Taylor Swift's crazy schedule: Touring while plotting Armageddon | MARK HUGHES COBB

I uh .... What?

Right before Valentine's Day, though I suppose the timing may have been coincidental, an Arkansas — Yay! Not Alabama, for a change ― televangelist claimed Satan's been playing Cupid (Wake up, sheeple! Each carries pointy weaponry, deeply links to blood red, and are depicted as wingED, like winged, but Shakespeare-y) to bring Taylor Swift together with Travis Kelce, who until a bit ago I guessed was a bro-country singer, so they could ....

Lemme check notes again.

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So they could give birth to the anti-Christ, launching an apocalyptic 1,000-year war against Jesus.

One of the better-shared responses to this breath of the mouth, which whipped around the social-media globe: "Must she do everything? And during a world tour?"

Could almost make you feel sorry for an utterly beloved, billionaire pop star with fans devoted enough to — I'm making a wild, swinging guess here — go to 1,000-year-war for her.

Though I'm also gonna lean on the side that nobody, including this young woman, who seems pretty smart and thoughtful, generous and kind, wants to fight Jesus. Not only is his Dad considered all-time champ, but even agnostics, atheists and other-believers might admit "Love thy neighbor as thyself," and bits about feeding hungry people, clothing the naked — There's probably a gag about spangly baton-twirler concert gear here, but I'm only implying it ― and generally being kind to one another, instead of launching nukes, metaphorical or otherwise, might be a groovy idea.

As "Jesus Christ Superstar" 's bass priest Caiphas sings in a song otherwise about plotting murder: "One thing I'll say for him: Jesus is cool." OK then: What was the deal with the bloody crucifixion? Almost like they knew not what they were doing.

More: Some Republicans fear Taylor Swift could influence the election for Biden. Here's why.

Gotta admit I'm curious about upcoming Swiftian musical "Antichrist Superstar." I got my theater start as Pilate in a 2002 University of Alabama production of that other super show, and I figure I've got the bulk and the experience to audition as some Kelce or another, even if costume has to staple a bear pelt to my chest for verisimilitude.

This registers as fairly serious escalation from previous koo-koo notes that only aver their relationship is a "secret plot" manufactured by George Soros to aid President Biden's re-election. Notable flame-breaths such as Vivek Ramaswamy, who just months ago was taken seriously as a presidential candidate, and yes, I still have to check those notes, and Faux News' Jesse Watters, have shared that little ditty.

There's a big beat a-coming, but not the kind anyone can dance to.

I was in the building where that GOP debate happened a few months ago — our lovely Moody Concert Hall tarted up with more blazing red-white-'n'-blue than a Crazy Cuzzin Carl's Fahrwurks! stand in mid-July — and am still amazed how the three others, at least one of whom is still standing, politically, made former New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie seem by comparison like a warm, sane, sensible person.

Maybe he is. Stripped of any chance at winning, Christie stood there, slumped over a podium, gape-mouthed, trying not to laugh, shooting down wild birds of "thought" as they fluttered limply to the stage. And getting booed for his efforts at stability and sanity by the other three's pre-programmed backers. Politicians are hard to read, what with the arrogance of power in office making them feel invincible, even as time and history have shown how utterly and thoroughly they may be vinced.

There's a conflation of the GOP with conservatism that dates back decades, desire for smaller government. But these increasingly bat-guano narratives played out by the far right make me wonder if a viable third party may finally emerge. It could be built from folks who've had enough of, as New York Times columnist Russ Douthat dubbed it, a self-sabotaging "inability to just be normal."

Moderate Christians — Just because they don't shout at cameras as if their hair was on fire and their face catching, that doesn't mean they don't exist — and Republicans could be forgiven for thinking this wacky rhetoric actually IS a liberal plot. Because this bizarro-world stuff may drive more sensible folks, even those of a conservative bent, toward public servants who don't, on the regular, foam at the mouth.

Mainly.

More: ELAINE HARRIS SPEARMAN: Why do Republicans fear Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce?

Does anyone actually believe the TSwift-Kelce-Soros-666 Club thing? Sure. Folks who live on a flat earth, and willingly mail hard-earned money to billionaires in exchange for hats and promises, rather than songs and concerts.

It's got naught to do with music, TSwift's or anyone elses, but seems to be about mentally ill people desperately grasping for patterns and connections (conspiracies) to explain and excuse raging fear and unhappiness.

TSwift and Kelce are two of the tallest targets in pop culture, and at least one has urged young people to not only register to vote, but then go ahead and vote. As in 2020, she may again often support for Biden. Those who claim she's "plotting," well, that word does not mean what you think it means. Plotting is calling on elected officials to "find" votes. Plotting is breaking into the Watergate. Plotting is dirty tricks and smear campaigns.

Urging people to vote isn't plotting. That's just straight up saying the thing. No devices needed.

These far-right — at some point they're going to swing so far out, they'll whip around the universe, sneak up and bite themselves on their butts ― fear a beloved person's influence, not her, as far as I know, un-Satanic womb.

This can't end well for those decrying pop-py love.

I'll penulti-wrap with this, strung together from Monty Python's "Life of Brian," about a fellow mistaken for a messiah and killed for it, abetted by one year of high-school Latin:

Romani domum eunt, or magno eunt.

The Romans, they go big, or go to the house.

Or to paraphrase from "The Wire": If you come for the Queen, you'd best not miss.

Mark Hughes Cobb is the editor of Tusk. Reach him at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Going to 11 on Taylor Swift conspiracies | MARK HUGHES COBB