I used to love conspiracy theories. Aliens, lizard people, Elvis, Hollow Earth - you name it, I dug reading about it. I didn’t necessarily believe any of it - but I didn’t didn’t believe any of it either. To paraphrase a poster that famously hung behind the desk of Fox Mulder on THE X-FILES, I wanted to believe. Believing made the world a little more interesting.
We live in a society where information is easier to find than at any other point in human history. The world is at our fingertips - but, when you think about it, fingertips aren’t that big and the world feels smaller than ever. Conspiracy theories - the more ludicrous the better - made things more interesting. Sure, chupacabras probably don’t exist - but what if they did? What if the government was hiding the existence of aliens from the public? What if Rick Dyer really did shoot a Bigfoot after luring it into the open by nailing steaks to a tree? I listened to Coast to Coast AM and poked around the dark corners of cryptid forums not because I was a card-carrying believer in the unexplained - I ordered my card but it never came in - but because just having that doubt in the back of my mind made the world a little more exciting.
But then QAnon had to go and fuck things up.
It’s a lot harder for me to have fun with the ideas of conspiracy theories when there are hundreds of people hanging out in Dallas today, convinced JFK Jr. is going to magically reappear after his death a few decades ago. It’s even less fun when the whole shadowy conspiracy is being touted as a co-plot by former President Donald Trump. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I absolutely love a good “They Faked Their Death” conspiracy theory - but the QAnon beliefs are born from hate and fear and racism. In other words, they are the exact opposite of what I love about the conspiracy culture.
I fell in love with conspiracy theories because of the excitement of the unknown - the hope that the discovery of something new and exciting was hiding behind every tree in the Washington forest or cactus in the New Mexican desert. QAnon followers cling to their beliefs because they are scared of the unknown. They cast doubt on vaccine science and spread disease and dissent because they fear a growing percentage of the United States that doesn’t look or think like them.
I have no problem with the questioning of authority - that’s a backbone of any good conspiracy theorist’s philosophy. That said, there’s a fine line between wondering if the world is being run by a shadowy cabal of lizard people from the inner recesses of a Hollow Earth and, you know, actually believing that the world is being run by a shadowy cabal of lizard people from the inner recesses of a Hollow Earth.
In the end, it’s my own fault and the fault of people like me - folks who enjoyed via ironic detachment the mind dumps of a mentally-unhinged community. We cherry-picked the crazy we wanted to enjoy for years - appreciating the “what ifs” the weirdos posed as fun hypotheticals that could be debated between Coast to Coast AM commercial breaks.
The tinfoil hat wearers have come home to roost, though, and they are storming the capital and plotting insurrections and spreading lies about COVID.
Shit.
It was fun while it lasted.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION: OLD HEAD by Kyle Starks
On a happier note, I absolutely adore this graphic novel written and illustrated by Kyle Starks (SEXCASTLE, KILL THEM ALL).
When a former basketball star a few years past his prime travels back home to try and sell his recently deceased mother’s house, he discovers his loving mom was actually a vampire hunter. More so, the hoop star learns his mom left behind unfinished business when a cult of dudebros who worship Dracula and can transform into demonic llamas attack him and his daughter. Non-stop gags - including some *choice* TOP GUN jokes - and incredible page layouts make this one of the best comic books I’ve read in years.
Seriously, I cannot recommend this book enough. Comedy, familiar pathos, vampire llamas - it’s got everything you need.
WHERE’S WHERE WOLF
When it comes to my own graphic novel, things are moving along. And, by moving along, I mean moving slowly. Very, very slowly.
If I’ve learned anything by embarking on this creative endeavor, it’s the value of patience. So much of the last year has been spent waiting. Waiting for artwork. Waiting for lettering. Waiting for publishers and agents to get back to me. Waiting for offers to be finalized.
I hope to have news to share soon, but in the meantime, I’m waiting patiently for that news to actually happen so I can share it.
While I wait, I’ve started sharing the book with a few friends and folks in the industry. Sharing something you created with folks whose work you admire is a recipe for anxiety. Will they like it? Did I just cross the line by even asking somebody I barely know to read this mammoth comic book? Will they get offended by the Yahoo Serious joke?
The response to the book has been good so far but every single time I share WHERE WOLF with somebody it’s like ripping out a tiny piece of my heart and slapping a stamp on it.
Anyway, I hope to share the book with you all soon. I’ve bought a lot of stamps.