There’s a special circle of intellectual hell reserved for those who still believe that the world is secretly run by shape-shifting, blood-drinking, dimension-hopping Lizard People.
Not content with being confused by economics, governance, biology, or basic probability, these brave soldiers of stupidity have instead decided that every figure of authority — every politician, every monarch, every mid-level tech executive — is, underneath their slightly suspicious skin, a seven-foot-tall, cold-blooded reptilian alien wearing a poorly fitted human suit.
The Queen? Lizard. The Pope? Lizard. Your dentist? Probably a lizard, especially if he made weird eye contact during the cleaning.
The theory, if you can even call it that without immediately having to apologize to the word “theory,” generally goes something like this: thousands of years ago, interdimensional reptiles infiltrated Earth society, founded ancient civilizations, interbred with humans (try not to picture it), and have since maintained control through secret bloodlines, hidden symbolism, and, of course, badly Photoshopped “evidence” posted on forums last updated during the Clinton administration.
Because naturally, the best way to covertly rule the planet for millennia is to occasionally glitch your eyeball on a live CNN broadcast while sitting behind a podium decorated with obvious reptilian imagery. Subtlety has never been a strong suit among the imaginary.
It gets better. These Lizard People, we are told, feed on fear, chaos, and possibly the psychic anguish of canceled brunch plans. They control the media, the banks, the entertainment industry, and, presumably, the traffic light outside my apartment that turns red the instant I approach. They are omnipotent, omniscient, and yet somehow so bad at hiding their scaly little snouts that every third basement dweller with a YouTube channel has managed to spot them with 720p video footage and a running commentary that sounds like it was recorded between bong hits.
And who, pray tell, are the tireless warriors protecting us from this reptilian onslaught? Why, it’s always a handful of self-declared truthers, armed with red string, cracked iPads, and enough Dunning-Kruger effect to power a small city. They will solemnly explain, between bites of microwave burritos, that the only reason you haven’t personally seen a Lizard Person shedding its skin at your local Starbucks is because they’ve been “perfecting their human mimicry for centuries.” Naturally, they still haven’t figured out how to operate a zipper without drawing suspicion.
At its core, the Lizard People conspiracy isn’t about reptiles. It’s about ego. It’s about the desperate, pathetic need to believe that life isn’t messy, chaotic, and largely the result of millions of dumb, self-interested humans stumbling their way through bad decisions. No — it must be orchestrated. It must be managed by sinister, hyperintelligent beings from beyond the stars, because the idea that your congressman is just a profoundly mediocre hairless primate who barely understands how a budget works is simply too terrifying to bear.
The truth is so much simpler, so much more depressing. We are not ruled by ancient shapeshifting reptiles. We are ruled by regular old humans: greedy, short-sighted, easily bribed, occasionally drunk humans. The only lizards in Washington, Buckingham Palace, or Silicon Valley are the ones sitting in terrariums in some rich idiot’s private zoo.
If you genuinely believe Lizard People are pulling the strings of global society, congratulations: you have graduated summa cum laude from the prestigious University of Making Reality Up So the Truth Hurts Less.