Capping (verb: the act of fronting or pretending to be something you're not) has existed since the dawn of human civilization. Ancient Egypt had cappers claiming they could turn lead into gold. Medieval Europe had cappers selling "miracle" cures. Even George Washington was caught capping about not chopping down that cherry tree.
Not much has changed, except now social media amplifies the capping to absurd levels. Those photo-snappers want us to believe one fleeting moment is enough to encapsulate our existence. TheConnectedBook's obsession with inauthentic posturing has turned every profile into a curated fantasy. And don't even get me started on the app that has Gen Z capping about being the main character. It's a capping arms race out there.
All of them have contributed to our capping culture to the point where we don't even know what's real anymore. When was the last time you heard or read, "NO CAP"? I know, it's been years. Everybody cappin' all the time, as Timothée Chalamet eloquently said on SNL.
Yet on the UIUC campus, capping is an art form. Like the "renovation" of Altgeld Hall when they're just expanding the Dairy Queen inside. Or the hopeless delusion of a bird becoming the campus mascot. Or celebrating unofficially a day because of some Irish dude. For these masterful cappers, it's not just a hobby—it's a way of life.
Illini Memories realized that the capping culture of traditional social media—along with their mapping-first (not to be confused with capping) interface—not only allows everyone on campus to finally know the no-cap stories and places but also talk about the juicy deets wide open or stay completely masked - your call on the anonymity level.
Our hope is that the next time you hear someone on campus hit you with "NO CAP", your internal monologue goes "Uh huh, and where did you first hear that? On Illini Memories of course - the website that's putting the 'ILL' in 'real' around here."
See you on the other side, for real.
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Very funny, light-hearted, and provocative. Good shit