Few conversations are more likely to get you punched in the face than a conversation about conspiracy theories.
My problem is, I really like to argue about conspiracy theories. Conversations about conspiracy theories are much more fulfilling, to me, than conversations about your dog’s gall bladder surgery, for example.
Part of the enchantment is, of course, the chance that I might get punched in the face. Since I’m not attracted to skydiving, or mountain biking through pine forests, down dangerously steep trails, I have to settle for debates about conspiracies.
As with skydiving, there are certain precautions one can take, to make this activity safer.
1. Don’t argue about conspiracy theories with your wife.
Very likely, you will win the argument, but you will also end up spending the night on the couch. Ask yourself, ‘Is this really worth it?’ Probably not. Besides, there are so many more important things to argue about with your wife. The best color for the new throw pillows, for instance. Who’s turn is it, to wash the dishes? Important things. If you are going to spend the night on the couch, make it worthwhile.
2. Don’t argue about conspiracy theories in a bar.
Especially, you should avoid this kind of conversation with a 300-pound, six-foot-five cowboy who has been drinking for more than three hours.
3. Don’t argue about conspiracy theories with your boss.
No explanation needed.
4. If the person you are arguing with begins to get red in the face, or casually places a handgun on the table in plain view, change the subject.
The main purpose of any argument, including conversations about conspiracy theories, is to prove that you are smarter than your opponent, which you no doubt are. But your feelings of superiority are only truly meaningful while you are still alive.
5. While it’s reasonably safe — as regards physical injuries — to argue about conspiracy theories on social media, you will almost certainly get trolled, or at the least, unfriended.
Also, you will end up unsatisfied, because the online person you find yourself arguing with, cannot see you gloating.
6. Even though it’s tempting, don’t pull out your phone and do a Google search, to show your opponent a Tucker Carlson video, or an article in the New York Times.
By doing this, you are admitting that you’ve lost the argument. Also, who in their right mind would believe anything from Tucker Carlson or the New York Times? They are the problem, not the solution.
7. In a pinch, it’s perfectly fine to agree with your opponent. After all, your chance of winning the argument is, like, a million to one.
I mean, who — really — knows what the hell is going on? The whole shebang strikes me as one enormous mess of conspiracies. The anti-vaxxers are a conspiracy. The pro-vaxxers are another conspiracy. The people who stole the election are a conspiracy. The people who believe the election was stolen are conspiracy. The people who embrace Facebook censorship are a conspiracy. The people who hate Facebook censorship are another conspiracy.
The man asks: Do we really need another Reptilian Shapeshifter as President? Does he truly expect an answer? Or an argument? Your guess is as good as mine.
And probably, your wife’s guess is even better.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.