To a casual scroller on TikTok, Carson Beaver’s slide show presented all the necessary credentials to show that his family owned the Buc-ee’s chain of convenience stores. Namely that his last name is Beaver, and he posted a picture that implied as much.
As the post plowed its way to more than 6.5 million views, commenters began debating whether he was telling the truth. And the questions continued for days, even after he added a caption and a comment clarifying that he was joking and that he was, in no way, connected to the family that owned the chain.
“Everybody’s always associated the Buc-ee beaver with me when I introduced myself and they’re like, ‘Do you own Buc-ee’s?’ and it’s just a running joke.” Mr. Beaver said in a phone interview. “So I posted that thinking it would only get like two or three thousand views or likes or whatever — and it imploded.”
He was not alone. On TikTok and beyond, the supposed offspring of celebrities or heirs to major corporations — Marriott, Barnes & Noble, Folgers Coffee — have been revealing themselves through a new trend using the phrase “holy airball.” The catch? Most of them are fake.
The mechanics of the trend are simple: In a series of three slides, users are posting a generic claim about themselves, (“told her my family owns a gas station”) as if they were saying it to a love interest. The second slide features a fictional response (“She said, ‘Oh, like a Shell or Chevron?’”) from the person they’re talking to. And the final slide reveals the surprising information, such as a photo of a Buc-ee’s gas station, and some variation of the phrase “holy airball.”
The origins of the phrase and its usage in this way, often styled with an expletive in the middle, are unclear. But airball is a basketball term for a shot that does not even touch the rim or backboard, so its use implies how badly a person missed.
While some social media users appear to have created accounts using brand names as their last names specifically to post a video for the trend, others have been drawn to posting because they already have the familiar name, even if that’s the extent of their connection.
Laura Bustelo, 33, was among the posters in that situation. She made a video about Café Bustelo, the coffee brand, which she said was particularly well known in Florida, where she lives.
“It definitely snowballed into people really thinking I was part of the Bustelo family and were calling me royalty and stuff,” Ms. Bustelo said. “So in that sense, I felt really bad. I’m like, ‘OK, this is getting way out of hand.’”
Ms. Bustelo said people continued to debate her post’s sincerity in the comments section, even though she added a disclaimer to the caption.
“I think people just naturally aren’t readers,” she said.
Of course, sprinkled amid the pseudonymous or coincidental last names are the actual children of celebrities and prominent families who are getting in on the fun.
Zoe Jackson, 29, whose father is the former “American Idol” judge Randy Jackson, said she had seen a number of posts about the trend, including one that appeared to be posted by the rapper Akon’s daughter, and knew she wanted to try it. But she was surprised when her post started gaining traction.
“I actually called my dad because I was like, ‘Wait, what do I do?’ And he’s like, ‘What do you mean?’” Ms. Jackson said, adding that he had said, “‘I love that for you.’”
Perhaps the ultimate instance of this subset of the holy airball trend came on Wednesday, when Francesca Scorsese, a daughter of the famed director Martin Scorsese, threw her hat into the ring with a post that began simply with: “I told him ‘my dad is a filmmaker.’”
Nicole Stock is a Times editor reporting on personal health.
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