It’s entirely possible to construct inclusive, funny April Fools pranks that everyone can enjoy.
Let me tell you about my favourite one.
At my old workplace there were a lot of computers and they were all exactly the same. Same model, same keyboard and mouse, same software on all of them, and most importantly, the same desktop picture: MacOS’ default mountains image.
The sameness was company-mandated. And since the computers were all communal, this made sense. I might have favoured one of the computers and always used it, but it was never going to be Aaron’s Computer.
So for April Fools one year I modified the mountaintop photo to add a teeny tiny kitty cat on the top of the mountain. And then I made a folder with 200 copies of the normal desktop photo and one copy of the modified one.
I told MacOS to use this folder for wallpaper, changing the photo every five seconds. And I told it to select the photo randomly.
So every once and a while, a tiny kitty appeared at the top of the mountain for five seconds and then vanished.
I put this folder on every computer that I could without anyone noticing me. I was in early, so I got to about 80% of them.
The results were hilarious.
“Wait, did you see the cat too?!”
Once I took a screenshot of the desktop, rotated it 180°, set it as the desktop, and then in system preferences rotated the monitor 180°.
“Why do the apps open upside down?!”
My team practiced doing a simple regular task in this setup so we could act like nothing was wrong.
I’ve started a new evening ritual: I leave all my technology inside except my Walkman, and I get into the hammock in the back yard and listen to an album from start to finish.
My cat has been curious about this new habit, and I’ve been trying to coax him into the hammock —
Tonight was some Rolling Stones — I’ve never really given them a fair shake, so I’m working through the Stones in Mono box set — and like clockwork, my big grey lump of a cat shows up. I make some space and start patting the hammock and asking him to jump up —
And to my delight, he decides to climb into the hammock! Except not in a very cat-like way. Huh.
At this point I should let you know that my backyard is very dark and I don’t see well.
hey you guys ask me tomorrow morning about that time I got high and texted a lot of people
if I ask when that was it’s right now
Last night I was a guest at a dinner series where they talk to artists and eat amazing, cannabis-infused meals. I am a total lightweight, and also I tend to become incomprehensible — though I think I’m making total sense — but the meal was after the interview, so no problem.
I started sending updates to the group chat where Nick, Ryan, Joe and myself sort out Effin’ Birds business — shipping stuff, customer service stuff, web stuff — because I had the good sense to not be tweeting.
Near my high school girlfriend’s house there was this path. It went from her street to the nearest bus stop. It was shaded by trees and a really pleasant walk. But whenever it rained, it was covered in snails.
I was leaving her place one night. It was dark, and it had just rained. And when I got to the path, the lights that normally lit it were out.
I figured, whatever. I’ve been down this path dozens of times. It’s a straight line. I’ll be fine in the dark. And this was the middle of the nineties, I definitely didn’t have a smart phone with a light on it in my pocket.
I have done a terrible, terrible thing because I am a terrible person.
In my final year of high school, I had an English teacher whose feedback I found tremendously useful. I enjoyed his class, and I got a lot out of it.
But he hated my writing.
I have always written in the way that I speak, kind of circular and lacking in formality. It was not his cup of tea. He’d get frustrated with my essays because he would like the ideas and dislike the execution.
In a not unkind way, he told me that he didn’t think that any kind of career involving writing was in my future.
I wasn’t hurt by it, I respected his opinion, and I took my C+ in his class.