Quora

Quora (AKA Troll Haven) is a shittier version of Yahoo Answers and Reddit except with pictures for people with ADHD and mental retardation (usual demographics of people who browse and writes on the site). There is a shitload of Indian people there because they probably think they can study English there or where they get laid (they sent any women with a real life profile pic a proposal for marraige, I am not fucking with you, make a profile with a porn star as a profile pic, see what happens), hilariously enough, there isn't an Indian version of the website when there are French and Italian. Credentials can be claimed by anyone, you can say you are an Astrophysicist from Harvard University and the only evidence you need is to have a keyboard to type those letters with. It is filled to the brim with conjectures, anecdotes and inane recounts usually painting the writer as the victim, hero, or the good person than actual useful information so it's a fucking mystery that anyone would use this over literally any other sites. There are little to few actual substantial contents on this site but it's rarer to find than a needle made of diamond in a haysack drifting nowhere in the middle of the expanding universe, not to mention they usually have zero upvotes and zero views because again, retards with ADHD. They wouldn't read anything without a picture in them, some bullshit anecdote or is short enough to entertain them (knowledge ftw).

File:Quora.png

Wikipedia's retarded cousin, it's also made by the employees of Facebook so the data, like the real name you stupidly enough gave, is safe as houses.

It is even more useless than Wikipedia in terms of providing knowledge because of the stated reasons, but for some inconceivable reason they call it "A place to share knowledge and better understand the world", even though it's a place for bullshit artists, fun fact of the day idiots, and rejected novelists (itching to tell their mundane first world anecdotes exaggerated by a shitty writing style, illustrated by the excessive use of italics and bolds, with the perfect reenactment of conversations that literally never happened) to fuck around in. There are no compulsory requirements for them to even put references below or voting for the best answer so you can respectively, be sure that it's definitely fact and that in the million answers to that one question, you could maybe find a quarter of one answer which is maybe useful (also good fucking luck finding it).

TL;DR, Quora is a DREADFUL website full of pseudo-intellectual faggotry. As bad as it is, it pales in comparison to the newest foul creature of the hipster internet, Kialo.

Contents

Quora's different sections are almost universally populated by dumb fucks with no credentials but their policy requires you to write your real name because they think having a real name that no one can verify somehow makes your answer more valid. Knowledge and common sense don't seem to jar very well together with the dumb fucks at Quora it seems. The only knowledge you are getting is insights into the suspension of disbelief, how fucking stupid people can get, irrelevant pictures that is just there for no fucking reason other than hook people with ADHD, and ideas for your next novel.

Nothing up there is verifiable, and everyone who claims to have a credential worth a fuck is lying to you and if you are retarded enough to believe it, maybe that explains why you are even there to begin with. They have contents ranging from bullshit to bullshit, good trolls usually dwell there with literally retarded question to bait the idiots like "Is it wrong for me to kill my child if he dyes his hair?" or "Can I summarily execute my daughter if she goes to a boy's house without my permission?"or "I have an IQ of a million, how do I get out of this place filled with people of negative IQ" or "I want to know how to kill myself, is a plastic bag okay? Also, please don't stop me from killing myself". Just dumb stupid troll questions but people answer it anyway because they are sanctimonious retards that ironically think people are actually retarded enough to ask these questions on the Internet.

Also, any retards that are looking for actual answers to their problems are fucked, they think the idiots on the other side of the screen can somehow detect the context of the predicament they are in, whatever conjectured solution offered up would be definite to fuck the person in question over. It's also a pity party where people send their condolences to the best bullshit artist that managed to trick the retards with some made-up and fabricated shit that never happened to earn upvotes. This is pointless and mean nothing because those mindless sheeple will literally upvote any pity story with an antagonist.

People

Everyday Quora user. Trust me, this is only the tip of the iceberg.

Expect your usual assortments of fuckwits and Atheists who don't know what they are talking about claiming that they do, an argument ensuing in the comments then deleted because of abuse. People who think that they are the main character in their story, liars with shitty anecdotes, dumb teenagers with shitty anecdotes, dumb adults with shitty anecdotes, dumb old people with shitty anecdotes. Did I mention the shitty anecdotes in place where people get "knowledge"? Did the dictionary definition of "knowledge" changed to nonsensical anecdote? If you are dumb enough to believe that their life encounters or fiction can be applied to your life regardless of circumstances and personality differences, you very rightfully belong to the Quora Retard brigade.

Examples

TL;DR Bullshit Artist Wall of Text Warning. Ready your asshole.

I wish I had never seen my Father's lifeless body, my Mother hanging from the ceiling, and the look in my rapist’s eyes.(Well, that escalated quickly.) “Daddy, wake up! It’s christmas!” It was a cold December 25th, blankets of white snowflakes falling on the roof of the home that belonged to my picture-perfect family. I sat there, straddling his waist (in a non-sexual way)<---(THIS WAS ACTUALLY PART OF THE TEXT) with a frown on my face, crossing my arms over my tiny little chest, wondering why my father wasn’t waking up. This time, I moved closer towards his ear, and shouted, knowing it would annoy him. “Papa!! Wake up, I wanna go open my presents!” Spoiled little child I was, I scrunched up my face in anger and hoped off his bed. I waddled over to the bathroom my parents shared and tugged on my mothers dress. “Momma, daddy’s not getting up and I wanna open my gifts now! Can you please wake him up?” She finished brushing her teeth and headed over to my fathers (lifeless) body. “Harold, wake up, darling. It’s christmas,” (Look at that, remembered it as if it was yesterday or as you wrote it.) She nudged him on the shoulder, but he didn’t move. I stood a good 5ft away (Five exact feet away?), and watched as her face slowly became pale and worryful. I observed her cautiously move her hands over to the left side of chest, wait a couple of seconds, then went to check his pulse. A glass tear (glass tear? We are in the hands of a poet here) slid down her cheek, before more started to flow out of her eyes. “Ava, baby, hand Mommy her phone,” “Why?” (Body doesn't look cold to me.) “Just hand it to me, Ava! Now!” (Bullshit Intermission) My mother and I were not allowed to ride in the paramedics, so we had to take the car. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” (He got taken in by an ambulance and you wondered what the fuck is wrong with him. You are not six, you are one. Or sixty-one.) She didn’t reply. Just kept her eyes focused on the almost deserted roads, since it was Christmas morning. We arrived at the hospital and had to sit on the uncomfy chairs. After an hour had passed, and kind lady came up to us and asked us to follow her. I trailed behind her, with my Mother by my side, in my reindeer onesie. “I am so sorry to inform you, but Harold has passed. We tried to resuscitate him, but it was too late. He had an u-” “What’s going on?” I questioned, impatiently. I was beyond furious at this point, seeing that my Christmas morning was now ruined. I hated this smelly hospital and just wanted to go home and open my gifts. “Ava! Not now. Hush,” my Mother warned me with a tear-stained face. I stomped my foot and wailed my hands in the air.(Your mother is crying, your father is in a hospital, carried away by an ambulance and you don't know what the fuck is going on. Okay.) “Where is my father? I want to see my father! Take me to my father now, lady” I screamed, pointing my finger at the innocent doctor. “Ava!! If-” “It’s fine, really. May I speak to you, without the child?” My mother sighed, giving up. She followed the doctor, leaving me alone in the hallways of the ghostly hospital. I slid down the wall, landing on my bum. Tears were evident now and I was on the verge of throwing a tantrum. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I looked up with my big brown eyes (big brown eyes? How about you fucking kill yourself?) to see a man with a scruff beard and long hair, wearing dark clothing. He was crouched down in front of me, and his breath smelt like alcohol mixed with coffee. (So, how do you know what alcohol smells like?) I squeezed my face up in disgust and turned my head to the side. “Momma told me not to talk to strangers,” I was a smart child. Or so I thought. “I’m not a stranger. I’m here to be your friend. You can trust me,” I peeked over back at him and decided to tell him what was wrong. After my whining and complaining, he gave me a look of pity. “I am so sorry to hear that, sweetie. How about I take you for some ice cream to cheer you up?” I quickly shook my head. I knew it was bad enough that I was talking a stranger, and knew how much worse it would be to be leaving with a stranger. He gave me a look that made me uneasy, so I kept my mouth shut after that. “Aw, come on. I will buy you any flavor you want, just follow me. We’re friends, remember? We’ll be back before your mother even notices your gone,” I contemplated going with this guy. (Yep, we are going there, bullshit land. Not that we aren't already there but we are now in deep. There is apparently no hospital staff in a hospital looking at some dirty homeless man leading some child to the back, yep.) Ice cream did sound really good, since it would be my only treat I would’ve received that fateful morning. I grabbed ahold of his stretched forward hand, and he led me to the back of the hospital. “This is not ice cream,” (OH REALLY?) I was starting to get suspicious and wanted to make a run for it. But he had a firm grip on my hand that let me know that he wasn’t planning on letting me go any time soon. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. We just got to make a quick stop first, Next thing I know I being shoved into the handicap washroom, and he is unbuckling his pants. I screamed but he placed a hand around my neck and told me to shut up or else he would hurt me. I’m guessing you know what happened next. I was raped. But I didn’t know the term for it then. (Another bullshit intermission) 3 months had passed. 3 months after I had found out about my father's death. He had an undetected heart problem and he died in his sleep. I was 6. 3 months after I was raped by a man who promised me ice cream. When the despicable low-life was done with me that day, he left and I was left alone to go find my mother again. She hugged me cause she thought I had gone missing and then asked me why I looked and smelt like that. I remained quiet. I never told her and I now regret it deeply.(So you weren't in pain and bleeding after you broke your hymen at six? Okay.) She told me of the news and I don’t think I’ve ever cried that in my life. I was literally hyperventilating. I loved him so much.(Wait, wait, fucking wait, you heard that your father passed, you saw him taken into the hospital on an ambulance, and you only cried and hyperventilated when SHE BROKE THE NEWS? what the fuck does that even mean, oh my fucking god, I can't believe people believe this garbage you wrote.) Anyways, back to the 3 months after. I came home to find my mother hanging from ceiling. She had hanged herself. She was dead. Money was tight and the death of my father was too much for her too handle. I was placed into foster care. Grandparents? Never had those. And if I did, they were never apart of my life. (What the fuck does this even mean, did you had one or did you not? Keep your shitty story straight please) I was taken in by a loving family that had 3 wonderful children. Couldn’t support me any longer so they put my back in the system. Home after home, nothing felt right. I was so messed by that point that I didn’t know how to cope. I was put on medications, but it only made it worse. 12 years old, I cut all my hair off and dyed the remaining black.Wore thick black eye makeup to school everyday and didn’t have any friends. Matter of fact, I still don’t. Yelled at everyone and everything that came in my way. I didn’t want anything more than my parents back and if you weren’t them, I hated you. (Sounds like you just gave up trying to make this believable) I went through every phase in the book. From trying to fit in, from trying my best to stand out, nothing worked. I’ve tried so many times to be someone I’m not that I don’t even know who I fucking am anymore. (You literally just fucking said in the previous sentence that you hated everybody and hated anyone that isn't your parent. You just contradicted yourself. How the fuck do you do this? No, how the fuck did anyone even believe this?) I missed out on all those milestones. Never had a sleepover, never even been invited to one. Never tasted birthday party cake like the one they show on TV, or ever even been on a vacation. I dated this one guy dated last year. Real sweetheart, told me he loved me. For some time, I loved him too. Then he cheated on me because I wasn’t ready to have sex. I haven’t trusted anyone since. Started cutting as soon as I found out what is was. It takes alot for someone to be wanting to turn their mental pain into physical pain.(What the fuck do you mean finding out what it was? Either you want to hurt yourself or you don't, you don't 'find' out what cutting is on the internet, you want to hurt yourself, you cut yourself, you don't just FIND OUT what it is. Just fuck off.) Diagnosed with a severe anxiety disorder and depression earlier this year. I figured something was wrong with me. How does one turn from a happy little girl, full of sunshine, without a care in the world, to a depressed teenager who doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions? (Just shut the fuck up.) I don’t think people realize what I’ve been through. When I tell them my story they shrug it off saying that they're are people who have it worse. Look, I get that, okay? I get that they are people who are dying and my problems won’t ever compare to theirs. But what does that mean? (It means you should probably give up writing. Your proses makes no sense and are terribly written, only fit for materials of the feelgood pity circle jerk of Quora.) I know very well that emotional pain is relative. Your telling me that I can’t be depressed because someone in Syria is as well? Ha, you’re fucking wrong. (I can assure your lying ass that even Bashar al-Assad is having it worst than you right now.) Does it mean my problems aren’t valid because they're not as bad as theirs? Does that mean that I don’t have the right to feel like I’m been cursed all my life because they are people who are struggling everyday? Please let me know, cause right now I’m so fucking confused. (You are so fucking right, what the fuck is even going on in this confused pitful excuse of a fiction?) I’m so fucking confused. I think it’s finally happening. I’m finally losing it. My mind, it was lost a long time ago. I’ve been relying off of- hell, I don’t even know. My sanity is definitely gone. I’m going crazy. I can’t even think straight without wanting to end it all. (Do it faggot) I’m failing. I can’t fucking focus in class. My mind always wanders off to unmentionable things. I’m 17 now. Will be graduating next year. Not going to college. It’s just not a place for me. Plus, there no money. My foster parents have other things to worry about than sending some disappointment to college. (I have a feeling this is the only part that is real.) To be honest, I wish I worked harder. I wished I pushed myself to strive for the best but I didn’t. I have no motivation at all. And I know it’s not good to have a fixed mindset, but any form of growing scares me right now. Nothing ever good has happened from growing, at least in my life. I’m scared. Once I’m 18, I’m on my own. In the big bad world that my father used to tell me about. He told me that I can’t really trust anyone. I figured that out a long time ago.(If there's one thing you shouldn't trust, it's whoever that told you that you can write.) I wish I didn’t have to go anonymous. But I just can’t live with the feeling that I might face some sort of backlash or get any form of hate.(HAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHA, MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN A BETTER THOUGHT TO THE PLOT THEN YOU DUMB FUCK) It’s all too much for me right now. (Your story is too much for me.) I’m sorry for my sob story. But my sob story is my life. I’ve been imprisoned in the cruel, harsh reality of this world for as long as I can remember and I can’t change it. I appreciate you taking the time to read this,(stop with this garbage prose, you are not in cringe poetry class) it really feels good to let it all out. I apologize for any grammatical errors, I’m crying right now and eyes are blurry.(F- See me after class) But, before you go on with your life, can I ask of you a question? (If it's whether to kill yourself for reals and not as the character of this essay, the answer is yes. A resounding yes.) I’m not looking for attention or anything, but would it be selfish of me to end my life? Don’t bother trying to talk me out of if, because I have been having suicidal thoughts as long as I can remember. I would’ve done it by now, but I can’t put other people through the pain of having to find my body.(No one gives a shit about you as said, question remain, you know no one gives a shit and you told everyone that isn't your parents to fuck off but you're somehow afraid of a backlash, so why the fuck did you post this?) Trust me, I know how it feels. I found my mothers, and that image is etched into your brain forever. No matter how much you try to erase that sight, it won’t ever leave and will most likely haunt you for eternity.(What will haunt me is the comments of the retards that believed this dogshit.) But I’m asking, it won’t hurt anybody, right? I’ve read and watched plenty of things that tell me how commiting does not end the pain, but only transfers it onto to your loved ones, but what if you don’t have any loved ones? (This is animu sasukue level bullshit) You know what, nevermind. Forget it.(What? Forget what?) Have a goodnight.(Was just having a great one until I had to riff through this garbage)

Smell that? That's top of the line bullshit right there.

But lo and behold, the idiocy of Quora prevailed and they ACTUALLY BELIEVE this garbage happened lol, if it's not only to prove that Quora's users are retarded, but their employees equally as retarded as they commented, requesting this amateur bullshit artist in question to not kill themselves. Your father died and you got raped on Christmas Day. Saw mother being terrified, see father get carried away on a stretcher, BUT HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT MEANS. There are no six years old that fucking dumb. Oh, and not crying, in excruciating pain or bleeding after being raped when you are six. WOW. BELIEVABLE. And this was filled with brim with italics and bolds, purple proses, yeah, we got to fucking appreciate your writing talent while you confess suicide, cool fucking story, bro, I believe you and your ice cream. Needless to say this is an encouragement for people to go on there and write bullshit stories that never happen to see the limits of human stupidity and the sanctimonious self back patting for what a good fucking person they are.

Link if you want to witness the retardation in the comments firsthand. http://qr.ae/TU1P2T

Object of Worship

They worship Elon Musk, China, but mainly just bullshit.

How to get upvotes?

• Share an irrelevant fun fact of the day, write in sentences instead of paragraphs because you are dealing with ADHD retards here.

• Make up a bullshit story in your mind, this is just like creepypasta except with zero efforts and none of the fun.

• Say you are PhD in Everything. People with credentials gets more upvotes, no literally, they say this fact like they are proud of that.

• ADHD retards, always remind yourself, ALWAYS POSTS PICTURE EVEN IF IT'S IRRELEVANT AND UNNECESSARY TO WHATEVER THAT IS ASKED

• Be painfully unfunny to questions.

• Shit on religion or anyone who believes in God.