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Suspicious Minds

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THE CONSPIRACY KING Alex Jones has built a small media empire, spreading the word that 9/11 was an inside job—and that cancer researchers really just want to give you cancer (Photo: Eric McNatt)
Waco was really what woke me up," he says of the 1993 raid on the Branch Davidian compound. "Just the image of those tanks and that burning building. And then learning it was all a lie. I blamed Bill Clinton and the Democrats. I wasn't very sophisticated at the time. Within a year I learned the Republicans are bought and paid for by the same people." At the time, he was nearing the end of a five-year slow-ride through high school ("too busy with girls and beer," he says with a smirk).
While Clinton signs books, a mysterious voice rings through the store: "9/11 was an inside job!"
After an unfulfilling stint at Austin Community College, he decided what he really wanted to do was talk about his new concerns, and signed up for a cable access show. Black helicopters, UN plots to coerce abortions, and rumors of foreign troops on U.S. soil were his regular fare. He hung around on the fringes of the Patriot movement for a few years while honing his formula: old-fashioned John Birch Society paranoia dressed up with the stylings of shock-jock talk radio.

Predictably, Jones has a lot of critics who say he's deranged—for example, cosmopolitan folks who can't take discussions of black helicopters seriously. ("They're for real!" Jones insists. "You see 'em around here all the time!")

He is, indeed, given to making improbable assertions. Recently on the radio, he warned that most medical and genetic-engineering work is part of the grand plot to exterminate us—"they use cancer research to develop new cancers," he said, "and shelve the cures for the elites."

But Jones also offers compelling facts and arguments that really are too uncomfortable for most mainstream media to touch. Among those is the reality that throughout history governments have faked terror plots to advance their own interests and expand their powers. (There is ample evidence that a series of terrorist bombings around Moscow in 1999 that killed hundreds of innocents and ushered Vladimir Putin into power truly was an "inside job.")

The trick, of course, is teasing apart the good information from the paranoia. Just because Hitler may have been behind the Reichstag fire doesn't mean Cheney planned 9/11—though it can be easy to forget that while listening to Jones.

While the radio host proclaims he's fighting an all-encompassing battle to save America from the globalists and their myriad schemes, 9/11 has arguably been the primary focus of his show since the day of the attacks. Along the way, not surprisingly, he has been guilty of presenting bad information. In his documentary Martial Law, he insists that WTC 7 "had no damage to it" prior to its collapse. In fact, it was severely damaged. He also claims "[Silverstein] said they [intentionally] blew up Building 7." Silverstein did not.

Given how many minds, young and otherwise, he's shaped with his gospel—kids like Luke Rudkowski who've adopted this worldview and shaped their lives to answer its call to noble resistance—does Jones ever worry that maybe, just maybe, he's got it wrong? That maybe the buildings did fall because they were hit by planes? That maybe
it was Osama bin Laden who masterminded the attack? "Sure," he says, sounding deeply annoyed at the premise of the question. "But the evidence is just too strong." (Which calls to mind the famous Upton Sinclair quote: "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.")

For Jones, the layers of conspiracy are so thick that they almost eclipse the possibility of any large-scale event occurring naturally. When the Cold War comes up in conversation, he interjects: "Yeah, and it turns out the whole thing was staged!" As were Pearl Harbor, the Russian Revolution, the Great Depression, the AIDS epidemic, the Civil War, global warming, and so on, and on—all have been orchestrated and preplanned by our secret rulers. Asked to name a major historical event that was not a conspiracy, Jones thinks for a long time, narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips. "Little Bighorn," he growls at last. "I don't think anyone was planning to see Custer get killed that day."

For a conspiracy theorist of Patriot-militia vintage and a radio host syndicated largely by Christian stations, Jones leads a rather glitzy life. He hangs out often with Hollywood buddies, especially Charlie Sheen. The actor, who began ordering Jones's documentaries on DVD a few years ago under a pseudonym, went public with his "doubts about the official 9/11 story" on Jones's show in early 2006, and is now a dyed-in-the-wool Truther. Sheen calls Jones "a genuine hero ... my friend ... my brother in arms" and has given him the varsity jacket he wore in Red Dawn. ("It's hanging in my closet," the host says. "I'm too fat to wear it.") Jones also kicks it with comedian Joe Rogan, is chummy with Keanu Reeves, and will apparently be played by Jack Black in a forthcoming feature film about the radical fringe. "He'll probably portray me as a jackass," Jones muses, not sounding entirely displeased.

Based on the book Them: Adventures With Extremists, by the British writer Jon Ronson, the movie will almost certainly include the stunt that lifted Jones out of obscurity in 2000 and was, in some ways, a precursor to WAC actions: Carrying a video camera, he infiltrated the highly exclusive Bohemian Grove compound in Northern California, where business leaders and politicians, including several presidents, hold secretive retreats. It's the kind of place where one might see Dick Cheney chatting up Henry Kissinger while a gaggle of sloppy drunk oil company CEOs put on a stage comedy in drag. The climax of the annual, invitation-only gathering is a strange ceremony that involves burning a human effigy under the gaze of a 40-foot-tall stone owl. Jones was the first journalist to film the ritual and show it to the outside world. (It's proof, he says, that our elites are Satanists.)

Greg Palast, a liberal commentator and an investigative journalist for the BBC and Harper's magazine, has also taken an interest in Jones. "To me, Alex is a thrilling phenomenon," he says. "Whether the topic is debt relief or intelligence about bin Laden, he'll bring on heavyweight people to speak in depth. He has a different view about the events of 9/11 than I do, but it's a very powerful concept to be thinking of an elite that acts in concert." What about the nutty stuff? "When the New York Times says something completely fucking stupid and utterly fabricated, we don't notice because it's within an accepted mainstream context. We tend to be more reactive to Jones because his opinions that are different are very different."

Richard Linklater, director of Dazed and Confused and Fast Food Nation, has given Jones a couple of cameos. He thinks even Jones's wilder notions can be useful. "If you go back in history, it's the cranks and the conspiracy people who are more accurately predicting the future," he tells me. "What is scary about Alex is the high percentage of his stuff that sounds hyperbolic in its day, but then somewhere in the near future it's a legitimate story." Jones, for instance, was railing against the erosion of civil liberties long before it was fashionable. Linklater has appeared on Jones's show, and expressed suspicion that the government was behind the 9/11 attacks.

Kurt Vonnegut was also a fan. He mailed the radio host a signed drawing of a bird escaping a cage—it was inscribed to alex jones.

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MAYOR, INTERRUPTED We Are Change confronts Giuliani at a press op in the Bronx
In early November, We Are Change sets its sites on Stephen Colbert. "We want to get him on the record," says Rudkowski. "There's a chance he agrees with us." It's part of a campaign of Truth Squads directed at celebrities who seem like they might "get it." The strategy has already paid off. A few days earlier, they outed Martin Sheen. "Up until last year, I did not want to believe that my government could possibly be involved in such a thing," the actor told a We Are Change member. "However, there have been so many revelations that now I have my doubts, and chief among them is Building 7." That same day, they got Mark Ruffalo to make a cautiously pro-Truther statement. George Carlin went off on an ambiguous rant about how the government would never really investigate itself. None of the three had ever spoken out on the subject previously.

Comedy Central's Colbert is scheduled to sign books in the lavish Time Warner Center in midtown Manhattan, and the turnout is massive: A line of admirers holding copies of I Am America (And So Can You!) snakes through the mall. Rudkowski, Badillo, Knarr, and Lepacek are in attendance, and I join them on a small raised platform reserved for media. The latter three have homemade (but convincing) credentials around their necks from wearechange.org. Rudkowski, however, is now an official correspondent for Alex Jones Productions. He's also a regular commentator on Jones's show, and the two have become close. "He calls me his protégé," Rudkowski says bashfully. "I'm like, whatever."

Before Colbert arrives, the four talk in hushed tones, trying to decide how to confront him—should they be serious or tongue in cheek? "Let's just talk to him," Rudkowski says after awhile.

"If he doesn't answer, he implicates himself," Badillo says, only half joking. The duty of actually addressing the comedian has fallen to Lepacek. (He became a movement cause célèbre after being arrested for aggressively questioning Giuliani campaign aides at a presidential debate last summer.)

A round of applause rises up when Colbert enters the room, wearing a tux and a restrained but impish grin. When the event coordinator informs us that there will be no questions for the press, Lepacek starts yelling. "Stephen, do you have clever remarks about the collapse of World Trade Center 7?" The smile on Colbert's face tightens. "Do you know [it] collapsed at free-fall speed on September 11?" Lepacek continues as security quickly descends. "Are you for us or against us, Stephen? For us or against us?"
Colbert stares at his heckler. The smile is still frozen on his face. Then he says, "I don't know."

Whisked from the room, Lepacek continues his tirade at full volume, "You don't know? World Trade Center 7, Stephen! Your little smirk's not going to work for much longer!"

As the press gallery is cleared, a reporter from a large news organization turns to Badillo and says, "Who are all these 9/11 Truth guys showing up everywhere, ruining everything?"

"I don't know," Badillo replies, stifling a laugh, before quizzing the man about WTC 7.

When everyone gathers outside, it is quickly agreed that this Truth Squad has been a miserable failure. "It's going to look disruptive," says Knarr. "We shouldn't release this one." (That is, the video shouldn't go up on the website.)

Lepacek, looking glum, defends his conduct. "You've seen me flip out before. I didn't flip out this time."

"This is pathetic," mutters Rudkowski. "Don't write about this one," he says to me.

Knarr, a hulk of man, agrees. "In the next two weeks we're going to do something huge involving a presidential candidate," he says. "You should wait for that one."

"It'll be major news," says Badillo, looking intently at the oblivious masses pouring out of the Time Warner Center. "You'll probably be covering it anyway."


This article is from the February issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here

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