I am relatively new here so I am very interested about how someone becomes a mod. To me, it just seems the come out of nowhere.
Anyone know?
Make a mistake, and they, indeed, come out of nowhere. 
Moderatio ex Nihilo.
Pucker up, Mercky! (Just kiddin’, o’course… you’ve also gotta have a bit o’ brains behind those lips, too, y’know.)
The Birth of a Mod: A Play
By Fenris
The Scene: The darkest night in the hinterlands of Ultima-Thule
Dramatis Personae:
Coldfire, a world-weary Doper
Lynn Bodini, TubaDiva: Evil Succubi, who make the SDMB function, thus better to steal our time and souls
Cecil (played by a Halogen spotlight off stage left): All that is good and true. He doesn’t do anything in the play, but is a presence that is felt throughout.
Curtain Rises
Coldfire (muses): Sigh, I am world-weary. I have over 5000 posts to my name, and yet…I am unfulfilled. Alas.
Looking off into the northern wastes (stage right):
Coldfire: But what is this?
He walks over, sees a cauldron
Coldfire: A cauldron! In the northern wastes! How Odd!
Reaching into his backpack, he pulls out a box of Godiva chocolates.
Coldfire: I thought these would be good but I’m not in the mood. I’ll just throw them into the cauldron. Littering is wrong.
He does. A tremendous explosion rings out. Lynn and Tuba appear.
Tuba: Who is this who has summoned us?
Coldfire (unconcerned, but still world-weary): Hi Tuba! It’s just me.
Lynn: You have invoked us with the powers of Dark Chocolate! What would you have of us?
Coldfire: I dunno. It was kind of an accident.
Tuba: Accident!? You have summoned us frivolously? You must pay!
Lynn and Tuba huddle together for a moment.
A spotlight strikes Coldfire, enveloping him in a reddish nimbus of light.
Tuba: For your worthy posts, we spare you from eternal torment, but you must still be punished for your frivolous summoning of us!
Lynn (cackles madly): Therefore, henceforth, you shall be a MODERATOR! Pit threads will be started about you! Trolls shall hound you. Newbies will whine when you move their posts to the right forum! Now use your powers well, or we’ll make you an Administrator!
Tuba and Lynn vanish in a puff of smoke
Coldfire falls to the ground on his knees, spreads his arms and throws his head back as he cries out in anguish.
Coldfire: NNNNOOoooooOooooOoOO!
Curtain
At least, that’s how it shoulda happened.
Fenris
Fenris… you are really, really strange.
Spot-on, Fenris. But that’s just my tale of Horror. I urge you not to tell about UncleBeers rite of passage. That poor goat has never been able to walk again…
Sheeee-it, Coldy. How many times we gotta tell ya? It wasn’t a flippin’ goat. How the fuck can you keep confusing an capybara with a damned goat? Goats are of the genus Capra, is that what flummoxes your tiny little tulip brain?
Here, try this English to Dutch translator.
No good, that translator of yours!
OK, so I had to look up what a capybara was. Honest to God, I’ve never seen this creature in my entire life.
It was a goat, Unc. Don’t be ashamed. I got a plastic pig for Christmas.
Sorry Coldfire. The Truth MUST BE TOLD!:
In the pulse pounding tradition of the House Of Ideas
Fen-(the Wolf)-ris proudly presents
(BECAUSE YOU, TRUE BELIEVER, DEMANDED IT!)
The Secret Origin of Uncle Beer
(Caption) Not to long ago, in a major metropolitan city, an experiment was going awry.
Scientist: This dimensional portal isn’t working right. N-hey. Laaaady!
Glowing hole in the air appears behind the scientist.
(Steve Ditko-esque panel showing pathways to nowhere floating in space, giant poison-dripping fangs floating around. That sort of thing. A menacing thing with entirely too many tentacles begins to slink towards the portal)
Scientist: I’ll have a beer. That’ll calm my nerves and relax me.
He gets a beer, and turns back towards the portal, just as the thing darts out. It hits the beer-can in the scientist’s hand and merges with it. The force of the impact causes the beer can to fly out the window.
Next scene:
The Man-Who-Would-Become-Uncle-Beer is strolling along when the now-mystically imbued beer-can comes plummeting down on his head.
Not-Yet-Uncle-Beer: Holding his head <string of horrible expletives deleted> …th’ hell?!
He spots the beer can, the cursing stops at once: Oh. Nevermind.
He opens the can and drinks the beer, not noticing it’s eldrich glow.
Uncle Beer: I feel…different. Stronger! Great taste! Less Filling! I HAVE ALL THE POWERS OF A CAN OF BEER!
A wandering goat, in the confusion has started nibbling on Uncle Beer’s trousers.
Uncle Beer: Aaaa! Get off me, Goat!
Uncle Beer reflexively kicks his leg, but, not remembering his new-found Beer powers, accidentally sends the goat flying over the horizon.
Uncle Beer: I didn’t mean…I’m responsible…That Poor Goat! I swear that from now on, I wlll always remember that with Great Beer comes Great Responsiblity. I must always remember to use these tremendous powers only for GOOD!
Bodini-Babe and Tuba-Diva fly up, capes fluttering in the wind.
Bodini-Babe: I thought I heard an origin! We are members of the Cecil Brigade! We are dedicated to stamping out ignorance everywhere!
Tuba-Diva: Will you join us in our crusade as a Moderator and use your powers to squash trolls, move topics to the right place, and occasionally make witty, sarcastic remarks?
Uncle Beer: (in a serious voice): I will.
And so it was, True Believer. Face Front and Excelsior!
See, Mercutio, there’re lots of ways to become a Mod.
Fightin’ Fenris
(Historical note: Uncle Beer’s origin above, is very…(ahem)VERY similar to Bouncing Boy’s from the Legion of Super-Heroes. I draw no conclusions)
Very…unusual work, Ferris. I’d suggest this is the area that needs to be expanded on, possibly, oh I don’t know… in a sensual fashion…something about two women ‘discovering each other’ might work… to act as a counterpoint to your main thrust (of course). Try not to be so reserved, just go with the idea. I think you show considerable promise. Now, what they wearin’ (hint: Fishnets are back in vogue) ?
I think this is definately the way to go if you want to really impress the Mods !
Two Os! One I! Not the other way around!
I looked! I double checked! I know! (Can I blame it on the board software?)
::Looks around. Sees disapproving stares::
Um…then can I blame it on my spell checker?
::more disapproving stares::
Didn’t think so.
Oops.
Sorry 'bout that. I did look and somehow my brain failed to communicate the info to my fingers. Mea Culpa!
Fenris
Fenris, yer scarin’ me man. That was uncanny.
Thangkew! For my next (and probably final) origin, I present a brief interview with David B
<classy, Dick Cavett-esque set. Fenris, no accounting for taste, is wearing a cravat>
Fenris: So tell me David B How did you become a moderator?
David B: There was a call for volunteers. I applied, Lynn picked me, I accepted.
Fenris: But…we’ve recently heard rumors of para-dimensional creatures in beer cans and dark, Northern rituals.
David B:<sniffs derisively>: That stuff? Hah. That’s what they peddle to the masses. Coldie and Uncle Beer applied and were picked, same as me. You don’t believe that stuff about mutant capybaras and cauldrons do you?
<dramatic pause>
David B <stands, pointing his index finger at Fenris’s face>: As a matter of fact, Mr. Fenris [sup]If that[/sup]is [sup]your real name[/sup], I accuse you of spreading ignorance by creating these obvious origin hoaxes. We applied, Lynn or Tuba picked, we accepted. It’s the same for all of us! You’re about to be reported to Snopes and the Skeptical Enquirer!
Fenris <archly>: Really, David. If that’s true, then how do you explain this?
<Fenris gestures and Uncle Beer flies in, cape fluttering, boldly wearing his underwear on the outside>
David B <a bit smugly>: Wires.
<Uncle Beer lifts a piano>
David B <slightly less smugly>: More wires. Occam’s Razor!
Fenris: Or this?
<Coldfire appears, in a puff of sulpherous smoke, holding a pitchfork. Something about Coldfire’s shadow doesn’t seem…right…somehow. For one, shadows don’t normally have red glowing eyes. For another, Coldfire’s shadow has rather more tentacles than is normally associated with Coldfire.>
David B: More trickery. Really, guys, I expected better of you. An application, a response from one of the admins. Acceptance. What more do I need to say?
<Coldfire and Uncle Beer look at each other, nod, and as one, drag David B. off stage right. A scream rings out. Moments later, the three of them return.>
Coldfire: Well, David, you have something to say to the nice people?
David B <in an oddly stilted voice and glazed expression on his face>:Yes. Our. Investiture. As. Mods. Involved. Many. Dark. And. Unspeakable. Rituals. Sacrifices. To. Cecil. Also. Mutants. Or. Space. Demons. Thank. You.
<applause from studio audience>
<curtain>
Fenris (who’s gonna stop the origins now, before they get stale.)
Fenris, you have way too much time on your hands.
Oh, sure, I understand. UncleBeer gets a dimensional portal, but me? Noooo… You’d think that Chronos, the Incarnation of Time would at least warrant a little temporal anomaly or somethin’…
Ok. (Ow! Quit twisting my arm!)…You want an origin? You got one!
Fenris Productions Presents
CHRONOS! THE MUSICAL!
or [The Guy, The Gold Watch, and Everything]
Scene:
A busy street in a major metropolitan city. Crowds of extras are walking briskly. The camera falls on a nebbish-y-looking guy.
Chronos-To-Be <sings>:
I’m just a guy who don’t have time
I always show up real late
Even though I’m quite a guy
The food’s always cold on my plate…etc.
He tells us in a long solilioquy how he’s lost his job and his girl 'cause he’s always late for everything.
While wandering, he finds one of those little shops filled with dusty relics that wasn’t there the day before and finds a pocket watch. He buys it and soon finds that he can freeze time when he presses a button on the watch. It also turns him into a handsome, dashing man-about-town.
Chronos sings:
This is a real nice timepiece
I’m mighty glad it’s mine
Those minutes I’ll save
Will make me rave
Now I’ll have plenty of time.
Chronos sets out to do GOOD WORKS. Using his magic watch, he stops bank robberies, rescues people from the path of drunk drivers and guides newbies to the proper forums in those moments of frozen time.
However, late in the second act, Chronos gets into a heated arguement (read: bar-bet) over that third word that ends in “gry”, Chronos uses the watch for personal gain. He freezes time to run to the library. He searches through the OED, while time is frozen. As he’s going back to the bar, time slowly starts again. Chronos realizes the watch is LOST.
Chronos sings:
The Watch is Gone! How wrong!
Now, how will I get along?
My temp’ral powers have flown!
I really feel so sad
That bar-bet was so bad
Now I am all Aaaaa-loooone!
As he approaches the bar, he realizes that there’s a building on fire. A little girl screams from the top floor! If only he had the watch! Oh well, it’s a risk he must take! He rushes into the building and time freezes! He rescues the little girl.
Chronos sings:
Little Gold Clock
Boy, how you rock
I res-cued that kid
Little Gold Clock
Boy, how you rock
I saved her, I did!
Just then, even though time is frozen, two women dressed in glittery, futuristic outfits appear.
Bo-Doni: Chronos! I am Bo-Doni of Cecil’s Temporal Rangers! You have used your time-powers wisely. Will you join our crusade to stamp out ignorance? We could use your mastery of time in the General Questions forum!
Chronos <sadly>: I’d love to but I can’t. I’ve…lost the watch! <does a double-take> But then…how did I save that girl?
Two-Bah(the other time-patrolwoman, also in glittery spandex) <sings>:
Chronos my dear,
Never you fear
You’ve done really well
You must see it’s true
The power’s in you
And we! think! that! you’re! swell!
Chronos <surprised>
The Power’s in me?
Well golly-gee
That makes my heart throb.
My powers of time
Will make the world fine!
I! Will! Take! Your! Job!
<big crescendo with lasers and smoke generating machines and flashing lights and, inexplicably, roller-skates. Standing ovations for all!>
<Curtain>
(Note that Chronos’s origin follows the classical musical formula: Boy Meets Magical Watch, Boy Loses Magical Watch, Boy Gets Magical Watch)
Fenris
Fenris, you’re a scary, scary lad.
I admire that in a person.
“With great beer comes great responsibility” may become one of my new catchphrases…