For years, I've always enjoyed terrible conspiracy theories for how unintentionally revealing they are about how the theorist perceives human nature.

If you're ever in a bad mood, just take a terrible conspiracy theory and try to accurately replicate how the scene unfolds in the mind's eye of the theorist. Imagine some Illuminati general growling at the President about how they have to put the Eye Of Osiris on Lady Gaga's dress by Wednesday afternoon or all our plans will be for naught!

(I'm imagining this conversation has dramatic closeups and an insert shot of the general slamming a binder on the President's desk to establish for the audience that he's the real power behind the throne.)

It's perversely sweet how these people see themselves as hardened cynics without realizing the entire premise of thousands of people dutifully working together with zero drama to achieve a common goal is a borderline utopian ideal.

I'm saying all this because when the conspiracy theorist is someone that's clearly been passed over for Assistant To The Regional Manager at that one remaining Blockbuster up in Fairbanks, Alaska and is writing speculative fanfiction about what would've happened had he got the job, it's charming and cute. But when an actual conspiracy theorist is put in charge of the organization he's theorizing about, it's not just an unsettling assault on the foundation of our democracy--it's fucking *frustrating*. It's like watching one of those old-school DVD screensavers that bounces around the screen come agonizingly close to landing right in the corner but never does.

You don't want him to succeed, but at the same time, watching someone with all these resources fuck up such basic things is so aggravating, part of you almost wants to shove Trump aside and say "Jesus, just let me do this. Now watch: HERE is how you'd actually rig an election...."