[upbeat music]
Conspiracies, they're everywhere, or are they nowhere?
Or is that exactly what they want you to think?
So that's where my wallet is.
Well, for every they, there's a me.
I'm Kevin Matthew Kelp.
Follow me as I pull back the curtain to find the truth
behind the curtain.
This is "Project: Conspiracy."
People always ask how I uncover government conspiracies.
Simple. It's all about knowing where to look.
And sometimes you only need to look
right under your feet.
[car horn honks]
Shut up! I'm uncovering a conspiracy here.
He's probably in on it.
The mysterious disk that I discovered in the middle
of a busy street is not uncommon.
In fact, I found them in every city in the United States.
New York, Boston, Tulsa, Toronto.
It seems innocent enough,
but what if I told you they're portals
to a complex network of hidden tunnels
buried deep underground?
Thousands of miles of tunnels put there by who else?
The government.
This secret government tunnel system pervades everything.
The pipes reach into our schools, our businesses,
and even our homes.
I didn't consent to this, and until I get the truth,
I'm not gonna become part of this system.
Did you hear that?
You're not getting anything from me!
The question is,
what is the government doing with these tunnels?
Why are they harvesting our bodily fluids
and why aren't we allowed to see for ourselves?
Well, I did some digging, and it turns out,
this conspiracy goes all the way back to ancient Rome.
The Roman elders devised a hidden system,
kept out of the eye of the public, called the Cloaca Maxima,
which I believe translates to giant bird hole.
Turns out old Caesar was a part of a conspiracy way darker
than sneaking anchovies into salad dressing.
Who else was involved with this thing?
It was time to get some answers.
But how could I enter the secret tunnel system?
If I wanted to find out the truth,
I'd have to go undercover.
Let's go.
Okay, testing, testing.
One, two, three. Testing.
[Worker] As long as you have respect and perseverance,
you're gonna do great.
So just, why don't you get down that hole?
[Kevin] Hello, fellow construction workers!
-Can I help you pal? -Oh, I've been made.
So clearly the government security around this system
was tighter than I thought, but screw it.
I'm just gonna breach the network myself.
Ah! Ah!
Wow, must be some kind of DARPA magnetic technology.
Otherwise, I'd be able to lift that.
After trying for hours
to break the government's high tech seal,
it became clear there was no way in.
But then I had a realization.
Instead of trying to get into the beginning of the tunnels,
why not go to where they end?
And to find out where that is,
I had to go to the dark web.
Turns out there are entire agencies
that no one has ever heard of dedicated
to maintaining this secret network of underground tunnels.
Busted.
This government facility hiding in plain sight
is an endpoint where your feces,
which contains your DNA, by the way, is collected.
Let's get some answers.
Hey, what are you doing with our fluids?
We have a right to know.
Sir, this is just a wastewater treatment plant.
-That's it. -So you admit
-that you have our poop. -Briefly, I guess.
See, I knew it.
-Wait, come here. -Ah, you can't get me
-mother [beep]. -[Kevin gags]
Goddamn it!
We may never know why the government is harvesting our feces
through an elaborate network of tubes.
But there's one thing I do know.
They're never gonna get mine
because I've sewn my butt hole shut.
-Checkmate, Uncle Sam. -[dramatic music]
[upbeat music]
A lot of the most well-known conspiracies
are about what goes into our bodies.
Fluoride, microchips, spiders the Chinese sent
to crawl into our mouths while we sleep.
But there might be one government spyware
that we've all been overlooking.
That's right. Fruit.
Let's go.
Look, every single piece of fruit has a sticker on it.
Apples, pears.
Whatever these are.
Even the pineapples.
Ow, goddamn!
These fruit, ow! [beep]
These fruit stickers were everywhere.
But they weren't the fun kind that say things like,
"Grape job," or, "I love you berry much."
Instead, they were filled with mysterious numerical codes.
Grammy Smith?
How do they know my grandmother's last name?
I tried everything I could to crack this conspiracy.
I listed every number I could think of, even seven.
But it was no use.
The codes were unbreakable.
If I was ever going to blow this conspiracy wide open,
I'd have to go undercover.
I love fruit. Just love buying fruit.
Just an ordinary guy buying lots of fruit.
Yeah, you're probably wondering
why I'm buying so much fruit.
It's 'cause I'm having a fruit party later.
-Okay. -Unfortunately,
-you can't come, so. -Okay.
[Kevin] Yeah, hey, I did notice that on all the fruit,
they have these stickers.
You don't know what that's about, do you?
I guess so they can track the fruit or something.
[Kevin] Oh my God, she admitted it. Run!
Who are you talking to?
-Oh my God. -You forgot the fruit
-for your fruit party! -Oh my God, oh my God,
oh my God, oh my God.
Okay, so thanks to my espionage skills,
we've established that the codes are used for tracking
but now it's time to find out who's doing the tracking.
Does anybody know where these.
After my usual investigative techniques turned up nothing.
Does anybody know where these little stickers come from?
I was able to find some answers by hacking the deep state.
Meet the IFPS.
AKA, the International Federation for Produce Standards.
AKA, a secret global cabal
because I've never heard of it before.
And guess what?
They're in cahoots with the FDA.
AKA, the government.
The FDA regulates the adhesives on these stickers
and they just so happen to be the same shadow organization
that recommends you eat three to four servings
of fruit every day.
An amount of fruit so ridiculous
that anyone who's tried to do it has probably consumed
two to three stickers without even realizing it.
Are these stickers tracking the fruit?
Or maybe they're tracking . . .
You.
So is the government really trying
to trick us into eating stickers?
Something every teacher from kindergarten
through college told me not to do?
There's only one way to find out.
Let's see if my stomach can handle the truth.
Should've gone with the apple.
[suspenseful music]
It was immediately clear that eating the sticker turned me
into a walking GPS for the government.
[Kevin groans]
Everywhere I went, I was being followed by Big Brother.
The police watched my every move.
Secret agents pretended to read newspapers.
Hey! What, hey!
Yeah, you're not so sneaky
with your special spy gadget now, are ya?
The evidence couldn't be clearer.
The FDA is tracking us through fruit stickers.
More like the Food and Deceit Administration.
That's actually pretty good, I should write that down.
God, where do you come up with this stuff, Kevin?
Ah, ah!
And now that I've uncovered the truth,
I can't be a part of this corrupt sticker system anymore.
And luckily, I don't need the FDA
and their spy fruit because some of the best fruit
actually is regulated by Mother Nature.
Oh yeah. [laughs]
Mm, mm, it tastes like freedom.
Yeah, it's a little funky. Okay.
It burns a little.
[Kevin gags]
[somber music]
[upbeat music]
Everywhere we go, vehicles are spying on us.
Cop cars, unmarked vans, roller coasters.
But what if I were to tell you
there was another kind of vehicle monitoring Americans
right underneath our noses?
Or should I say, our mouths?
I'm talking about ice cream trucks.
The classic all American ice cream truck.
Seems like just an innocent way to get a tasty treat,
until you do some digging.
Meet Harry Burt, inventor of the ice cream truck.
In 1923, he patented his creation with, you guessed it,
the US government.
AKA, the people monitoring us so closely,
they even know my social security number.
So why did Burt team up with Big Brother?
I'll tell you why.
Because of the massive amount
of intel these spy-ice cream trucks can gather
in plain sight.
Foot traffic patterns, snacking habits,
a third thing I'll figure out later.
All they needed was the perfect cover.
The ice cream.
Brain freeze. [groans]
It's time to figure out what exactly these trucks are up to.
One chocolate eclair bar, or did you already know that?
No.
Actually make it two.
I'm really hungry and I'm getting ready to do a stakeout.
Wait, not for you though.
[suspenseful music]
$10.
Okay, I hope you got what you were looking for,
Mr. Ice Cream Man.
-This is $30. -Dude, don't, don't.
My interaction with the ice cream Gestapo seemed normal.
All too normal.
So I kept watching for hours,
fighting the temptation to get more ice cream
and only succumbing all of the time.
Why couldn't I resist this truck?
That's when I realized their most dangerous weapon.
[Kevin vocalizes]
The song.
It's the song.
Hey, you spying on kids, you pervert?
No, I mean, kind of. But.
Hey!
It was never just the ice cream.
The truck's siren song was its secret weapon the whole time.
And I'm gonna prove it.
[bright upbeat music]
Hey, where's the ice cream?
Oh, I don't have any.
I was just proving a theory and it worked.
So, thank you.
Give us the [beep] ice cream
Run. Run, dude.
-[children scream] -[Kevin screams]
Music has long been a psychological tool
for deep state forces like the CIA,
the radical left, and Chili's,
convincing ordinary citizens to confess, to vote,
and to eat against their own self-interest.
Ah, those kids, man.
Those kids are tough.
But if I'm ever gonna get the real scoop
on this musical conspiracy,
I need to go inside the belly of the beast.
Let's go.
So this is where everything happens.
So this is the ice cream truck.
Okay, ma'am, I'm ready for the job interview, so
You know we don't make you dress like that anymore, right?
So where do you turn on the mind control song?
Excuse me, the ice cream, totally normal, the jingle.
So, you're some sort of undercover conspiracy reporter?
How do you know that?
Who do you work for?
You put it on your resume.
That's a typo.
The whole job description?
Yeah.
I've been made. Abort, abort.
Abort.
Oh God, come on.
So, do you not want the job?
[Kevin pants]
Clearly, whatever deep state agency
is behind these trucks will stop at nothing
to stop me from stopping them.
But don't worry, resistance is possible.
Thanks to these noise canceling headphones,
the only thing I'll be hooked on
is the sweet taste of freedom.
-[car horn honks] -[tires squeal]
[somber music]
♪ Hey, hey, hey, hey ♪
[upbeat music]
♪ Hey, hey, hey, hey ♪