such hybrids is the will: they no longer have any conception of independence of decision, of the valiant feeling of pleasure in willing—even in their dreams they doubt the “freedom of the will.” Our Europe of today, the scene of a senselessly sudden attempt at radical class—and consequently race-mixture, is as a result skeptical from top to bottom, now with that agile skepticism which springs impatiently and greedily from branch to branch, now gloomily like a cloud overcharged with question marks and often sick to death of its will! Paralysis of will: where does one not find this cripple sitting today! And frequently so dressed up! How seductively dressed up! There is the loveliest false finery available for this disease; and that most of that which appears in the shop windows today as “objectivity,” “scientificality,” “l’art pour l’art,” “pure will-less knowledge” is merely skepticism and will-paralysis dressed up—for this diagnosis of the European sickness I am willing to go bail.

[...]

"Stop being ignorant", in other words. You don't have to stop being greedy, in fact greed is probably a good thing; greedy for the truth.

If they cannot provide evidence, or at least point to where I can find the evidence myself, then it is reasonable to reject what ever their saying or simply not immediately accept what they say as true. What other people call "their truths" might be useless to you. Their epistemology could be completely different. For example, when a paranormalists talks about their truths I am right to take no interest; what they call "true" is not what I call "true."