Consider the most stark divide in recent television history: The appearance and traits of the host of television’s “Conspiracy Theory” vs. the appearance and traits of the target audience of television’s “Conspiracy Theory.”
Now that he's made the flying leap from primetime wrestling to late-night reruns, Jesse Ventura is the perfect mancandy for "Conspiracy Theory's" target audience. While most of the show's viewers are lonely, angry Internet bullies, Ventura is a lonely, angry real life bully. Just as that one guy from work who spends most of his time editing Wikipedia and trolling sites with a lot of brightly-colored Comic Sans typeface on them has an Alex Jones video for every argument, Jesse Ventura has a different muscle group for sorting out everyone who wants to argue against him. Which is amazing, because most of the things he says are either incomprehensible or so mind-bogglingly bonkers you wish they were.
Did you make it more than forty-five seconds? If you did, I'm assuming you're either currently wearing at least one garment made of tinfoil or accidentally clicked on this link while researching your latest Blog post on people who are really telling it like it is in America today, man. In either case, I'm so sorry. Please don't send The Body on us.
The host of television's "Conspiracy Theory" now prefers to go as just Jesse Ventura, but he is often known by his one, most famous acting stage name. We're referring, of course, to Abraxas, Guardian of the Universe. Elsewhere, the man who actually considers himself a pre-eminent American thinker also goes by "The Mind," "The Governing Body," and "The Governor of Minnesota...Wait, I'm Not Anymore? Okay, Well, Fuck It." In reviewing with his agent, it was decided that "The Body That Hosts A Shitty, Viewerless, Hourlong Mockery of American History and Basic Reasoning Faculties In General" didn't have quite the same ring as just "The Body."
"Conspiracy Theory" follows the host as he travels to remote places making amazing and controversial statements like "did the government kill JFK?" and "do the Freemasons control the world?" and every other trite idea that kid from your undergrad's Philosophy Club ruined your first party of the semester with. That's right. Trite. We said it. Feel the burn.
The show is essentially like every other conspiracy theory show the History Channel and Syfy play when their ratings are down, which is to say, all the time. It takes itself so seriously, even the dramatic re-enactments are blurry and nonsensical. It jump-cuts like an overcaffeinated child with suicidal tendencies. The narration is loud, ominous and jarring. But every episode is ultimately fruitless, as the "theories" remain as unproven as the day they were copped by the show's lazy staff.
Well, almost fruitless.
"The government chose my wardrobe in an attempt to discredit me."
The staff long ago realized that if its good enough for "History's Mysteries," "Unexplained History," "Unexplained Mysteries," and the other half-dozen shameless clones of Leonard Nimoy's post-Star Trek career it's good enough for The Body. And if it's good enough for The Body, it's good enough for your body. Unless your body wants to be in gauze for the rest of its life, that is.