Last year, I was set upon by Pete Evans’ followers after I questioned his expertise. But since trading his toque for a tinfoil hat, he’s moved well beyond a punchline.
Fun fact: I wrote a snarky piece for this very site decrying the likes of cancer fraud Belle Gibson and Pete Evans, basically putting them in the same basket of making bullshit up, selling it at a profit to gullible twits and being symptomatic of how a) the media is just painfully lazy these days, and b) how we shouldn’t indulge these charlatans.
This is, admittedly, after owning one of Evans’ cookbooks and swearing by the properties of his (frankly delicious) porridge recipe. This purchase was made before he tried to convince his growing cult of drooling acolytes that feeding beef stock to your babies is a good idea. Or, that putting a strobe light in a blender will cure you of COVID-19, just as long as you buy it from him for a cool $15,000.
Anyhow, back in June of last year, a friend alerted me to the fact that Chef Pete had since seen the article, reposted it with a passive-aggressive commentary attached to it (replete with ‘sideways laughing’ emojis), and essentially told his cult, “have at him”.
He’d have benefitted not one iota from doing this, aside from the fact that he may have liked seeing the cult go after yours truly. And I’m nobody of consequence, honestly. That I’ve fuelled his power-drunk masturbatory indulgences is unsettling at best. Some of the comments were, I’ll admit, amusing.
“I clicked on the article. It was apparently written by a dropped Scrabble box.” That’s excellent, right there.
“Someone needs a liver cleanse,” was another, which Pete Evans himself heralded as the “best comment”, which I’m also impressed by considering ‘liver cleansing’ is high-end quackery of the first order. Do you have a liver? Kidneys? Lungs? Do you drink water and breathe oxygen? Congratulations, you’re detoxing. That’ll be $1000, thanks. Exit through the gift shop.
Then there were the ones that seemed less than engaging in the spirit of the occasion.
“Design a shirt that says “Eat Bread and Die” send it to him.”
To wit, a reply, “or a shirt that says don’t eat bread but you still Die.”
And this one: “I wish an autoimmune disease upon Matt Reddin, the hack.”
Which is just delightful, namaste to you, and your fellow disciples. And it’s all very amusing that the Seven Network has shed him from its cooking game show (once the brand damage was becoming too expensive to effectively spin), and he seems to have now gone all-in on QAnon, deep state, Trump-loving conspiracy theories.
He’s posted an image on his Instagram account which buys into the tinfoil hat brigade’s notion of celebrities getting coronavirus, and the codes the deep state media apparatus use, which is all a sham and these celebrities are all child molesters, and the day of reckoning is coming. Only Trump can save us, apparently.
Evans, much like Sam Newman seem to be suffering the ill effects of having suffered a relevancy bypass and it’s not pretty.
And that the 5G network is using technology to activate the nanobots in our bloodstream to spread the disease. And we, the ‘sheeple’ of Australia should wake up, “arrest Bill Gates” (for some reason) and “end the Fed” (which is the US Federal Reserve; a genuine head-scratcher as to why we, Australian sheeple, need to end the American version of the Reserve Bank???).
Again, piss-funny if you think these people are just gormless twits longing to belong to something. But the problem is when you start spreading rumours like there being a Hillary Clinton-controlled paedophile ring being run out of the basement of a Virginia pizza parlour, and a nutjob takes this claim seriously and shoots up the place, killing people…only to discover that there was a) no paedophile network, and b) no actual basement to this pizza joint. There are consequences to people with influence peddling nonsense to morons.
To be honest, being set upon by a paleo cult is about as impactful as being slapped with a wet herring. A lot of them didn’t like what I wrote, which is fine, and some of them thought I was worthless because my Twitter and Facebook posts were generating two ‘Likes’ at best. Which gives you as much as you need to know about how ‘value’ is measured in the social media quagmire.
My experience with social media is much like most other people: I’m just yelling witty asides into the abyss and hoping that strangers will validate me. But at least I know it’s a fruitless exercise.
Pete Evans was, and continues to be a dangerous lunatic. He was once just a fraud and a con artist, but now he’s been set loose by being freed from the binds of a Seven Media contract and is spewing his conspiracy bile over the internet; ungoverned, unburdened by any sense of responsibility and entirely stung by having his cash cow run dry.
He, much like Sam Newman seem to be suffering the ill effects of having suffered a relevancy bypass and it’s not pretty.
It’d be fine if he just posted nummy breakfast recipes, but he’s gone full honey-roasted nutbar.
It can’t end well.