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If you know anything at all about me (other than that I collect cats the way some people hoard canned goods, I’m obsessed with my two dazzling daughters, and I love alliteration like Lindsay Lohan loves lip filler and legal trouble), it’s that I can’t resist a good conspiracy theory. I don’t hide it. I don’t apologize for it. I read FOIA dumps for fun. I’ve gone down enough rabbit holes to qualify as a part-time cuniculturist.
But every once in a while, something happens that requires zero mental gymnastics, not a single scrap of tinfoil, and nary a leap of logic—because the “coincidences” line up so perfectly it might as well come with a laugh track.
Enter Ilhan Omar and The Great Syringe Spritz of 2026.