In a stunning revelation that rewrites centuries of conspiracy theory, newly unearthed documents from a damp Brussels basement prove the Illuminati not only exists but has been operating under the world’s nose as a group of perpetually frustrated Belgian roommates. The 12,000-page dossier, accidentally discovered by a man searching for lost frites coupons, details how three Belgians—Jean, Pierre, and someone who only signs documents with a doodle of a sad waffle—founded the "Illuminati" in 1776 to resolve a bitter dispute over who owed €3.50 for last Tuesday’s moules-frites.
According to the files, the trio’s initial goal was modest: create a system where no one could dodge rent, utility bills, or the sacred duty of replacing the speculoos jar. Their "global domination" scheme began when Jean allegedly hid Pierre’s cervoise (a traditional Belgian beer) behind the "secret society" pamphlets, sparking the first Illuminati ritual: passive-aggressive sticky notes left on the fridge. By 1789, their "New World Order" was simply a color-coded chore chart for vacuuming the EU Parliament’s lobby.
The documents further reveal that iconic Illuminati symbols were misinterpreted household items. The all-seeing eye? A security camera Jean installed to catch who kept eating his pralines. The pyramid? A failed attempt to stack speculoos cookies during a power outage. Even the "Baphomet" statue was just Pierre’s avant-garde art project—a melted chocolate fountain shaped like a goat, commissioned after one too many jenever shots.
Most damningly, the files confirm Belgium’s role in every major historical "conspiracy." The moon landing? A distraction while the trio argued over whose turn it was to buy waterzooi ingredients. The 2008 financial crisis? Triggered when Pierre accidentally paid the Illuminati’s shared Netflix bill with euro coins instead of francs. And the reason Belgium once went 589 days without a government? "We were busy mediating who left the waffle iron on," reads one handwritten note.
Citizens worldwide are demanding answers. "I spent 20 years decoding crop circles," sobbed one former Illuminati theorist, now working at a Bruges waffle stand. "Turns out it was just Jean’s grocery list: ‘Buy more syrup. Pierre, stop eating my fries.’" Meanwhile, the EU has quietly replaced its flag with a giant speculoos cookie and issued a formal apology: "We thought they were running the world. They were just running late on rent."
As for the Illuminati’s current whereabouts? Intelligence suggests they’ve relocated to a cozy Antwerp flat, where they’re reportedly drafting a manifesto titled "Why Can’t We Just Split the Wi-Fi Bill Like Normal People?" Experts warn this could trigger World War III—or at least a very awkward group chat.