Lou! I enjoyed the last issue. (Finally, a reference for the rest
favorite target is web page memorials for dead pets. I like to contact
the people with dead pets and fuck with their heads. I email them
things like "Your cat's ghost spoke to me last night." Or, better
still, "Your cat's ghost haunts my cistern."
HA HA HA HA!
bring up a good point. Nothing's funnier than death! And it's fertile
ground for maximizing your asshole potential online...
the dead is generally considered "bad karma" -- but if they're celebrities,
it's okay! Asshole fun is just one step away: Track down on-line communities
that are generally sensitive about your chosen target -- and make things
up! Say you're Sonny Bono's love child! The long-lost heir to Lucille
Ball's estate! The undead spirit of William Shatner's third wife, wandering
the globe in solitude. Just remember: Pick a celebrity who's really
dead. It gets kind of embarrassing if they actually turn up.
even start rumors about the death of celebrities. Rile
up the ghouls playing the celebrity
death pool! Watch highly-paid celebrity publicists scramble
to deny your story! Enjoy hours of creative fun deciding who
should be dead -- and how!
The last death-hoax
circulating was about that geeky actor from "Blue's Clues." A
grisly car accident, a drug overdose, and suicide were among the
supposed causes. The incident culminated with prissy newspaper
editorials complaining about the inherent unreliability of the
faking your own death. You'd be surprised how much fun you can
have with a simple phrase like "I'm having chest pains." The Internet
makes it easy! Create a web memorial for yourself -- then anonymously
notify a few key online acquaintances. (Suggest visitors send financial
donations to ease the pain of grieving relatives.) Snoop through your
site's "Guestbook" and see what people are saying about you. Then scare
the crap out of them when you show up at their doorstep brandishing
printouts of their comments. Wear white for added effect.
to be dead is fun. And the great thing about the Internet is: no one
can prove you're lying! Start rumors in chat rooms about your own demise,
and within minutes it's believed to be true!
The dead are
fun! When everyone associated with heavensgate.com decided to
pursue some afterlife comet-hunting, a clever hacker hijacked
their domain name. Cult-watching suicide gawkers instead found
themselves learning about "Why
AOL Sucks" -- at least until the morons at the InterNic realized
how easy it is to forge an e-mail message requesting transfer
of a domain name.
To Do If You're Really Dying
Set up an
auto-responder. As long as your Internet service continues debiting
your credit card, they can also continue e-mailing responses automatically
to anyone who contacts you. No one really goes to the great beyond
worrying about whether their e-mail is going to bounce -- but
until the executor of your estate wises up, you'll be flaming
from beyond the grave!
if you've applied any of the previous suggestions, no one will believe
you're dead anyway. Which is probably a good thing. On the Internet
you live forever, like Elvis! From archived Usenet posts to email messages
lingering undeleted on hard drives across the globe, scattered impressions
of your psyche have already been converted into stray bits and bytes
that will probably outlive you. Face it -- you became Max Headroom the
day you went on-line. Now you're stuck with Internet immortality whether
you want it or not.
ways to have fun with the dead
dead authors, then impersonate them in Amazon's section for author-submitted
comments! Think a web success story with a market capitalization of
$25 billion dollars is too smart to fall for that trick? Think again.
I did just that last March, when I pretended to be author Alan Harrington,
submitting comments about his appropriately-titled book, The Immortalist.
("It's about a future utopia in which death has been conquered by technology.")
Buoyed by my success, I also impersonated live author Joe O'Connor,
writing -- as the author -- that "I'm as happy as is possible for a
fat man at my little book's glowing review ... I share none of my sister's
good fortune and I desperately need the money to pay an outrageous sum
to my slumlord who is pounding at my door as I write."
I forgot all
about the prank -- until last week, when I checked one of the
dummy e-mail addresses I created for the masquerades and found
I'd received 24 responses: Readers apologizing for wasting the
various authors' time, but thanking them for their years of work;
law school professors reminiscing about their days together at
Oxford; even a publisher asking if I had Gore Vidal's address.
Fake author comments drew loving e-mails from big fans -- though
apparently not big enough fans to realize that Harrington died
thought to ponder. To this day, Amazon is still displaying some of my
fake author comments. That's the great thing about the Internet. No
one knows you're a corpse. Or an asshole.
Cabron is GettingIt's resident asshole.