If you haven't been introduced to the wonderful, 75% troll population of the Yahoo Answers community yet, you are missing out. Where else could people ask leading questions about other people's religions or political beliefs, and conversely, state their own opinions as fact? (Besides the rest of the internet.) Here I have compiled a list of Yahoo Answers fails and wins for your enjoyment. I have found that every dumb question falls into one of five basic categories: Standard Stupid, Too Much Information, English as a Secondary Language, Facepalm Worthy, and Trolling.
Standard Stupid:
Really?
As you can see, the 4th graders of today are smart enough to figure out Yahoo Answers, but lack the common sense of a 9-year-old. Wait...
Too Much Information:
I'm more concerned with what a "Ginny" is
Another sad example of how comfortable people feel being gross behind the shield of anonymity the internet affords.
English as a Secondary Language:
In Vlad's defense, this question
doesn't make sense in Russian,
either
I could make fun of this, but that would be like kicking a crippled puppy down the street: way too easy to be fun, and anyone can do it.
Facepalm Worthy:
I thought metal was more about
ripping hearts out.
And I would have to say that Megadeth has caused me to cry more than any other metal band.
Trolling:
For those of you who are blissfully unaware of what trolling is, let me pop that bubble of happiness. Trolls are people who scream racist, sexist, or generally offensive crap in public internet outlets hoping only to get emotional responses from others. Yahoo Answers trolls have evolved (mutated?) into people who ask questions designed to get people riled up, so that when they post their answer, the troll can report them for not answering the question correctly, and get them banned. We have internet anonymity to thank, once again.
Luckily, Yahoo Answers is only 99% a repository for idiots, trolls, etc. The lucky explorer can find gems of wit near the bottom of the swamp on occasion.
Honest question
Even more honest answer
In case you couldn't read that, it says "Set it on a windowsill where the sun hits it. Pick it back up in 135 years and it will have that yellow parchment appearance." I offer my congratulations and respect to the brave crusader for intelligent sarcasm risking his life in the dangerous territory that is Yahoo Answers.
To whom it may concern:
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your professionalism. Truly I have been inspired by your extraordinary capacity for judgment of the human race as a whole. And how you have applied that to your business practices only serves to demonstrate your immense wisdom.
How could a mere mortal hope to achieve the same level of prudence as the man, nay, divine being, who discovered that all teenagers are terrible drivers? Indeed, those monsters unquestionably pose an untold threat to all the responsible, adult drivers on the roads of this country. It logically follows, then, that their insurance should cost twice the normal amount; only then can the universe be in perfect fiscal balance.
But under no circumstances should those blights against the human race, those scourges of mortals everywhere, those... teenage boys be afforded the same measure of decency as their relatively tolerable female counterparts. No, Baal himself demands that they be charged no less than four times the regular sum for auto insurance.
It behooves you to realize that not a single one of these savage barbarians deserves the chance to prove their skill and competence at driving safely. Let there be no possible mercy on those of them who avoid even the merest accident for the entire duration of their driving career. It matters not if he follows the speed limit more zealously than the SUV-owning mothers of Utah Valley who come to you for auto coverage. It matters not if he has never texted while driving, as is the custom of 95% of the 16 to 25-year-old girls you insure. It matters not if he uses his turn signal more often than the collective population of Provo. He is a teenage boy, and the bottom line is, he must not prevail!
Using the economy to your advantage, you have the power to end the auto-careers of these menaces on the road. I charge thee, therefore, to seal every loophole, caulk every legal gap, and prevent the continuation of the teenage-male-driver breed.
Viva la KGB!
Hugo Chavez
Let me give you a little background on this post: I was sitting at my computer, writing a sample article for the newspaper, which was a movie review. Since the only new releases I've seen so far are HP6 and G-Force (don't ask), I decided to write on G-Force. Somewhere along the line, maybe four or five words into the review, I could no longer dam the veritable river of sarcasm screaming to pour out of my head onto the paper, and the review became an example of exactly what NOT to do while writing a newspaper article, to be shown to the class tomorrow. Now I'm not here to educate you all on correct journalistic writing. I'm here to make you laugh. And I figured this was blog material. Without further ado, here goes:
This summer's box office contains many hits, but none of them are quite like G-Force. This thrilling yet comical release will keep your eyes glued to the screen while scenes of rodent-ridden action excite and amaze you! Tracy Morgan's inspiring performance nearly moved me to tears. He certainly has not sunk to a new low in his comedic career by voicing an animated guinea pig in a children's film, not to mention co-starring in a movie with Nicolas Cage.The story follows our four quadruped heroes as they traverse the big city in an attempt to foil the plans of mega-billionaire CEO, Leonard Saber. Through a completely unpredictable plot twist, the team's tech support mole (a brilliant pun), fondly referred to as "Speckles," turns out to be the supervillain behind Leonard Saber's appliance-turned-killing-machines.After an absolutely heartrending emotional climax, where it is tragically revealed that the guinea pig secret agents are not, in fact, biologically engineered to be mentally superior to all other guinea pigs, the G-Force team spends 30 seconds reflecting before moving out again to shout clichés (or in Tracy Morgan's case, black clichés), blow stuff up, and make Will Arnett's character look like a real dimwit.I won't ruin the movie for you, but don't expect everything to end happily without something unexpected happening first! So this summer, be sure to avoid seeing District 9 or G.I. Joe - opt for the better option: G-Force in 3D!I don't have a whole lot else to say on the subject. If you haven't seen G-Force, save your money. If you have, this article is probably a little funnier to you. Also, sorry for not having any pictures this post. I was too lazy.
This one will be a quickie.
Reader's Digest version: I'm building a guitar right now, and I want to document everything. Since I vowed to keep this blog strictly to topics on which I can easily write humorous posts, I'm creating a separate blog to follow my guitar-building progress. For those interested, I've put a link at the top of my sidebar. For those not interested, I've put a link at the top of my sidebar, but I want you to ignore it.
Remember the 90s, back when cyberspace was this neat-o new invention that could be used for communication and business? Remember how approximately seven minutes after the internet was launched, some guy figured he could use it to scam people? Well that's one internet trend that has continued to be rampant, even in futuristic 2009. And finally, after years of waiting, the scam industry has decided to grace me with the privilige of receiving an email from a destitute African woman, whose father left her $2.3 million U.S. dollars. But she dares not attempt to access these funds from her refugee camp in Senegal. No, she needs a trustworthy soul in America to help her transfer the money to a U.S. bank account first.
This blog will spend a few posts following the progress of our journey together to transfer the funds to a U.S. bank account where she can safely withdraw it, and begin life anew in America, possibly rewarding the savior who assisted her in these transactions with a large sum of the money. Where will our adventures take us? Only time will tell.
Let's start with a transcript of the email I received.
"Hello my dearest
How are you today?
I am more than happy in your reply to my mail.
Mine is a little bit cold over here in Dakar senegal.
My name is Grace koneh from Ivory Coast in West Africa, i am 22yrs old, 5.3ft tall, fair in complexion and presently i am residing in the refugee camp here in dakar as a result of the civil war that was fought in my country.My late father Dr Oliver koneh was the personal advicer to the former head of state before the rebels attacked our house one early morning and killed my mother and my father in cold blood .it was only me that is alive now as the only child and I managed to make my way to a near by country senegal where i am leaving now In this camp .
Its just like one staying in the prison and i hope by God's grace i will come out here soon.i don't have any relatives now whom i can go to, all my relatives ran away in the middle of the war the only person i know here is Rev.father andrew kuma who is incharge of the church here in the camp ,
The rev, father's Tel number is (00221771703012) if you call and tell him that you want to speak with me then he will send for me from my hostel to come and speak with you . As a refugee here i don't have any right or privilege to any thing be it money or whatever because it is against the law of this country.I want to go back to my studies because i only attended my first year before the tragic incident that lead to my being in this situation now took place.
Please listen to this,when my father was alive he deposited some amount of money in one of the leading banks in europe which he used my name as the next of kin, the amount is $2.3M (Two million three Hundred Thousand Dollars),
I have my late father's Deposit Certificate and death Certificate here with me which i will send to you latter, So i will like you to help me transfer this money to your account and from it you can send some money for me to get my travelling documents and air ticket to come over to your place in order to further my studies, I kept this secret to people in the camp here because i don't want to loose the money or my life.
So in the light of above i will like you to keep it to yourself and don't tell it to anyone for i am afraid of loosing my life and the money if people gets to know about it.
Remember i am giving you all this information due to my beleive in GOD and hoping that you will not disappoint me.I like honest and understanding people,truthful and hardworking person.My local language is french but i speak English very fluently.
Please i will like you to answer me these questions:
1.What percentage of the money will be good for you after the money is transfered into your account?
2. can i trust you as a genuine friend ?
Meanwhile i will like you to call me like i said, i have alot to tell you..
Have a nice day and think about my condition here
Attach here is my pictures for you,
With love, Grace"
Here are the pictures that were attached:
This screams "refugee camp"
Now, there are many routes I could take with this opportunity. I could play the role of the absolute sucker, and give her fake bank information that would lead to her frustration. I could play the role of the absolute sucker, and give her extremely fake bank information that would lead to her arrest. I could turn the tables on her and ask her about helping me move a large sum of money from these weak U.S. dollars into a more secure currency, like Communaute Financiere Africaine francs, which just happen to be the standard monetary unit in Senegal. But I think that what I have planned is far more amusing. The trick with these emails is to be annoying enough to entertain yourself without giving away the fact that you're aware this is a scam.
Here is the transcript of the email which I have sent back:
Hello dear,
I'm doing great today. I had no idea that the civil war of Côte d'Ivoire had reached so far as to force refugees into camps in Senegal. I can empathize with your situation all to well, as my parents were also killed in a freak accident while on a safari in Guinea-Bissau shortly after I was born. I was raised by a small convent of monks, but set out last year to make my own destiny. I was 16 at the time, and have been living happily in Utah for a year and a half since then.
I would be happy to help you transfer your inheritance to a U.S. bank so you can fly to America and live here in peace and happiness, further your studies, and live a long, successful life.
I cannot ask for any of the money that is rightfully yours, especially knowing how tragic your past has been. My only payment will be the satisfaction of knowing I've helped out somebody in need of my service.
I hope that you can trust me as a friend, I want only to help you reach the United States safely and happily.
Thank you for the pictures; were they taken before or after your parents' deaths?
Please contact me soon so we can get started,
Andrew
From here, we wait. What will happen next? Stay tuned to watch this story unfold.
This post is to document the last three days of my wisdom tooth removal process. Also, to make you laugh.
Day 1:
At 8:00 on the morning of July 29, 2009, I arrived at the orthodontist in Lehi. After enduring many insensitive jibes about my looming surgery from the calloused, unfeeling nurses (I believe they were called Cruella and Jabba), I entered the room where the fateful destruction of my four extra molars was to take place. The oral surgeon entered, and imformed me that he was wearing his lucky wristband. I remarked dryly that I hoped he wasn't relying too much on luck. He said not to worry, as he had learned how to do this surgery pretty well the day before. I asked whether he had learned it on Wikipedia. He didn't answer, which I took as a bad omen. Shortly thereafter, they put me on Nitrous Oxide. I had previously instructed my mouth to stop moving at the mention of Nitrous Oxide, as other peoples' experiences have told me that the line between "witty" and "retarded" statements blurs alarmingly with the introduction of that particular gas.
Is this real life?
I inhaled the laughing gas with exceptional dignity, and vaguely felt an IV being inserted into my arm. Then I woke up on my couch at home. Subsisting on a steady diet of water and Lortab, my thoughts were not too clear that day. At one point, I decided to go check my FaceBook. Rising off the couch, I walked up the stairs and sat down at the computer. At that point, my vision went black and I only just managed to gently lower myself onto the floor before I lost consciousness. "Edward..." I moaned, as the hole in my chest overpowered me.
Day 2:
July 30, 2009. I woke up, and promptly went back to sleep. This event occurred with alarming regularity throughout the entire day. I read all of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. And I drank some Fuze. (Note: I finished that Fuze off today. It tasted like getting your wisdom teeth out.)
On the plus side, I was free to choose a position other than "laying down" without being forced to do Bella impersonations.
Day 3:
I had to go into work today for a while, until they could find someone to cover. A friend of mine who also works at Iceberg came in, took one look at me, and burst out laughing. Well, I'm glad one of us found humor in the situation.
And because I'm a rebel, I'm not even going to post a picture of my comically swollen face. That's right, I'm denying all seven of my readers that pleasure!
I stepped off the Hogwarts Express alongside Ron, Hermione, and Harry, shooting malevolent looks at Malfoy as he passed. It was our 5th year at Hogwarts, and I had spent the majority of the train ride listening to them groan about O.W.L. exams. They were going to take place this year, and though I felt I could have passed them easily last year, I said nothing about the exams, aside from perhaps slipping a dry, witty comment in once or twice. Possibly three times.
I walked up to the thestral-drawn carriages, Ron, Hermione, and Harry hurrying along in my wake. The thestrals were looking thinner, more gaunt somehow than usual. I, of course, had been able to see the thestrals ever since I killed that Death Eater in my first year. The familiar call of "firs' years, this way!" rang out from the lake. I smiled quietly to myself, wondering if even Hagrid had noticed how underfed the thestrals were looking. I made a mental note to myself to mention it to him next time he invited me, Hermione, Harry, and maybe even Ron down to his cottage for tea and rock cakes, as he inevitably would by owl the first week of term.
As I stepped onto my carriage, I heard a shout and whipped around at lightning speed, thinking that Seamus had once again blown something the heck up. What met my eyes, however, was the hulking figure of Crabbe, his gorilla arms holding his wand up in the sky. He was casting the dark mark, just for fun it seemed. With a lazy flick of my wand, I sent his spinning skyward. It landed with a satisfying plop in the lake. Quickly erasing the dark mark from the sky before anyone noticed, I made a dry, witty comment on how thick Crabbe was.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron laughed loudly at my humor, then began quibbling among themselves over who got to sit next to me in the carriage.
"Andrew, Harry got to sit next to you last year, and Ron was the year before that. Isn't it my turn?" begged Hermione.
I rolled my eyes. Petrificus Totalus! The incantation emanated from my mouth thrice in quick succession. Hermione and Ron landed with their own respective thumps on the grass, and Harry swayed comically before crashing down on top of them both. He began attempting in vain to clutch at his scar like a loser, (because any time he clutches at his scar, he does so "like a loser"). He couldn't really move, but I could just tell.
I stood over the three. One of them, probably Ron, was whimpering quietly.
"Now you can all sit next to me at once!" I chortled, stacking them vertically next to me in the carriage. Harry stopped trying to grab his scar. Possibly he realized what a clever solution this was. He even smiled, a little. Except for he was paralyzed.
The thestrals started towards the castle. I gazed up at the many turrets and spires of Hogwarts, knowing that it would all be mine someday. The song The Circle of Life began playing, from Lion King.
Three years have passed since that day. Three long years, in which Harry helped me kill Voldemort, and I married both Ginny and Hermione. Ron protested at first, but after my Confundus charm, he seems to be quite happy with Lavender Brown. The sword of Gryffindor now rests in its scabbard at my side, because wearing a sword around makes me look super bad-a. The sorting hat resides in its proper place, on my head. It has to make a new song up for me each week. Harry has a spell placed on him that makes his forehead hurt (I have long since healed the scar) every time he says "blimey." Seamus has had a very successful career entertaining toddlers and the elderly by blowing things up in his face. Neville does crap with plants, or something. All is well.
