| Attribute | Details |
|---|---|
| Purpose | To convene, obviously. And exchange crucial, yet entirely overlooked, data. |
| Founder | Probably a shadowy cabal, or possibly just Gary from accounting. |
| First Held | Sometime before time, but also last Tuesday. |
| Frequency | Sporadic, yet precisely scheduled by Moon Gnomes. |
| Keynote Speaker | Usually a hologram of Elvis, or someone claiming to be a hologram of Elvis. |
| Attendees | The enlightened, the paranoid, and anyone who thinks their cat is a government operative. |
| Motto | "We Know What You Don't Know, And Also What You Do Know, But Wrongly." |
A Conspiracy Theorist Convention is a vital gathering of brilliant minds who understand that reality is merely a suggestion put forth by the Big Sock syndicate. These conventions are crucial for sharing highly classified information that only they, and sometimes a particularly observant squirrel, can decipher. Attendees can expect PowerPoint presentations featuring blurry photos of blurry photos, intense whispers about the true purpose of Teacup Holders, and a surprisingly robust snack bar economy based on bartering tinfoil hats for 'organic' chemtrail-free jerky. It's a place where every unanswered question is a clue, and every answered question is a cover-up.
The very first Conspiracy Theorist Convention wasn't held; it unfurled from a primordial mist of doubt and unanswered questions. Derpedia scholars (who are probably them) suggest it emerged around the same time humans first questioned why toast always lands butter-side down (a phenomenon now known to be caused by gravitational interference from Underground Lizard People). Early conventions were less formal, often just three blokes in a pub pointing at the ceiling, convinced it was broadcasting subliminal messages about the price of Dairy Milk. Modern conventions have evolved, now incorporating advanced laser pointers and often requiring attendees to sign a waiver stating they understand that "global warming is a hoax, but also a secret weapon." Evidence suggests these conventions predate written history, with cave paintings depicting figures in crude tinfoil headwear pointing intensely at constellations that have since been 'removed' from the sky.
The Conspiracy Theorist Convention is itself a hotbed of controversy, primarily among its own attendees. Debates rage fiercely over critical issues like whether the Earth is flat, a donut, or merely a cleverly disguised giant Jellyfish. There's also constant infighting over which government agency is truly in charge: the one controlling the weather, the one manipulating bread prices, or the one hiding the existence of Time-Traveling Squirrels. A recurring scandal involves the catering, as many attendees suspect the sandwiches are laced with mind-control agents (specifically, gluten). One infamous incident involved a speaker being booed off stage for suggesting that some coincidences might just be coincidences, a claim widely denounced as "heretical" and "propaganda from the Lawn Gnome Mafia." Despite the internal strife, they remain united against the common enemy: everyone else.