Personal theory: yes there is such a thing as a dumb question. Such a question would be one asked by an adult that lacks the fundamental comprehension of the world that, say, an educated twelve-year-old would have.
Similar to the “bathe naked” and “skin inside-out” question, I could also suggest stuff like “Why do we walk on our feet and not our hands?” “Why does my bag get heavier when I put a hammer in it?” “Why do cars have wheels?”
Asked by a four-year-old, these questions would be evidence of a keen mind that is developing its awareness, but asked by an adult in the context of modern society, particularly one with access to the Internet, they’re just astonishing. (Q.v. much of the stuff asked in GQ by Jinx and to a lesser extent Ralph)
Questioner may be playing too many video games, possibly the Legend of Zelda series. The Iron Boots let Link walk on the bottom of lakes, but when he puts them away in his bag, they have no effect on his weight anymore.
Once I was standing next to the largest redwood in the world. Not just the tallest redwood, this thing was the tallest living thing in the entire world. I’m standing there is awe looking at this amazing thing.
This dude wanders up to me and asks, “Hey, um, aren’t there supposed to be some tall trees around here somewhere?”
Yes, there are stupid questions.
You see it on the news every night. Reporters ask the dumbest questions imaginable. “The city just sent a bulldozer to your property and razed your house by mistake. How angry are you?”
Indeed. I once heard this in a post-game interview with an offensive lineman who’d picked up a fumble and lumbered 30 yards for a TD: “Were you aware that this was your first NFL touchdown?”
I’d say that qualifies as a dumb question by even the strictest standards.
I don’t think any genuine question is inherently dumb, but there are stupid reasons to ask questions. I remember in Peace Corps medical training, people tend to get really nervous about the health dangers in the developing world and try to calm themselves by asking questions about every possible contingency- which always caused these sessions to run over.
One memorable question was “What happens if I am in a situation where I need to inject life saving medicine or else I will die, and the only needle anywhere around is dirty, and there is no bleach or hot water or anything to even pretend to sterilize with it.”
Our gruff Nigerian nurse, bless her, looked the questioner straight in the eye and said “Well, you can die now, or you can die later. It’s your choice. Okay, next question?”
Maybe it was a city person? I don’t think I really knew what mulch was until I started working at a community garden last year. I had some vague idea that it had to do with gardening, but when I was asked to mulch the plants, I was really embarrassed that I didn’t know what that entailed. I grew up in an apartment building and had never really been around gardening, and it’s not a word that gets used a lot in literature. If you didn’t grow up with lawns, mulch is pretty easy to miss.
I was once riding around with a guy who wasn’t the sharpest tack in the box. We passed some sort of place called “Surgery Center” and I joked that we could get our appendixes removed. He asked, “So we can donate them to other people who need an appendix?”
I don’t tell my young students that there are stupid questions, but I do refuse (in general) to answer “what if” questions, because otherwise they’ll drag on forever. “But what if we’re walking in the hall and I see a spider on the back of the person in front of me–can I talk then? What if there’s a lockdown drill and my mom knocks on the window, can I go over to her? What if we’re doing homework and my brother tells me all the answers, do I need to write that on the paper?” and on and on and on. Instead, I tell my students, I (in general) trust your judgment: in weird circumstances, do your best to figure out what the right thing to do is, based on our rules and on what it means to be a kind, responsible student.
As for the OP, I’ll answer it not yes or no, but rather with an anecdote from which the reader may draw conclusions.
“Walk in a circle with your partner,” the professor directed, “and tell one another one fact you know about the Revolutionary War. This is a great activity to do with your own students!” (she was wrong, of course).
“Bad directions,” I smirked at my partner, “there’s more than one revolution. So that’ll be the thing I know about the Revolutionary War: you gotta say the American Revolution if you wanna be specific.”
My partner just looked at me wide-eyed. “I don’t know anything about the revolutionary war. Who was president then?”
“Uh, there wasn’t a president. That was kind of the point.”
“Oh, okay. So who was the first president? Was it George Washington*?”
And no, not John Hanson, just no, you’re missing the point.