Remember tabloids? Back when they were a hilarious diversion from actual news?
Well, for quite some time the methods employed by tabloids have gone into a state of quantum entanglement with all news good, bad, or downright bizarre.
Whatever makes the story juicier, risque, shocking, horrifying, entertaining, unbelievable, or otherwise palatable- they do that shit!
They do it under a thick clear coat of innuendo that lets you know its nonsense without outwardly saying it, which is why conspiracy nuts looooove it!
I say conspiracy nuts with a mixture of affection and concern.
On the affection side, I adore a well-thought-out plot with twists and turns, layers of intrigue, surprises, and scandal. On the concerning side, actually believing what you’re consuming without some critical thinking is as bonkers as dismissing the premise altogether.
It’s not a balanced equation, is the best analogy I can think of.
At the base level, there’s the plausible idea that the govt engages in some shady activity and is probably monitoring people and data more than they let on. Logically I think operating quietly is mitigates the danger and depending on what is discovered they may drop it.
“You think they’d just drop it?! You’re not thinking man!”
Yes, I am Gomer. If I was thought to have a drug lab in my house and working for some cartel, they’d track my activity right? But they find I’m posting music video reactions twice a day and Twitch streaming all evening, they’d probably go through their notes and say, “Wrong guy.” And yes, they’d move on. What would they stand to gain from my comedic timing and vast knowledge of 80’s and 90’s video games?
“They could get you to do stuff, y’know!”
Why me? I’m five foot nothing, I weigh a hundred and nothing! I’m a complete drunk, I can’t fight, I can’t dance, I stutter like a jackass, my memory is for shit even on a good day! What would they stand to gain from coercing me into their ranks? They might as well shoot me because I’m just gonna fuck it up, but that would be a waste of a bullet!
“They could take whatever they wanted from you!”
My outdated clothes? My computer, for what? They can play Warcraft on theirs, it’s probably a better system! My old CD collection? My Game of Thrones books? Seriously, if they took all my shit, I’d be out maybe...$3000, maybe. Mind you, I’m not poor, I make okay money, but I’m a frugal motherfucker.
I think it boils down to people wanting to seem smart. And because they can follow the premise set forth by the Alex Joneses of the world, they’re not only smart but right! No one likes being thought of as stupid, so when these ideas pop up they start pointing at what they believe is evidence.
Evidence and facts through a conspiratorial lens can take the flimsiest detail and turn it into a smoking gun, or you’d at least get some raised eyebrows and an “Aha, see? No answer for that is there?”
Leaps of faith and pure conjecture are at the heart of this InfoWars/Qanon bandwagon. No longer is it positing an idea, it becomes the beginning, middle, and end of the whole story. Simply throwing haymakers to end the bout in one punch instead of creating some space and getting your footwork in order.
That mentality has shown itself throughout history.
People utterly convinced something is true just because they want it to be. So much so that it completely overwrites the person they were before who probably just wanted to be liked or seem cool. The desperate and disenfranchised will ultimately be exploited or take things too far.
From Jonestown to Charles Manson, to Waco, to Heavens Gate, it never works out well. Some are more benign and mainly seek profit, which I don’t condone, but if you wanna give Pat Robertson your money that’s your prerogative. Still doesn’t make it right.
Let’s move upward in time a bit. Remember that hot minute where people thought The Matrix was factual? Did any of you find yourself staring in disbelief at your dumbest friend trying to sound knowledgeable about that nonsense? I sure did.
“We’re in The Matrix man, you gotta use your mind and free yourself!”
You gotta eat your fries and stick to your day job, fucking Phillip!
99.9% of people who go to Comic-Con do so because they really have fun with it. There’s a lot of work and care that go into the costumes and props, excellent craftsmanship on all fronts. Cosplayers, actors, models all get involved and you get to see some pretty cool creative shit.
They all know it’s fake, they’re having a good time with it.
If Dan, who works at Target, puts together a great Darth Vader costume and lightsaber; he’s gonna walk around to take pictures. He’ll goof around, do the voice, but he will not actually believe he can use the Force. He also wouldn’t do anything but hand over his wallet if someone pulled a gun on him. Dan isn’t crazy, he knows he’s not Darth Vader because Darth Vader doesn’t exist!
One of my stepbrothers did a really annoying thing when he was a kid that translated into his bad behavior as an adult. It may not make sense at first, but give me a minute.
I’m almost 8 years older than him, so when he was 5, I was about 13. It was the early 90’s so we played outside, and like anyone else, we played tag, of course. I’d run around like a maniac at first but eventually slow down and let him tag me, knowing that the game is a great way to blow off steam and build speed, strength, and dexterity. Unfortunately, when chasing him, his method was to run as fast as he could but keep his head turned in my direction.
If you guessed that the game usually ended with him smashing into stuff or tripping and slamming into the ground, well you’ve won this round! He lived with his mother so this was spread out over a few extended visits over a decade.
He came back our way when he was 14, repeating the 8th grade, but he was usually walking past the school and walking back home most days. One time I heard snoring coming from the downstairs bathroom to find him sleeping with his blanket and pillow in the shower. Another time he was standing in his bedroom closet against the wall where I’d heard a shifting sound, I opened it and this idiot shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep! I closed the door but let his dad know, I came home to find out that he’d taken the spare keys to the pickup truck and went to the local bodega.
Even a bunch of vagrant alcoholics knew it wasn’t right and the store owner let us know. We sent him back to his mother.
When I pressed him about why he did these things, he couldn’t even fathom what I was talking about. A complete denial. I figured out why years later when he tried to bully his own father into bringing his family to live with us. “You know, growing up like that hurt me. I have scars from it!”
My stepfather somewhat acquiesced until the game became apparent to him. “You’re 31 years old, what could I do about when you were 5 or 14, you were with your mom all this time?!”
“Because you gave me back to her, she was terrible, you punished me, now I’m going to punish you!”
You see, he weaved this complicated algorithm of non-sequiturs but never finished the equation. The common denominator. Himself.
Own your horseshit, but clean up on the way out.