Long before TikTok dances and corporate-sponsored memes, the internet was a weird, lawless frontier. In 2007, a video titled What What in the Butt by an artist named Samwell dropped onto YouTube. It wasn't just a video. It was a cultural earthquake. Most people saw a man in pink silk pajamas singing about back-door intimacy and laughed. They thought it was a joke. A fluke. But if you look at the DNA of modern viral fame, you'll see Samwell’s fingerprints everywhere.
The video features Samwell, born Samwell Harris, performing a catchy, repetitive electronic track. The visuals are... striking. Floating hearts. Low-budget CGI. A bright red rose. It felt like a public access show from a fever dream. Yet, it racked up millions of views at a time when "going viral" was still a brand-new concept. It was raw. It was unapologetic. It was profoundly strange.
Why the World Obsessed Over Samwell
What made What What in the Butt work wasn't just the shock value. Honestly, the song is an incredible earworm. You can't hear that "I said what what" hook and not have it stuck in your head for the next three days. It’s a rhythmic, infectious piece of pop-art that defied the gatekeepers of the music industry.
At the time, queer themes in mainstream media were often sanitized or used as punchlines for straight audiences. Samwell flipped that. While the video is clearly playful and campy, it’s also an assertion of sexual agency. He wasn't asking for permission to be provocative. He just was. This wasn't a polished studio production; it was a DIY explosion of personality that resonated because it felt authentic, even in its absurdity.
Critics often lumped it in with "so bad it's good" content like Tay Zonday's Chocolate Rain. That’s a mistake. Samwell knew exactly what he was doing. The video was directed by Bobby Miller, who understood the burgeoning aesthetic of the early social web. They leaned into the kitsch. They leaned into the "weirdness." By the time South Park parodied the video in the episode "Canada on Strike," Samwell had already cemented his place in the digital pantheon.
The South Park Effect and Mainstream Validation
When Butters Stotch donned a pink teddy and sang "What What in the Butt," the song reached a demographic that had never even heard of the original YouTube upload. South Park has a way of validating memes by mocking them. It turned a niche internet joke into a household phrase.
✨ Don't miss: What's on TV Tonight San Francisco: Playoff Football and Steph Curry
Most creators would have been annoyed at being turned into a cartoon parody. Not Samwell. He leaned in. He recognized that the parody wasn't an insult; it was a badge of honor. It proved that a single person with a camera and a vision could influence the biggest writers in Hollywood. This was the turning point for digital creators. It proved that "YouTube stars" weren't just kids in bedrooms—they were cultural architects.
The Legal Battle You Probably Forgot
Success usually brings lawyers. In 2010, the production company behind the video, Brownmark Films, actually sued Comedy Central and Viacom. They argued that the South Park parody infringed on their copyright. It was a massive case for the creative community.
Ultimately, the court sided with South Park. The judge ruled that the parody was "fair use" because it transformed the original work into a commentary on the nature of viral fame. While Samwell didn't get a massive payout from the lawsuit, the case itself became a landmark for digital rights. It helped define the boundaries of what creators can and cannot do when referencing internet culture. It’s ironic, really. A song about butt sex helped clarify federal copyright law.
The Longevity of a Meme
Memes usually die in a week. Maybe a month if they’re lucky. What What in the Butt is nearly two decades old and people still reference it. Why?
Because it represents a specific era of digital innocence. Before algorithms decided what we liked, we found things because they were weird. We shared them because they were surprising. Samwell wasn't trying to sell you a VPN or a meal kit. He was just making art that made him happy.
The production value of the video is intentionally low-fidelity. This "lo-fi" aesthetic has become a staple for Gen Z and Gen Alpha creators. When you see a weirdly edited "shitpost" on Instagram today, you’re seeing the evolution of the style Samwell pioneered. He proved that you don't need a million-dollar budget to capture the world's attention. You just need a hook and a willingness to be misunderstood.
Where is Samwell Now?
Samwell didn't just disappear into the ether. He continued to create music and art, though he never quite captured that same lightning in a bottle. And that’s okay. Most artists never get one "What What" moment, let alone two. He’s appeared on Tosh.0, done countless interviews, and remains a cult icon in the LGBTQ+ community.
He leaned into his status as a "viral pioneer" with grace. He didn't become a bitter "one-hit wonder." He embraced the fact that he made millions of people laugh, dance, and—in some cases—rethink what was allowed on the internet. He’s active on social media and occasionally pops up to remind the world that he’s still the king of the "what what."
✨ Don't miss: Why You Should Watch John Wick 1 Again (And Where to Stream It)
Lessons for Today’s Creators
If you're trying to build a brand or a following today, the story of What What in the Butt offers some pretty sharp insights.
First, authenticity wins. Samwell was 100% himself. If he had tried to make a "normal" pop song, nobody would have cared. Second, don't fear the parody. When people make fun of your work, they are engaging with it. They are giving you energy. Third, the internet is unpredictable. You can't manufacture a viral hit; you can only make things you love and hope the world catches up.
The legacy of this video isn't just about the lyrics. It's about the democratization of fame. It's about the moment the "little guy" took over the screen. It's about the weird, wonderful, and sometimes uncomfortable things that happen when humans are given a platform to express their deepest, strangest selves.
How to Apply the Samwell Strategy to Your Content
- Lean into the niche. Don't try to appeal to everyone. Samwell made something for a very specific sensibility, and the world eventually followed him there.
- Prioritize the hook. Whether it's a visual or a soundbite, you need one element that sticks in the brain like glue.
- Own your narrative. When the parodies and the critics arrive, don't get defensive. Use the momentum to propel your next project.
- Understand Fair Use. If you're a creator, study the Brownmark Films v. Comedy Central case. It’s a masterclass in how copyright works in the digital age.
- Stay DIY. High production value often masks a lack of soul. Sometimes, the most "human" thing you can do is keep the rough edges.
Digital culture moves fast, but the foundational moments like What What in the Butt stay relevant because they changed the rules of the game. Samwell didn't just make a video; he gave us a blueprint for how to survive and thrive in a world that’s constantly staring at its screen. Stop worrying about being "professional" and start worrying about being memorable. That is the only real currency in the creator economy.