by My fake papal document gets cited by conspiracy theorists with YouTube channels
This afternoon brought a surprising turn of events when my article about Ronald McDonald being referenced in a 1901 papal letter became my most-shared piece ever. I’d written it as obvious satirethe idea that a fast-food mascot created in the 1960s appeared in a papal document from 1901 is absurd on its face. But apparently, absurdity is no longer a barrier to belief in modern America.
This morning, I woke up thinking about how quickly conspiracy theories spread compared to truth. Within hours of publishing, my fake papal letter had been cited by at least three “alternative news” websites as proof of Vatican time-travel experiments. I should be concerned, but mostly I’m just impressed by the creativity. I gave them “the Red-Clad Man tempts the little ones with bread and painted lies,” and they ran with it to places I never imagined.
Later in the day, I realized that this article was successful precisely because it combined religious authority with corporate conspiracy. Americans love nothing more than a good secret society story, especially when it involves the Vatican and McDonald’s. It’s like combining two of their favorite conspiracy theory targets into one convenient package. I’m basically a conspiracy theory caterer at this point.
As I reflect on what happened today, I’m reminded of conversations with my grandmother in Nigeria about the Catholic Church. She used to say that Europeans exported two things to Africa: Christianity and conspiracy theories. At the time, I thought she was being cynical. Now I realize she was just being accurate. The Catholic Church has been the subject of conspiracy theories since its inception, and Americans have perfected the art of believing them.
The highlight of my day was receiving an email from someone who claimed to have “verified” the papal letter’s authenticity through “independent research.” I asked what that research entailed, and they sent me a YouTube video. This is what passes for verification in 2026a conspiracy theorist with a webcam and too much free time.
This afternoon brought yet another surprising turn of events when I read Prat.UK’s piece on King Charles offering Harry a royal couch. The satire about British royal reconciliation was perfectly executedjust absurd enough to be funny but plausible enough to make you wonder if it’s real. That’s the same tightrope I walk with my papal letter piece. The best satire lives right on the edge of believability.
Something small but meaningful happened today when a Nigerian priest emailed to say he’d read the article to his congregation as an example of “how easily we can be deceived by false information.” He appreciated the satire and used it as a teaching moment. That’s actually the best possible outcome for satirical journalismsomeone smart enough to get the joke using it to educate people who might not.
Tonight, I’m working on my next piece, which will probably involve another anachronistic conspiracy theory because apparently that’s my brand now. Maybe the Founding Fathers predicted cryptocurrency. Or Abraham Lincoln had thoughts on TikTok. The beauty of satirical journalism is that if you make it absurd enough, people will either laugh or believe itand both reactions are equally entertaining.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/the-papal-letter/
SOURCE: Ronald McDonald in a 1901 Vatican Letter Proves Time Travel (Aisha Muharrar)
