In a story that can only be described as a modern fable crossed with a tech-fueled fever dream, exactly ten years ago today, the internet collectively lost its ever-loving mind over potato salad. More specifically, a Kickstarter campaign launched by a man named Zack Danger Brown (yes, that is apparently his real middle name and no, we do not know if it’s legally binding) seeking ten dollars to make what he ominously referred to as “some potato salad.”
Now, ten dollars for a tub of homemade starchy goodness would have been entirely reasonable, if not tragically mundane. But instead, the campaign struck a peculiar chord with the global internet hivemind. Within days, it raised thousands of dollars, eventually topping $55,000 from over 6,900 backers. Clearly, global headline-worthy success is just one-tenth of a tub of Hellmann’s away.
Brown appeared to lean into the absurdity with a calm glee befitting only those who accidentally lead a national conversation about mayonnaise. The pledges started modestly but soon included rewards like having your name said out loud while the potato salad was being made. The promotional video did not offer promises of artisanal truffle aioli or Idaho Russets plucked at dawn, only the sweet, starchy promise of making potato salad. As it turns out, that was more than enough.
Legally speaking, Kickstarter had to allow the campaign as it did technically fulfill the site’s rules, although it did seem to test the boundaries of moral reality. The money went toward a public potato party, naturally, and a charitable donation component was eventually introduced to make the entire affair feel slightly less like the world’s most elaborate inside joke.
In the years since, Brown’s brief reign as the aging prom king of viral crowdfunding has become something of a case study in online culture, proof that no one can predict what the internet will fall in love with next or why it might involve tubers and irony. The campaign became a footnote in the history of digital-era absurdism, alongside left shark and whatever that thing was with the dress.
To celebrate the tenth anniversary, Brown has announced a retrospective potato salad party and mused about how the experience changed his view of online generosity. He now works in tech and no longer accepts condiments as currency, though he concedes that, had he had known how viral it would become, he might have added some chives.
As for the fate of the actual potato salad itself, it was reportedly made, eaten and, like many great art pieces, never fully replicated.
Proving once again that if you build it, they will come, particularly if what you’re building is a bowl of carbohydrates and chaos.