So, last week I made a post about Alex Noudelman, a “Top 10” websites mogul who likes stealing articles from other sites, then accusing the original authors of plagiarism. He can get away with this because some sites, like Cracked, have forums where the writers develop the ideas for months and months before the sites buy them, so Noudelman just goes in there, scoops up the unfinished articles, and posts them before Cracked can. You can look at all the evidence in the post I linked to above. Other highlights of his career include filing copyright complaints against the same sites he steals from, harassing the original writers and possiblyposing as a cancer survivor on Twitter (I’ll get back to this one later).
Yesterday, Alex Noudelman finally spoke up through his Twitter account. His explanation for all the theft? It was me! The guy writing this Tumblr post! Apparently, I stole all those articles, sent them to him to publish them under false pretenses… and then wrote a lengthy post exposing my own crimes, for some reason. Here’s his evidence:
Because, you know, teenagers haven’t been faking emails using a combination of “emailing yourself” and “MS Paint” since the dawn of time. (Note that he has my IP address because I left him a nice message asking for the stolen articles to be removed before this whole thing started.) Anyway, I told him that I would confirm the email was real if he confirmed that this conversation between us took place:
Dear Plagiarists, Cracked writers prove every day that they are borderline obsessive about topics that interest them and they are dangerously funny. I can’t think of a worse place to steal content from because they will come after you, forever.
I write a lot of notes throughout any given day on receipts, napkins, sticky pads for things I don’t want to forget, then I stuff them in my pockets and promptly forget about them, usually for months. When I find those wadded up pieces of paper again, the original idea has long since moved out of my brain and instead it feel like my pants are sending me cryptic notes. I have no idea what they want from me:
British actor, horse, were you in this week?, Dream.
What the Heart Wants gas station nachos
Europe: Peanut butter old people
Bounce when shit gets hot
Get to work on Considering
Stripping all the fun of making a video, forcing an author to picture the two of you meekly slapping your bodies together.
To the Westview Track Runners Who Wrote About Obesity and Judgment,
Hey guys, I read your Facebook posts to each other about losing weight, and fitness, and conspicuous stabs at Internet celebrity. Great stuff. Listen, I think both of you fighting in your own way for the cause of human health is important but I’m a shocked and a little appalled that in your viral open letters to one another, you were so caught up in your own agendas that you literally trampled all over the biggest injustice of all: specifically the track and field maintenance worker who waves at you every day and you never wave back.
I know you like to run with your head down or while staring holes into fat folks, respectively, but if you took a moment to look around every once in awhile you might notice the world is bigger than just the two of you. For instance, you might notice the broken stadium lights over the south stands were fixed, or that we added a steeple chase hurdle and water pit in the third and fourth lane, or that the field is freshly painted whether there’s a junior league soccer game this weekend or not. But I guess you both just assumed those things happen on their own, that the track is some kind of island outside of the rest of human existence where everyone has as many vacation days as they want, and Claritin works the same for all allergies and where the only hurdles in life are the literal ones.
This is an issue that has been plaguing privately owned parks and facilities for years and goddamn it, shame on you for thinking your problems are more important. Or maybe you’ve already judged me. Maybe you’re True Detective fans and you’ve already made up your mind about the maintenance man who occasionally finishes up late in the evening (with no overtime) and yes, sometimes watches the pee-wee league scrimmage because he has a deep love of sport and an appreciation for childhood whimsy.
I’ve been waving at you two and everyone else out there since I started working on the track and it’s like I’m a ghost out there. Like I’m not even a human. How about a little goddamn etiquette for the man who keeps your track in tip-top shape? For too long the maintenance man has been completely ignored, and the stereotypes the media has created are only making things worse. We are all people here and we all want the same things: A little acknowledgement and to write letters about bandwagon, hot-button issues the Internet loves to be mad about so that we can build our own social cache. So maybe just pretend I said something vaguely inspiring about gay rights or Jezebel or something to really ensure this goes big.
And the next time you’re out there jogging along and silently hating one another, how about looking at my damn hand as it extends to you a common courtesy and then allowing yours to do the same? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out how to remove this spray painted swastika by the long jump pit because some of us still believe in equality for all.
PALO ALTO, CA—According to a report released Tuesday by sociologists at Stanford University, there’s not a single potential partner out there who will ever be as kind, caring, or intelligent as your eighth-grade boyfriend, the first and last g…
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little hurt The Onion didn’t contact me for questioning.
Sometimes I marvel at the negativity in the world.
It is honestly perplexing to me. I don’t know what I expect when I click on the comments sections of other sites — when I make it policy to avoid doing exactly that sort of thing on our site for precisely this reason — but the sheer volume of…
I think every single story idea I’ve ever had has been born in the shower. There’s just something about being naked and wet that activates the story-telling part of the brain. I think because it’s the same part that would have to come up with reasonable excuses if you were caught naked and wet anywhere but the shower.
Yes, right. That’s exactly why my brain is so creative in the shower too.
Once there was this guy and he had this wife and every time she said, “I love you” he would say… “Ditto.”
So this guy got shot during a robbery and his wife was inconsolable and she kept going back to the pottery wheel they used to use together and occasionally fuck on, and she tried to feel his ghost there with her, making a tea kettle or whatever but it just never felt quite right.
Finally she met this psychic lady with no eyebrows name Whoopi who claimed that she could see the wife’s dead lover. She agreed to let him inhabit her body for half an hour so that the couple could fuck on their pottery wheel one more time. But it turned out that the psychic was a hustler who just wanted to have sex with the heartbroken lady. And that’s why you can never trust a psychic.
shelby fero the hiphop expert. pshhhh please! i remember when you tweeted how smart the song 99 problems by jay z was like a year ago. oh d'uh! but it's great. we're all watching shelby discovering the world and then pretending to have known it all along. u a wannabe nigga now too, eh?
Oh yeah this kind of bullshit is why I stopped using tumblr. Think this is a good cue for another break
On December 10th, Cracked.com will be at the Barnes & Noble in Santa Monica (Third Street Promenade) to talk about, read from and sign our book The De-Textbook. Come out! These are always fun and you should never miss an opportunity to see how weird my boss’ signature is.
I’m sorry. If you have plans this weekend, you will have to cancel them. This is more important. Here’s your new itinerary, I drew it up because I know you love all of these objectively awesome things. I know because I know you.
Fuck off from work. Burn bridges, pee on something, do your normal Friday stuff. (Additional step: If you don’t live in Los Angeles, get on a plane and go to LA). Then go to a Barnes and Noble or any book store and get a copy of the Cracked De-Text Book, available in stores now and guaranteed to change your life (even if it’s only in the number of material possessions you have to your name).
Go to Stan Lee’s Comikaze at the convention center in Downtown Los Angeles and watch Cracked After Hours do a panel all about the show as well as a reading of a never-before-seen episode. Stick around afterward and get each of our signatures in your shiny new book. Boom, it just climbed in value at least 16 cents. Sell it if you want, right on the spot.
Hang out with Cracked at our booth during the convention. Maybe stroll the floor and pick up a corset or something. Trust me, I know you, you don’t think you’re a corset person, but you are.
Go to the Redwood Bar in downtown and watch Michael Swaim, Adam Todd Brown, Katie Willert and ME (your favorite) do standup in between bouts of good music. I won’t lie, this is a marathon event. It starts at 9:00 and doesn’t end until midnight. If there’s someone in this group you want to see, here is the lineup of exhaustion, you pick and choose:
9PM - Host (Jordan) 9:15 - MS Werd (Michael Swaim) 9:40 - Adam 9:55 - Get Set Go 10:40 - Katie 10:55 - Countless Thousands
11:35 - Soren
11:50 - Isolated Victims
Go to bed, you don’t have to go to sleep but you’ve got all those texts to return from people asking why you peed in the office and also all those Word Scramble plays to catch up on.
Holy shit, you just slept through a day and a half! What’s wrong with you? This seems like a bigger issue we should address at some point. But for now, head back to Comikaze and watch a Cracked video panel where we’ll talk about making the sketches and series for Cracked and even show a couple brand new sketches no one has ever seen.
Come back to the Cracked booth and let’s you and me have a real talk about your priorities. I’m a very good listener. We’ll get you figured out.
Get on a plane and go home with a new-found optimism and path for your life. You’re welcome.