July 17. The word is conspiracy.

I used to love a good conspiracy theory. The veils of fiction that drape themselves around real events will always draw me in. I adore a good story, and at root, that’s what every conspiracy theory is: a narrative that explains “facts”  in a way that better please the theory’s creator than boring old reality does. Like oil slicks atop the surface of a puddle or mirages on hot pavement, these confabulations are seldom pretty but often mesmerizing.

Real conspiracies are, I think more rare than the theorists would have us believe. The amount of long-term large-scale collaboration and secrecy required for conspiracies like chem-trails and the like would be inhuman.

See, humans are super-good at keeping secrets for short time periods but lousy at keeping them for long ones. As the saying goes, three people can keep a secret if two are dead…maybe. The truth will out and all that. It may take a lot of blood and sacrifice, but someone will always dig to the bottom of things. Humans are nosy, and knowledge is power. Someone will always want to spread power to the people.

Hah. How many trite saying did I get into that paragraph? Don’t know. Can’t pause to count. ONLY FIVE MINUTES.

ANYway. Conspiracy theories scare me these days. Not the confabulations themselves–those are still amazing windows into the minds of their makers and wondrous tales of weirdness. No, what terrifies me is the number of people who have lost all ability to analyze dazzle & razzle and mistake narrative polish for substance and verifiable data.  “It makes sense” is not a proof. “I can see how that would work” is not a truth test.

The way people have lost the ability to tell truth from fiction has become too widespread too quickly to be natural. I suspect a plot.

 


word provided by Margaret Kozlowski Jarosz

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