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It’s official: California’s Legislature has too much time on its hands. At a time when the state is drowning in crises—homelessness, crime, economic decline, and a government that seems incapable of addressing any of it—Assembly Member Rogers has decided that what California really needs is to designate Bigfoot as the official state cryptid. Yes, you read that correctly. AB 666, a bill as cursed as its number suggests, seeks to give official government recognition to an urban legend. In doing so, it really demonstrates just how unserious the California Legislature has become, squandering time, resources, and credibility on meaningless, performative nonsense while the real problems of everyday Californians continue to mount.
At first glance, this might seem like harmless fun—a lighthearted bill that does no real harm. But when you step back and think about what this really represents, AB 666 becomes a symbol of everything wrong with governance in a post-truth world. This is not just about Sasquatch. This is about the steady, dangerous erosion of truth, and how even seemingly trivial government actions can contribute to the legitimization of misinformation, conspiracy theories, and outright fantasy. If you think that’s an exaggeration, consider this: if California is willing to officially recognize a mythical creature, how long before it starts giving credibility to conspiracy theories like chemtrails, ancient alien narratives, or outright historical revisionism?
The Slippery Slope of Officially Recognizing Nonsense
AB 666 is part of a broader trend where myths, conspiracy theories, and “alternative facts” creep into mainstream discourse—not as quirky folklore, but as serious governmental recognitions. It might start with Bigfoot, but it doesn’t end there.
Let’s break it down:
By designating an official state cryptid, California is sending the message that some myths deserve state recognition. What happens when fringe groups demand that their particular brand of pseudoscience or conspiracy gets the same treatment?
- Will Flat Earthers get their own symbolic resolution?
- Will we have a designated state UFO abduction site next?
- And once we start putting nonsense on the books, how long before we see lawmakers proposing actual studies into things like chemtrails, hollow Earth theories, or ancient extraterrestrial visitations?
If that sounds absurd, consider how fringe beliefs have already made their way into government discourse in other parts of the world. Italy’s government gave anti-vaxxers a platform. Maine once considered a bill based on the completely false idea that Irish people were once enslaved in the U.S. (a myth deliberately pushed by white nationalists to downplay actual slavery). And Texas has flirted with efforts to rewrite history curricula to downplay America’s role in the slave trade.
All of these efforts started somewhere. Often, they start with symbolic designations—harmless on the surface, but dangerous in their implications. The government’s role is to uphold truth, not to play along with myths. When public trust in institutions is already crumbling, it is outright irresponsible for legislators to further blur the line between fact and fiction.
The Ultimate Distraction From Real Issues
Even if AB 666 never leads to anything more than some embarrassing headlines, it is still a profound waste of time and taxpayer resources. California has no shortage of existential crises:
- Skyrocketing homelessness
- Rampant crime
- A crippling housing affordability problem
- Failing infrastructure
- A widening wealth gap that is driving the middle class out of the state
And yet, instead of tackling any of these pressing concerns, the Legislature is playing make-believe with a cryptid. This kind of absurdity is exactly what conservatives, libertarians, and even moderate Democrats cite when they criticize California’s government as out of touch, unserious, and incompetent.
And can you blame them?
AB 666 is a free gift to every critic who argues that California’s ruling party is more focused on symbolic nonsense than on governing. If you’re struggling to afford rent in San Francisco or trying to avoid being carjacked in Los Angeles, how are you supposed to take your state government seriously when it’s busy debating Sasquatch?
Bigfoot Today, Chemtrails Tomorrow?
Perhaps the biggest problem with AB 666 is that it normalizes the idea that urban legends and myths deserve government recognition. The difference between Bigfoot and chemtrails is smaller than you might think. One is a creature that some people claim to have seen, despite no scientific evidence. The other is a debunked conspiracy theory that falsely claims the government is secretly poisoning the atmosphere. If the Legislature is willing to entertain one urban legend, what stops them from indulging others? We live in an era where conspiracy theories already have massive real-world consequences.
- QAnon went from fringe internet paranoia to influencing elections and fueling an attempted insurrection.
- Vaccine misinformation has killed people by discouraging them from seeking life-saving medical care.
- Climate change denial is delaying urgent action on environmental catastrophe.
And here we have a state government adding credibility to an urban legend, opening the door for future lawmakers to consider other fringe theories worthy of official status.
A Legislature That’s Out of Touch
Perhaps the most galling aspect of AB 666 is how tone-deaf it is. California’s problems are not just economic and political—they are also deeply cultural. The state is losing trust, both in its institutions and in its ability to function. People are leaving California in record numbers—not just because it’s expensive, but because they feel the government is no longer serious about governing. Unfortunately, this bill only proves them right. California’s legislators should be fixing problems, not making themselves a laughingstock with cartoonish, unserious bills. Instead of indulging pseudoscience, they should be rebuilding trust in science. Instead of recognizing cryptids, they should be addressing the real monsters—poverty, economic disparity, and crime. If Assembly Member Rogers and others think Bigfoot deserves government attention, let them fund a private festival, not waste taxpayer resources making it a state symbol.
The Bottom Line: Reject AB 666
AB 666 is not harmless fun—it’s a symptom of a broken political culture that prioritizes performance over policy, spectacle over substance, and distractions over solutions. If California wants to be taken seriously again, it must stop indulging in performative nonsense. That starts with rejecting frivolous legislation like AB 666 and demanding that lawmakers focus on real problems. Bigfoot belongs in folklore, not in the California State Register.