Years ago, when I was less inflexible, I took up Pilates. My instructor, Jim, a charming chap with an infectious laughter, was a 911 truther. I’d egg him on to hear about his conspiracy theories. Jim believed that 911 was concocted by Bush and Haliburton so that the U.S. could invade Iraq to capture their oil. He thought that United Flight 93 never took off. Whatever happened after 911 became the motivation for 911. He was the sort of person who would have concluded that Mahatma Gandhi plotted the Second World War to free India from British rule.
I began to suspect that Jim was, to put it charitably, nice but dim. But he wasn’t that dim. He corrected me when I once, innocently, underpaid him. He was also smart at advertising and when he met my wife, he told her that she should join me for Pilates because it would strengthen our marital bond. My wife politely declined the bond strengthening. He was also very cued up with the nutritional sciences and warned me, without leaving a trace of irony, “don’t believe everything you read about diets.”