Up to a third of people globally endorse at least one conspiracy theory, from COVID origins to assassination cover-ups, climate change, and secret cabals.

Why are we so drawn to absurd tales and false truths? Are we open‑minded, bored, sensation-seeking, gullible, or all of the above?

The world of deepfakes, QAnon, and Elvis sightings can span a spectrum of absurdity. These might be fun to entertain initially. But they become reality—and dangerous. Understanding why we love them is the first step to knowing what to consider and what to dismiss.

It’s not because we’re foolish. They’re titillating and comforting. During political or social uncertainty, a false pattern can feel safer than a knowledge vacuum.

Novelty also makes falsehoods more shareable. It’s why “new news” spreads significantly faster and further than the truth. Platform algorithms then reward outrage and conspiracy‑leaning content.

The impulse to share is understandable. We want to be first with the gossip. Immediate gratification follows with an instant dopamine hit. Plus, we feel both special and superior as part of a select club.

The result? At best, misinformation, tension, and distorted decisions. At worst, polarization, tribalism, and fractured communities.

Conspiracy theories spread by rumor, often maliciously. Alex Jones claimed the 2012 Sandy Hook school massacre was a hoax, despite its 26 victims. People believed it. During COVID-19, large-scale U.S. estimates suggest anti‑vax narratives led to

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