Uncyclopedia is almost full. Last night, eight years after its creation, the techs working Uncyclopedia's servers told me that the site only has room for a few hundred more edits. That's it. The tent is folding on this white elephant.
No, no, don't get so upset. Remember, "All things must pass", and those other loser platitudes. We've had a damn good run if I say so myself, and I'd like to thank all of our readers and writers for sticking with us throughout the years.
The good news is that we will continue to host what we have now, and I hope that everyone enjoys Uncy-in-stasis for decades to come. It will be like a great painting, but no longer like the Harry Potter type of painting that you can talk to and take out for a drink. More like the original Monet water-lilies hanging behind the toilet on my yacht. Pretty soon it'll just be sitting there, nice to look at but no longer something you can use your crayons on.
"Can I still edit?"
No. Editing the site will be impossible. The servers are so full of edits, forums, flame wars, articles, talk pages, quotes, illustrations and vanity pieces that there's simply no more room. We're full up.
Odds are, yes. The only variable is if an IP comes along and blanks the page of your favorite article just as Uncyclopedia tops off. Then it will stay blank for all eternity, or until the electricity goes south too.
"Can't you just buy more servers, Mr. Murdoch?"
I can but I won't. Better to let this fish die and then mount it.
You know, one of my nephews is an Uncyclopedia editor. That's why I bought the place, so they can't ban him for life again. He's even an honorary member of its version of the Baseball Hall of Fame--actually a decent place to find some good reading. So when this situation came up I asked him if he wanted me to look around and find a used server to keep the site afloat and, while we're at it, give him the ultimate power over what's deleted and what's kept. "No, but thanks, Uncle Rupert", he said, "There are just way too many gay liberals there. It makes me worry about the state of today's youth, and what the world will look like when my generation takes over." I was so proud of the lad that I reached over, patted him on his ass, and decided then and there to groom him to take over a few stray corners of my corporate empire.
Okay, you, the blonde in the front.
"Will the gif's keep moving?"
You mean those pictures that move around and make you laugh? Yeah, they won't stop. I like the one on Hentai personally. I keep hoping that they'll let the little girl play too. But they never do.
"So which article will be featured when the site is frozen?"
Whichever one is featured at the time uncyclopedia freezes over will always be featured. As will the UnNews of the day, and all those things nobody looks at below the screen. The "Writer of the Month" when the ship goes down will always be writer of the month, and SPIKE will always win the news narrator award. Things will be cut and dried then, no mysteries, no more drama. We're going to put the plastic flower in a vase and dust it once a month.
"Uncy, henceforth shunting aside, nay, utterly forsaking, Norris, Grues, Jesii, Wilde, T and Sophia en masse, alas, shan't aforesaid myriad heedfully crafted memes meander, elapse, divagate, betwixt and/or epic fail?"
I didn't understand a word you said. Next.
"Why don't you just sell the site to Trump or someone?"
Why should I? You think that orange-haired-boy would appreciate owning the Uncyclopedia? He'd break it up, sell it piecemeal--have you ever tried to sell a comedy article to Playboy, like fishing for marbles--and let his dim-witted children jiz all over it. Jizz all over it. . .jizz all over it. . .that's something. . . I. . . used to do. . .can't do. . . anymore. . .
/Murdoch looks off into the distance for 15 seconds, smiles, seemingly lost in thought, then is lightly shaken on the shoulder by Uncy's press secretary.
Yeah, whew, excuse me. I just had a senior fond-memory-moment there. That's happening to me more and more, which, to be honest with you liars, is one reason I'm giving up the joint. I can't handle it anymore. Running this outfit and you clowns is way too much stimulation for my cranium to process without short-circuiting.
Alright, next question.
"Will the stalled site contain advertisements?"
Do you mean things like moving banner ads for toothpaste across the top of the page, or large, obnoxious, self-serving multi-colored distractions along the left or right side of the creative work? Who do you think I am? Yeah, the name "Rupert Murdoch" equates to mud in this little industry, but even I have some principles and aesthetic sense. And at least a minimal respect for my writers. Security, escort that man out.
"Can a wizard stop the freeze-drying of Uncyclopedia?"
I doubt it, but he can try. Wouldn't hurt. In fact, you know what, all you fucking wanna-be's can get together, form a prayer circle, and sing Hosanna to try to get me to buy a new server. But unless you can bring back Clara Bow and Marilyn Monroe to twiddle my swizzle-stick, relieve my stress, and fulfill several lifelong fantasies, I'd say your chances of stopping this are as likely as the Queen's bodyguards actually caring enough to throw themselves in the path of a bullet.You, the hippie with your dirty hand up.
"This is all rubbish, Murdoch! You're closing the site because of its openness and its love of freedom of speech. Don't give me this server scam."
/Security personnel move in and grab the hippie's dirty and oily arms.
"Get your dogs off me, Murdoch! Uncy isn't well publicized, almost no publicity at all! Laws are now being put in place concerning copyright. Internet control is. . ."
/Billyclubs knock the hippie to Kingdom come. A few of the blood splatters that hastily exit his body drift over to land on the blonde, and reporters and Uncy's straight editors rush over to the blonde with concerned expressions, handkerchiefs, and glasses of water and wine as the hippie's limp body is dragged away.
Did anyone hear that man's question? I didn't hear a question in there. I did notice he hasn't showered this week. Yes, you, the geek with no suntan.
"Couldn't you just dump half the articles on the site, which would relieve the carrying load by 50% and buy us some time?"
See here, four eyes, Uncyclopedia's back is against the wall, the blindfold is on, and it's going into the cornfield. Maybe your plan would work, Professor Quiz Quiz, if only I cared. But if I cared enough then I'd just buy a new shiny server and name her Lucille.
"What will the writers do?"
They have a thousand options. I certainly don't want to keep paying them after the site dusts out. I've already got a guy trying to sell their contracts and work-product to antiques like The Onion, Letterman's show, or Curb Your Enthusiasm. The only return calls we've gotten are from David Coulter's people and that Disney guy who's trying to revive Wonder Showzen.
"Will you give Uncyclopedia's writers and administrators a severance package?"
Yeah, sure. Here, they can have this package.
/Mr. Murdoch then reached down, grabbed his crotch, and yanked it a couple of times in the direction of the Uncy editors in the room. He then tried to unzip his pants, repeatedly failed, and just made a damn fool of himself.