Dumbass Product: Virtual Gold

Figure 1

So, as you all know, this blog exploits human stupidity for the sake of a good laugh – after all, it makes us feel better about ourselves – it reassures us that no matter how dumb our lives seem to be, there’s always someone dumber. One of the things I’ve tried so many times to emphasize is that most humans are so braindead, brainwashed, and desperate that they will pay hard-earned cash for ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING – NO MATTER HOW OUTLANDISH. Tonight, I think I can prove this theory once and for all.

The answer lies in Virtual Gold.

That’s right – over 5 million people in This Toilet Earth participate in an online VIDEO GAME (pretend) called The World of Warcraft. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this Cesspool of Mind-Numbing Atrophy, the game plays like the most recent Zelda video games, except instead of interacting with automated game characters, you interact with real people who play from all over the world.

The game allows you to choose a character. Players can assume the roles of warriors, wizards, elves, ogres, farmers, etc. – all of which interact with other players in a virtual (pretend) world. In other words, this game gives fat, rejected sociotards (see Figure 1) the chance to do what they’ve always wanted to do: become snaggle-toothed ogres who spend their days stomping on Willow-esque villages and swinging around big axes.

Now, that’s fine – it’s a game, it’s entertainment, it’s probably better than TV – people can waste their time/lives however they so choose. However, I must say that players simply cross the line into the Realm of Total Idiocy when they take out their REAL CREDIT CARDS and pay REAL MONEY for VIRTUAL (non-existent!) GOLD . . . simply unbelievable.

Here’s the really unbelievable part: at one point in the game’s recent history virtual gold was actually worth MORE than the Japanese Yen, the Indian rupee, and the Russian ruble. In fact, a single piece of virtual gold from the World of Warcraft actually reached the value of a peso (65 cents to the dollar).

Now the price of Virtual Gold has dropped dramatically – mainly because GENIUS CHINESE BUSINESSMEN have hired legions of poorly-paid semi-communist drones to earn World of Warcraft Gold with the sole intention of reselling it to American dumbasses.

Genius Chinese Businessman: Laughing All the Way to the Bank

After doing some hunting, I found 1000 Virtual Gold pieces for as low as $34.99 and as high as $87.99. Once purchased, World of Warcraft players can use the gold to “purchase” non-existent goods (potions, clothes, food, more axes) on their Wizard Game.

AMAZING! Again, I am in awe of human stupidity. Just when I thought the Sleep Center was the best way to package and promote nothing – BAM! – I get smacked in the face with the VIRTUAL GOLD CONCEPT.

Virtual worlds and virtual goods have become so important to gamers that a Chinese man was sentenced to life imprisonment for literally stabbing and murdering a friend for stealing a virtual “dragon saber” from his online character. Don’t believe me? Check out this MSNBC article. (Because everything on the internet must be true!)

People are totally insane and the developers of World of Warcraft are the genius exploiters of our time. They’ve created a world that gives power to the powerless. They’ve allowed the lame to walk. And, in turn, they have taken yet another step in totally detaching humans from any sort of satisfying reality.

But, they made a lot a money, so really . . . what the hell?

Wal-Mart Sales Sag; Investors Baffled

So, big surprise – Wal-Mart sales have FINALLY started to sag and NO ONE KNOWS WHY. Well, as the Official Bearer of True News, I would like to give the wise Wal-Mart investors some practical advice to help boost their sagging sales.

There’s ABSOLUTELY NO POINT in installing 43 cash registers when you only intend on using one at a time. Open more so I can leave your store as quickly as possible.

Don’t put Down’s Syndrome “people” behind the register until they can successfully differentiate between nickels and quarters.

Lose the 400-pound weight requirement for employees and enforce literacy instead.

Don’t leave 1500-pound skids of ground beef sitting around in front of customers – it’s just not appetizing.

Admit that plaid is not a color and sell SOMETHING SOLID – not everyone is a semi-overweight Halo 2 master.

Placing a McDonald’s in a Wal-Mart is about as appetizing as garnishing Vomit with a Turd. Lose it.

Stock CDs that do not contain the words “Garth” and/or “Brooks.”

If you’re going to sell everything, really sell EVERYTHING. I should be able to buy chitlins, motor oil, a desk, a family portrait, a gun, shoes, soap, a copy of Mr. Bean: The Movie on VHS AND have a gall bladder surgically removed – all in one shopping experience. So, in other words, open a Wal-Bladder Express Lane.

Quit stalling. Merge with Google. Take over the world.

A Special Guide to a Memorable Valentine’s Day

Planning just the right Valentine’s Day Date is hard these days. It’s all been done before. Women are just sick of red roses, chocolates, and Italian restaurants. By following these simple steps, you can give her a Valentine’s Day memory she’ll never forget. She’ll even tell her friends all about it! Here’s what to do:

Be at least 28 minutes late picking up your date.

On the way to the restaurant, stop at Walgreens (leaving her in the car to listen to your blazing Pantera CD) to buy her a box of Junior Mints.

Have trouble finding a parking place at Applebee’s.

Because you didn’t make reservations in advance, wait next to the Wooden Indian in the Applebee’s lobby with a bunch of middle-aged couples for 20 minutes.

Insist that your date order water because you don’t get paid until Friday. As for yourself, enjoy a glass of wine.

Only talk about how much you miss Dimebag Darrell.

Conveniently “lose your wallet” when the ticket arrives – let her pay your way.

Find your wallet in the car and take her to see Big Momma’s House 2.

When Big Momma’s House 2 is sold out, go see Underworld: Evolution instead.

Take her back to your apartment with your creepy roommate.

Start drinking heavily and begin screaming about time travel.

Make shameless advances.

When she rejects your advances, punch her in the neck.

Continue ranting about the correlation between space and time travel.

Finally, tell her to leave because she has offended you. Take back your Junior Mints and ask her out again next week. Just follow these simple steps and you will give her a Valentine’s Day memory that she’ll never forget! Also remember to keep your date safe this Valentine’s Day and don’t drink and drive!

BONO and THE EDGE: The Gunpoint Interview

After U2’s five big wins at the 48^th Annual Grammy Awards (a meaningless ceremony created to rake in massive amounts of advertising dollars, promote soulless over-produced records, shape public opinion, and bloat the egos of cocky-shithead rock-n-rollers), Yin-Yang Mossimo Hacky-Sack held BONO and THE EDGE at gunpoint in an alley after the show to get some real answers.

YIN-YANG MOSSIMO HACKY-SACK: So, are you happy now, you shallow fuck?

BONO: Please, lower your gun a bit.

YYMHS: No.

BONO: Okay – just don’t shoot us.

YYMHS: How about you, are you happy now, you overrated one-trick pony?

THE EDGE: Is this a celebrity prank show?

YYMHS: Listen, The Edge, just because Bono’s a celebrity doesn’t mean you are.

THE EDGE: Hey, I’m a celebrity.

YYMHS: Oh yeah, then take off your beanie.

THE EDGE: Why?

YYMHS: You’re bald and insecure, aren’t you?

THE EDGE: . . . let us go.

BONO: Yeah, this isn’t cool

YYMHS: Fine, I’ll let you go, under one condition.

BONO: Okay, what?

YYMHS: I’m going to ask you some questions . . . if you don’t answer them honestly, then I will shoot you both in the groin and send out anonymous press releases claiming that you both have no testicles, then your record sales will drop . . . okay?

BONO: Okay.

YYMHS: The Edge?

THE EDGE: Okay, fine.

YYMHS: Okay, Bono . . . do any of your songs mean anything at all or do you just fill them with “good-Samaritan” references to make yourself more popular?

BONO: . . . look this is stupid.

YYMHS: Answer the fucking question!

BONO: Fine, okay – none of the songs really mean anything at all.

YYMHS: And why don’t they mean anything?

BONO: (sigh) I just don’t know what to write about anymore, okay?

YYMHS: Shut up! In the song “Vertigo,” you claim that “I’m at a place called Vertigo.” Where is that place exactly? What the hell are you talking about in that song?

BONO: There is no such place.

YYMHS: Is it a metaphor? Are you dizzy a lot?

BONO: No . . . you see . . . I’ve always liked the word “vertigo” . . . and . . . it conveniently rhymes with “hello, hello,” which is the first line of the chorus.

YYMHS: I see . . . so the song is meaningless?

BONO: Yes.

YYMHS: What do you think, The Edge?

THE EDGE: Look, man, I just play the guitar, okay?

YYMHS: But do you, really? Most of the time you just hit a couple of high notes over and over and over and over.

THE EDGE: Right . . . that’s my gimmick.

YYMHS: Why?

THE EDGE: Well, it makes it seem like there’s a lot going on, when really it’s exactly the opposite.

YYMHS: So, Bono . . . are you a Christian?

BONO: . . . that’s personal.

YYMHS: I have a gun.

BONO: No . . . I’m not.

YYMHS: What? I thought you were. I was about to lecture you about how God is only a human fabrication that helps the gullible cope with the trauma of existence. Then, I was going to shoot you and ask, “Where is your God now?”

BONO: No, you don’t have to do that.

YYMHS: If you’re no Christian, then why do you claim to be?

BONO: . . . well . . . this is so hard . . .

YYMHS: Say it.

BONO: . . . it sells records, okay.

YYMHS: What?

THE EDGE: You see, by claiming we’re Christian while simultaneously producing secular music, we’ve created a mass appeal amongst suburban teenagers.

YYMHS: Really?

BONO: Yeah, it’s like we’re nice, but still a little rebellious.

YYMHS: So, it’s a marketing scheme?

BONO: Yes. In fact, Creed stole that scheme from us . . . and look how well it worked for them.

YYMHS: Very true, a lot of idiots bought a lot of records . . . okay, I think that’s it.

BONO: Great.

THE EDGE: Great.

YYMHS: Oh, one more thing.

BONO: Yeah?

YYMHS: Piss yourself.

BONO: What?

YYMHS: Piss yourself.

THE EDGE: Both of us?

YYMHS: No . . . just Bono.

BONO: Oh, come on!

YYMHS: Either piss your pants or let me shoot you.

BONO: Okay, okay . . . (pause) . . .

YYMHS: There you go, good job.

BONO: Will you let us go now?

YYMHS: Just one more thing.

BONO: What?

YYMHS: The Edge, would you please place those 5 Grammy’s on the ground?

THE EDGE: (does so) Okay.

YYMHS: Now . . . piss on them.

THE EDGE: Oh, come on, man – they’re our Grammies.

YYMHS: Do it or I’m killing one of you.

THE EDGE: Which one of us?

BONO: Would you shut the fuck up and piss on the Grammies?!

THE EDGE: Fine, fine . . . I can’t believe this shit . . . (pause)

YYMHS: Now, both of you say, “I’m a total fraud who deserves no accolade of any kind.”

BONO AND THE EDGE: I am a total fraud who deserves no accolade of any kind.

YYMHS: “I am a no-talent douchebag.”

BONO AND THE EDGE: I am a no-talent douchebag.

YYMHS: “And I will dismantle my contract with Apple because it’s getting obnoxious.”

BONO AND THE EDGE: And I will dismantle my contract with Apple because it’s getting obnoxious.

YYMHS: “The Grammy Awards mean nothing and I have nothing to be proud of and I am nothing.”

BONO AND THE EDGE: The Grammy Awards mean nothing and I have nothing to be proud of and I am nothing.

YYMHS: Okay, guys . . . thank you very much for your time.

BONO: You’re going to fry for this.

YYMHS: Yeah, I bet. Thanks guys!

THE EDGE: I can’t believe I peed on our Grammies.

BONO: Don’t worry, The Edge, we’ll wash them off at the restaurant before we give a cocky-ass interveiw that constantly alludes to how we beat-out Paul McCartney for best album. Yeah! I’m in a place called Vertigo!