Remember when conspiracy theories used to be fun?

Back in the day, the tinfoil hat crowd was busy decoding crop circles, talking about secret alien bases under the Denver Airport, and wondering if the U.S. Navy accidentally teleported a warship in the 1940s. Sure, it was a little kooky, but it was mostly harmless, speculative sci-fi for weirdos with late-night radio and too much time on their hands.

We used The Philadelphia Experiment. Area 51. Roswell. Government time travel, secret Nazi moon bases, reptilian shapeshifters in Buckingham Palace. Were any of them true? Probably not. But they were imaginative. They gave us something strange to chew on–a kind of Cold War campfire mythology. These were conspiracy theories born out of curiosity and skepticism, not hatred or delusion.

Then something changed.

Somewhere in the 2000s, the weird wonder of conspiracy gave way to a much darker, dumber version of itself. Suddenly, conspiracy theories weren’t about aliens and teleportation. They were about vaccines causing autism, school shootings being faked, or a Satanic cabal of pedophiles controlling Hollywood and the Democratic Party. Fun got replaced with fascism.

What the hell happened?

Well, a few things, actually:

The Internet democratized crazy and also monetized it. Back in the analog age, you had to seek out conspiracy theories. Now they’re pumped into your feed by Facebook’s engagement algorithm because rage and fear are profitable. Conspiracies became content and worse, career paths. Grifters realized they could make real money off your uncle’s paranoia.

The right also weaponized conspiracy. We went from wondering if the CIA was hiding aliens to wondering if the Clintons were drinking baby blood. This wasn’t random. The far-right figured out that conspiracy theories could undermine trust in institutions, turn people against science, and rile up an angry base. Enter QAnon, anti-vaxxers, climate denial, and a pile of corpses.

People also got lonelier, dumber, and more desperate. When capitalism gives you no future and every institution fails you, it’s no surprise people start reaching for “alternative truths.” Unfortunately, the ones being served up now are dumb, cruel, and designed to radicalize, not enlighten.

Conspiracies used to be about asking questions. Now they’re about refusing reality.

You can’t joke about the moon landing anymore without someone in the comments section trying to sell you ivermectin or ranting about drag queens. The vibe has shifted from goofy paranoia to militant stupidity.

So yeah. The fun is gone.

But maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Maybe it’s time we reclaim conspiracy culture–not to spread nonsense, but to fight absurdity with absurdity. Let’s bring back the tall tales, the surrealism, the while “what ifs” that made it feel like there was something strange and wondrous just under the surface of the everyday.

The world is already insane. Let’s make it weirder, not dumber.