Soon, I begin to come up with my own. The guy who ran down King, the one who "mysteriously" turned up dead, was named Bryan Smith. Rearrange the letters and you have "hit man (rybs)." Hit man! Can you believe it? As soon as I figure out what the other letters stand for, I'm sure I'll have my answer. Repent You Beatle Slayer! Revenge, Yoko's Big Scheme!

Conspiracy theories do not need impenetrable bonds to survive. They are strings of circumstantial evidence which together create a maze of intrigue. And what better place for conspiracy buffs to congregate in a kind of global support group than the Internet. Yes, the Web offers us a chance to find people of like minds -- even if those minds aren't running on a full tank.

The spam I get on a weekly basis, on everything from the Kennedys to aliens, only underscores this fact. Here, we can all preach to our own choirs who will agree with any conspiracy, no matter how far-fetched. Already this week, an e-mail spread like wildfire naming "a well-placed Republican source" who claimed Dick Cheney's resignation from the GOP ticket was imminent. Other e-mails followed "confirming the rumor."

All the clues are there, just waiting to be connected. It is the vacuum and the echo chamber folded conveniently into one. Here, urban myths becomes gospel truths. Remember, the crazy man is only crazy until he is proven right. I think George Gershwin said that. And that proof remains only a click away.

It's too late for me, I am too far gone by now. Dawn has begun to creep over the bay, and I am still lost in the Web, looking for reasons. I see them hovering over me -- King, Lennon, Chapman, Lightfoot -- all of their heads take turns on the spider's body, while I, the lowly fly caught in the Web, struggle to make sense of it all.

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