Once upon a time, the Devil approached a man and made him an offer: Serve me, and I will make you richer than the dreams of men.
Possibly, this happened on the war-torn streets of Germany. Possibly, this happened in the offices of state in Washington DC. Other times, it happened other places. Possibly, at times, it was a woman. But the conversation always went something like this:
Devil: “Serve me, and I will make you richer than the dreams of men.”
Mortal: “Really?”
Devil: “All you need to do is deliver the world to me. This is how you do it.”
Mortal, reading the plan. “Um, sire, that will be rather obvious. Lying about the weather—that everybody can see?—Stealing elections? Murdering people in very obvious ways and calling it suicide? Injecting people with dangerous drugs to stop the flu that’s always been with us? Closing churches because of said flu? Mutalating children? People will notice!”
Devil: “Oh, some will notice all right.”
Mortal: “Then, won’t I get in trouble?”
Devil: “No. Because I am going to teach you two magical words. Apply these magic words to anything you wish to hide, and it will disappear, as completely as if it had never happened. You will not suffer any consequences.”
Mortal: “That sounds grand, sire! Where do I sign up?”
What were those two words, you wonder? What could be so magical, so powerful, that it could make the worst crimes known to man go away? They are words you all know well.
The two words the Devil shared with his marks were:
Conspiracy theory.
Because the Devil didn’t need to cover his tracks a thousand times. He just needed to ensorcell a majority—probably by using repetitive hypnotism techniques via the media—to have a knee-jerk reaction to two words.
Then anytime any of his terrible, world-girdling schemes come to light, he instructs his minions to whisper these two magic words, and the entire ensorcelled populace looks away.
They don’t investigate. They don’t check their sources. They just shy away, averting their eyes.
Why, you ask?
As in, how is this done?
Pride.
Wait, you ask, isn’t that just another name for him?
That’s right. The demons only control their own sins. But that is all they need to control.
Why do people turn away from conspiracy theories? Because they don’t want to be embarrassed.
Most modern people are intellectuals, having been through at least some college. They pride themselves on their intellectual prowess. Part of this self-image is that they are too smart to be pulled in by the kind of cons that fool the little guy.
But they also want to look intelligent. They want their fellow intelligentsia to admire their cunning—or, more importantly, not to look down on them.
If you believe a conspiracy theory, everyone looks down on you and laughs at you.
Better to be wrong. Better to keep your head in the sand. Better to let the Devil win than to be laughed at.
Pride. Intellectual pride. It’s how the Devil keeps his servants in line.
"The Devil, that prowde Spirit, cannot abide to be Mocked."
After seeing stuff like this, I no longer dismiss any theory out of hand, no matter how crazy it sounds.
Language gets a bit foul, but points to Metokur for conveying something utterly horrific while still being entertaining and funny.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDCdRvwjUSQ&t=3693s