The Kalem Society















TRANSCRIPT
9:13 AM, I stop, take another dose, and go inside.
I’ll be upfront with you here; The Doubter’s Journal is what you’d call a conspiracy theorist magazine. At the Journal we call them “marginalized theories.” We’re not a supermarket tabloid. You won’t find Big Foot or little green men or celebrity gossip here. We run serious stories on serious topics. We run the stories that They don’t want you to read, but They let us get away with it because They know that They already own you. The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn’t exist.
There are a lot of credible stories out there, and maybe they’re true and maybe they aren’t, but nobody ever even investigates the possibilities. People hear the word “conspiracy” and they stop listening, just like they’ve been trained to. The ludicrous level of readiness with which the public rejects these theories is proof in and of itself that there is a conscious effort in the media to discredit the notion of conspiracy in general.
Think about it. Every time a mainstream source brings up the concept of the conspiracy theory, it’s always as a joke. They headline the craziest stuff first, like “George Bush is a member of a race of extraterrestrial, shape shifting lizard-men,” and then follow up with the plausible stuff, like “the government maybe lies to us about some things sometimes.” This way you associate these things together. Conspiracy theory becomes synonymous with “crazy theory.”
A conspiracy is just a group of people working together in secret. What’s so crazy about that? I know we don’t have much privacy left these days, but is it really so hard to conceive that a group of powerful people might agree to work together toward the same goal without anybody finding out about it? The way people react to the suggestion, you’d think that keeping secrets and working in groups are tasks equivalent to defying gravity.
History is full of conspiracies. The American Revolution was a conspiracy. Conspiracy is as American as apple pie.
I finish climbing the stairs to my office. I don’t know if it’s the sickness or if it’s just because I’m getting so out of shape but my heart is pounding.




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