Nobody dies anymore. Not visibly. Not in your presence. They disappear into hospitals, into care facilities, into systems. You never wash a body. Never sit with decay. Never confront the actual physical reality of mortality. This isn’t compassion, it’s quarantine. Because people who understand death properly don’t fear it the same way, and people who don’t fear death can’t be controlled with the promise of five more years if you just keep working, keep paying, keep obeying. The conspiracy is that death has been medicalised and institutionalised and hidden away so that you’ll spend your entire life running from something you’ve never actually faced. And that running… that terror of the inevitable… that’s the engine of everything. Work yourself to death to avoid death. It’s perfect, really.
Your Friendships Are Dying and It’s Architected
Third places are gone. Pubs are closing. Community centres defunded. Church attendance collapsed. Everything that used to throw strangers together has been systematically eliminated or paywalled. But here’s what’s darker: this creates a specific kind of person. Isolated people don’t organise. Don’t unionise. Don’t build mutual aid networks. Don’t resist. Your only relationships become transactional, professional, familial, or digital. And digital friendships don’t show up when you need to move house or bury a parent or occupy a building. The conspiracy is that atomisation is policy. Loneliness is a feature, not a bug. Because lonely people are politically impotent, and a population that can’t organise can’t threaten power.
The Sustainability Movement Is a Psychological Weapon
You recycle. You buy organic. You use a reusable cup. You’re told you’re saving the planet. But 100 companies are responsible for 71% of emissions, and your entire lifetime carbon footprint is a rounding error compared to a single billionaire’s Tuesday. The conspiracy isn’t that sustainability is fake. It’s that individual responsibility for systemic problems is a deliberate misdirection. You’ve been given a therapeutic ritual, a way to feel virtuous while accomplishing nothing, and more importantly, a way to blame yourself when things get worse. The planet’s dying and it’s your fault for not recycling hard enough. It’s genius, actually. They’ve turned ecological collapse into personal guilt, and guilt into inaction. You’re too busy feeling bad about your plastic bag to guillotine the oil executives.
AI Isn’t Coming for Your Job, It’s Coming for Your Sense of Self
Forget employment. That’s the decoy conversation. The real threat is that AI is being positioned as better at everything that makes you human. Better at writing, at art, at music, at conversation, at empathy. And once you internalise that… once you believe the machine does it better… what are you for? The conspiracy is that AI isn’t being developed to help humanity. It’s being developed to make humanity feel obsolete, redundant, pointless. And a population that feels pointless doesn’t rebel. Doesn’t demand dignity. Doesn’t fight for meaning. They just take the UBI cheque and disappear into virtual reality and wait to die. This isn’t about labour replacement. It’s about existential hollowing. They want you to feel like a worse version of the thing they built.
Food Has Been Engineered to Make You Sick So You’ll Need Medicine Forever
Hyperpalatable foods that override satiety signals. Seed oils in everything. Sugar renamed forty different ways. Portions that make obesity inevitable. This wasn’t incompetence or market forces. Look at the tobacco playbook, the same scientists, the same strategies. And then look at what happened: a population that’s chronically ill, diabetic, inflamed, dependent on pharmaceuticals from childhood to grave. The conspiracy is vertical integration. The same parent companies often own the food that makes you sick and the medicine that keeps you alive. You’re not a customer. You’re livestock. And the sickest part? They’ve made health so expensive, so time-consuming, so culturally weird that choosing not to poison yourself is an act of privilege. Eating real food is bougie now. They’ve made sickness the default and wellness the luxury.
The Housing Crisis Is Deliberate Economic Subjugation
This isn’t supply and demand. Planning laws that prevent building, investment firms buying entire neighbourhoods, and government policy that prioritises property value over housing people. It’s coordinated. Because here’s what happens when you can’t afford housing: you can’t leave abusive jobs. Can’t take risks. Can’t start businesses. Can’t have children (or have them later, fewer, stressed). Can’t retire. You’re trapped in permanent economic anxiety, which makes you compliant, desperate, and obedient. The conspiracy is that the housing crisis is a tool of class warfare. A permanently renting population is a permanently precarious population, and precarious people don’t make trouble. They just try to survive. Homeownership was the last major way working-class people built intergenerational wealth, and it’s been systematically destroyed. You’ll own nothing, remember? And you won’t be happy. You’ll be too exhausted to riot.
You’re Being Trained to Prefer Fake Human Connection
Customer service chatbots that sound caring. AI companions that never judge. Parasocial relationships with streamers who simulate friendship. Therapy apps. Digital assistants. You’re being conditioned to prefer interactions that are predictable, controllable, and undemanding. Because real humans are difficult, they have needs. They challenge you. They leave. But simulated connection? Always available. Always pleasant. Always exactly what you want, the conspiracy is that this is creating a population that’s emotionally atrophying, that’s losing the capacity for real reciprocal relationships, and that’s relieved about it. Because real connection is hard, and you’re tired, and the simulation is good enough. And once you prefer the simulation… once human messiness feels like a bug rather than a feature… they’ve won. You’ll accept your digital companions, your AI friends, your parasocial substitutes. You’ll die alone in a room full of screens, and you’ll call it connection.
The Cynicism Is the Point
You know it’s all broken. You know politicians are corrupt, corporations are predatory, the system’s rigged. Everyone knows. And that knowing… that shared cynicism… is the most powerful control mechanism ever devised. Because cynicism is politically paralysing. If everyone’s bad, why bother fighting anyone? If everything’s broken, why try fixing anything? If it’s all hopeless, why not just get yours and check out? The conspiracy is that they want you cynical. They want you knowing. Because people who believe change is possible are dangerous. People who are disgusted but not defeated will organise. But cynics? Cynics just make jokes and do nothing. The most radical thing you can do now isn’t hope… it’s refusing to let the truth of how bad things are stop you from acting anyway.
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That’s the edge. That’s where conspiratorial thinking meets something real and uncomfortable. The question is: which of these would you actually want to sit with long enough to write properly?
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