Solar eclipses, like the upcoming one on April 8, are a well-documented scientific phenomenon. As early as 763 BCE, ancient Assyrians were charting the process by which the path of the moon temporarily obstructs the sun, and astronomers have continued to do so for thousands of years since. Our knowledge of eclipses predates our knowledge of gravity, algebra, and toilet paper. We are well aware of their existence, and we are well aware of what causes them. (I mean, I personally am not, but other people ostensibly are.)
What the ancient Assyrians could not have possibly predicted, however, was the singular stupidity of the current incarnation of the American right. Unconvinced by thousands of years of scientific inquiry, as well as driven by a general sense of apocalyptic bloodlust, many on the right are trading conspiracy theories about the upcoming eclipse, ranging from the belief that it signals the End Times to the idea that the Biden administration is using it as an opportunity to shut down cellphone service or bring in the National Guard in an effort to make beautiful blond children who play sports transgender.
This latest onslaught of misinformation began, as it often does, with InfoWars host Alex Jones, who has spent the past few weeks ranting on X about the upcoming eclipse. Last week, he posted a clip with the caption: “Major Events Surrounding The April 8th Solar Eclipse[.] Masonic rituals planned worldwide to usher in New World Order.”
The post, which has more than 3,000 retweets and 1 million views, illustrates how the trajectory of the most recent solar eclipse viewable in the United States, as well as the trajectory of the upcoming eclipse, form an “Aleph” and “Tav,” which (as anyone who was forced to go to Hebrew school instead of staying home and using cheat codes to make your Sims woo-hoo naked knows) are the first and last letters in the Hebrew language, signaling the beginning and end times.
In another eclipse tweet posted on March 26, which has 3.8 million views, Jones included a video of a man speculating that various Texas and Oklahoma counties had declared a state of emergency in order to usher in a billionaire-led new world order.
It is, indeed, true that a number of counties, including Texas’ Travis County and Oklahoma’s McCurtain County, have issued disaster warnings prior to the eclipse. But it does not appear to be for the nefarious reasons suggested by Jones. Rather, it appears to be for the intended purpose of the government: to adopt public safety initiatives that protect people from harm. For instance, according to the Travis County declaration of local disaster, the county anticipates an influx of thousands of tourists to watch the eclipse, thereby leading to “extreme traffic congestion” and potential “telephone service disruptions.” Such conditions necessitate a declaration of a state of emergency to ensure “critical infrastructure protection” and “facilitating access to food, water, and shelter” in case the roads become overwhelmed, per the language of the declaration.
While this explanation sounds both highly rational and surprisingly efficient by county bureaucracy standards, it is not one that has been accepted by the slew of mini-Alex Joneses on TikTok, Instagram, and X.
Many of them have also focused on a NASA project based in Wallops Island, Virginia, near Chincoteague Island, to shoot rockets at the moon during the eclipse. Project APEP is shorthand for Atmospheric Perturbations Around the Eclipse Path, but it’s also a reference to the snake god of darkness — supposedly, the nemesis of the sun god Ra. Ostensibly, the title of the project, which is intended to measure changes in electric and magnetic fields, is a clever (albeit nerdy) reference to ancient Egyptian mythology.
This is not, however, how it has been interpreted by influencers like Dom Lucre, a far-right conspiracy theorist with more than 1.2 million followers on X. In an April 2 post about APEP, Lucre writes that during NASA’s project, “there will be rituals performed during the April 8th Eclipse,” during which “Masonic, Satanic, Esoteric, Gnostic, Brotherhood of the Snake and other occult-like groups will be performing.” Which is an interesting way of saying that nerds are going to be spending their Monday shooting a bunch of rockets from that little island horse girls are obsessed with, but OK.
It’s not all that surprising or unusual that brainrotted, terminally online people are obsessed with the eclipse. “It all feels very similar to the same run of conspiracy theories we had with stuff like the four blood moons and the Sept. 23rd apocalypse and other pseudoscience nonsense,” says Mike Rothschild, author of The Storm Is Upon Us: How QAnon Became a Movement, Cult, and Conspiracy Theory of Everything, referencing a series of doomsday prophecies peddled by evangelicals in 2014 and 2017, respectively. “Basically, a common event is imbued with cosmic significance, then totally forgotten when nothing happens.”
It’s far from unusual, Rothschild says, for there to be “weird theories and superstitions around cosmic events like eclipses, because people don’t understand science and how anything works.”
“I haven’t seen anyone encouraging people to look at the sun, so it’s probably not inherently dangerous,” he adds. “But it adds to the noise and churn that makes people distrust science and scientists.”
So coming from the perspective of someone who very much understands science and how eclipses work: On Monday, if you’re standing in the right place at the right time and wearing stupid-looking glasses, you may or may not see the sun go black for a moment, as has periodically happened since the recording of human history. It’s (probably) not going to lead to the apocalypse, and you’re (probably) not going to witness any world leaders participating in satanic rituals, and you (probably) won’t fall into a coma and wake up in a hospital six months later to find the world has been overtaken by flesh-eating zombies. But honestly, so what if you do? At least you won’t have to do your taxes this month. At least you don’t have to pretend to care about the Gladiator sequel. There’s plenty of upside here. Everything has been hard and boring lately. Bring on the new world order.









Christine Wonsley with her husband, Elmore (second from left), attorney Ben Crump (left), and Rev. Al Sharpton (right), during a memorial service for her son Nolan Xavier Wells.Gerald Herbert/AP


Abu Asada, the current-day star of calisthenics, has built a cultlike following with his high-energy videos. Jason Motlagh
Weighted pushups on a bar are a staple of battles. “The bars don’t lie” goes one old-school mantra. Jason Motlagh
“In the world of calisthenics, the world is your gym,” one Houston-based battler says, “so you can get it in anywhere.” Jason Motlagh
Abu Asada (center, standing) with competitors in Houston. “He really opened eyes to life-or-death [training],” says one athlete. Jason Motlagh

Marshall Sampson celebrates his win surrounded by a raucous crowd in Brooklyn, New York. Sacha Lecca
An exhausted Sampson post-battle. “Pressure exposes everyone,” Abu Asada says. Sacha Lecca
The crowd cheers on the Calisthenic Prince, who calls himself a “bar magician,” during a battle in Brooklyn. Sacha Lecca
The Prince and a competitor called Xtra Money go head-to-head on dips. Sacha Lecca
The warriors take to the bar for muscle-ups. “This is the most physical thing you’re gonna see people do without being violent,” Abu Asada says.Sacha Lecca
Xtra Money cranking out 75 goblet squats with a 65-pound dumbbell. Sacha Lecca
The Prince accepts defeat in what Abu Asada calls “the most hostile even I’ve ever been a part of.” Sacha Lecca
Donald Trump and FIFA President Gianni Infantino stand as Spain celebrates its World Cup victory, on July 19, 2026.
America Got the World Cup It Deserves — Good and Bad
For the past six weeks or so I’ve been having a recurring fight with my friends. The dispute is over whether or not it’s ethical to support the U.S. national team in the World Cup.
To the vast majority of people reading this article, this is an absurd question: of course you can and should support the United States Men’s National Team, you weirdo. And look, I’m with you. But despite the fact that my friends are pompous dorks who are no fun to watch the game with, the question they raise is valid: Are our national teams avatars of the administration in power, or of the people and promise of that country?
If you believe the former, then yeah, it’s pretty fucking weird to support the USMNT. In doing so, by that thinking, you’d be engaging in a sort of athletic nationalism on behalf of a country run by Donald Trump, the most corrupt president in history, who forced the Iranian national team to flee across the border immediately after the final whistle of each of their games, whose federal police have shot numerous civilians dead in the street during a brutal immigration crackdown, who has started a war and supported a genocide while covering up his close personal friendship with the most notorious pedophile in modern history.
I mean just look at him. On Sunday he waddled down onto the field to present Spain with their trophy, lingering on stage with the victorious team as they tried to celebrate. The presence of Mexican President Claudia Steinbaum and Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney did little to dilute the image of Trump standing next to his crony Gianni Infantino, grinning at all the trappings of their power, hands caressing a trophy they’d done nothing to earn, lingering well past his cue to leave Spain to their glory. This World Cup, literally, had Donald Trump’s fingerprints all over it.
And yet, this was one of the most thrilling, beautiful World Cups in recent memory. That’s America, baby — contradictions abound.
Over the past five weeks of the greatest athletic competition on Earth, we’ve seen games that will literally never leave my memory. The final, which I attended yesterday in New Jersey, was remarkably forgettable — a 0-0 draw until the 106th minute, with Spain dominating every second of play and yet unable to score, undone time and time again by their insistence on tricksy passing and the personal heroics of Argentina’s goalkeeper Emi Martinez. The rest of the tournament, however, delivered. Cabo Verde, refusing to lose until the very last moments of the first knockout round, battling back again and again against both teams that would eventually play in the final. The sheer dominance of France’s Kylian Mbappe in front of goal, scoring at will, rivaled only by the aging GOAT Leo Messi and the Norwegian warlord Erling Haaland. England’s heroic stand at the Estadio Azteca in Mexico City, 45 minutes in the rain, a man down, holding out for the win and singing “Wonderwall” with what felt like half the stadium when it ended. Off the pitch, too: the Algerian national team being welcomed with open arms by Lawrence, Kansas; Scottish braves drinking Boston dry and partying wildly with Haitian fans that overcame so much just to be at the tournament. In Mexico, of course, the World Cup was everything, and its fans threw joyous South Koreans pumped full of tequila into the air, and celebrated in the streets with opposing fans even after their hard-fought defeat to England.
For the United States, what the 2026 World Cup was — what our team was, what our fans were, what our performance as hosts was — is a reflection of two things at once: what our nation is and what it can be.
Our star striker, Folarin Balogun, was born here by accident, a citizen only because of a birthright system that our president is currently trying to erase. We have Ricardo and Giovanni and Freeman and Zendejas. We have another striker whose name is Haji, for goodness sake. I look at that team and I see the country America can be, one in which any soul born in or living within our arbitrary borders can become part of a great national project that seeks to improve the lives of everyone it can. And yet, I can also look at that team and see a reflection of what the country is, because there is an anchor around its neck. When Balogun was — albeit unjustly — suspended for a crucial match, Trump himself stepped in. Cronyism saved the day and got Balogun reinstated, but ruined the fragile harmony the team had enjoyed. On the pitch against Belgium, they came apart. Temperamental star Christian Pulisic tried to go alone and then quit, aging defender Tim Ream’s legs failed him when he needed them most, a young goalkeeper slipped and fell when he had no good options for support.
What more can you say about a team, about our country? The team is an entity that is capable of more but still has so far to go, that is vulnerable to the same forces of avarice and selfishness and fear that plague our national identity writ large.
It’s possible to end the story there, to say good riddance to another failed year and fractured team. But I think that’s a mistake. I think if you believe that you haven’t really been watching. I think that’s also why it pissed me off so much that some of my friends wouldn’t root for the U.S. Yes, we have flaws, like every country involved in the tournament. Yes, our current team management and political government are filled with morons. But if you won’t put on the shirt you’re essentially opting out of our future. We can’t wait around for a better world, a better team, a better president, before we deign to lend our support. Progress only comes from effort, from caring, from believing in something more.
One of my favorite images of the World Cup was a crowd shot of the opening match against Paraguay in Los Angeles: every race, color and creed of American there is, all covered in red white and blue. It’s corny and trite, sure. But that’s what it’s all about. That’s why we’re here. You have to believe. The U.S. won that game 4-2. In four years, we’ll be even better.