On a recent radio show hosted by the Rev. Al Sharpton, a caller phoned in with a theory about Michael Jackson's death. He blamed Sarah Palin.
Yes, according to the caller, "maybe she did something to Michael Jackson," and "maybe she's stepping down because something's about to come out."
Now, crazy people calling into radio shows isn't news — I used to call "Loveline" 20 times a night, just to complain about the pixies living in my teeth.
But I love Sharpton's response. He said, "All right.... that's interesting. I'll put it out, we'll see. I don't know."
It's not surprising, for Sharpton has never met a conspiracy he didn't embrace or possibly grope. After all, he once pushed the Tawana Brawley hoax — a fabrication of rape used to racially bludgeon six white, innocent men.
But that was years ago, so who cares, right?
Anywho — I love conspiracies!
When an event occurs that can be easily explained (like, say, a pop star overdosing on pills), the demented emerge from the woodwork like lurid worms with complex theories that defy logic and Pampers.
Look at the "Truthers," throbbing under an impervious dome of self-inflicted idiocy, convinced that only they know the truth, when all they really know is how to turn their underwear inside out. They're comedy gold.
Finally, why is it that people who cling to conspiracies never put that much effort into stuff that might benefit their actual lives? Like school work, jobs or hygiene?
I blame the Jews. Only they could create a plan that keeps so many destructive minds busy contemplating nothing.
And if you disagree with me, then you sir are worse than Hitler.