The saga of The Onion’s takeover of Infowars began as a cynical prank that somehow manifested into a genuine, albeit chaotic, reality. When CEO Ben Collins announced in April that the satirical juggernaut had seized Alex Jones’ conspiracy-theory empire, even seasoned media observers assumed it was a fever dream. Legal hurdles in Texas threatened to kill the project in its infancy, yet by mid-July, the absurdity had reached its zenith. Comedian Tim Heidecker stepped into the void, capturing Jones’ brand of red-faced, apocalyptic bravado with such precision that it blurred the lines between high-concept performance art and a terrifying mirror of modern political discourse.
For Collins, a former NBC News journalist who spent his career tracking the rise of disinformation, this acquisition wasn’t just a stunt; it was an act of cultural preservation and reclamation. After leaving network news, exhausted by the relentless harassment of colleagues and the weaponization of oversight committees aimed at those who dared to cover power accurately, Collins sought a new path. He saw in The Onion a formative beacon—a publication that taught him there was a sharp, funny, and necessary way to handle a world that had seemingly lost its collective grip on reality. By bringing The Onion back to print and securing a massive subscriber base, he proved that people still craved a source of truth that knew exactly how to laugh at the madness of the times.
The decision to purchase Infowars was particularly personal. When Alex Jones was forced into bankruptcy to pay the families of Sandy Hook victims, Collins saw an opportunity to snatch a weapon of misinformation away from its source. He and his team of investors maneuvered through the auction, knowing full well they were stepping into a legal and social quagmire. They didn’t just want to shut it down; they wanted to reanimate the platform as a “satirical Frankenstein,” a one-to-one parody designed to deconstruct the very mechanics of right-wing rage. It is a masochistic project, one that openly defies judicial efforts to slow them down, fueled by the conviction that if you can’t beat the absurdity of the current news cycle, you must fully embody it to expose it.
Enter Tim Heidecker, the architect of a new, surreal Infowars. For Collins, choosing Heidecker was a no-brainer. Having admired his work from Adult Swim to On Cinema, Collins viewed Heidecker as a rare talent capable of identifying the “next nightmare” in American culture before the public even realizes it’s on the horizon. Heidecker’s style—a blend of mania, mundanity, and terrifyingly accurate character work—provides the perfect vessel for mocking the hollow, supplement-peddling, doomsday-prepping aesthetic that Jones perfected. When the world’s most eccentric comedian calls you with a vision, you simply step back and let the chaos unfold.
The result is a weekly YouTube experiment that feels live, dangerous, and deeply entrenched in the absurdity of the internet age. From brilliant cameos by Tim Robinson to segments featuring faux-experts and erratic commercials for survivalist gear, the new Infowars operates in a space that is “too real to be surreal.” It is a satirical takedown that works because it refuses to flinch, maintaining the frenetic energy of the original broadcasts while stripping away the malice to reveal the pathetic core underneath. It is, as Collins notes, “the basement layer of hell,” and they are currently the ones keeping the lights on.
As this strange experiment settles into its early, volatile rhythm, the question remains: what comes next for a man who has managed to control both the most beloved satirists in the country and a former epicenter of conspiracy? While The Onion and its new Infowars subsidiary continue to push the boundaries of media commentary, Collins maintains a wry, almost mischievous sense of irony. Having reclaimed a cornerstone of American print media and effectively dismantled the world’s most infamous disinformation hub, he is already looking toward his next target. With a laugh, he points to a different kind of cultural touchstone he’d like to revitalize: Red Lobster. In the world of Ben Collins, perhaps nothing is too big—or too bizarre—to be salvaged or satirized.