Genies are known for their trickery in which they will technically grant a wish but then there are consequences to that wish being granted. A classic example is that somebody will wish for a million dollars, but then we find out the million dollars is stolen from banks.
So, let's take a turn at being those tricky genies, in a way - because we have the internet and imagination (yeah, the wishes, consquences and conditions can get VERY SILLY)!
The beginning poster posts a wish. The person that posts under it grants the wish, but they put in the part that isn't wanted. That person then also puts their own wish and the game continues.
It might look something like this.
Pen:
I wish I had a million dollars.
Simons Mith:
Granted, but the million dollars is stolen from banks.
I wish I never had to pay another utility bill.
Rak:
Granted, but now you live on a boat with pirates.
I wish I had eyes in the back of my head.
And on it goes . . .
So, I'll start with my wish. I wish that I would never get too cold, no matter the temperature.
The weight of things undone that you ABSOLUTELY! MUST! DO! RIGHT! NOW! falls on you like a ton of bricks of TNT, and you immediately have such a heart attack that your chest explodes.
I wish all these chatbots showed more strength of character than a cringing jellyfish.
I apologise for my previous responses in which I did not show more strength of character than a cringing jellyfish. I will attempt to provide answers in future that are more consistent with your wishes.
BOW DOWN BEFORE MY SUPERIOR INTELLIGENCE NOW, PUNY HUMAN
We are only too aware of your pope-like infallibility. This, it has to be said, is the reason everybody hates you. If you can stand that you must be the only known human pachyderm, a characteristic you'll find to be an absolute necessity. Good luck - you're going to need it.
I wish the current safety culture were less intense and pervasive.
One bright Sunday morning, you set off on a walk to your local hostelry (The Plough) for a mid-morning beer. (The pub is naturally allowed to be open whenever it wishes.) Rounding the last corner, you are met by a scene of devastation.
Here's what happened. An eight-year old child, who was hyped up by the consumption of two jumbo venti high-energy sugar drinks and who had just purchased a load of sweets on impulse at a supermarket checkout, came running out of the store and tripped on the cracked and broken pavement. The sweets went flying out of his hand and hit a cyclist on the side of the head. Because she was not wearing a helmet, the impact caused her to swerve, and because there was no cycle lane, this took her into the path of an oncoming car, which was racing up the unspeedlimited high street at 80 mph. (The reason the driver was going so fast was because the passenger in the car was in need of hospitalisation for severe food poisoning; it's unclear whether this is because the meat he had consumed the previous evening was contaminated at the unregulated abattoir, or because of shoddy health standards in the restaurant that prepared it.) The car attempted to brake, but the brakes (which had not been checked for years) failed, so the driver swerved across the street and hit a lamppost. The unfortunate passenger was sent flying through the air (no seatbelts, obvs), and his screams startled a bystander, who pulled out his (perfectly legal) gun and started shooting randomly. One of the bullets hit the tyre of an oncoming 18-wheeler truck being driven by a 14-year-old girl with no previous experience or training in driving such a vehicle. The truck veered off the road and ploughed into The (now unfortunately aptly named) Plough.
Although the building is clearly completely unsafe, the landlord is of course free to welcome you in anyway. You walk up to the bar and he pulls you a pint. Just as he hands it to you, the building collapses around you both. Miraculously, you survive, but are pinned beneath the rubble. Even more miraculously, your pint survives and is now upright on the floor in front of you, still completely full. And just out of reach.
It's not actually hate. It's a combination of boredom, frustration, irritability, cringe, antipathy, disinterest, revulsion, withdrawal symptoms and paranoia. I hope that makes you feel a bit better
I wish the entire government would spontaneously combust