UnNews:Encyclopædia Dramatica ends undramatically, world celebrates
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Encyclopædia Dramatica ends undramatically, world celebrates
Who knew The Onion® had a retarded stepbrother?
Friday, July 28, 2017, 03:17:UTC)(
22 April 2011
NEW YORK, New York -- On April 14th, the internet's most overused middle-finger was lopped off. In the week since the anti-climactic folding of the website Encyclopædia Dramatica, an apparent parody of Wikipedia whose main goal is unknown to this day, celebrations of numerous demographics have rocked the planet, causing Japan to heighten its threat alert to "Oh shit! One away fast."
At 3 a.m of the night following the website's final farewell, the brains of nearly 93% of the site's readers staged a spontaneous celebration in the streets of every major city on the planet. Leaving just enough gray matter behind in the skull to run the body's basic functions while it slept, both the right and left lobes, linked as ever, paraded through the streets, carrying signs of glee to mark the joyous occasion.
"We couldn't be happier that the bane of our existence, that Encyclopædia Dramatica, is gone," the brain of a 13-year old boy from Denmark told us, "We are finally rid of the dragon that preys on our lesser faculties and our sick, bodily compulsion to see the needless abasement of any and all things. We can finally live without being forced to bear through the horrendous grammar, the steady stream of insults directed at anything that moves, and the constant need of our lesser functions to demean others to feel better about itself, all the result of this function's insecurity in its value to the world."
Said the intelligent muscle of a 23-year old boy from Michigan, speaking in the rally in Chicago, "Every time he goes on that site - it happens habitually, more than 6 times a day - I can feel myself die, hear the screams of my gyri as they, in agony, end themselves. My IQ was once an acceptable 101. I was once a good student; I was once creative. Now I'm a 77, failing in school, and getting pushed around by other brains that are, in all truthfulness, better than me," here there was silence as the brain choked back tears of fluid, "But now the site is gone. Now, I no longer have to get tormented by his insipid touring of that site. Now, I will blossom into the individual I once was, and can be again."
With daylight on the horizon, the brains retreated to their owners' craniums, pausing only to brush the dirt of the streets off their cerebellums before once again encasing themselves in bone.
The celebrations, however, were far from over.
The next night, countless eyes popped out of the sockets of their owners and rolled around the streets of the world's largest cities in rallies to spread their own joy: never again would they have to bear witness to the shocking content of Encyclopædia Dramatica. However, unlike the celebrations of the brains the night before, the eyes' rally was far more dysfunctional. Unable to figure out how to make noise to replicate the sounds of speech; their message of happiness could only be communicated through the crude signs they made by dousing themselves in paint and then rolling over sheets of paper. "Encyclopædia Dramatica used to make me bleed!" one sign cheered. "It's over! I've been bleached for the last time!" another exclaimed. These uplifting signs of relief, however, were left littering the roads; the eyes had neither the hands to carry them nor the intelligence to make do without, leaving the rally a signless, soundless event that paled in comparison to the brains' parade the night before. After only a few hours the eyes went home, discouraged by their failure to communicate their joy, but filled with relief nonetheless.
The next day, news of ED's disappearance had spread; hundreds of thousands of people, whole, entire people, streamed into the streets, all with unique reasons to celebrate.
"I can finally understand my daughter," cheered a single-parent from Ohio.
"We can finally move on with our lives," a group of 17-year-olds from New York chanted.
The elation was so intense that, even when one young man, his skin made pale and milky white from the insipid glow of his laptop, appeared to proudly proclaim the site's rebirth, he was met with fierce chants of "We don't care!" "Freedom!" and "God damn it, we've suffered enough from the tyranny of this website's memes and horrendous shock comedy! We've deserved a respite from the horror of it, now begone!" When the young man protested, hailing the return of the website as the harbinger of good things to come, he was shunned, at first, and then stoned to death.