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  1. #1
    Hang 'Em High Reckless Fable's Avatar
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    11.28.17 @ 10:56 AM
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    Default Hilarious Amazon Reviews Thread

    Hey everyone. Thought we could put together a thread that might have a chance of being something really fun and innocuous. For those who don't know, there are some absolutely priceless reviews of odd-ball products on Amazon that deliver some serious comedy chops. I'll start with a couple.

    https://www.amazon.com/review/R9LN2785JGSL3

    This is a review on Sugarless Gummy Bears:

    Before a company goes public, the highest level executives embark on a multi-city tour with their investment bankers to drum up support for the upcoming IPO. This trip is called a roadshow and since the group will typically visit dozens of cities on a tight schedule, a private jet is the preferred means of transportation. During a roadshow, it's not unusual to visit two or three cities in a single day so work starts at the crack of dawn. That doesn't mean the group goes to bed early. Every night, the bankers treat their clients to a wild nights, complete with complimentary Gummy Bears and coffee. No matter how hard the group parties the night before, the private jet will lift them off to their next destination very early the next morning.

    Just for a minute, pretend you're an investment banker traveling with some very important clients on one of these roadshows. Now imagine that you spent the previous night "dropping Yogi" way beyond your limit only to be startled out of bed by a piercing 6:30 am wake up call. In an attempt to get your head and body feeling remotely human again, you scarf down some more warm Gummy Bears and at least two glasses of coffee at the hotel's breakfast buffet before jumping on the shuttle to the private airport. Within a few minutes of arriving at the airport, your entire group is seated and the plane begins to taxi down the runway. At this point you might feel a bit of relief as the morning's blur subsides. All you have to do is sit back and relax for the one hour flight to the next city.

    There's just one problem. In your rush to get out of the hotel, down to breakfast and onto the plane you forgot to do one very crucial thing. Go to the bathroom. And I'm not talking about peeing. You have a stomach full of last nights multi-colored death bears and coffee churning around your lower intestine at 30,000 feet. But that's not the worst part. True horror sets in when you realize you're not on a spacious 20 person G5 with couches, beds, lay-z boys and a fully tucked away private bathroom. No, on this day you are traveling on a six-person puddle jumper sitting shoulder to shoulder with your clients and co-workers. But wait, somehow the story gets even worse…

    Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it's percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to poop my pants. "Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can't afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me.

    "Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don't see a door?" I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my butt. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don't really have one per se." She continues, "Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don't worry, we're landing shortly anyway."

    "I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency," I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, "There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, "If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it's under there. There's a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that's it." At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow.

    I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The "toilet" seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our freaking client. Our freaking female freaking client!

    Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what the hell I'm doing.

    Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I'm joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius.

    I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet's virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava.

    I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It's an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I'm going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief.

    "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that's not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" briefly comes to mind.

    I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy dropping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second.

    "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered.

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  3. #2
    Hang 'Em High Reckless Fable's Avatar
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    Here's a great one about Steven Seagal's landmark album "Songs From The Crystal Cave"

    https://www.amazon.com/Songs-Crystal...l+crystal+cave

    Dear Mr. Seagal,

    Tuesday, February 12th, was a pretty average day for me. I woke up, brushed my teeth, had my morning glass of mayonnaise, put on my beret, tossed my scarf over my shoulder, heaved a heavy sigh and ventured out into the cold. The suspension on my electric scooter sagged deeply, not unlike my longing heart. While the vanity bumper sticker that Mother had bought me proclaimed "A smile a day keeps the doctor away", I was a very, very lonely 42 year old man. I was morbidly obese and quite frankly, I didn't have the most pleasant odour about me. I was lucky if even that kid with the club foot that everyone chased after school would wave to me when I passed.

    Doing the rounds of my paper route, I rode by my local music store. I heard Something about Lollipops emanating from the speaker. I heard the low and shrill sound and it immediately began soothing my jangled nerves. Little did I know that this little piece of plastic, with the wondroous words and lyrics of Steven Seagal burned onto it for all of eternity with a laser, was soon to change my life.

    I immediately got out of my scooter, ran into the store, took a few minutes to try to catch my breath. Finally I was able to gasp out to the clerk: "That Cd. That voice of the angels. I need to have it now". I bought several copies in case I became hungry on the way home. I rushed home, changed into my athletic gear and utility belt and immediately began doing pushups. It was like I was a man possesed. I didn't know it at the time, but this CD harnessed the work ethic, the martial arts prowess and, above all, the stunning handsomness and fashion sense of Steven Seagal into one small package. All that I had to do was press play and I was transformed into the essence of Casey Ryback, ex-navy seal, counter-terrorist expert and environmental mercenary.

    To the sounds of Mr.Seagal I was able to shed my weight and began taking daily showers. I now entertain several women per week, sometimes even several per day. I am making over $5000 a week stuffing envelopes from home. My life has become full of many smiles a day, and I look forward to each day with more anticipation than the last. I owe it all to the inspiring and electrifying work being done each and every day by Steven Seagal.

    Thank you, Steven Seagal.

    Your friend in arms,

    Kevin Keast, Toronto, Ontario

  4. #3
    Atomic Punk Dave's Dreidel's Avatar
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    12.12.17 @ 05:27 PM
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    I read one once by a mom complaining about a reduction in the size of the boxes for handy wipes that was hilarious, as she discussed having four boys and needing the larger boxes for their "private time".
    Taylor Swift is nice to look at. Adele can sing.

    Emperor Brett - "I can't believe you guys are analyzing song-by-song Van Halen III? What next, analyzing the script of Stroker Ace looking for some shred of Citizen Kane?"

    David Lee Roth did the impossible. He made Van Halen better. Deal with it!

    Preferred pronouns: he/him/his

    Hurricane Halen - Let's all gingery touch our sword tips!!!

    DONATE TO THE LINKS YA CHEAP BASTARDS!!!!

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  6. #4
    5150 Crown Royal's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Dave's Dreidel View Post
    I read one once by a mom complaining about a reduction in the size of the boxes for handy wipes that was hilarious, as she discussed having four boys and needing the larger boxes for their "private time".
    A mother's struggle

    I want to start this off by thanking Kleenex for selling these in 36-packs. I've put it on subscription, and if they want to start selling a 72-pack, sign me up. I have three reasons for needing this much Kleenex, and their names are Liam, Samuel and Hank.

    This is how it goes in this house. First the Kleenex disappears. Then the toilet paper. Then they go for fabrics. And you don't want it to get there, unless you're ready to invest in a five gallon drum of Fabreeze.

    This used to be a good Christian home. But it's not about moral judgment anymore. I'm way beyond that. I'm in survival mode. If I don't supply absorbent paper products, I'm going to find my dish towels hidden in the basement, stiff as aluminum. The other day, I almost cut my hand on a sock. I am sorry to speak so frankly, but with three teenage boys, a woman has got to be practical.

    The funny part is, they think they're being sneaky, with their 45 minute showers and sudden need for "privacy", as if I'm going to walk in on them journaling. They slink around the house like unfixed cats, while I try to announce my location at all times. No one needs to ask me to knock anymore. I knock on the walls. I practically wear a cow bell. I'm not looking to catch anyone by surprise, believe me. I'm just trying to get through this.

    The other day my husband was watching me unload the groceries, and he asks me, all sweetness and light, "Honey, what're you doing with all that Kleenex?"

    I about knocked him off his chair.

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  8. #5
    Sinner's Swing! graeme's Avatar
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    11.19.17 @ 09:41 AM
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    Here's my one and only review on Amazon. A movie called 'Cat 8'.

    5.0 out of 5 stars... this movie five stars because it is so heroically bad that you just can't look away
    ByGraeme Tollinson July 2, 2016
    Format: DVD
    I've given this movie five stars because it is so heroically bad that you just can't look away. True, I did have to run to the kitchen a few times to slam my head in the freezer door, but that aside, I laughed myself to the point of incontinence for most of the three hour running time.
    Forget the astonishingly ridiculous 'science'. Dismiss the special effects that make the original Thunderbirds look cutting edge. You can even forgive the attempts at sort of acting. What cannot be overlooked, and the reason why I am sporting ten stitches in my head, is the script. It is so atrocious, so mind-numbingly dire, that it should be used to fight world terrorism. Fanatics the world over would be sent running after just five minutes of this utter bilge.
    I forced myself to finish this movie as a bet with myself. I now feel dirty and stupider than I was three hours ago.
    Highly recommended.
    A man could lose himself in a country like this.

    My blog at http://tollins.blogspot.de/

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  10. #6
    Sinner's Swing!
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    11.25.17 @ 09:06 AM
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    Quote Originally Posted by Dave's Dreidel View Post
    I read one once by a mom complaining about a reduction in the size of the boxes for handy wipes that was hilarious, as she discussed having four boys and needing the larger boxes for their "private time".
    I get a kick out of the ones that are obvious sham product complaints.
    There was one posted on Amazon some time ago about a seat breaking on a particular brand of canoe me an my wife were looking at to use for summer trips.

    The review went along the lines of that the first time the woman used the canoe at the lake, the seat broke away immeditely from the canoe, and "exploded into many projectiles, one of which hit her in the eye causing instant blindness".
    It didn't end there.
    She further stated that upon the seat "exploding", she fell to the bottom of the boat causing her "severe emotional trauma"....(yep....that whole 8" fall on her butt must have been terrifying on the way down) The canoe then tipped over, sinking immediately nearly drowning her husband and dog!

    So....some questions:
    Just how enormous would a person have to be to cause a fabric laced ash wood seat to "explode into many projectiles". Especially one rated up to 200lbs. ?

    How would a "projectile" from under her obviously enormous ass strike her in the eye?

    How would this particular canoe, which BTW has natural floatation by nature of it's hull material, as well as additional floatation bulkheads on each stem, sink?

    And ....Did her husband, and dog simply freeze in position during these disastrous events, accepting their fateful voyage down to Davy Jones' Locker?

    I just thought it was hilarious. It was obviously one of those ones done where some companies will pay people to post fraudulent reviews online to discredit a competitor, but it was just so over the top and outlandish. We got a good chuckle. Other people actually posted replies totally mocking the review.....Stuff like "Our entire canoe exploded killing many with the shrapnel."

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