WHAT TO DO SERIES
What To Do When Your Friend’s A Conspiracy Theorist
It takes all kinds
“This COVID thing is a hoax,” he uttered, staring at me so intently I thought maybe I’d grown a third nostril. “The government created it so that our PM, who’s really a Brazilian infiltrator backed by extraterrestrials, could up the price of almond milk.”
I honestly didn’t know how to respond.
“Um, are you serious?” I eventually said, attempting to dose my words with truckloads of polite.
“Of course. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen prey and gotten pricked with that microchipped vaccine?”
Holy hello…what crawled inside my university friend’s skin covering and overtook his brain since last we met?
The world’s made up of all sorts of weird and wonderful folk. That’s what keeps it from being boring, right? Your friend is convinced Elvis lives in the condo across from them. That’s no reason to dump them. Sometimes it helps to remember that someone out there thinks you’re the weird one.
“Different people have different opinions, and it’s okay to respect all of them.” Juan Pablo Galavis
What to have
If you’re choosing to stay pals with this kookster then I suggest a trip to all of the grocery stores and dollar shops in your neighborhood. You will need to purchase every box of aluminum foil. Pay with cash, of course.
I suggest you also have a crapload of compassion, oodles of ingenuity, and good memory recall.
What to do
First of all, fondly evoke what this friendship means to you. Reminisce about doing tequila shots off their 19-year-old gut in the dorm lounge or the time he helped move your piano. If your alliance is worth saving then think of the good times.
Also, consider characteristics you adore about them. They always let you be the Scottie Dog in Monopoly — even when it looks just like their beloved childhood pet that died two days after you met? How sweet.
They slip into the bathroom before earth-shattering fartblows erupt from their anus?
How polite. They helped you chuck your ex’s entire wardrobe into the dumpster before lighting it afire? Recall it all.
In order to love up this chum, contemplate a project that will unite you. How about constructing a massive end-of-world dugout? It doesn’t have to be the same size and scope as JFK’s Peanut Island nuclear bunker. It only has to be large enough for the two of you to cuddle up with a martini while zombies ravage this side of the flat earth. Find some somewhat hidden public space with a hill, grab a few shovels and picks, and let your imagination go wild. Just don’t build it anywhere near the Denver International Airport — that spot is taken and you don’t need the be on the New World Order’s hit list.
And what better to fill that underground tunnel with than a collection of certifiably effective tin foil hats? Because all technology is being monitored by governments worldwide you will need to ask a complete stranger to print off patterns and designs that are most effective for brain protection. Together you and your almond-milk-loathing crony can build your friendship and your future.
You’re creative, uber-intelligent, and you’re the kind of ally who rivals BFFs everywhere. You’ve got this.
Takeaways
If you choose not to trade-in your conspiracy theorist bestie then you need to embody creative compassion and buy scads of Alcan products. Plan a project, have some fun, and for the love of fake moon landings, don’t even consider admitting you had your arm jabbed.
©Jennifer J. McDougall 2022
