I have a confession: I hate April Fools’ Day.
It wasn’t always this way. When I was a pre-teen, I loved devising elaborate pranks. Saran wrap on the toilet was probably the peak of my creativity, if that gives you an idea. I also enjoyed reading silly news stories, the stuff just far side of normal. Since 1998, however, either I’ve become more gullible or the media has become more sophisticated. The thrill of satirical news comes from recognizing its satirical intent, but today, there’s often no real difference between The Onion and supposedly “serious” websites. April Fools’ pranks have converged with ordinary experience, too, making yesterday no holiday from reality as usual. I hate April Fools’ Day because it reveals how close we’ve come to living a parody of ourselves.
In short, April Fools’ Day isn’t fun (or funny) when fake news and spoofs fail to deviate from normal. When we can believe that a joke is real, it may be a pointed commentary on our culture, or it may suggest that our culture has achieved a state of absurdity. Consider this post from Eater, “April Fools’ Pranks Across the Food and Restaurant World.” From “Food1852,” a super-retro take on the popular recipe site, to “Bacon Scope,” these pranks are totally believable. Whereas a decade ago a pork-flavored mouthwash prank would have been off-kilter enough to poke fun at the food industry, now it is boring and predictable. We live with chicken ‘n waffle flavored potato chips, and hey, maybe “bacon scope” could be a successful product. Successful satire depends on difference from its target. But what is there left to satire? Consumer culture and politics have become satires of themselves. In this age of irony, irony has lost its power of commentary, because everywhere it appears it is already expected.
I don’t mean to disparage the end of irony. A world without irony, where even the ironic is sincere, includes space for previously impossible experiences. In effect, there may be new revolutionary possibilities, utopic and dystopic potential, where irony withers away. Yet I will miss April Fools’ Day nonetheless. The ironic turn, a phenomenon of the early 21st century, was a good thing while it lasted. But it was written with an apoptotic limit, an automatic self-destruct when it reached a certain critical mass. Now we would be wise to set its sour corpse aside.