That’s the question ricocheting around social media after her recent declaration that Elon Musk, Sam Altman and Peter Thiel aren’t fully human. Untrustworthy? Of course. Evil? Occasionally. But also hybrid, and not the eco-friendly kind.
She said they have “something in the eyes,” the way people describe ghosts, demons or malfunctioning Roombas. She added she wasn’t sure they even bleed, and that if she stabbed one, a battery might fall out.
The clip went viral overnight. And suddenly, half the country began diagnosing Candace Owens the way Victorian doctors diagnosed hysteria—loudly and with zero evidence. Owens isn’t insane. Her critics took the bait because they’ve forgotten what hyperbole is supposed to do.
Owens wasn’t making a medical claim. She was making a point—a theatrical one—about how tech titans behave: clinically detached, unsettlingly calm, and a little too comfortable shaping the future like it’s a group project they never asked anyone else to join. And honestly, how could anyone watch an interview with Altman, Zuckerberg or any of the big-tech demigods and come away thinking, “Yes, that man is exactly like me”? These are people who speak in slow, deliberate sentences, blink twice per minute, and answer every question as if they’re troubleshooting a server outage.
She exaggerates on purpose. That’s the hook. That’s the engine of her entire persona. And to pretend she meant any of it literally is to miss the whole performance by several miles. Owens is many things, but she’s not out of her mind. She’s calculating, cheeky, and fully aware of how to turn a stray comment into a nationwide conversation by breakfast. And, crucially, she has range. Not always the kind that wins her friends, but the kind that keeps the public glued to the screen. Which is why she now hosts the most popular podcast on the planet.
And if she really were unhinged, the Charlie Kirk murder saga would’ve been the moment we’d all see it. Instead, it showed something else entirely: persistence bordering on sport. Most pundits fired off one opinion and wandered off. Owens treated it like her personal season of True Detective. Her conclusions strayed into territory some found uncomfortable, even hinting that Israel’s role wasn’t as neatly absent as the official story insists. But if you think the narrative we’ve been handed about Tyler Robinson is the whole story, then the problem isn’t her sanity. It’s your gullibility.
Then came her investigation into Brigitte Macron—the endless memes of “Is she secretly a man?” saga. Was the theory outlandish? It was. Was it entertaining to watch her pursue it with the seriousness of a Cold War analyst? It was.
And even if Brigitte Macron is unquestionably a woman, the real scandal never needed a conspiracy. Emmanuel Macron was a teenage boy. She was a grown woman in a position of authority. If the genders were reversed, the French press would still be fanning itself and fainting into lace curtains.
And Owens’ willingness to do the same with Epstein—pushing, probing, demanding the truth—irritates the establishment to no end. She doesn’t stop when Trump shrugs it off as a hoax. She keeps pressing until the people in charge start shifting in their seats.
Does she cross the line? Absolutely. Sometimes she sprints past it.
But crossing the line isn’t the same as crossing into psychosis. It’s the nature of her craft. Her provocations are deliberate, not delirious. She spots narratives no one else wants to touch and drags them into the spotlight. She’s in the business of clicks, and she’s getting more of them than every other podcaster. Owens stands out simply because she refuses to sound like anyone else. She goes too far. She loops back. She pushes buttons that still have fingerprints from the last time she pushed them.
She’s provocative, performative, deliberate, occasionally ridiculous, often exasperating, but not certifiably cuckoo.