I looked in my closet recently and noticed it was overrun with footwear that represented a score of abandoned hobbies: hiking, golfing, bicycling, dancing, running, walking, skiing, and snowmobiling.
That’s when I had an epiphany: conspiracy theories are real.
Isn’t it obvious that footwear manufacturers are in the game to promote sports? Sports that the average overworked, overcommitted American will abandon when schedules become pinched?
I tied up my Nikes and charted a journey to discover other obscure conspiracies that you need to know about.
Dry cleaning companies are in cahoots with toothpaste manufacturers. All toothpaste has the potential to leave white splotches even on a white blouse. If you watch C-SPAN long enough I believe you will witness the dry cleaning industry lobbying to make disappearing toothpaste illegal.
Eye doctors invented white twisty ties to remind people to have annual exams. Why does misplacing one of these always turn into a game of “Where’s Waldo?” It is because they are white and blend with countertops, floors, and rice dishes, making me suspect gastroenterologists are part of the plot so they can probe into our glistening deductibles.
Tide Stick manufacturers Sharpies. If I even look at a Sharpie, I have to go fishing for my Tide Stick to undo the inevitable damage. I’m positive there is a relationship between these two companies that promise to make and erase stains in two convenient pens.
Dentists fund popcorn research. I don’t know about you, but I approach a peck of popcorn with caution until I am lulled into a false sense of safety, begin to cram handfuls into my mouth, then bury my face into the bowl making smacking sounds. And that’s when it happens. I break a tooth. Drilling deeper into this rotten business I learned that dentists invest in research at Ivy League schools to genetically engineer kernels with rock-like cores and randomly distribute them in ordinary popcorn, maximizing the need for gold crowns, so they can send their children to Ivy League schools.
Band-Aid makers fabricate plastic things that attach tags to clothing. I needed an updated tetanus shot after this elusive weapon bore a trench in my gluteus from my new Jockeys. And when I snipped it off, it literally disappeared. Until I had to have it surgically extracted from the bottom of my foot, that is.
Psychiatric profession is the force behind coupons and rewards. It’s a little known fact that a few years ago the field of psychiatry was in danger of being replaced by drugs that accomplished more in two weeks than years of therapy. And then they came upon a brilliant idea and invented manufacturer’s coupons. When that showed promise, they expanded to rewards points. There is no drug or shock treatment that can relieve the angst of years of accumulated failure in redeeming these baffling dividends, but you can recoup your sanity with decades of discussion.
My hope for you, dear reader, is that you will apply this newfound knowledge to avoid these dastardly maneuvers of trickery.
What conspiracies have you uncovered in your daily life?