http://darwinawards.comThese are almost too sad to be funny...but hey 
are!  Here's a couple samples:
Personal Encounters
                                        Grady's grandfather was sitting in the
                                        outhouse doing his business one day.
                                        The family mule was scratching his rear
                                        on the outhouse wall. Thinking to amuse
                                        himself, Grandpa pulled a long splinter
                                        from the wall and stuck it in the mule's
                                        ass." Instead of bucking around the yard
                                        as expected, the mule kicked back with
                                        extreme force, collapsing the outhouse.
                                        Gramps had to be pulled from the family
                                        history using a rope."
                                        "My dad says he was driving along the
                                        road a while back, and he saw a
                                        no-armed farmer kicking hay into a
                                        baling machine. No need to wonder
                                        where he lost his limbs..." -drebrooks.                                  
Mad Trombonist 
                            1998 Urban Legend
         (August 1998, Uruguay) In a misplaced moment of inspiration, Paolo
         Esperanza, bass-trombonist with the Symphonica Maya de Uruguay,
         decided to make his own contribution to the cannon shots fired during
         a performance of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at an outdoor
         children's concert. 
         In complete disregard of common sense, he dropped a large lit
         firecracker, equivalent in strength to a quarter stick of dynamite, into
         his aluminum straight mute, and then stuck the mute into the bell of
         his new Yamaha in-line double-valve bass trombone.
         Later from his hospital bed he explained to a reporter through a mask
         of bandages, "I thought the bell of my trombone would shield me from
         the explosion and focus the energy of the blast outwards and away
         from me, propelling the mute high above the orchestra like a rocket."
         However Paolo was not to speed on his propulsion physics, nor was
         he qualified to wield high-powered artillery. Despite his haste to raise
         the horn before the firecracker exploded, he failed to lift the bell of the
         horn high enough for the airborne mute's arc to clear the orchestra.
         What happened should serve as a lesson to us all during our own
         delirious moments of divine inspiration.
         First, because he failed to sufficiently elevate the bell of his horn, the
         blast propelled the mute between rows of musicians in the woodwind
         and viola section, where it bypassed the players and rammed straight
         into the stomach of the conductor, driving him backwards off the
         podium and directly into the front row of the audience.
         Fortunately, the audience was sitting in folding chairs and thus they
         protected from serious injury. The chairs collapsed under the first
         row, and passed the energy from the impact of the flying conductor
         backwards into the people sitting behind them, who in turn were
         driven back into the people in the third row and so on, like a row of
         dominos. The sound of collapsing wooden chairs and grunts of
         people falling on their behinds increased geometrically, adding to the
         overall commotion of cannons and brass playing the closing
         measures of the Overture.
         Meanwhile, unplanned audience choreography notwithstanding, Paolo
         Esperanza's Waterloo was still unfolding back on stage. According to
         Paolo, "As I heard the sound of the firecracker blast, time seemed to
         stand still. Right before I lost consciousness, I heard an Austrian
         accent say, "Fur every akshon zer iz un eekval unt opposeet
         reakshon!" This comes as no surprise, for Paolo was about to
         become a textbook demonstration of this fundamental law of physics.
         Having failed to plug the lead pipe of his trombone, he paved the way
         for the energy of the blast to send a superheated jet of gas
         backwards through the mouthpiece, which slammed into his face like
         the hand of fate, burning his lips and face and knocking him mercifully
         unconscious.
         The pyrotechnic ballet wasn't over yet. The force of the blast was so
         great it split the bell of his shiny new Yamaha trombone right down
         the middle, turning it inside out while propelling Paolo backwards off
         the riser. For the grand finale, as Paolo fell to the ground, his limp
         hands lost their grip on the slide of the trombone, allowing the
         pressure of the hot gases to propel the slide like a golden spear into
         the head of the third clarinetist, knocking him senseless.
         The moral of the story? The next time a trombonist hollers "Watch
         this!" you'd better duck! 
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