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It's A Conspiracy

What is it about men and conspiracy theories? I’m starting to think that it is in the male gender’s genetic make-up to think that the sky is falling and the government is in on it. Just the other day, I was having lunch with someone and he started in on his many theories about whom really ruled the world and how the chef at our restaurant was very likely to be a reptile who was putting mind altering substances in our food. Okay, it wasn’t that severe, but I’m sure if we had ordered dessert it would’ve gone there.

Whether it’s the subject of 911 and who brought down the Twin Towers, or who truly governs the world’s money, or the profound corruption of our government (one area in which I agree), or even the passé (by now anyway) subject of aliens, men seem to thrive on some big global conspiracy as an answer for everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty cynical as far as people go and I certainly don’t believe the news or hold faith in any existing government; I mean, if humans are involved there has got to be shades of gray and subterfuge somewhere. But saying this, think of the margin of error and level of secrecy needed for the gravity of some of these purported conspiracies. Bill Clinton could barely contain his oral sex escapade let alone an entire government being able to orchestrate one of the biggest atrocities to hit our country (for those of you that believe that Bush and his cohorts were responsible for 911).

I see it with the King already; he has this suspicious expression with one eyebrow raised when I’m trying to convince him to do something. I’m sure he’s listening to my reasoning of why he should change his diaper or get in his high chair and is thinking to himself, should I trust this woman?? What if she tries to feed me spinach instead of macaroni and cheese? How well do I really know her anyway?

I suppose the greatest question – for me anyway – is why? Why do men need to discuss their latest conspiracy theory with anyone who will listen? [Yes, honey, I’m talking to you as well] And not only discuss it, but beat it the listener’s head until it’s fact – or so they hope anyway. Many times I’ve been in the company of several men and the theories grow exponentially so that by dinner’s end, they are all in agreement that Margaret Thatcher was a giant lizard that ate flies and lived in a cave underneath 10 Downing Street. Don’t get me wrong it’s far more exciting than the alternative I suppose. 

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