Some years ago I was cast in an improv troupe. At the time the troupe was engaged in writing a sketch comedy show spoofing TV shows. This was not a concept dear to my heart, but I was drafted as a sketch writer.
My first sketch was "The Malcolm X Files." I know, you're gasping with laughter already, but the hilarity didn't stop there. The story would follow Agent Malcolm X and Agent Skull-E (I know, hilarious) as they track down the truth about the Tuskegee Alien DNA Project. The show would end with a disclaimer: "The United States Government did not inject alien DNA into unsuspecting test subjects at Tuskegee. It was actually syphilis."
"I made this!"
I had thought I'd made it clear that the point of the thing wasn't to mock or belittle the victims of the monstrous real-life Tuskegee syphilis experiments, but to point out that the government is the culprit in many conspiracy narratives for reasons of its own making. But clarity within one's head isn't the same as clarity in one's work. Only the troupe's desperation for members (owing to a high attrition rate) kept me from getting the boot.
The show went on with some other corny bits I'd written or co-written, though, to a deservedly lukewarm response.