A conspiracy theory is like the scrawl found on a wall somewhere. The inked characters are desperate to get out the truth as the owner of the hand who wrote it wants you to believe it. When the only message it sends is one of a mind in need of greater self-reflection. A mind in need of more critical ability than finding a scapegoat or a cure-all. It reads as a call for help from someone who needs to find a pattern or put an order to the chaos in order to feel as if things could be under control or solved. That there is always somebody to blame (ironically negating the randomness of existence). The laziness of its accusations abounds online but I have to believe that most people see it as I do, like nonsense scribbled on a random wall whose truth is nothing but sad.
Here is a pareidolia test derived from mundane random material of course. A homunculus wears a donkey mask to worship at the altar of an ancient serpent deity?