1. Great Product, Poor Packaging
I purchased this product 4.47 Billion Years ago and when I opened it today, it was half empty. – Patrick J. McGovern
2. So glad I don’t have to buy this from Libyans in parking lots at the mall anymore.
I bought this to power a homemade submarine that I use to look for prehistoric-era life forms in land-locked lakes around my home town in Alaska.
At first I wasn’t sure if this item would (or could) arrive via mail, but I was glad to see it showed up with no problems. Well, almost no problems.
Unfortunately my mom opened my mail, because she does not respect people’s privacy. She was pretty upset to see Uranium Ore. After a long argument and me running away from home again, she finally stopped being such an idiot and I was able to get back to work.
The quality of this Uranium is on par with the stuff I was buying from the Libyans over at the mall parking lot, but at half the price! I just hope the seller does not run out, because I have many projects on my list including a night vision sasquatch radar, an electromagnetic chupacabra cage, a high velocity, aerial, weighted Mothman net and super heated, instant grill cheese sandwich maker. – Kyle J. Von Bose
3. Movies Lie
Do not be fooled by this product. I bought this along with four terrapins and a rat (since I couldn’t lay my hands on a warthog and a rhino). I rubbed this product into my skin and gums then rolled around with the terrapins and the rat.
Long story short I did NOT end up with my own crime-fighting mutant superhero team. The rat bit me and I crushed the terrapins. Also I now have a strange rash and Im coughing up blood, whats up with that?
Avoid. – Melvazord
4. The Traveler’s Friend
Whenever I fly I always pack a can of this wonder stuff in each piece of my luggage. As we all know, so many bags look alike. How often do you get to your hotel, only to find you have walked away with the wrong bag, and are forced to wear a stranger’s underwear for the rest of the trip? We’ve all been there right? So when that confusing luggage starts whirling around the baggage claim carousel I just whip out my Geiger Counter and let the uranium go to work for me. I merely wait for those comforting clicks (and after longer flights look for the glowing hot spot) and I know I have found my bags. Occasionally airlines lose my bags (yes, it does happen people). But whenever I fill out that claim form, and let them know my uranium is missing – well I tell you, they literally SPRING into action. They’ll track down that errant bag faster than you can say “Chernobyl.”
And I cannot tell you how many new friends I have made in TSA and Customs since I’ve adopted this sure-fire system. Nothing brightens their day quite like finding a traveler with potentially fissionable material. Throw away those gaudy rainbow bag straps forever and step into the atomic age. It’s no longer just uranium, it’s my-ranium. Thanks Amazon! – Shady Ave Reader
1. Make this your only stock and store
Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts ‘N Honey,
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
‘Bad condensor, that,’ I muttered, ‘vibrating the icebox door –
Only this, and nothing more.’
Not to sound like a complainer, but, in an inept half-gainer,
I provoked my bowl to tip and spill its contents on the floor.
Stupefied, I came to muddle over that increasing puddle,
Burgeoning deluge of that which I at present do adore –
Snowy Tuscan wholesomeness exclusively produced offshore –
Purg’ed here for evermore.
And the pool so white and silky, filled me with a sense of milky
Ardor of the type fantastic of a loss not known before,
So that now, to still the throbbing of my heart, while gently sobbing,
I retreated, heading straightway for the tempting icebox door –
Heedless of that pitter-patter tapping at the icebox door –
I resolved to have some more.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
‘This,’ said I, ‘requires an extra dram of milk, my favorite pour.’
To the icebox I aspired, motivated to admire
How its avocado pigment complemented my decor.
Then I grasped its woodgrain handle – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of many Tuscans I had known before
But the light inside was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were my whispered words, ‘No more!’
Coke and beer, some ketchup I set eyes on, and an apple core –
Merely this and nothing more.
Back toward the table turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’
From the window came a stirring, then, with an incessant purring,
Inside stepped a kitten; mannerlessly did she me ignore.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But, with mien of lord or lady, withdrew to my dining floor –
Pounced upon the pool of Tuscan spreading o’er my dining floor –
Licked, and lapped, and supped some more.
Then this tiny cat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grand enthusiasm of the countenance she wore,
Toward the mess she showed no pity, ’til I said, ‘Well, hello, kitty!’
Sought she me with pretty eyes that seemed to open some rapport.
So I pleaded, ‘Tell me, tell me what it is that you implore!’
Quoth the kitten, ‘Get some more.’ – Edgar
2. One Friday, Without the Milk
He always brought home milk on Friday.
After a long hard week full of days he would burst through the door, his fatigue hidden behind a smile. There was an icy jug of Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz in his right hand. With his left hand he would grip my waist – I was always cooking dinner – and press the cold frostiness of the jug against my arm as he kissed my cheek. I would jump, mostly to gratify him after a time, and smile lovingly at him. He was a good man, a wonderful husband who always brought the milk on Friday, Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz.
Then there was that Friday, the terrible Friday that would ruin every Friday for the rest of my life. The door opened, but there was no bouyant greeting – no cold jug against the back of my arm. There was no Tuscan Whole Milk in his right hand, nor his left. There came no kiss. I watched as he sat down in a kitchen chair to remove his shoes. He wore no fatigue, but also no smile. I didn’t speak, but turned back to the beans I had been stirring. I stirred until most of their little shrivelled skins floated to the surface of the cloudy water. Something was wrong, but it was vague wrongness that no amount of hard thought could give shape to.
Over dinner that night I casually inserted,”What happened to the milk?”
“Oh,”he smiled sheepishly, glancing aside,”I guess I forgot today.”
That was when I knew. He was tired of this life with me, tired of bringing home the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon, 128 fl oz. He was probably shoveling funds into a secret bank account, looking at apartments in town, casting furtive glances at cashiers and secretaries and waitresses. That’s when I knew it was over. Some time later he moved in with a cashier from the Food Mart down the street. And me? Well, I’ve gone soy. – Catherine Swinford
1. Finally, a tank you can trust
I’ll admit it. Shopping for a personal tank can be a bit daunting. Many times in the past I’ve purchased overpriced, so-called “battle tanks”, then driven them into battle only to be wrecked in ten minutes by the first blow off of some insurgents home-made morter.
But not this baby, no way.
This tank R-O-C-K-S! Literally- the 400-watt sound-system keeps me rockin like a crazy man as I’m dishing out justice commando style. Wow. I just can’t say enough. And the kids love it, too- imagine the look of terror in the eyes of the enemy as I’m dropping off my kid’s team to their soccer game. Shock and awe, my friends, SHOCK AND AWE!
I had NAO install the optional GPS-guided white phosphorus missile system, and talk about *SWEET*! Burn baby burn!!!
Oh, it also has plenty of room for groceries, and if you need to like move a loveseat or something it’ll fit if you use a little bungee cord.
The only real negative with this tank is that it shows up on radar a little more than I like (although there is a polyresin graphite stealth model available). Also, the included spare isn’t full size.
Overall, a great tank. – Thomas Dunham
2. Easily blown to kingdom come
I am an acquisitions officer for an artillery unit in the Russian Army. Since mafia hooligans stole all of our equipment to sell to Kyrgyzstani rebels, we have been looking for a low-cost alternative to the T-80 Main Battle Tank. After successful trials at a facility in Moscow, this so-called “Badonkadonk” was approved for use in the Chechen theatre. Initial reports were favorable, but then somebody noticed that the tank lacked a cannon, treads, and armor, and possessed the engine of an electric bicycle. It did, however, have an excellent audio system, but this failed to compensate for its disappointing 100% mortality rate. Recommended only for use against Lithuanians. – V. Zhirinovsky
3. The Donk is OK, not recommended for a drunken rampage
If I had it to do over again, I’d leave my insurance settlement money under my mattress a while longer instead of spendin it on one of these things. A Badonkadonk … more like a Badonkajunk.
I bought one of these Donks ’cause I thought the cops wouldn’t hastle me in it. Since it aint road legal I figured it wouldn’t matter that I don’t got a driver’s license anymore (It’s that kinda “outa the box” thinkin that’s got me where I am in life). I figured when the cops said “Billy, you know you aint supposed to be drivin a car anymore” I could say “I aint drivin a car, I’m drivin a Donk” and then crank up “Freebird” on my 400 Watt stereo as I lay down a thick patch of rubber with the 6hp fire-breathin power plant and maybe let out a rebel yell as I go up on 2 wheels and squeeze between the 2 squad cars they had set up as a road block. Then when they pulled out their guns and tried to stop me the bullets would just rikoshay off my trusty Donk as I glance matter-of-factly into the rear view mirror and flick the ash off my Marlboro in symbolic contempt of the agressors what I had just thwarted.
Nothin was further from the truth though: I had just stayed late over at my sister trailer and was fixin to head back across the court to my trailer. I will admit that I had been drinkin, but her trailer was just a few loops over from mine and it was after 3AM so I figured I weren’t gonna hurt nobody, especially in the old “Donk”. As chance would have it, I just happened to be wearing various article of my sister’s clothing and started to recognize the familiar smell of MacDonnald french fries. As I turned the corner into my own loop, the smell was unmistakable … as was the conclusion that I deducticated in my mind … my sister had been gettin cozy with that retard Lucas Tubbs who works the MacDonnald’s drive through.
Well, I have to tell you I became engorged with rage! I whipped the old Donker around and started headin for MacDonnalds to show ol’ Tubbs what I thought of him sneakin around my sis. I only made it as far as the trailer park entrance though, cause I got high-centered on the speed bump there. Folks tell me that I crawled on top of the Donkster and started yellin obsenities at that point, but to be honest I don’t recall that part. It must have been true though because the police showed up very quickly. When I saw the squad car, I scurried back into the Donk, locked the hatch, started up the engine, and floored it! It was the right thing to do because, in their vain effort to extracticate me from my vehicular conveyance, the cops jumped on the roof of the Donk tipping the balance just far enough that the wheels grabbed hold and I was able to get off of the speed bump. Hot pursuit was on!
The cops’ squad car must have malfunctioned because the officers proceded to pursue me on foot. By the time I got to Main Street I had a comfortable lead on them. I turned South, as that was the proper mode of direction to arrive at the MacDonnalds. At that point my drunken rage peaked and I knew what I had to do to save my families honor: I was gonna crash my tank into the MacDonnalds drive through! I rev’ed up the engine and floored it! As I got closer and closer, I could see ol’ ‘tardy Tubbs’ face paint a life-size portrait of confusion on a tattered canvas of fear and surprise. I thought to myself “All will be made right again” as I flew by the intercom, scraping sparks of anger and bitterness as I careened past. I was overjoyed to see that, even though he had plenty of time to see me coming and move out of the way, ol’ ‘tardy Tubbs was still in my direct line-of-flight. I braced for impact as the Donk hit the order window plexiglass, bounced off, and rolled over on its side. I must have hit my head on the pivoting control stick because I blacked out momentarily. I awoke to the sound of my tiny wheels spinning madly at 40 miles per hour. With my battle tank inoperable, my hopes of even slightly inconveniencing Lucas Tubbs dashed, and my sister’s fine clothes soiled with sweat and blood, I had no choice left but to piss myself and start flailing my arms and legs madly.
The police that had been pursuing me arrived moments later. I do not agree with their assessment that I was a danger to myself and others, but I don’t recall that part of the evening very well so I can’t say for sure. Either way, I don’t think the use of the Tazer was justified. However, I now have lawsuits outstanding against MacDonnalds for faulty drive through design, the manufacturer of the Tazer, and the local police. One of these suits needs to pay out to replace the money from the insurance settlement and pay the court mandated restitution to MacDonnalds and the local police.
In the end, I blame all my problems on the Donk. I hope they have good insurance. I’m comin for them next. – Billy Bob McRobert
All I did was look at the cover, but I already knew from the start. This is, without a doubt, still a better story than twilight. – Lance Kates
2. This is weird
This is so weird. My husband and I were just discussing the 2009-2014 outlook for wood toilet seats in greater China the other day. Now today, here I am surfing Amazon and wouldn’t you know it? The 2009-2014 outlook for wood toilet seats in greater China. I am so happy the price seems reasonable. I’m thinking Amazing Anniversary Present!!!!!! – brutus
3. I don’t get it
I’m not sure what all these rave reviews are about. I was just as excited as the next man to order this highly anticipated follow-up to “The 2002-2009 Outlook for Wood Toilet Seats in Greater China” but it left me flat.
It felt forced and unneeded. I think the author just wanted another pay day without having to come up with something original.
I can’t believe they got Nicholas Cage for the movie… or I guess I can. – Revolverlbc
4. Look for my audiobook version, coming soon
For years I have searched for the perfect audio book project. “Shogun,” some friends suggested. “War and Peace,” I’ve considered. Or perhaps “Green Eggs and Ham.”
But it wasn’t until I stumbled, quite by chance, across “The 2009-2014 Outlook for Wood Toilet Seats in Greater China” that I knew. I KNEW.
Sure, the title and the first few hundred pages may seem off-putting. “What the f*@k is this?” Brad demanded, just 20 pages in. “It’s like some kind of terrible grad school thesis.”
But right around page 375, the OFWTSIGC (2009-14) becomes a white-knuckled, roller coaster of emotions–the sort we expect from world class thrillers. Indeed, just when you think the author has exhausted his dear readers, after what seems an unimaginably methodical survey of mainland China’s wood toilet seat projections, he reminds us, ever so artfully, about GREATER China.
Taiwan. Macao. Hong Frigging Kong.
Now, admittedly, the near $500 price may be a bit daunting, but on a per word basis, it’s quite a bargain. And imagine its uses! Senate Filibusters will never be the same. OFWTSIGC (2009-14) It also makes a terrific father’s day gift for that dad who “thinks” he has everything. This will show him, huh. – George Takei
5. Grab your seat and hold on! Fast paced, intense, and funny- with a surprise ending.
I picked this up off Amazon with little or no knowledge of the Chinese situation. It was all just a black hole to me. But, I must say that after a constipated start, I was riveted. Seeing the transformation of Xiao Ling through adolescence and the turmoil accompanying his parent’s gastrointestinal issues until his later redemption at the ministry of lavoratory accessories was really moving to me. In fact, I don’t see how anyone can read this and not be moved deeply and viscerally. I will admit there were parts that I strained to get through. There were other times that I wanted to gush over what was going on; flush with the excitement.
There was also a very nuanced sexuality that infuses the book. Stroke after stroke of the writer’s pen really paid off in the climactic scene. The iconic imagery of Chairman Mao invoked by the village ejaculating his name over and over could not help but overwhelm a reader, though a few minutes after one might be lulled into a sleepily languid state by the diminishing rhythm of pace in the story.
I must say that I was not equally enchanted with the movie version of this. While I normally like Samuel L. Jackson, I just did not think he was able to pull off Mei-Zhen, Xiao’s older sister. Also, some of the funnier moments in the written version just did not come through on screen. I will add that the sequel to this “The Chinese Wood Toilet Seat that Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” was not anywhere near the caliber and of the seminal first work.
Overall, I would highly recommend this. Don’t listen to the “haters” of wood toilet seats out there. This one is a keeper! – Stephen Wilson
1. Shhh. Just please don’t make any noise.
I do not know if human language can sufficiently describe what has been unleashed upon this world.
My Parent Child Testing Product, 5 Pack arrived just yesterday. Excitedly, I tore open the packaging and set each tiny warrior in a row near the edge of a table. Once they were properly oriented (toward Venus, as per the instructions, which appeared to be written in blood), I pulled up a chair and stared intently into their eyes, awaiting my test. I have always suspected that I am a child, but eagerly awaited firm confirmation. Once several uneventful hours passed, I decided to leave the house for a bit.
You know those pictures where, no matter where you are in the room, it looks like the person’s eyes are looking right at you? The Parent Child Testing Product is like that, except it doesn’t matter how far away from the product you are. It constantly feels as if it is not only looking at you, but peering into the darkest depths of your soul, questioning your very essence as a human being. This disturbed me, so I eventually threw all five figurines into the trash. It is at this time that each Parent Child Testing Product began to emit a sound. To say the sound was not of this earth is an understatement of the utmost severity. It was as if each scream since the beginning of time was layered on top of one another, followed by a whooshing sound that I can only assume was the act of stealing my soul and the souls of everyone I have ever loved.
When I looked in the trash can, the figurines were gone. I am typing this from underneath my bed. Only now does the true goal of the test become clear: Survival. – Sean O.
2. Well worth every penny!
The Parent Child Testing Product worked as well as I hoped. I tested both my children using this device and confirmed my hunch – the 1-year old was going to turn out as badly as I thought, breaking my heart and living in the basement doing nothing but playing video games, and doing badly at that as well. Without this test, I’d have had to waste DECADES waiting for him to grow up before kicking him out. I’m taking him back to the hospital tomorrow morning. – R. Schultz
3. Only a 5-pack now?!?
I was extremely disappointed to see that this product is only sold in a 5-pack now. This is simply unacceptable, as I and my 4 wives are all extremely fertile and I require at least the 15-pack. Thumbs down. – Ricky Cilantro
1. Good for Writing on Paper – Terrible for Stirring Coffee, Prying things Open.
Since taking delivery of my pen I have been very happy with the quality of ink deposition on the various types of paper that I have used. On the first day when I excitedly unwrapped my pen (thanks for the high quality packaging Amazon!) I just couldn’t contain my excitement and went around finding things to write on, like the shopping list on the notice board in our kitchen, the Post-it notes next to the phone, and on my favorite lined A4 pad at the side of my desk.
My pen is the transparent type with a blue lid. I selected this one in preference to the orange type because I like to be able to see how much ink I have left so that I can put in another order before I finally run out.
When the initial excitement of taking delivery of my new pen started to wear off I realized that I shouldn’t just write for the fun of it, this should be a serious enterprise, so by the second day of ownership I started to take a little more care of what I wrote. I used it to sign three letters, and in each case was perfectly happy with the neatness of handwriting that I was able to achieve.
I have a helpful tip for you that you might not know about – if you let the ink dry for a few seconds you can avoid the smudging that sometimes happens if you rub the ink immediately after writing. Fortunately the ink used in this particular Bic pen seems to dry very quickly.
On the third day of ownership I went on a trip to London and took my pen carefully packed away in my brief case, but I needn’t have worried, this isn’t some temperamental ink pen that leaks when you store it at the wrong angle. I sat at my meeting and confidently removed the cap from my pen and it wrote flawlessly, almost immediately.
I notice that the barrel of the pen has been crafted very carefully to fit in the pen holder down the edge of my Filofax. It’s not so grippy so that it is hard to remove when I want to make a quick note, and yet not so loose that it falls out too easily when I open my Filofax in a hurry. Maybe the choice of surface texture on the pen has some part to play here, because it seems that the inside of the leather grip on the pen holder in my Filofax has just the right level of adhesion that I can be confident when I need to reach in and get my pen it’s going to be just where I left it!
Today is the fourth day of ownership of my pen, and I have to say I’m starting to treat it like an old friend. I walk around the office with it clipped in to my shirt pocket and someone in the accounts department actually asked to borrow it while we were both standing at the photocopier. Would you believe it, they actually tried to walk away with my pen! They were very embarrassed when I called after them as they walked down the corridor and asked for it back. You will be happy to know that it is now back, safe and sound in my top pocket, ready and waiting to start writing again.
In summary, I would happily recommend this pen to anyone who is planning on writing on paper. If you are considering a writing implement for some other surface such as writing on a CD, or other non-porous substances then another pen might be better suited, but if it’s just plain old paper then I think you will probably be well served by this particular model. – R. Clark
2. A Very Durable Pen.
Do you recall the old Bic commercials where they fire a Bic pen into a piece of wood and it still writes? Well I do, but I never really believed it. That is, until I had the necessary task of defending my life with the aid of a Bic pen. Coming home and alarming an intruder, I found myself locked in mortal combat with a very large man who was intent on killing me. My only weapon was the Bic Cristal ballpoint pen I routinely carry in the breast pocket of my starched white pinpoint oxford button down.
I was able to successfully insert my Bic Cristal ballpoint pen into the esophogial area of my attacker’s throat and incapacitate him until the constables arrived to take him into custody. Paramedics removed the pen from his throat and returned it to me. Rather amazingly, I wiped the blood and a small amount of body tissue from the pen and used it to write my police statement.
Though not commonly considered a weapon of self defense, my Bic Cristal ballpoint pen proved to me the old adage that “the pen is mightier than the sword.” (I must admit though, that I would have far preferred a sword had I the option to choose beforehand.) All in all, a five star rating for this dual-use pen. – donniedarko
3. 3 to 5 and still alive!
I’ve been in and out of prison most of my life and I specialize the in fine art of prison tattooing. Now, I’ve tried many types of pens, Pilots, Sanfords, Paper Mates, and others. But for the sheer consistency of color, permeability, and aesthetic character, I use only BIC(R) Cristal(R) Ballpoint Pens.
When you try to get the ink to adhere to a sharpened paper clip, you instantly can tell the difference in workability with a Bic. The fine line work reqired in realistically rendering a flaming serpent wrapping the bare breasts of a nymph straddling a crucifix would be nearly impossible with any other pen.
Clients can be picky. So when I aim to please I trust on BIC(R) Cristal(R) Ballpoint Pens. – Pete Strohs
1. Dual Function Design
This item has wolves on it which makes it intrinsically sweet and worth 5 stars by itself, but once I tried it on, that’s when the magic happened. After checking to ensure that the shirt would properly cover my girth, I walked from my trailer to Wal-mart with the shirt on and was immediately approached by women. The women knew from the wolves on my shirt that I, like a wolf, am a mysterious loner who knows how to ‘howl at the moon’ from time to time (if you catch my drift!). The women that approached me wanted to know if I would be their boyfriend and/or give them money for something they called mehth. I told them no, because they didn’t have enough teeth, and frankly a man with a wolf-shirt shouldn’t settle for the first thing that comes to him.
I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me. I turned around to see a slightly sweaty dream in sweatpants and flip-flops standing there. She told me she liked the wolves on my shirt, I told her I wanted to howl at her moon. She offered me a swig from her mountain dew, and I drove my scooter, with her shuffling along side out the door and into the rest of our lives. Thank you wolf shirt.
Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women
Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the ‘guns’), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark. – B. Govern
2. Howl at the Heavens!
This shirt has changed my life! Before, I couldn’t walk through the aisles at Wal-Mart, graze on the buffet at Sizzler, or even take in a round at my local miniature golf course, without people pointing and saying, “Hey, you’re that Zulu guy from Star Wars, aren’t you?” Even if I wore sunglasses, I’d still get mistaken for Yoko Ono.
But with The Mountain Three Wolf Moon Short Sleeve Tee, the SHIRT now draws the eye. One young teen even shyly approached me, and instead of asking for a picture or an autograph, simply smiled conspiratorially and whispered, “Team Jacob, right? Me, too. He’s sooooooo dreamy.”
Yes he is, young lady. Yes. He. Is. – George Takei
3. Great compliment for my skin art
Unfortunately I already had this exact picture tattooed on my chest, but this shirt is very useful in colder weather. – overlook1977
When I put this T-shirt on for the first time, my wife left me!
Thank you, Three Wolf Moon T-Shirt! – Murray Mc Dougall
1. They’re here.
I purchased this gizmo to play a prank on my husband Brad, who still prattles on about his “fourth-kind” encounter when he was just thirteen. (The 4th kind involves a probe, if you’re wondering. I keep saying it was likely his redneck neighbor dressed as ET, but that possibility is too dreadful for him to truly accept.)
On the anniversary of Brad’s alleged abduction, I placed the device by our bedside, then set-up an electromagnetic wave generator under the bed, with a timer to go off right at midnight. (If you’re wondering where to get one, I recommend the Skymall Catalog. I also picked up some Motivational posters and fake garden rock speakers to save on shipping. You’re welcome.)
But back to my prank. It was all set to go, and I was as giddy as a six year old waiting for Santa. But like a typical six year old, I fell asleep before the damn thing went off. I awoke to the flashing of multiple LEDs from the UFO-02 Detector, and bolted up, eager to see Brad’s petrified face. Aha!
But Brad wasn’t there.
In fact, I wasn’t even in our bedroom any more. Instead, I stood face-to-face with Leonardo da Vinci. Or perhaps it was Professor Dumbledore, I’m not really certain. In either event, It was a manifestation that the being I shall call the “Intelligence” had determined my brain would most easily accept for deliverance of The Message.
You see, the Intelligence had come to convey to us humans that the Imperative was nigh, that what we loosely dub the Singularity was only the beginning of a limitless existence unbounded by physical space and time, and that sugar-free alternatives are actually WORSE for us than the real deal. He made sure that last point was clear by making me repeat it twice.
When I came to, Brad was sound asleep in his tin foil hat, the UFO-02 detector was gone, and, sure enough, all of my Splenda had been replaced with little, brown raw sugar packets. When I tried to tell Brad about Leonardo/Dumbledore and The Message, he rolled over away from me, grumbling that I shouldn’t eat so much ice cream or any dairy product before bed. – George Takei
2. Accurate and Faithful
This little gizmo is a bargain at twice the price and much more accurate than the voices in my head. – R. J. Reid
3. A HUman Person From Earth Like You Hates Alien Detectors!
I, as a reasonable and trUstworthy hUman, do not gleep nerp this ungood prodUct. Bad it is for Us hUmans to purchase and operate this online pUrchasable prodUct.
As the person from Earth that I am, I think that all of my other fellow hUmans on Earth should immediately disUse and florgnify this Utterly Zorglefran, I mean bad item for bUying. Ha Ha. I am laughing with hUmor with the funny word I made up with my typing that I am not doing by direct thought extraction, and instant data transmission to Amazon.com website. Ha Ha. That was highly hUmoroUs and glerp.
UFO detectors are so dUmb because all humans from Earth like the one I am, know that we I mean they do not even exist! Ha Ha
Besides even if the alien friends did exist, who minds occassional anal probe for benefit of aliens that don’t exist glerp science! I, as a resonable and trustworthy human person from Earth sure wouldn’t mind helping our fUtUre overlords!
Do not bUy this prodUct. – A Trustworthy Human
I have to say I had my doubts, I mean look how happy that guy is on the packaging – surely a simple face paint couldn’t bring that much joy?
Within minutes of whiting up I was laughing like a lunatic – it’s that good.
I’ve now purchased some of the other colours too and they’re just as good. A word of warning though people seem to get really mad when you go out with the brown one on. – T. Elliot
2. It made me rethink my life.
I ordered this product last Tuesday, and after it was delivered to me by the usual delivery falcons, I immediately began applying it to my face and neck. However, something was wrong. No matter how much I applied, or no matter where I applied it, I just wasn’t as happy as the gentleman on the box. I bought several more packages of it, just in case I’d received a defective batch, but alas, I couldn’t recreate the male model’s sheer sense of happiness and general well being. Then I began to think “What if it’s not a problem with the product? What if it’s a problem with ME?!”
I realized that it was indeed my own problems that prevented me from achieving inner peace and true joy, so I began selling all my possessions. In fact, the only thing I didn’t sell was the face paint, because I keep the packaging so I can look at that man’s face every day and swear that one day, I will be as content with life as he is.
But I must cut this review short, as the manager of this internet cafe doesn’t take kindly to people sitting naked in their seats and attempting to pay with positive thoughts. I’ll just wrap up with this: Thank you, AMSCAN. Thank you. When I bought your product, I didn’t just receive one ounce of white face paint. I received one ounce of truth. – Derry W.
3. Perfection in a Tube
My mime class went ape-crazy over this stuff. Comments ranged from “_________!” to “__________!!!”. You’ve never seen people so excited. – M. Taylor
I was a bit worried that there might be some false advertising about this produce, but no. I can assure you there is not. You may think there is no way that this face paint can instill the ecstasy shown on that man’s face. I am here to assure you that it can.
As soon as this arrived in the mail. I tore open the package and began slathering it all over my face. And suddenly found myself in the throws of a euphoria so fierce that I accidentally kicked my cat through the bay window in our dining room from one of my leg spasms. I also bonked my head quite fiercely on the stereo speaker as I collapsed in an ecstatic fit, but in comparison to what poor Mr. Snuffles suffered, it doesn’t seem like something I should harp on about.
So you should definitely buy this product, just make sure to apply near soft furniture, and not near any household pets.
I subtracted one star in memory of Mr. Snuffles. – Archbishop Shaggy
1. Rift in the time-space continuum
The minute I plugged this cable in, I knew something was amiss. The first evidence? The small wormhole that appeared in our living room, right next to our holstein cowhide recliner. Peering into it I could discern the snarling face of a Ferengi, likely somewhere out in the Gamma quadrant.
Then things got really hairy. Brad shouted from the kitchen that he was detecting elevated tachyon levels from our Vita-Mix, so we immediately diverted power to our forward Romco Rotisserie array. Set it and forget it, indeed.
Still no go. The wormhole continued to grow. So I did what anyone in this rather awkward situation would. I recalibrated our George Foreman Grill (about 10 picometers), ejected the warp core from our Dyson Ball Vac, and unplugged all the Magic Jacks in the house. Bingo. No more worm hole.
I guess what I’m saying is that you can use this cable, but only if you have substantial Star Fleet training. – George Takei
2. Great cable, but too fast.
Transmission of music data at rates faster than the speed of light seemed convenient, until I realized I was hearing the music before I actually wanted to play it. Apparently Denon forgot how accustomed most of us are to unidirectional time and the general laws of physics. I tried to get used to this effect but hearing songs play before I even realized I was in the mood for them just really screwed up my preconceptions of choice and free will. I’m still having a major existential hangover. – Matt Sidor
3. Why did it have to be blue?
I knew my day was going to improve when the truck pulled up at my home with this cable deep within. No ordinary truck, this one was Holy White, and the gold Delivery logo sparkled like a thousand suns reflected through shards of the purest ice formed with unadulterated water collected at the beginning of the universe. The driver, clad in a robe colored the softest of white, floated towards me on the cool fog of a hundred fire extinguishers. He smiled benevolently, like a father looking down upon his only child, and handed me a package wrapped in gold beaten thin to the point where you could see through it. I didn’t have to sign, because the driver could see within my heart, and knew that I was pure. Upon opening the package, an angelic choir started to sing, and reached a crescendo as I laid this cable on my stereo system. Instantly, my antiquated equipment transformed into components made from the clearest diamond-semiconductor. The cable knew where to go, and hooked itself into the correct ports without help from me – all the while, the choir sang praises to the almighty digital god. With trepidation, I pushed “play,” and was instantly enveloped in a sound that echoed the creation of all matter, a sound that vibrated every cell in my body to perfection. I was instantly taken to the next plane, where I saw the all-father. I knew with my entire soul, that all was good in the world. – Harmless Gryphon
4. Solved Global Warming Locally
After I took delivery of my $500 Denon AKDL1 Cat-5 uber-cable, Al Gore was mysteriously drawn to my home, where he pronounced that Global Warming had been suspended in my vicinity.
Yes, I had perfect weather: no flooding, no tornadoes, the exact amount of rain necessary, and he pronounced sea levels exactly right and that they were not going to rise within five miles of my house.
Additionally, my cars began achieving 200 mpg and I didn’t even need gasoline. I was able to put three grams of cat litter into the tank and drive forever.
What’s more, the atmosphere inside my home became 93% oxygen and virtually no carbon dioxide. In fact, I now exhale oxygen.
One heck of a cable.
Didn’t notice any improvement in audio quality though.
The $800 Apple iCable is clearly superior. – Daniel A. Koblosh
1. I miss Mr. Prickles
I have no idea about what this thing is suppose to do but it’s a wonderful surrogate for my dead hedgehog. RIP Mr. Prickles – A. Christian-Richardson
2. Wait. Wait. Wait. Acupuncture?
This is an acupuncture device?
I’ve been using it totally wrong.
Even so – five stars! – Everheart
3. Oh, it guards all right.
If placed strategically, it will guard you from HPV, herpes, all other STDs, pregnancy, and sex. It does, however, make sitting down a bit tricky. – Cecilia Sullivan
1. Great, now I have no skeleton
Thanks to this book, I now have no skeleton. Things were so bad, cliche, and derivative, my skeleton burst violently from my skin, grabbed the book, and began beating me with it. Unfortunately for the skeleton, the mere touch of the book causes severe osteoporosis. It fell into dust immediately.
Now, I’m not saying it’s all bad. If you ever happen to find yourself sucked into the TV during a showing of Jason and the Argonauts or Army of Darkness, you might possibly find the book useful to defeat the motion-stop skeletons. However, I would recommend this only as a last resort.
Since I have no skeleton, I have had to learn to type by blowing through a straw, a lot like Stephen Hawking, but less upright. This book is the worst thing to ever happen to me. – John Kastronis III
2. Slightly more painful than a root canal…
I wouldn’t recommend this book to anyone, the paper is not soft and will most certainly make your bottom sore.
If anyone was thinking of using this for anything other than toilet paper, I’d question his or her sanity.
I decided to read the whole thing (you know… as a sort of endurance trial)and it nearly ruined my life. I read a short passage aloud, and it was so horrible that my wife left me. Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, I read another passage aloud and she came back! Thanks a lot!
This book may do well in a severe head trauma treatment center. I know that I wanted to jam a screwdriver into my brain while reading it.
Avoid like the plague. Actually, if your choice is between the plague and this book, then give the plague a shot. – Irv Schnizzlewhit
1. Great product, but concerned about the price
A nickel for $4.55 seems a bit excessive, don’t you think? Pretty sure I can get this for something like 9100% less elsewhere.
But I want to emphasize that this is a great product. I own several nickels myself, and find that they constantly come in handy. – Joshua D. Nathan
2. 2003 Was Obviously A Bad Year
Wow. First off…wow. I had just recently purchased a Badonkadonk, and wanted to buy a Brand new nickel for its coin activated slot…Amazon, you disappoint me.
The minute I got it, I noticed that this was actually a COUNTERFEIT 2003 nickel! It was actually from 2002, but the ending “2” had simply been scratched off with pen and the “3” had been drawn on with permanent marker!
That wasn’t even the worst part. How many things could go wrong with one nickel? Well, it turns out that this Nickel had been being used by criminals throughout the world, and that when I went to use it, a “Red Flag” went out to the CIA, and I was immediately arrested and put into jail for a week.
That STILL isn’t the bad part. When I got out of jail, the nickel began to DETERIORATE in my hands! I had never been so annoyed in my life.
After paying $5.00 shipping (Plus $12 more for Overnight Express), and $14.32 for the actual nickel (I believe there has been a price drop now), I would have expected more…but I guess not all things are as good as what they say to be.
I WOULD highly recommend the “2002 Penny”, as it IS what they say it to be. This so-called “Nickel” doesn’t even deserve a place in the US currency. – Hobbes Tiger
1. A Cure for Lonliness
Alone in my dark apartment, having worn my 3 Wolf Moon T-Shirt as well for countless weeks, found this book to be my bible. I sit at my dining room table, playing World of Warcraft night after night, sobbing silently for want of notice by another human being. Pizza boxes piling up, chinese food leftovers filling my fridge, I was beginning to run out of options. I recently lost my job as a Custodial Consultant for sniffing the ammonia in the utility closet. My funding for my gourmet meals from such world renowned chefs as Boyardi and Uncle Ben had begun running low. Stumbling in a drunken daze through the local bookstore, my elbow carelessly knocked a book onto the floor as I turned a corner. As I peered down, I saw the title, “Microwave Cooking for One.”
Curiously, I picked it up and decided to have a a quick read. As I began flipping through the pages, I began to see that this was no ordinary cookbook. No my friends, this was a book passed down from the Gods themselves, displaying the infinite beauty of their messenger Marie T Smith on the cover. I knew at that moment, that this book would change my life. I purchased it with the last few dollars to my name and brought it home. Because of this book, I now eat like a King. Filet Mignon? Chicken Alfredo? Caviar? Its all in there. Not only do you never need to buy another cookbook, there will never be a book so beautifully written ever again. From that point, I ahve divided my life into two different categories, life before Microwave Cooking for One and life after, much like the Old and New Testament.
From this book I have made more friends than I can count, gained 30 pounds of rock hard muscle, and have a new job as VP of a major financial holdings company. This book worked for me, and I am sure it will work for you. – Kyle Kruczek
2. A good book, but with one major flaw
I have to admit that I used to be one of those people who spent every night alone, and if I was hungry I maybe threw something in the microwave (like ramen) in between episodes of Seinfeld and that was my dinner. A friend of mine was starting to get worried about my behavior so she set me up with one of her friends and after this didn’t work out so well she purchased this book for me. She said she’ll keep asking some of her other single friends if they’re interested in going on a blind date with me but until then I can at least eat well.
And boy have I been!
Now I do own a stovetop but it broke and to date remains unfixable so up until now I was completely unable to cook anything that tastes good. With the help of this book I can make roast, and really anything I want in under half an hour. My cooking abilities have really skyrocketed and so has my positive outlook on life.
After just a few weeks of using this I became so much more enjoyable to be around that a cute girl at the supermarket noticed me and started up a conversation and well long story short I told her that I know how to cook and invited her over for dinner tonight!
That was an hour ago, she’ll be over here in another three and I just realize that I made a terrible mistake.
I only know how to cook for one… – Abreo
The Bible Cure for Irritable Bowel Syndrome: Ancient Truths, Natural Remedies and the Latest Findings for Your Health Today (New Bible Cure (Siloam)
For many years I suffered the agonizing pain that accompanies IBS. Little did I know that the answers to all my problems could be found within the “Good Book” that had been on my bookshelf since I was a child. Although I had read the Bible from cover to cover, it wasn’t until I picked up Dr. Colbert’s miriculous journal that I realized Jesus wasn’t too busy healing cripples and raising from the dead to concern himself with curing explosive diarrhea as well. Taken directly from the pages of the four gospels, as well as the newly discovered Gospel According to Bucky, this book is a must have for anyone who has ever crapped their pants before making it to the John. – Slappy Da Frog
2. Does not work!!!11!11!!
The claims in this book are false. If you grind up a Bible and consume it in pill form, it will NOT cure your IBS. Maybe I was confused because I only read the title and not the actual book, but my results have been just terrible. I have spent over $300 on KJV Bibles, condemned myself to eternal hellfire for blasphemy, and I STILL have irritable bowels.
When I get some more money, I intend to try it again with New International Version Bibles, because I hope this will be more effective. – Mariah Sweet
3. Amazing insight! Finally my bowels and soul are healed!
Dr. Colbert has done an amazing job writing this book which promises to change the lives of thousands of suffering people. Just like Job suffered (My bowels boiled, and rested not: Job 30:26-27), many of us are afflicted with IBS. For some time now I have been working with doctors and keeping up with the latest scientific research in order to find a cure, or at least some reduction in symptoms. As it turns out, all I had to do was pray! Dr. Colbert recommends passages of scripture that will heal my intestinal distress!
Sure, OK, I guess if you follow this line of reasoning, you end up understanding that God gave me IBS in the first place. And sure, it seems like all of the explosive diarrhea, painful and loud gas passing during church services, and the spray painting of all the gas station toilets along my route home is a pretty cruel way of getting me to pray and believe in Him. But isn’t it logical that if God is the one who caused me to empty my rectum every 10 minutes, He would be the only one who could stop the brown flood of death? Sure it does. Now, please excuse me while I pray to the porcelain god… – John De Pablos
1. Just don’t. Unless it’s a gift for someone you hate.
Oh man…words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear “Cleanse”. If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!
First of all, for taste I would rate these a 5. So good. Soft, true-to-taste fruit flavors like the sugar variety…I was a happy camper.
BUT (or should I say BUTT), not long after eating about 20 of these all hell broke loose. I had a gastrointestinal experience like nothing I’ve ever imagined. Cramps, sweating, bloating beyond my worst nightmare. I’ve had food poisoning from some bad shellfish and that was almost like a skip in the park compared to what was going on inside me.
Then came the, uh, flatulence. Heavens to Murgatroyd, the sounds, like trumpets calling the demons back to Hell…the stench, like 1,000 rotten corpses vomited. I couldn’t stand to stay in one room for fear of succumbing to my own odors.
But wait; there’s more. What came out of me felt like someone tried to funnel Niagara Falls through a coffee straw. I swear my sphincters were screaming. It felt like my delicate starfish was a gaping maw projectile vomiting a torrential flood of toxic waste. 100% liquid. Flammable liquid. NAPALM. It was actually a bit humorous (for a nanosecond)as it was just beyond anything I could imagine possible.
AND IT WENT ON FOR HOURS.
I felt violated when it was over, which I think might have been sometime in the early morning of the next day. There was stuff coming out of me that I ate at my wedding in 2005.
I had FIVE POUNDS of these innocent-looking delicious-tasting HELLBEARS so I told a friend about what happened to me, thinking it HAD to be some type of sensitivity I had to the sugar substitute, and in spite of my warnings and graphic descriptions, she decided to take her chances and take them off my hands.
Silly woman. All of the same for her, and a phone call from her while on the toilet (because you kinda end up living in the bathroom for a spell) telling me she really wished she would have listened. I think she was crying.
Her sister was skeptical and suspected that we were exaggerating. She took them to work, since there was still 99% of a 5 pound bag left. She works for a construction company, where there are builders, roofers, house painters, landscapers, etc. Lots of people who generally have limited access to toilets on a given day. I can’t imagine where all of those poor men (and women) pooped that day. I keep envisioning men on roofs, crossing their legs and trying to decide if they can make it down the ladder, or if they should just jump.
If you order these, best of luck to you. And please, don’t post a video review during the aftershocks.
PS: When I ordered these, the warnings and disclaimers and legalese were NOT posted. I’m not a moron. Also, not sure why so many people assume I’m a man. I am a woman. We poop too. Of course, our poop sparkles and smells like a walk in a meadow of wildflowers. Thanks for all the great comments. I’ve been enjoying reading them and so glad that the horror show I experienced from snacking on these has at least made some people smile. – Christine E. Torok
2. Westboro Baptist Church After Dinner Fondants
I bought one order for the Westboro Baptist Church as a donation because we all know how much God hates irregularity. – TrueBrit
3. This ruined my life
As a paramedic it is often difficult to not only eat at work, but to eat relatively healthy. I developed a sweet tooth one day and if theres one thing I love, its gummy snacks.
“Oh look! Sugar free gummy bears! I haven’t had gummy bears since I was in middle school!” I exclaimed to my partner. And the fact that they were sugar free practically made them healthy, right?
I downed quite a few of them on the way to the next call and had finished the bag by the early August afternoon.
In the oppressive southern heat, we were dispatched to an unconscious person. As we traversed the city streets I began to get cold chills and cramps despite the triple digit temperatures. My abdomen was obviously bloated and the noises…oh god, the noises.
We arrived on scene and quickly loaded the critical patient into the ambulance. I grabbed a firefighter to ride with me in case the patient crashed before we got to the emergency room. In the back, the pressure was building against my dirty rosebud. I had to release something and thought that if I could just let some air out, I might not have to change my pants.
I leaned to the side, putting pressure on one cheek to try to sneak it out without being noticed. I was able to get it off without soiling myself, but the smell…oh my gawd.
The fireman wrinkled his nose as I wiped the sweat from my face.
“Does she have a GI bleed? A necrotic bowel?” he asked.
As soon as we hit the ER doors I was off like a Kenyan on methamphetamine for the bathroom. I tried to use a hallway bathroom, but it was occupied. My only other option was the bathroom right outside the nurses station. I mean, it was RIGHT outside the nurses station. The door was a mere five feet from their desks. All those pretty, young, nurses. With no other option, I ran back, trying to keep my cheeks clinched. Little staccato bursts of sulfuric farts punctuated each yard as I raced for the finish line hoping that I could keep my chocolate starfish clenched tight enough to stem the tide.
I ripped the door open and somehow managed to drop my pants without undoing my belt. What erupted sounded like a steamroller driving through a bubble wrap factory. I knew it was audible from the nurses station and I had nearly knocked a pretty blonde out of her chair during my mad dash. As the sense of relief from the pressure washed over me, so did the smell. It smelled like someone took a bag of dirty diapers, filled it with rotting body parts, and let it sit in the sun for two weeks.
I sat there, petrified, but also doubled over with the sort of cramps that make one pray for death.
“Tonya? What is that SMELL?!” came a voice from outside the door. I knew there was no escaping with my dignity intact. I sent a text to my partner from the bathroom telling her I was sick and to let me know when she was ready to leave. When she replied I dashed from the bathroom back to the ambulance.
“I gotta go home. I’m sick.” I told her. We started back for the station and were a few miles away when we witnessed a car wreck. The kind of car wreck where you KNOW someone is injured and its hard to sneak past it when you’re in an enormous truck that says, “AMBULANCE”.
We had more units responding and if I could just keep from sharting I’d be ok. I stepped out of the truck cramping and sweaty and knew I was in over my head. My partner walked to one car and I climbed into the back of the ambulance. I looked around, desperate for relief. I spotted the biohazard trashcan. Hmm…
I locked the doors and squatted over the can. It was small and I knew I couldn’t put my weight on it without breaking it. Fleetingly I considered the wisdom of this decision but by then the floodgates on my rusty sheriffs badge had opened and I sprayed pure fecal evil into the can.
Now let me say that ambulances and all the parts and equipment on them, are built by the lowest bidder…this includes the locks on the doors. Attempting to retrieve a piece of equipment, my partner tried the door. Thinking the lock was just stuck she pulled on the handle hard. The mechanism broke and we locked eyes as I unleashed another volley of pure, concentrated gummy death that sounded like two events happening at once: the sound of wet denim ripping, and like trying to burp with a mouthful of pudding. Luckily she did not see my sausage and man berries as I was cupping them in one hand to keep them from being sprayed with poo mist.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sick…SHUT THE DOOR!” I screamed. The door slammed and I managed to find an extra sheet which I cut up and wiped with. Now the next question: what was I supposed to do about the red plastic trashcan full of steaming excrement that had the consistency of watered down pancake batter? I triple bagged it and placed it outside in a spare compartment.
We blissfully made it back and I was able to make it home, stopping only twice more to defile public restrooms. My partner never worked with me again and the nurses at the ER still haven’t forgiven me for their bathroom.
Thanks, Haribo. – GummyPoo