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"I realized that I could do videos better than any of the others," says Zdorovetskiy, who ignored his mother's pleas for him to attend college and instead waited tables at Villagio at Boca Raton's Mizner Park. His project was unrefined, consisting of a few pals filming Zdorovetskiy with handheld cameras as he pranked random pedestrians. On August 10, 2011, Zdorovetskiy released his first video. It shows him, dripping confidence and deadpan, asking homeless men to kiss him while he wears a Scooby-Doo winter hat. "Yo, listen," he tells one disheveled gentleman resting against a fence, "I just want to kiss you."
Such buffoonery extended beyond YouTube. Months after this first video, on October 29, Zdorovetskiy was charged with disorderly conduct in Key West after trying to get into Rick's Bar on Duval Street with a fake ID, which bouncers confiscated. According to the police report, Zdorovetskiy became "aggressive" and was arrested. "While in custody," the document says, "Zdorovetskiy continued to scream and make threats toward officers and bystanders, outraging the public sense of decency." He was placed on probation.
But Zdorovetskiy had discovered that outraging public decency could work miracles on the internet. Over several months, he dispatched dozens of videos, labeling many of them "disturbing the peace." And, slowly, there rose a following across the nation's college campuses and high school cafeterias. His incredible ascent draws on themes of sex, delinquent humor, and profanity that define this new age of celebrity. And though Zdorovetskiy claims to have never studied the dynamics that drive the internet, he has a keen grasp of them. Videos and pictures that elicit "arousal emotions," Jonah Berger of the University of Pennsylvania found in 2011 — like surprise or amusement — deliver the most impact.
The biggest surprise came last June. Less than a week after the Miami Zombie attack on the MacArthur Causeway, Zdorovetskiy doused himself in fake blood and chased petrified African-Americans down Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard in Miami. "People used to call me racist for always punking black people, but they always just gave me the best reactions," Zdorovetskiy says. "Black people tell you what they really think."
The video went Hiroshima. It got 23 million views and catapulted Zdorovetskiy into the stratosphere. He materialized on the popular show Tosh.0 on Comedy Central. "All the people on Facebook were talking about zombies," Zdorovetskiy told host Daniel Tosh. "So I had a feeling it would go viral."
Zdorovetskiy quit his job waiting tables and claims he was bringing in thousands every week off YouTube advertisements. Though the prankster declines to talk specifics, David Burch, a YouTube advertising expert with TubeMogul, estimates Zdorovetskiy made more than $60,000 in the past six months alone.
But such videos also exposed the immature cruelty of Zdorovetskiy's videos. The success of his clips hinges on the explosiveness of the reactions. The more someone buys the prank, the better the video. And to some degree, the people who offer the best responses become the greatest victims.
That's how Andre Brown felt after he thought Zdorovetskiy's briefcase carried a bomb last year. (Zdorovetskiy claims he never said there was a bomb.)
"I'm looking for someone who can help me sue this guy," Brown, 52, who works for the Boca Raton Housing Authority, says now. "I'm still being harassed because of this. Random people call me and pull pranks on me and my son or call me racial slurs. I was a private guy who didn't want to get involved with anything, and now I have to deal with this guy?"
Last week, though, Zdorovetskiy uploaded a video in which he treats a bedraggled but charismatic homeless man to new clothes, a haircut, and a steak dinner. By Monday, it had snared 3.8 million views, soared into Reddit's top ten posts, and for several hours was the dominant post on YouTube's homepage.
In a note uploaded with the video, Zdorovetskiy wrote, "Since I am usually a d-bag in my vids... I also wanted to show people that I have a heart and I am a really nice guy." He explained that the homeless man, identified only as Martin, "wanted to get his teeth pulled more than anything in his life... Let's make this happen." Zdorovetskiy linked to an indiegogo fundraising page that sought to raise $2,500 for the man. Within three days, it raised almost $10,000.
But that may be one of the internet superstar's last videos in South Florida. He says he's moving out of his mom's Boca house to try acting in Los Angeles. "I'm going to do some television pilot auditions and just hustle," Zdorovetskiy explains on a recent afternoon while shooting a Russian hit-man video that involves his flashing a briefcase full of cash at strangers. For a moment, he mulls possibilities. No one has ever turned his brand of cyber celebrity into something on TV. Will it work?
"Either way, I'll keep pranking people," he says. "This is my full-time job, and I have to keep it up."
And besides, he says, too many people recognize him in South Florida. "I can't prank anyone younger than 30, guaranteed."