Illustration: John Cuneo
Here's what you've been told: "There's a sucker born every minute." "Take or be taken." "Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see." These aphorisms are so ingrained in American life, they're practically commandments. And for good reason: We are a credulous people. For proof, open your spam folder and count the chain emails from 1998 that are still coming in, dutifully forwarded by friends and relatives. Or consider that new Facebook pal whose name seemed familiar enough when you hit Confirm. We are, today, the same easy marks who ran screaming from Orson Welles' made-up Martians and flocked to see the Cardiff Giant. So we're defensive. A hoax, we are taught, is an invasive, aggressive stratagem—a nefarious short-circuiting of our natural social instincts, a hack of Trust itself, a deterministic, zero-sum shell game with a clear winner (the prankster) and loser (the gull).
Well, here's what we're telling you: Bullshit.
Take and be taken. There's a skeptic born every minute. Every man a mountebank, every man a mark! These are your new commandments, O children of Barnum, Borat, and Blair Witch. The source of hoodwinkery has shifted from the all-powerful (ad agencies, governments, MTV) to the tweeting masses—and lo, charlatanism is democratized. There is no more Big Lie, only Big Lulz, and getting gamed is no shame. It's the seal on the social contract, a mark of our participation in this new covenant of cozening.
Raised on a diet of rickrolls, Goatse, and other forms of cultural roughage, we no longer take pranks so personally, and we know that "too far" and "too soon" are a lot farther and sooner than they used to be. We also know it's fun. For the Hoax Populi, it's a kind of language—a friendly punch in the arm, not a stab in the back. And we need that social lubricant to keep us (a) safely aware of ourselves and (b) united as a fractious but functional whole.
Still, it's sometimes hard to distinguish a prank from a scam, a sham from a fraud, a Nigerian prince from Prince Albert in a can. That's why wired is pleased to present this handy Prankonomy, a celebration of the japes and ruses of our shifty age.
By Steven Leckart
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The Crank Call Marks: Cantankerous yet inquisitive barkeeps, customer service reps, political candidates.
Noted Practitioners: Jerry Lewis, Bum Bar Bastards, Bart Simpson, the Jerky Boys, Crank Yankers, shock jocks.
Sample Scripts: Bart calls Moe's Tavern and asks for Oliver Clothesoff; a Canadian DJ uses an exagè9rè9 French accent to convince Sarah Palin she's speaking with a porn-loving, seal-hunting President Sarkozy.
Occupational Hazards: Caller ID, giggle fits, telecommunications law.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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The Rickroll Ah, the heartbreaking tumble down the Rick Astley rabbit hole. This click-and-switch meme sends innocent Web users not to the promised link but to a YouTube video of the well-coiffed crooner from the 1980s. Why? Because an anonymous 4chan yuckster (riffing on an obscure "Duck Roll" meme) thought it was funny. Contrary to Astley's now infamous chorus, however, most of us have given this up.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Fake Email Chain Letter Get-rich spam existed before 1997, but Iowa State comp-sci major Brian Mack thought it lacked panache. From his campus computer lab, he fired off a message explaining that Microsoft was beta-testing an email-tracing program. The hook: Bill Gates would pay you $1,000 if the email reached 1,000 people. Within a month, the missive was drowning servers, and permutations were beginning to evolve (including one featuring Walt Disney Jr.). Every two or three years, the e-prank flares up again, usually thanks to someone's mom.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Fauxtoshop Gone are the days of painstakingly doctored UFO images. A simple head swap now turns Sarah Palin into a gun-toting babe (good one!), while a basic copy/paste job adds an extra missile to an Iranian launch (not so much!).
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Zoological Mysteries A Georgia hunter claims to have shot, killed, and photographed a 12-foot-long, 1,000-pound wild boar. Elite mainstream media dub the pig Hogzilla and dismiss the story as hogwash. National Geographic investigates and finds the swine, albeit only 800 pounds' worth. But this tall tale taken too far is still remembered as a hoax, thus imposing an even more onerous burden of proof on Sasquatch spotters and Nessie hunters.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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The Fast-Food Urban Legend Want to play on the public fear of fast-food contamination for fun and profit? Here's your recipe.
1 order of Wendy's chili 1 human finger (Suitable substitutions include cockroach eggs at Taco Bell, deep-fried rats at KFC, or giant loogies at Burger King.)
Remove digit from purse and submerge in chili. Scream. Call police. Note: Use of own finger increases chances of getting caught. Cost of human finger: $100. Cost to Wendy's franchise: Millions in lost revenue.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Fake Amateurs It takes real pros to create homegrown content. Here's how they did it at the Lonelygirl15 School of Filmmaking. 1. Find burgeoning media venue with huge audience (then, YouTube; now, Twitter). 2. Locate attractive young actress desperate for work. 3. Be brief (less than two minutes per video, 250 words per post, or five tweets per day). 4. Commit to the long con (it took 34 episodes to unravel Lonelygirl15). 5. Reveal hoax—and collect VC money. 6. Get production deal … for another Web series.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Fake Experts Posing as reps for the National Petroleum Council, a pair of Yes Men—members of a loose collective of culture jammers who target megacorporations—suggest a solution for the global energy crisis: Convert dead humans into oil, Soylent Green-style. ExxonMobil is people! Other false prophets include Stephen Colbert, John Hodgman, and pundit Martin Eisenstadt.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Hidden Camera Noted Practitioners: Allen Funt, Dick Clark, Ashton Kutcher, the FBI.
Typical Victims: Naive tourists in Times Square, hapless celebrities, Love Boat cast members.
All-Time Best Example: Kutcher's Punk'd crew nearly moves Justin Timberlake to tears after convincing the singer that his LA mansion has been repossessed.
All-Time Worst Examples: ESPN's Erin Andrews' hotel peep show, Jon (minus Kate Plus 8), Taxicab Confessions.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Malware For networks of underfed, overskilled foreign hackers, there's always a way to break through software safeguards and destroy thousands of people's hard drives. (See: Code Red, ILOVEYOU, Storm botnet.) Trouble is, there's not always a way to break out of jail after NastyEstonian778 turns out to be a CIA agent.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Nonpareil Nerd Pranks At brainy colleges, practical jokes are not only expected, they're encouraged. Classic whoppers include dressing up MIT's Great Dome as R2-D2, bricking in doors at Oxford, having a girlfriend in Canada.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Performance Hoax NYC-based collective Improv Everywhere has hosted spontaneous dance parties, no-pants subway rides, and synchronized swimming in a city fountain. They also created the Best Gig Ever, packing a club with fake fans for an obscure out-of-town band. See also: public pillow fights, zombie marches, Lady Gaga's career.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Media Hoax Then: Broadcast of War of the Worlds causes mass panic that aliens are invading the planet.
Now: Sale of The Onion to China is noted dryly by All Things Considered.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Extreme Candid Camera Perpetrators turn the lens away from unsuspecting victims and back on the audience, pushing the concept of the prank into a postmodern interrogation of the American soul. Also: fart jokes.
See: Sacha Baron Cohen, Tom Green.
Typical Victims: Southern frat boys, news anchors, Paula Abdul.
Possible Outcomes: Lawsuits, fisticuffs, PhD dissertations.
Illustration: John Cuneo
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Extreme Impersonation Noted Practitioners: Christopher "Rockefeller" Rocancourt; Christian Gerhartsreiter, aka Clark Rockefeller
Typical Victims: Wealthy blue bloods.
Sample Scams: Rocancourt used bogus identities to defraud investors of more than $1 million before he was caught in 2001, earning him four years in prison. Gerhartsreiter's adopted surname fooled his upper-crust neighbors—until he was convicted earlier this year of kidnapping his daughter.
Occupational Hazards: Prison time, awkward family reunions.
Illustration: John Cuneo
Related
From Rickrolls to Malware, a Spectrum of Stunts
Practical Joking Becomes a Battle for the Last Laugh Storyboard Podcast: Evan Ratliff Is 'Gone,' Wired Guide to Hoaxes
