Re: WEEKEND APRIL FOOLS DENOUMENT And Pranks Thread! Just to be clear, we try and keep threads on focus as much as we can, instead of having it devolve into the random meanderings of the drunk thread. If a post is just a BS comment or off topic, or incredibly lame, we'll wipe it with that message. For the most part, if it's on topic, or really warranted, we'll let personal attacks go. Sometimes lessons have to be public, other times done privately. All in all, it's a tough balance to keep, and I like to think we do a reasonable job. You're not the only one. When I was younger, I found my best friend hanging in his house, due to auto-erotic asphyxiation gone bad. This was in the late 80's, before the Internet, etc. Being interviewed by homicide cops trying to figure it out was surreal. I've lost another friend from high school who was gay but didn't know how to handle it. Yeah, it sucks, but personally, I find that if you can't laugh at it, then it's beaten you. We made no direct attack at anyone in particular, and it was actually Fry who suggested that particular subject matter. I like to think that around here we practice what I'd consider "respectful irreverence". Sure, we can be dicks, and make crude and ugly jokes, but in the end, we don't mean it, and everyone gets that. It's not hard to spot those that do mean it, and they don't usually last around here for too long. Again, sorry if anyone was actually offended or miffed by it, but I'd say that's your issue, not ours.
"Hey guys, I'll make sure to call out anyone who might have been skeptical that this was real, because if you were skeptical and you actually state that on here, clearly you're a just a smug asshole and there is no way you didn't totally buy it. By the way, yes, I realize the irony of patting myself on the back for calling you out for patting yourself on the back, and I'm okay with it."
Haha, I didn't believe it on the April Fool's thread, and repped Nettdata as much, but then rereading the drunk thread while drunk led me to believe that the mods were somehow fucking up big time. I think I repped Chater "this isn't FreakSafari," I guess while drunk I don't put it past you guys to act retarded on the Internet.
Talking publicly about how you weren't fooled by an April Fools prank is like talking about how you totally liked a band before they were popular. The tedium is unrelated to the truth value of the statement.
I'm a gullible son of a bitch. "First we have to pay for TiB and now Frylock's sister kills herself?? Could this day get any worse?!" Hats off to you guys, although I'm not sure repeating "no, this is not an April fools joke" is allowed in regulation April Fools Day rules. I'm going to have to deduct two points.
Again I apologize for the subject matter. There was no master plan here and if you hate me for going there I understand. Had I thought about it more maybe I could have come up with something believable but less offensive. But I didn't. I just went with the first thing that popped in my head.
You're in an entire thread dedicated to discussing said April Fools prank. Part of discussing it is talking about whether or not you (and others) bought into it completely. The entire point of a prank is to fool people, hence that is a point of discussion. There is a world of difference, in that a discussion of a band doesn't require one to talk about how they were 'totally into the band before they were big!' In the case of discussing a prank, talking about whether or not you 'fell for it' completely is necessary and central to the discussion. In the case of discussing a band, your example is superfluous and designed to make one look superior.
Re: WEEKEND APRIL FOOLS DENOUMENT And Pranks Thread! Not really best, but on Friday I announced that Tucker Max was joining my site as a columnist, and posted a fake article and everything. ...Apparently I was the only one who found this to be funny.
I was involved in organizing an April Fools thing on another forum, so my skepticism level was pretty damn high. It went OK, I reckon (a "popular revolution", banning of admins and supermods, promoting normal members to mod/supermod/admin status, suspecting the newly promoted members of treachery, banning the newly promoted members, then erasing all of the threads started for the "Revolutionary Front" and acting like it never happened, while there were still members banned or fake-promoted), but I suppose there's always room for improvement. Also, Rebecca Black's "Friday" was blasting on the index page. I had nothing to do with that part. I suppose I could've bought into it more if there was more bitchiness and snide remarks. It seemed a bit too on-the-nose to be coming out of Nettdata or Frylock.
Re: WEEKEND APRIL FOOLS DENOUMENT And Pranks Thread! I went to the link you posted and it was a 404. If there was a real article there, I might have found it funny.
Says the guy who shows up late after driving cars around all day and immediately goes straight to incest. By the way I want to thank all of you who thought it was perfectly plausible that I put a move on my sister. I notice that this revelation did not cause a single person to change their mind about whether this was real.
Re: WEEKEND APRIL FOOLS DENOUMENT And Pranks Thread! There was an article up until about mid-afternoon. Spoiler March 2000 Second year of law school Thursday night at The James Joyce, Durham, NC Tucker meets a fatty fan of his site, takes her home, and fucks her. On purpose. That’s the story that was published in I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. This is the story of what happened next, as of yet unread by the masses. 11:45: Fat girl has just left out the front door, naked, to retrieve her clothes off the lawn. Hate “Max, where is she?” Tucker “She’s gone.” Hate “Wha- how- where is she?” Tucker “I hustled her right the fuck out. I’m not about to let you jackals see her.” Hate “AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA.” Credit “I wondered what that stampede was.” Tucker “I need beer.” 11:46: Crack open the first beer. 11:47: Second beer. 11:49: Third beer. Credit “Holy shit, Tucker.” Tucker “Shut the fuck up, you’ve seen me drink before.” Credit “No. It’s not the speed. It’s the subtext.” Tucker “The fuck are you talking about? Beer has no subtext.” Credit “You like the fatty.” Hate “I like where this is going. Explain.” Credit “An ordinary human being would feel sick with himself after that experience and resolve to turn his life around rather than face the prospect of ever going down that road again.” Tucker “That’s why I’m drinking, the experience was so sickening.” Credit “But you didn’t go for the vodka. You’re not trying to get drunk, you’re trying to pack on weight. You want to get fat so that it will be socially acceptable for you to continue banging your new found love.” Tucker “That is the most fucking retar- where’s the vodka? 11:51: First round of shots, beer becomes a chaser. 11:55: Room starts getting a little blurry. Tucker “Something is wrong.” Hate “You fucked a fatty. Everything is wrong.” Credit “Unless you are us. In which case all’s right with the world.” Tucker “No, I mean, I think I’m drunk already. Three beers and a shot, this isn’t right. FAT BITCH STOLE MY TUCKER MAX DRINKING POWERS!!!” Hate “I don’t think that’s it.” Tucker “No! It is! Her gravitational pull sucked it in and now it’s slowly getting buried deeper and deeper into her fat rolls!” Credit “Look! He’s trying to create an excuse to go back after her! AHAHHAH! He really is in love with fatty!” 11:56: Silence 12:01: Credit “Holy shit.” Hate “I think we broke Tucker.” Credit “Listen, she didn’t steal your magic Tucker Max powers. You were at a bar earlier, remember? The drinks from there are still in your system.” 12:02: More silence 12:03: Tucker “Fucking right! More wodka!” Credit “You have evidence in the morning.” Tucker “Objection! Irrelevant!” Credit “Didn’t the professor tell you that if you missed any more classes you would be withdrawn from the class?” Tucker “Fuck! I don’t care. I have to wash my brain with enough alcohol to completely scrub it of the memories of this night. No sacrifice is too great.” 12:04: More shots. 7:15: Wake up. At first I’m disoriented, which typically only happens to me if I’ve woken up somewhere other than my own bed (I’m disoriented a lot). What throws me off is the impression in the mattress from where fatty was when we fucked the night before. She warped it so much my body doesn't recognize my own bed anymore. Shit. I’m going to need a new mattress. Again. I get up and immediately begin assembling an action-item list for dealing with the hangover I assume I have, but by the time I have the eggs, orange juice, Coke, Tobasco, and ice cream lined up on the counter, I realize I’m not hungover. Fuck yes. Banging a fatty has not made me any less of a real life super hero. Today is going to be a good fucking day. 8:35: Arrive at school early for class. Fuck. This isn’t like me. It’s borderline responsible. Maybe fatty has made me better, but not just in the ways that I wanted to be. I get a table in the student lounge near where my evidence class where I run into Credit and Hate and get some terrible news. I find out that they came home early last night because they saw Carry and Amy out, and those two bitches told hem I was home with FatGirl. SlingBlade “Wait- you threw her clothes OUT the window? HAHHAHAHAHA. She must have been huge.” Tucker “No, she wasn’t that fat. Just overweight.” Credit “I don’t know, Max. I thought we had rhinos in our apartment last night.” PWJ “It was that bad?” Hate “The floorboards were heaving and moaning.” Credit “I think she drove off in a cattle care.” Tucker “Whatever. As far as I am concerned, this never happened. If your friends didn’t see you, it doesn’t count. I’m invoking that rule to get out of this.” JoJo “Then you haven’t hooked up with a girl from the website.” PWJ “Carry and Amy saw you.” I hate having smart friends. And at this point, the hangover decides to show up. I guess it was sleeping in. Maybe I drink so much my hangovers have hangovers. I truly am gaining in power. 8:37: I get the fuck out of there. I can’t handle the humiliation and nausea at the same time. I decide to hide out in the one place no one would think to look for me if they decided to continue their taunting: the lecture hall. 8:38: It’s the first class of the day, so the room is empty. I take my seat in the back and try using my text book as a makeshift pillow. Obviously not soft, but the only part of me that manages to make contact with it is my forehead. The pain is getting worse by the minute. It feels like my brain is going to simultaneously collapse and explode. I consider leaving and taking my chances that the professor won’t notice I'm not there, but that wouldn’t stop the pain. All it would accomplish is taking my stomach on an unnecessary adventure. 9:02: The professor strolls into class. The undefined murmur of other students coming in had lulled me into as close to sleep as I could get, but I knew class was starting the moment everything went silent. 9:03: I realize my head will not lift off of the book. I am stuck semi-prostrate, a position that will all but certainly lead to getting called on. 9:04: The professor calls on someone on the other side of the room. One of the first things you learn in law school is how to predict the patterns professors call on students in. Some go alphabetically, some start at one side of the room and work their way through. This professor picked one student and random, and then went down their row. Being four rows back and across the room, I was safe. And that’s what I learned one of the many things law school doesn’t teach you. No matter how unprepared you are, never give up, because you don’t know what irrational actions the other party will take. For a full two hours I do not move. Not only do I not want to draw attention to myself, my stomach has gotten progressively worse. I begin to question my Tucker Max powers. Perhaps my powers have increased, but with them, my weaknesses have also grown. Then I realize this makes no rational sense, as one of my greatest powers is an immunity to the weaknesses of ordinary men. I am an immovable object being faced with the possibility of an unstoppable force. But that force is myself. It is a conundrum. 10:58: Class gets out, and I have no where else to be for the rest of the day, but I slug my way back into the student lounge, deciding to wait out my hangover there rather than risk the possibility of puking my car. I’ve puked in lots of places, but the worst to try to clean is your car. It’s not like puking in bed. While that’s incredibly gross, you can just tear off the sheets and toss them in the wash. Your car does not go in the washing machine. And even if you have the tools to clean it properly, the damn power cords never reach. No, I will wait it out in the lounge, with a trash can nearby, and even failing that, a janitorial staff I’m already hiring through my tuition dollars to clean it up. 11:25: I wake up. Apparently I had passed out. And hey, fuck my luck, I have magic naps! Tucker powers are in full swing! I’m no longer hungover! 11:26: I jump up out of my seat, fully invigorated. Portrait of Dorian Gray style recovery going on. And then I see her. A chubby law student, one I’ve never met before, probably a 1L, with the most bizarre combination of foods. A McGriddle… and a Big Mac. McDonald’s only serve breakfast until 10:30, and if I’m not mistaken, they serve only breakfast during the time. To have them both you would have to get in line before 10:30, order your McGriddle, and then wait for the lunch shift to start, and go order again. I am overcome by the need to make fun of her. 11:27: I succumb to that need. Tucker “Hey.” And with a power of a thousand suns, the hangover returns. I am immediately paralyzed with pain. The rest of my words don’t come out. Do you have a reward card at McDonald’s or do they just recognize you and give you a special manager’s discount?” They stay locked in my head, but yet my feet keep moving as I pass by. I just jumped out of my chair, walked over to a chubby, and said “Hey.” What the fuck has happened to Tucker Max? Freud would say there are no mistakes. He is wrong. The sheer volume of drugs and alcohol consumed by this country makes it entirely like that most things we do are mistakes. We’re not revealing our inner desires, we’re just ingesting too many toxins to function properly. Anyone who believes there are no mistakes has too high an opinion of mankind. And I do not love fatties. I. Do. Not. Love. Fatties.