April Fools’ Day pranks trace back to 16th-century France. When the Gregorian calendar replaced the Julian one, New Year’s Day was moved from April 1 to January 1. Unfortunately, 1500s communication wasn’t exactly lightning fast, so some folks missed the update and kept partying in April. These calendar-challenged souls became the punchline of springtime jokes and earned the nickname “April fools.” Tradition says pranksters would tape paper fish to their backs, a symbol of someone gullible enough to get “caught.” French kids still do it today, proving some jokes really do have legs… or fins.

Fast-forward to 2025, and the art of the prank has gone fully digital. The line between real and ridiculous is so blurry that social media might as well be one big April Fools’ playground. Social media algorithms serve up custom-built realities, feeding each of us content that aligns with our biases, suspicions, or shopping habits. Every scroll is a silent April Fools’ joke: “Here’s a miracle cure,” “Here’s a scandalous headline,” “Here’s a toaster you didn’t know you needed but now can’t live without.” The traditional one-day prank has been replaced by a 24/7 parade of curated confusion. It can all feel overwhelming.

For lawyers, trained to parse fact from fiction, weigh evidence, and challenge assumptions, this era of misinformation presents a great challenge. Many people have lost faith in the notion that we can get to the truth. Moreover, because fabrications, deceptions, and embellishments are so prevalent, people may not be as inclined to be truthful. And then there is deep fake technology. How do we know that evidence being offered in a case or presented to us by our clients is not a deep fake? Deep fake technology allows anyone to create highly realistic but fake audio, video, or images of people saying or doing things they never actually did. In a courtroom, this poses a serious threat: someone could fabricate convincing “evidence”—like a video confession or a phone call—designed to mislead judges and juries.

Outside the context of our legal system, though, some good old misinformation and pranking can be fun. Consider the 1957 BBC report about Swiss farmers harvesting spaghetti from trees. They aired footage of people plucking noodles from branches. It was so convincing, people called in asking how to grow their own noodle crops. That charming prank didn’t sow division or boost ad revenue; it simply made people smile. Then there was Burger King’s April Fools’ day prank where they advertised Whopper-flavored toothpaste. The company ran an internet ad for hamburger flavored toothpaste. The new toothpaste combined the iconic flavor of the Whopper with active ingredients for optimal teeth and gum hygiene. 

The real point of April Fools’ Day is not to manipulate, but to lighten the load. We could all use a little levity right now. As Plato suggested, “Even the gods love jokes.” If both wisdom and laughter are timeless, then maybe a well-played prank is less a distraction, and more a reminder not to take ourselves too seriously.