🤯 INCRÍVEL: 35 Times People Could Prove Their Unbelievable Stories With Documents 😲
When I was twelve we went on a tour to the Galapagos. The ship stayed out in the deep water while we took small boats in to the islands each day. One day, my boat was the first in, and we had a little down time on the beach anyway before we started to hike inland. So I sat at the shore and engaged in one of my favorite pastimes: building a drip castle.
Well, I had dug my quarry for wet sand right at the shoreline, and had started my castle, when a baby sea lion, maybe about a foot and a half long, came up and plopped himself right in my quarry. My hand was in the quarry at the time, gathering a handful of wet sand, and the sea lion sat right on it.
But here’s the incredible part. On a whim, I picked up a stick laying nearby, and tossed it about fifteen feet away. *The baby sea lion went after it, fetched it in her mouth, and brought it back to me.*.
This reminds me of a story I’ve told on here before. So I was in Vegas with a friend of mine. We are at the MGM Grand waiting for the elevator to take us down into the lobby when it stops and the doors open to reveal none other than Christopher Walken. We enter, he gives us a casual nod, and we shuffle past him to stand in the back of the elevator. My friend and I exchange looks of amazement as we both knew it was him but we are both too chickensh*t to say anything. I could tell he was aware of our communication behind him, but figured he is used to it being a big celebrity and all. We get to the bottom floor, the doors open, Walken takes a couple of steps into the lobby, turns around and says, “You know? They’ll never believe you” (read it in Walken voice, it sounds much better) and then just walks away. I just about cr**ped my pants. Coolest…guy…EVER. Sorry, no proof.
I was in second grade admiring one of my classmates perform the rubber pencil trick a couple desks down from me. I’d never seen it before and was completely amazed by it so I began imitating the hand movement he was making. A few moments later, the pencil he was rubberizing flew out of his hand, past the students between us and landed in my hand, which was still in motion. It was the perfect double rubber pencil. I had reached the highest point in my life at second grade. It’s been all down hill from there.
TLDR – Double rubber pencil.
The phrase “pics or it didn’t happen” emerged to visibility in the early online forums as an invitation to unsubstantiated claims for photographic proof before accepting that an event occurred. One of the first recordings can be witnessed in a 2003 video game forum thread, where one commenter broke “Obligatory ‘pix or it didn’t happen'” as a response to another’s outlandish story, setting the template for a meme that would propagandize on message boards and social media sites.
This slogan encapsulates a broader shift in how we approach digital photographs, not only as mementos, but also as required documentation that authenticates our lives in an age of infinite online skepticism. With high-quality cameras integrated into telephones, social networks changed from text-based domains to richly pictorial ones.
Bill Murray crashed a wedding photo shoot my aunt was doing in atlanta. Just pulled up and walked over to where they were doing pictures.
I was visiting a fraternity brother at his new place in Yantai, China with 2 others. We walk along the boardwalk and come across a model, dressed in full makeup and outfit singing Bananarama’s “Venus” in front of a whole video/photo crew. As 3 of us went past them, they kept what they were doing, but a few of them definitely took notice of us gringos (frankly, not that uncommon in the less-touristy areas of China). After picking up our buddy and going back the way we came, we came across the singer again.
This time she noticed us from afar. She stopped singing and pointed us out to the crew. They turned and aimed at us, filming and snapping pics. Nobody really talked to us, just documented our walk. We thought nothing of it until a few weeks later, after the trip had ended.
My friend who lives in China emails us to say we were on the front cover of the newspaper. They made up a whole story about us 4 businessmen in town working on a project, yadda yadda yadda. Big spread, he tells us.
Nobody believed him until he sent us the picture. I’m the one with sunglasses on.
My older sister was run over by a car when she was a baby, she even had tire marks on her belly. Somehow by miracle she turned out completely fine. Nobody ever believes me, but my grandma has a video of the news report about it at her house.
Applications like Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook encourage constant documentation, every sunset, every party, every meal is a time to “confirm” presence and participation. Pictures no longer live in one’s own private albums or in shoe boxes, they are shared immediately, accruing likes and comments as social currency. In those words, photographs are less a matter of keeping memory for the sake of it and more a matter of transmitting that memory to an unseen audience, claiming authenticity in the digital space.
I played for a famous Kpop star. She was in my conservatory and I had no idea who she was and she asked me to play. She was like “I”m really famous in Korea” and I was like “Yeah I’m sure.” I played anyways not thinking of anything.
2 weeks ago people keep stopping me in the hall and were like. OMG i saw you on tv. I was like WTH then found this
I once saw an old man driving down the street on his motorbike, with a dog sitting up front on the seat, resting his paws on the handlebars (it really appeared as though the dog was driving), and an otter riding upon the dog.
This requirement of photographic evidence is not merely a sign of cynicism, it is also a sign of fear of falling behind. As we scroll through timelines of friends’ posts full of agonizedly curated moments, we fear that without our own photographic proof, our experiences will be rendered as invented or irrelevant.
Got to talking with a Mexican d**g dealer on the street in Mexico. Touristy area, so as a white pale tourist, they are very open to askin you what you’re looking for. I tell him I’m good but really wanted to hear his side of the whole d**g war (he spoke pretty good English from his time in the states).
We get to talking and he pours out his entire story, almost starts crying. Basically explains how the cartels run everything, and you’re either with them or against them. Told me how he had seen a number of friends get k**led when stepping out of line. Continued to reassure me he had never k**led anyone himself (pretty sure he did, must have said this 20 times). As we were talking he gave me a tour of the area, and we aren’t talking tourist area, I was in the back alleys with the locals. Met his family, friends, and went up to his favorite view of the city. I have to say I was pretty nervous through the whole ordeal, easily
Could have been kidnapped, but I was looking pretty ragged, so hopefully they thought I had no money. He could tell I was spooked and made a very interesting point. Tourists are the only source of money there, if we get hurt then they lose business. This is bad for everyone so we are actually the safest folks there (minus petty theft). After the tour we grabbed a beer, and I went back to my resort. Oh and he also shared with me the ultimate cash king for a tourist job. Dolphin swimming. Chet a saltwater tank, go catch a dolphin and you are set for life.. Or until the dolphin dies.
Tl;dr hung out with a Mexican d**g dealer, learned about the d**g war and it’s real impacts, met some nice people, saw the real mexico, didn’t get kidnapped.
This will probably be buried, but I was hit by an 18 wheeler and had my head split open. Went to the hospital to have my head stitched up and went home the next day.
Most people don’t believe I was actually hit by a truck. They usually assume I was in a car or I’m lying.
The anticipatory remorse over “missing a good enough photograph” might preserve the instant itself, forcing us to prioritize the camera roll over live engagement. And as one observer views it, we give more life to documenting our existence than living it, existing “only virtually, only through screens” rather than actually being here. This is a “shadow” of an actual, real, lived life, but it can still trick our brains.
I was on the back of my uncles motorcycle While going about 25 MPH on a motorcycle in Pakistan. I was wearing slippers, and next thing you know, my foot gets stuck in the rear wheel, chops off a big chunk of my foot meat. I cry because i was 8 years old at the time, and the kicker….a god d**n CAT picks up my foot meat and takes it away (i assume to eat). My foot has healed up very well, and the scar is really small compared to how much meat came off.
Edit for pic
The constant cultural imperative to “pics or it didn’t happen” also altered the collective notion of memory. Where in the past memories slowly disappeared or were preserved by word of mouth and printed snaps, today’s memories are recorded and distributed on the spot, creating an external memory that may be recalled, reshaped, or even wiped out at will.
I had a bone taken out of my skull when I was very young (I had craniosynostosis). After the cranial surgery, one side of my forehead stopped growing. Nobody believe this, because it’s not super apparent, so I have people put their hand on my forehead to feel the difference. It’s about an inch difference between sides. I also have a rather nasty scar that extends around my head.
My dad went down to the Titanic twice in a submersible to film the Titanic, for the IMAX film Titanica. He logged a total of 36 hours underwater, and has been down 3880 Meters, nearly 4 kilometers.
Proof (Yes I know his name is spelled wrong, its Per-Inge Schei, not Per-Engei Schei)
There are also some sites with some more information;
2 (His name is under the Cintematic Challenges section, near the bottom.)
(Google translate for the lazy)
Edit: My dad is interested in doing an AMA so I’ll post a link to the AMA saturday evening and start answering questions Sunday morning!
Edit 2: The link to the AMA is here.
I was a professional guitarist in a rock band that toured every state in the continental US, complete with record label, tour bus, sound and light crew, radio interviews…the works. Now, I sit in a cubicle doing Linux admin for a hospital, which is why no one believes me.
It was called Jesus Music, and we were the opening act for a band called Code of Ethics in the late 1990’s. The genre was CCM (Contemporary Christian Music), and it took me 5 years in that career to figure out that the music is sh*t and the business is corrupt. But touring was awesome, and if I didn’t have a family, I’d still be doing it (albeit not with CCM…probably country or modern folk).
This computerized storage has the ability to embed and distort our memories: at the one level, easy access to images can encourage us to remember what otherwise we would not, but at another, reliance on pictures has the potential to undermine our ability to recall without them because we are outsourcing vicariously our memory to our machines.
I broke my step father’s driver while hitting golf balls into the woods. The ball hit a tree about 50 yards away and came straight back at me. I ducked and the ball hit the shaft right above the club head. The next swing the head went flying off into the woods. The only good part was a buddy witnessed it.
Let me paint you a little picture…
I was about 10, and my parents just bought me a brand new pair of roller blades. I was enthusiastic as a kid, so after a couple of days I was convinced I was a pro.
Anyway, to make the long story short, I grabbed the back of a truck who was moving really slow and it started accelerating fairly quickly. I was afraid to let go, so I held on. While at speed of about 35 mph, the part of the truck I was holding onto broke down and I smacked with my entire right side of the body on the road, bounced back in the air, did a couple of flips, smacked again and landed in the grass beside the road.
Resume? A minor concussion, second degree burns due to the fact of tremendous amount of friction between my skin and the asphalt, couple of more scratches and that pretty much it.
Proof? Two eye witnesses and a few scars on my shoulder, my forearm and my knee.
I used to live in an old farmhouse on a dirt road in North Carolina and, as a former film and communications student at UNC, I had some nice video equipment. I also had a busy hummingbird feeder hanging just outside my kitchen window. One day I noticed a huge praying mantis on the feeder.
It seemed to be hunting hummingbirds, so I set up my camera on a tripod and ran tape all day. Later, when I reviewed what I had, I found that I had a nice scene with the mantis striking and nearly catching a hummingbird, but I had inadvertently gotten onto the same tape towards the beginning walking out to the outhouse in my underwear.
I was working as a carpenter then, and I told the guys about the mantis thing on Monday. One of them insisted that I was full of s**t. So I told him I would bring the tape in the next day. I didn’t want him to see me walking around outside in my underwear, so cued the tape up to just before the mantis strike. The guy takes the tape home and sees that it hasn’t been rewound.
The next morning he comes in and tells everyone, “All I saw was some hummingbirds and him walking around in his underwear.”.
As our trust in photographs grows, progressively so grows our vulnerability to sophisticated faking. Deepfakes and advanced editing software sabotage the basic presumptions of “pics as proof,” necessitating new ways of verifying authenticity and provenance. The comparative simplicity of photo manipulation entails that the slogan “pics or it didn’t happen” can ring false unless supported by consideration of context, metadata, source authentication, and awareness of digital forgeries. Without these safeguards, our collective faith in images risks erosion, leaving us unsure whether a striking photo documents reality or a well-executed illusion.
I don’t have proof to post here, but I do have physical evidence. This actually just happened yesterday.
I’m a stage lighting tech, among other things, and yesterday I was installing a couple new light fixtures. For those who don’t know, this involves clamping and cabling it onto aluminium trusses ~10 meters in the air. Well, the first one went up without an issue. As I was bolting on the second one, it slipped off of the truss. Now, understand that this is a 15kg ~$2,500 fixture, and there is no way in hades I was letting that thing fall. Unfortunately, I missed the catch with my hands. Fortunately, i had been holding the safety chain (actually just 3mm thick steel cable) in my mouth to keep the loop end from sliding out of the fixture. So, I end up catching the 15kg fixture with the chain with my teeth. I no longer have canines. My proof is both that, and the torn sheathing on the cable.
I met Flava Flav at Target once. He was there buying a cartfull of toys for his son who was turning maybe 4-5 at the time.
Anyways I was behind him in line at the checkout while he was flashing his thick wad of cash and jingly jangling his watches and jewelry all over the place with a mouth full of grills. All the employees came and shook his hand when he finished paying in which my mom said “Oh look honey, they’re being nice to that r******d man.”
I about died and had to explain to her who he was. She didn’t believe me until he got into his limo parked right in front of the no parking zone.
If you’re wondering if he really acts like he does on tv, he really does.
When I was a child around 4th or 5th grade, a little over 12 years ago I created little comic book with my own characters I had made up. I made so many of them I had folders pack with them, I would create them anytime I had free time in class. I had a knack for creating them due to endless hours of comic book reading. One day in class we had a project to create a book, that we would have sent to a publishing company to have it put into a hardback copy (not for sale just the one copy). I thought it would be cool to have my comic put into a hardback book so I bundled every comic I had made and sent it in to get printed. Well months later the rest of the class got the shipment of books minus my copy. I never really thought to much of it. Years later I heard of a movie title that was so close to my comic that I had to see it. The name of my comic was Sharkman and Lavaboy, the name of the movie was The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl. The movie was so close that I thought I was crazy or it was a dream. It seems stupid to even claim that movie, but I still tell all my friends that my story was stolen to make The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl movie. My family is the only proof I have, they all remember me drawing and writing out the comics as a child.
At a social level, the pressure to produce constant photographic evidence can lead to a performative existence. Experiences are being segmented into shareable moments, a night out means choreographing the evening to feature posed photo opportunities, vacations are measured by the goodness of your feed, and personal achievements are validated by engagement metrics rather than inherent satisfaction. Performativity turns stressful and insecurity-causing, as individuals compare their unedited lives to other people’s highlight reels and are pressured to curate an ever-more sophisticated online self.
“You’ve never kissed anyone?”
“No.”
“Ever? Like not even in spin the bottle?”
“I was never invited to play”
“But you look so handsome”
“Thanks, but social awkwardness really gets in the way of that”
“Okay, shut up you have to be lying.”.
About 7 or 8 years ago, i remember being in Winter Park, Colorado on vacation. We stopped at the local McDonalds where i noticed this crazy contraption that was pretty much a vending machine that rented DVD’s! it was so crazy that I didn’t think people would believe me so took a picture of it. To this day it is known simply as RedBox.
EDIT- Grammar.
I’m a twin. My brother and I have different last names. We’re either fraternal or the effects of chemo as a baby stunted his growth—it’s not clear—but we look fairly dissimilar. Until we both produce drivers licenses that show that we have one another’s last names as our respective middle names, few people believe that we’re twins.
But the rise of “pics or it didn’t happen” also sparks potential for critical thinking. Witnessing the meme’s influence can challenge us to weigh our need to document against the need to experience. Choosing when to put down our phones and when to snap pictures allows us to reclaim control of our memories, saving moments for ourselves rather than merely for other people’s validation. In addition, cultivating digital literacy, having knowledge about how photographs can be manipulated and what constitutes reliable evidence, prepares us to succeed in an environment in which seeing no longer automatically equals believing.
I went up to Issac Brock, the singer of Modest Mouse, after a show with a fake sandwich I stole from Albertson’s Deli where I bought the tickets to the show (customer service desk). He got pretty excited that I was bringing him a sandwich, and was pretty bummed when I told him it was fake and I just wanted him to sign it. He signed it for me anyway.
I smoked blunts with Ghostface Killah and his crew a few years ago on his tour bus…no one ever believes me cause I’m a little Jewish white girl :p.
Finally, the development of the term “pics or it didn’t happen” demonstrates our complex relationship with memory during the digital age. Photographs are both pillars of credibility and potential weapons of manipulation, impacting the ways that we record, distribute, and recall our lives. To engage thoughtfully with this new landscape, we must recognize the power of images to verify experience but also be sensitive to their limitations and our own as producers and consumers of visual narrative.
I used to be very involved in the Flash animation community online (specifically stick figure animations).
Joined just about every forum there was. StickSuicide (now Explosm), icantcolourin, Anitude, StickSlaughter, Newgrounds, etc.
It so happened that there was a member on one of the countless forums I was a member of, called souljaboy. I became closer to him, had him on my IM service of preference, and we interchanged animations. He also sent me a rap video he was making at the time which stared his little brothers. I told him it kinda sucked, as did his animations.
As with all internet friends, you gradually lose contact. You both move on to the real world, leave your childhood hobbies behind, lose your virginity.
Fast forward a few years and I see some guy called “souljaboy” is famous… can’t be a f*****g coincidence. The computer I had before is long gone so unfortunately I don’t really have any evidence (other than my oldschool Flash animation community knowledge and a few accounts on websites that still haven’t died).
**TL;DR: met souljaboy online a little less than a decade ago, from Flash animation related s**t. We became close e-buddies. I don’t have any evidence.**.
My dad is a self made millionaire.
I don’t really say it much at all for obvious reasons, but when I do I instantly become “That kid who swears his dad works for Nintendo”. My father was a taxation lawyer that ran his own law firm and later got into real estate on the side.
And yes you can have money the second he gives me any of it :/.
I was stalked on twitter for about six months by Courtney Love. She sent me on average 100 direct messages a day. I was sick at the time, and it provided hours of entertainment trying to translate Courtney Love to English. No one really believes it until I pull out the screenshots.
I ate my first french fry in Japan on account of my dad used to being a captain of a cargo ship. I have pictures burried somewhere in the family albums.
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