You can find pretty much anything on Amazon. Have you been searching high and low for a ? Sure you have! How about a ? No, not polenta — placenta. If so, just head on over to Amazon and download it for your Kindle Oasis! The online marketplace is full of amazing items you never knew you needed until now. Still, buying stuff online can be risky — after all, it’s difficult to trust strangers on the internet. That’s why Amazon allows customers to review items on the website, giving prospective buyers a way to learn about the item they’re purchasing. Unsurprisingly, the funniest Amazon reviews often get pretty ridiculous.
For years, the reviews section has been a place to post honest feedback, product photos, and hilarious reviews. In fact, so often were users posting parodical accounts of their experiences with products that Amazon decided to go ahead and create an entire page dedicated to humorous reviews. We loved the idea, so we scoured the depths of Amazon to bring you the reviews below. If you like these, we’ve also got some similar stuff you can check out:
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Note: These reviews have been copied verbatim, without edits to content. There may be typos or grammatical inaccuracies, as well as offensive content. Read at your own risk.
Apparently, Amazon reviewer Adam lives in a dangerous neighborhood. We’re not sure how much truth there is to his story, but it’s a glowing recommendation for the headset nonetheless.
“So, not so funny story: Someone in the apartment unit above us got STABBED. According to the cop who interviewed us, the attacker rang the upstairs doorbell, and when the guy answered the attacker forced his way in and stabbed the guy. You want to know what scary part is? I didn’t hear a thing, thanks to my amazing HyperX Cloud 2 headphones. I got them on Amazon for $99.99 (free shipping). These things work as advertised! Probably the best noise cancelling headphones I’ve ever owned. 10/10 would buy again.”
Ostensibly, the Guardian Angel is some sort of acupuncture device designed to relieve pain via pressure points in your hands. It’s definitely got a creepy, ominous look about it, though, which reviewer A Trustworthy Human picked up on, and ran with.
“It’s in here somewhere. With me.
Woke up this morning to find that my Guardian Angel had shattered. The inside was slimy and green. Moments later, heard a skittering sound behind some furniture. Found that during the night, phone lines had been cut, and all the doors and windows are shut with some kind of Super Glue like substance. My cell phone has been smashed. I can’t get out. It didn’t cut the cable internet, so I’ve got online to warn you, don’t buy the guarslkdj;al b bbbbbbbbbbbbbb,,,,,,,,,,,wke;lj
feeling better now. Everything is fine. I will be sending a Guardian Angel to all of it’s friends, family, neighbors, and associates. All humans must get one. Five stars. The most relaxing experience ever. I will never have another worry ever again after buying this product, and you will feel total fulfillment in service of a force infinitely greater than yourself. Buy it. You will never know pain after you feel the slight pinching at the back of your skull.”
As you might expect, the page for this comically large drum of lubricant is peppered with jokes. After all, who would actually buy this? In any case, Jerome Albertson’s review takes the cake here. It’s … just read it.
“I knew getting back in the ‘dating game’ would be a challenge after being out of it for over 5 years. When I was released from Joliet, I had to learn all the new things ‘the dating crowd’ was trying. I knew about scented candles and Luther Vandross CDs, and sure was glad to hear people still use them. But I had no idea that ‘lube’ was so popular with the ‘romantics’ out there. All it took was one stroll through the Walgreens personal hygiene aisle to prove I had to learn a new thing.
‘Where to start?,’ I wondered. I wanted something simple. However, all I saw in the stores were lubricants that were flavored with cinnamon and paprika, or designed to somehow ‘heat’ your private parts. No way, Jose! (I experienced the ‘heat’ thing personally once after an adventurous incident with a toaster. I’ll stick with ‘room temperature’ from now on, thank you very much.)
Luckily, I found a plain, old-fashioned lubricant that would not make me smell like a dessert topping. And it came in this HUGE tub! No more awkward late-night Walgreens runs for me, once I could get my hands on this lubricant bin. Now, I admit the price tag was kinda hefty. But after selling the ol’ Pontiac Sunfire and borrowing some cash from Aunt Gladys, I was ‘ready to place my order.’
The product only took a week to arrive, and got to my apartment just in time for my first real ‘date’ since the gas station incident. You can bet I was nervous for this one. When I got off the bus to meet Carla in front of the Chili’s, I just about had a heart attack! The only thing keeping me calm was knowing that I could not possibly run out of lube that night. I gave Carla a reassuring nod and smile, as if to say ‘Don’t worry, Carla, I have plenty of lubricant for later.’
The dinner was great, and after knocking back a couple Mojo Mango Margaritas, we were ready to head back to my apartment. I winked and told Carla, ‘Let’s SLIP on out of here,’ to see if she understood the lubricant lingo. I think she did. Throughout the bus ride back, I grinned and hummed Luther Vandross tunes to set the mood.
When we got to my place, I already had a candle burning. It was by ‘Glade,’ which I think you pronounce like the singer Sade, because it is an exotic candle that smells just like real pine. After we got comfortable, I asked Carla if she could help me with the lube. She looked at me weird, and I couldn’t tell if it was because she thought it was ‘too soon’ or because I was pushing a mechanical lift to get the drum barrel out of the storage closet.
So I ‘took the initiative,’ as women like men to do, and rolled the barrel out into the living room. ‘Ready to tap the keg?’ I joked, and by ‘keg’ I meant ’55-gallon barrel of personal lubricant.’ She looked at me all shocked, and said ‘That’s it, I’m out of here!’ I asked why, since she didn’t need to run to Walgreens for more lubricant — there was plenty right here. But she didn’t answer, and got up to leave anyway. Then, as Carla was about to pass me and the barrel, she tripped on my dog Poochie and fell right into the lube barrel! The force of the impact downed the barrel and knocked its lid off, sending 55 gallons of water-based lubricant across my faux-hardwood floors.
“Carla was completely drenched, and her momentum slid her to the front door – which she somehow managed to pry open with a pair of oven mitts. The last thing I knew, ‘No-Fun Carla’ was screaming profanities and sliding down three flights of steps. I didn’t pay much attention because I was too busy trying to salvage the lube. I managed to get about half of it back into the barrel – the other half probably seeped into Mrs. Pulaski’s unit below me. I never bothered to ask if she appreciated the free gift of lubricant.
Anyway, despite my ‘user error,’ I was quite pleased with the product. These days it’s hard to find 55 gallons of scent-free water-based lubricant, and you can find it right here at a discount rate! I had to give it only ‘4 Stars’ because it didn’t come with a lifting apparatus. I had to buy my own mechanical lift separately to haul the bin to my future ‘dates.’ So if you’re ready for fun, ‘slide’ on down to a high quality product at a bargain price!”
Aerobie claims that its Epic disc can be thrown further than any other disc golf projectile, but Amazon reviewer Stranger was still blown away by its aerodynamic arc. The review itself is ridiculous, but also kind of beautiful in a way.
“I never thought I’d be here quivering, burrowed in the blackest crevice of my dwelling, frazzling with fright and scribbling this review. ‘The Aerobie Epic is just a myth,’ I’d heard from various voices before. But according to believers’ claims, this disc could soar through time and space with the ravishing finesse of a raving gypsy’s hips. Cautious whispers on the course warned of saucers spewing forth dark magic vortexes within the violent whirlwinds of a vicious ‘thumber’ drive. I scoffed at such fanciful tales of plastic acrobatics and occultist wind sails. Superstitions cannot persuade me; I am a man of science, you see! But the same unyielding curiosity that brought you to this page led me to purchase one and see, just in case.
Thirty-seven suns have since succumbed to the horizon. My perception of this universe, and all the laws that make it one, has transformed irreversibly, I fear to say. The only scientific explanation for the flight path of this product — a 500 foot cosmic pirouette — is that which disconcerts my slumber every shivery night of the southern summer. I feel a dire responsibility to share the findings of my inquiry. Although all other discs, whose flights expire humbly at a mere 380 feet, are made of compact plastic polymers, the Epic almost certainly comprises antimatter.
Soon, undoubtedly, military machinery will exploit Aerobie’s discoveries (i.e., those unveiled at the Epic’s release). The only question now to ask is: how much time do we have left? Let us hope and pray that this technology is used for good, and never evil. For antimatter weaponized could end us all, efficiently, faster than light! Godspeed!!’
Most people buy chain-based locks to protect their bicycles from theft. If you buy Kryptonite’s New York Fahgettaboudit Lock, however, you’re in store for a whole lot more, as Amazon reviewer/newly-anoited man MrDrCol will tell you:
“When this sucker showed up, the delivery guy, after putting the forklift away, came back and punched me in the face. I was not upset as I had just tried to pick the box up and realized I had put his life in danger by ordering this burley, tough, heavy bastard.
The first time I took it out, slung over my shoulder like one of those huge automatic weapons slung by our favorite action movie stars, I inflicted $26,000.00 in damages to the bicycle rack I locked my bike to. When the police showed up to investigate the massive damages to the otherwise innocent rack, I merely swung the chain over my head and they made me their leader out of fear, and awe. And they were right.
Two days later, I came out of a coffee shop to a disturbing scene: A craven thief had seen my bad-ass bike and tried to break this behemoth in order to steal it: he simply exploded. Needless to say, I had to find a hose to clean the 150-plus pounds of meat and guts and hair from my bike and the surrounding landscape. I was late to band practice and am considering legal action against the Kryptonite Corp for damages due to being summarily fired as the hamonica player for my (former) band.
I am currently in talks with local organized crime figures as they want to rent or lease the chain from me on occasion to sink stool-pigeons, uncooperative football teams, and other undesirables in the river.
Even when I leave it at home, I am no longer allowed to fly on domestic airlines as they feel the mere ownership of this unstoppable theft-ender makes me too dangerous for their formidable insurance policies to bear.
And it’s worth all this. This is the toughest, most evil bike lock ever conceived by mankind. It weighs in at 2,300 kilos and can (and has) withstand a 40 megaton nuclear detonation.
The warnings on the package state clearly to NEVER store this chain in a pile because its intense density will trigger a major cosmological event generating a deadly black hole as the absolute cruelty displayed will fold in on itself and create a singularity.
Plus if you lose your keys, they’ll send you new ones.”
Gun control is a touchy subject these days, and books like My Parents Open Carry certainly invite some lively discussion in the reviews and comments section. Reviewer Paul Austin Ardoin knows this, and he cleverly flips the subject on its head in the review below.
“There is a war raging in the United States. Those who are opposed argue that using it implies a lack of seriousness, a lack of education, and a flouting of social mores. Those who love it are more rabid about its appropriateness in all situations, wanting to show it off in restaurants, coffee shops, and even the library. Whether it’s used at work to passive-aggressively tell a co-worker to stop eating your leftovers or it’s used in the neighborhood to generate interest so the kids will come to a birthday party, those on the pro side completely ignore study after study that scientifically show that its use just isn’t a good idea.
Am I talking about using a gun? No. I’m talking about using Comic Sans. This book is typeset in COMIC SANS. For the love of all that is good and pure, Mr. Jeffs, if you don’t want your ideas about open carry to sound crazy, how about you write about them in a legible font that didn’t go out with Windows 95?”
For those of you who don’t know, the Macho Man (Randy Savage) recorded and released a rap album, titled Be a Man. It changed the lives of countless fans and listeners, including Amazon reviewer Dark Ninja. OOOOH YEEAAHH! Beware: Wall of text incoming.
“There is no way you will ever get closer to the utopia you experience when you listen to this outstanding album. I hope for the sake of every being in the universe that we will see many, many more Macho Man albums in the future. When I first caught a glance of this CD at Walmart, I turned and fell to my knees while time literally stopped. Once I regained consciousness I quickly filled a crate with the album and handed the cashier a flying elbow drop! When I placed the CD onto the tray of my stereo system, I knew at once that my life had culminated to that point, my purpose was to witness the sick, wicked, and nasty beats that were about to pulsate through the earth itself and energize my very life force. When the tray recalled itself back into the stereo console, it was as though the final puzzle piece of human existence had been put into place. Rainbows began to pour inexplicably out of the speakers and onto my terrace. The windows flew open and The Macho Man himself floated in on a winged platinum unicorn. He gave me a $5 gift certificate at Radio Shack and told me that I was the chosen one. He said that He and I would lead mankind out of poverty and strife forever. He said we must hurry, unimaginable evils were gathering and following him and there was not much time before he would have to face them. As we prepared to embark a low rumble could be heard in the distance. Hardly decipherable at first, but it began to grow louder, and apparently closer. The sky darkened rapidly and took on a red-orange tint. The rumble grew exponentially louder and more fierce, and the ground began to shake. Without warning an enormous crack in the planet’s surface appeared and a great mountain of rock and molten lava shot up from the center of the earth with the force of ten trillion mighty buffalo. Satan himself stood before us, in all of his evil majesty. Despite this apocalyptic series of events, Randy was not at all intimidated. He stood fast, and with a mighty cry of ‘OOOOOOHHH YEAHHHHHH!’ he was suddenly 250 feet tall and was made entirely of gold. Satan lunged towards Savage with blinding speed, but The Macho Man was suddenly gone. Satan spun back around just in time for a vicious Macho Man drop kick to the throat. Again, Savage disappeared, leaving Satan dazed and confused. As Satan tried to recover Randy leapt at him from out of nowhere with a punishing sunset flip, sending The Dark Lord directly into a black hole on the other side of the universe. Savage explained to me how his musical talents inspired the Greek God Zeus, and so Zeus gave him super powers and ultrasonic vocal cords. I told him he’s the illest, the true chief warrior. The bottom line is I used to steal cars and buses all the time, but ever since I heard this album I only smash fire hydrants. I no longer sleep or eat or talk, I just absorb the lyrical extremes that this album surpasses time and again and train to fight The Hulkster. Everything that you’ve ever done, are doing now, or will ever do is a complete waste of time unless it directly involves Randy ‘Macho Man’ Savage. If you don’t own this album, I sincerely hope that this review has helped you realize what a clueless and wretched piece of waste you really are. And seriously Hogan, be a man for once in your life. If you just take the beating maybe Savage won’t banish you from the universe….OOOOOOOHHH YEEEAAAHHHHH!!! I just crapped on myself.”
Bless her heart, Sonia Allison knows we can’t all settle into happy family lives. Some of us are destined for a lonely existence, so the least we can do is learn how to cook gourmet meals with a microwave! In the reviews section, user blackstreek penned a visceral story of postapocalyptia; one that’s both hilarious and poignant:
“Jeb rarely says anything after dinner, but I’ve come to get used to that, I can see the appreciation in his stapled jaw after feeding him with a battered rusty cut-open can of motor oil. But in the past few days the gang at the dinner table has seemed strangely quiet – distant even – and I can’t really blame the grey ashen snow flitting through the makeshift tin roof of our cabin. Maybe the radiation in the atmosphere has finally exceeded the output from the microwave, but that’s hearsay spread by Candy, who hasn’t said a word since a few years ago. Her hair keeps falling into the soup.
I dunno. Sometimes I think I should make more friends but these fourteen have been great company through The Great Extinction. I cherish the holidays when I can spear a twitching oversized muskrat with a modified ball point pen and then use techniques learned from The Book of Allison, which I read to my mother as a child through the intercom of the decon chamber. She kept pawing at the plexiglass door in the bowels of the CDC but I knew my mother better than anyone – she was always appreciative of The Book, and I’d like to think it ultimately gave her the path to salvation.
In this perhaps is my greatest revelation, that I must leave this shanty and spread the word of The Book. It has been years since I used The Peacemaker and I have only a handful of shells remaining, but I hold steadfast that there is still good in the world and that I need not resort to violence. Stephan, only after I restrained him to the chair and halted his necrosis with a balm made of encaustic and boar grease, had said something of cannibalism spreading throughout the land, and only recently he conveyed, speaking through his empty eye socket, that there was a false religion being spread by a mammoth woman who controlled a hive mind to the South. Her teachings were antithetical to the principles of The Book of Allison, calling for deep frying mutant flesh in battery acid. The thought of it brings a distant chill to my already frozen extremities, but I know in my heart that I must persevere.
As I gather my irradiated rations and bid farewell to my crumbling friends, I look to the purple and red horizon and think of a world that need not a rebirth, but an evisceration. Rusty bowie knife in hand, feet wrapped in plastic tarp and nylon rope, goggles and ventilator covering my scarred face, I set upon the indifferent landscape of the remains of humanity with only a small spark of hope in my heart, a spark ignited only by a fork in the radiation field of mankind’s greatest invention.
There is evil in the world. I have tasted of it and hold it with little dignity. But I have The Book, and The Book is Life.”
Apparently, dousing your property in wolf urine is an effective way to keep wild deer away. It looks like Amazon reviewer Grogan may have found another use for the smelly stuff, though:
“One is immediately drawn to this vintage by the colour, which is an elegant, pale straw hue with an appealing peachy fruit on the nose. It has an incredibly effervescent bead — the whole glass teams with bubbles — culminating in a frothy layer at the head.
The palate has panache, with a firm, mineral acidity that cuts through a rather elegantly styled, poised meaty presence. As with most Chateau Deerbuster products, this has the signature leafy-fresh character, which softens into a slight rancid feel towards the end.
Even though it has a rather short and crisply defined finish, I still believe this has the composition and acidity to age well in the cellar of any self-respecting urine connoisseur.”
This can of uranium ore — yours for just $39.95! — is among the items on Amazon that have tons of satirical reviews. One of the best comes from Kyle D. Smith, who chimes in from North Korea:
“Our beloved Marshall, Kim Jong Un, respectfully requested much uranium for the glory of the Korean people against imperialist aggressors from the USA (except, of course, Dennis Rodman). I am pleased to say that our greatest scientists, or at least the ones that haven’t starved to death, have made great use of this product in honor of the Dear Leader, to enhance and improve the mighty power of our nation, which all recognize as the mightiest of all nations. Also, could you send some rice or beans or really anything edible with the next jar?”
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