[QUOTE=Cervaise]
My uncle once asked my ex-wife, an epidemiologist, this same question, except that he thought AIDS happened because black people were having sex with monkeys.
[/QUOTE]
You think that’s bad? I had a similar notion expressed to us as fact in high school by a teacher. Our History teacher. When I complained to the principal about it, he just shrugged and said, “Oh, she didn’t hurt anybody.” When I looked at him in shock and disgust, he looked genuinly surprised. “What?” he said. “There are no black students in that class!” (he knows this because we have only three in the whole school!)
Then my mother told me I was exaggerating, and none of it really happened. Then when I got beat up, she’d say I must have just gotten clumsy and wanted attention. And when I was a witness to a teacher beating up a student, she told me she believed the teacher over me any day, because I must have just not enjoyed his class (I loved that class! English was my best subject! He was an awesome teacher until he assaulted one of us! I used to brag about him all the time!) She must have eventually woke up, since years after I’d already graduated, she pulled my brother out of school and had him homeschooled. People were picking on him. I mean, he must be telling the truth, right? Sigh-h. And he was, and I’m glad she took him out of school, but a little more understanding with me would have been nice. 
[QUOTE=hotflungwok]
I had a gf in college who volunteered at the zoo and I would meet her there occasionally. We were walking around the monkey house one day, when we happened to stop in front of a cage of small gibbon type monkeys, I don’t remember the actual animal, just that they were small and jumpy. Right in front of the glass was two small boys, and standing behind them was (I guess) their mother. We all stood staring at the monkeys for a few minutes, and then the mother leaned forward and said ‘These are hyenas.’ The boys just nodded and they all wandered off to the next cage. Me and my gf had to leave the area so we could laugh. I mean, there was a freakin name plate right next to the cage.
[/QUOTE]
Heh, last year at the Woodland Park Zoo in Seattle, my husband and I were in the Night Exhibit, where I love to sit quietly on the little ledge and watch the armadillos running around. It’s very dark in there, and you must be very quiet, never speaking above a whisper if you must speak at all (don’t even get me started on how many rude people disobey this rule and come barging in yelling and screaming - besides being bad for the animals in there, it really spoils the effect of the Night Exhibit for those of us who enjoy the quietness). Anyway, a woman with two young children quietly enter, and they do really well with the quiet rule, stepping softly, speaking in soft whispers. I’m happy to see them following the rules and enjoying the exhibits. One of the little boys comes and sits near me, trying to follow my line of site in the darkness. Finally, he sees it - a round armadillo making his rounds, running in a pattern all around the exhibit. I hear his gasp when he sees this creature, something he obviously has never seen before. In wonder, he asks his mother in a whisper, “Mommy, look! What kind of animal is that?” I sit quietly, smiling to myself at this youngster about to learn a very cool new animal to think about, look up in his spare time, ask about to his teachers, whatever. The mother hums, and I can see her in the darkness looking around for a sign. The signs are directly above the displays, with a picture of each animal on it, so there can be no mistake. She looks at one sign, she looks at another sign, she turns around her and looks at the bats, she looks for more signs, all the while saying, “Oh, that’s a… um… that’s… let’s see… it’s a…” I wait patiently…
She gives up.
“It’s a monkey.” she says. Now I’m screwed, because the answer struck me as so ridiculously far out of left field that I’m standing up, hiding my face in my husband’s shoulder, because I’m trying very, very hard not to burst into uncontrollable laughter. They leave without noticing my convulsions, and I tell my husband to give them a moment to let them get further ahead of us before we exit. When we step out of the display and the daylight floods over us, Mr. Stasaeon could see the tears of laughter already running down my face. I let it all out. I mean…
A MONKEY?! Wouldn’t it just be better to admit you don’t know than to tell your child an armadillo is a MONKEY?! Go home and research it together! Something! It could have been a learning experience for everyone!
*
MONKEY?*
Ahem. Anyway, while this wasn’t the most ignorant thing I ever heard, it’s a pretty good one. I’m still thinking back to my hometown days. I’ve got lots from there. Scary ones, mostly.