On a different perspective, the 'truth movement' set up around the 7/7 bombings is, almost to a man, complete rubbish, and in most cases essentially thinly veiled attempts to give racist ranting a fresh new angle. Even if you do find a 7/7 "truther" who doesn't come across as a lonely old racist commenting on how expendable British Muslims are, you're usually asked to subscribe to the fact that four out of work actors were paid to hang around Luton train station for a bit, before turning around to drive home whilst pre-laid bombs on tube trains and buses were detonated by...I never get up to that point. G4S, maybe. Though of course, maybe not G4S. They're incompetent but this isn't the right time in my life for a legal case to be brought against me. In any case, you see my point. I happen to believe that it's somewhat far fetched to subscribe to any theory which hangs on the central premise of Transport For London also dabbling in a bit of rep theatre.
Anyway, on with the main meat of the post. If there's one tiny part of the Internet where my heart has most definitely been stolen, it's the 0.05% of YouTube dedicated to Illuminati conspiracy theories. Maybe this says a lot about the kind of women to whom I'm attracted because I've not felt to alive in years.
Take the Private Eye cover on this page, published at the height of the London riots. For most people of sound mind reading the speech-bubble punchline, the satire is fairly clear. It's London, the Olympics are coming, so why not join the two together with a bit of British musn't grumble attitude (for which, see yesterday's blog on whether we can/should just enjoy the Olympics). For the Illuminati truth seeker, however, the satire is completely lost, which is why there's a number of videos in the cover is shown as evidence of a plot (presumably by well known state mole Ian Hislop) to cause/create/sponsor a terrorist attack during the Opening Ceremony. What satire might have been evident in the joke dissolves like so much kettle steam, and with as much mass in the resulting evidence.
Mandeville is another common 'evidence' given to prove that the secret lizard people/Freemason cult/whoever-it-is who rules the nation has infiltrated LOGOC. One video uploaded to YouTube which provides this evidence points to the obvious (the single eye being an obvious New World Order trope, the launch of the mascots being paraded on a check pattern floor, that sort of thing.) What makes my heart flutter is a caption written in Papyrus which informs the enthralled reader that "Mandeville" is French for "dead city", another clue that London is the target for an Illuminati/terrorist attack combo meal.
I don't speak French (though I do know what happens with iron fililings near a magnet, so that's the Comprehensive system for you). A quick thumb through a dictionary/Google shows that "mande" is not the French for "dead", and even if it were, there's no joined up dots to show why we suddenly need to be bilingual when pointing out 'false flag' terrorist plots on the Internet.
Not satisfied with misunderstanding satire or mistranslating basic conversational French (well, maybe "dead" has to come up in conversation in France, I don't know, never been. "Are these snails dead, waiter?" perhaps, it's not important right now), the determined crew at the HMS Cuckoo-Bananas sent me straight to the garage forecourt for roses and cards by way of a video with over 250,000 hits purporting to prove that the London Games have been a state-sponsored terrorist attack in the making for over 100 years.
A radio phone in guest drew the lines in front of me as clearly as though he were sketching a loveheart with our initials in them. The London 2012 logo, he explained, can be rearranged to spell the word "ZION". Well, I did check this claim, and as you can see, if you squint a bit and use more imagination than you've ever used before, the theory is absolutely correct.
Well, he continued, the poem "Jerusalem" written by William Blake mentions "a new Jerusalem" being built in England, and that was back in the early 19th century. As it's undisputed that our Illuminati/Jewish lizards/whoever-the-Heck rulers have put subtle design quirks in everything from Olympic coins to road signs to prove their worth in a Pinky and the Brain sort of way, clearly Blake was the start of terrorism's longest, widest story arc? Of course he was. It's conjecture, but that's the kind of fact we like round here!
When I say "I've fallen in love" with this sort of thing, I genuinely mean it. Clearly, it holds up as much weight as the pastry around a butter pie, and by most peoples measurement, it's no more credible than those people who claim to been warned off going into Central London/Manchester/Madrid/Bali by a friendly Imam who just happened to be passing by. It's the worst kind of urban myth gone feral, picked up and perpetuated by the kind of Internet-based obsessive who would have a use sticking torches into filing cabinets were it easier to do so. As I said, my suspicion and cynical side knows no bounds, and as such I'd rather believe that something dodgy is going on rather than ever sign up to the notion that our elected elders know best. I certainly don't believe that our unelected elders of bankers and World Bank chiefs know best, though by the same measure, I'm not about to agree with the YouTube nutjob consensus that Julia Gillard, the Pope and possibly Prince Harry are all shape-shifting lizards.
Yes, there's a thrill about the most extreme kind of conspiracy theory, something subversive even. I prefer to look at the funny side too. "Love" is the emotion which carries with it the freedom from remorse, boredom or frustration in a life not necessarily led to the full, which I guess is why the light and blessed relief which comes from watching this tripe has lifted me so highly. Don't ever stop being suspicious about the people who claim to rule over us - though if you start telling me that the chess-board floor design which happens to be in two of my favourite pubs mean that my pints of Oxford Gold are tainted by New World Order mind serum, I may have to punch you in the nose.