ROFLCon, Another Nerd Party Cracked Wasn't Invited To
I remember it like it was last Thursday. Because it was last Thursday, and I have an excellent memory. I remember showing up to Jack O'Brien's office (house?) with my suitcase in hand, hope in my eyes, and a smile on my face. And a flask full of Jack Daniels in my pocket. It was April 24th, the day before April 25th, a day I'd been looking forward to all year. I took a quick swig from my flask and dropped it off with Jack's secretary. He has a "thing" about me drinking from a flask. While on the clock. And at 2:00 in the afternoon. Jack can be pretty uptight sometimes, but I wasn't about to get on his bad side. Not today. While his secretary stared at the flask, clearly puzzled, I showed myself up the stairs to Jack's cubicle (bedroom?). I had to make sure to stay on my absolute best behavior. After all, the ROFLCon was the next day and Jack had personally selected
"Seriously, Jack & Field, this was my chance. ROFLCon is the only organization that would legitimately ask me to give a speech. Ever." No matter how many letters I send to Harvard. "I know. I assumed they'd want us there. We've just gotta try harder. Maybe next year." "Maybe next year? 'Maybe next year,' you fat-headed pig? What makes you think I'll keep dicking around on this sinking ship for another year? Listen, Uncle Jacker, I turned down jobs with Universal Studios, Google and the friggin' Pope to be here." "Ok, well none of that is true." We sat in silence for a while. Then, more silence. After an additional stretch of silence, Jack spoke up. "I'm sorry, Dan, really. I don't know what to say." "You can start by saying you're sorry." "... I just did. I completely just did that." "Alright, then you can reimburse me for all of my expenses. And build me a bat signal." "No. To both of those things." "Fine, can I please just sleep here tonight?" He held up his cell phone. "I've already dialed '9-1,' Dan. I don't think you need another breaking and entering on your record." "Alright, fine, Miss Mary Jack, I'll go. Oh, but by the way, your secretary sucks. She didn't seem to know what to do with the flask of JD I gave her." "Sec- I don't have a secretary... I have a daughter. Did... did you give my four year old daughter alcohol?" "Oh I don't know," I said climbing out the window. "Does anyone really
See? And that article goes on to say--and I am for once not lying-- that we should "y all means hang Hannah Montana." Cracked made that happen. Not Tron Guy. Don't let anyone tell you different. The only conclusion I can draw from this is that we've surpassed internet fame completely and now we're actual legitimate celebrities. I guess I'll know for sure if I get invited to the next BET Awards. Meanwhile, this is becoming a huge problem for me: What the hell does Cheezburger have that we don't? First the Webby's burns us, and now ROFLCon? How long? How long must Cracked.com play Salieri to the Mozart that is I Can Haz Cheezburger?
If we lose one more popularity contest to a bunch of pictures of fucking cats doing bullshit, I swear to God I'm gonna burn the internet to the ground.
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