On top of that, Sandy Hook's surviving victims drowned under thousands upon thousands of donated toys, bicycles, clothes, and school supplies. Literal tons of stuff ... all of which has to be stored, sorted, and disposed of once every affected family no longer has room to fit a 265th used Tickle Me Elmo in their home. You know what didn't get donated? The money and manpower to sort through all of it. So, the vast majority of the stuff wound up in a dumpster, because care workers don't have time to re-donate all that stuff back into charity when they, you know, have a bunch of traumatized kids to look after.

This is not a minor problem; after the Haiti earthquake in 2010, unsolicited toy donations poured in so hard and fast that they piled up on the tarmac to the point that planes delivering crucial supplies couldn't land, and volunteers had to waste most of their time dealing with well-intentioned donations instead of actually helping the bleeding quake victims.

Courtesy of the Center for International Disaster Information
"Yes, we wanted toilet paper. But not like this. Not like this!"

We're not trying to be too hard on these good-hearted people, but it honestly doesn't take much research to find out what the victims on the ground actually need. It's almost like people sometimes donate to make themselves feel better, with no thought to what is actually going to solve the problem (spoiler: That is going to be something of a running theme in this piece).

As a result, after any tragedy, approximately 60 percent of your donations are thrown in the garbage for the simple fact that they can't possibly be utilized. Instead, crisis workers beg you to do the same thing that you do when your nephew or niece has a birthday and you don't know them well enough to give a personalized gift: send some goddamned money.

400tmax/iStock
Let him spend it on a meal. Don't FedEx him a burrito.

That, by the way, is the exact same thing you should do whenever a food pantry is holding a canned food drive. They get overwhelmed with expired/unpopular food items people have cleared from the back of their cabinet which, once again, go right in the trash. If you really want to help, they much prefer you donate cash. It's not as satisfying as the feeling of handing over actual, physical food to needy people, but it is far more effective.

On a similar note ...

But that isn't even the worst part, or the fact that those dumpsters were probably just swarming with vampires. The problem is that after the catastrophe has blown over, most Americans feel like they've fulfilled their patriotic duty, and they stop giving blood. After the rush of blood donations immediately following 9/11, donations fell off sharply, to the point that blood banks went back to begging for donations by December of the same year (to be fair, most people simply don't realize that blood doesn't keep).

Of course, the lesson here isn't to stop donating blood, but rather to try and do it regularly, instead of waiting until you see live footage of panicked, wounded people on your television. But, once more, that just doesn't give people the same satisfaction -- they would much rather feel like they're part of a patriotic effort to stick it to Al Qaeda than to assist with the boring day-to-day maintenance of an ongoing problem.

And yet, that's not really the charity's fault, right? Only certain hair is wig-worthy and donors can't be expected to understand that. But even so, based on how much useable hair Locks of Love receives, Nonprofit Investor estimates that they should be able to produce around 2,000 wigs a year. However, in 2013 the charity only managed to produce 317. According to the organization, they only got 317 orders that year, and the rest of the hair was sold off to finance their operations.

David Hanlon/iStock
Sold to the professional hair incinerators, we assume.

Sure, making wigs costs money, and Locks of Love needs an income stream to meet their operation costs and continue doing what they do. But the point is, if you decide to shave your coif and donate it to charity, even if it manages to pass the stringent quality guidelines, there's still no way of knowing whether it's actually going to help an afflicted child feel a little more normal, or whether it's going to get auctioned off to a creepy guy making a fur coat.

Add it all up, and you have an incredibly inefficient form of charity ... unless, of course, the real beneficiaries aren't bald kids, but rather people who want to post pictures of their shaved head on social media to prove to the world how much they care.

But research into the costs of recycling spectacles has shown that there's actually no benefit to it -- in fact, as stupidly expensive as glasses are, it's somehow still cheaper to design custom eyewear for poor people than it is to hand down a used pair.

First of all, if you're getting rid of your old glasses in the first place, it's probably because they're ... well, old. And somewhat to thoroughly busted, with crooked frames, scratched lenses, or bridges held together with tape. On top of that, your glasses were most likely designed for both your specific sight problem and the shape of your uniquely deformed head. Even if your old glasses are miraculously in perfect shape, it's highly unlikely that you'll find anyone else who will get the same benefit from them -- researchers discovered that only 7 percent of donated glasses can be re-fitted.

lolostock/iStock
Those that can't, get to deal with another Thanksgiving dinner hearing about their cousin, Sunglasses, and their successful modeling career.

Yeah, that's somehow an even worse ratio than most of the stuff on this list. Now, take that number and consider how much it costs for staff to sort through millions of pairs of glasses, test them, discard and dispose of the 93 percent that will never do anyone any good, and then track down those few lucky short-sighted Cinderellas who match up with one of the prizes in your eyeglass lottery. They did the math, and found out that it's much cheaper, quicker, and easier to just make new glasses the regular way for the people who need them.

At this point, you might think the problem is that donors tend to go cheap -- poor-quality donations choke the supply chain with stuff nobody can use. But this problem persists even when you're talking about devices worth more than your car ...

The idea was that all of Earth's evil rich people lived on a luxurious space station, leaving the rest of us poor bastards to scrape by in third-world conditions on Earth. Up in Elysium, the rich folks had advanced machines that could cure any disease, but greedily denied them to sick folks from down here. The happy ending of the film is that Matt Damon straps on a robot suit and helps the good guys take over ... with the final sequence showing those life-saving machines being airlifted down to the planet where the poor could finally use them.

TriStar Pictures
Now try taking Matt Damon's political advocacy seriously ever again.

Well, here's how that plays out in the real world: We rich countries do in fact donate our old gadgets like EEGs and ultrasounds to the third world -- we don't even make them fight us in cyborg form first. Yet, around half of that equipment will never even be switched on, and will just sit idle in the back of some struggling hospital until it falls apart. It's not because they resent the donation or don't understand how to use the machines, but that third-world hospitals simply aren't equipped to run them.

There's a somewhat naive assumption that you can just take something insanely complicated like an EEG machine, plug it in and go. Then you find out that, for instance, the electrical infrastructure in a country like the Gambia uses a different voltage than what is used in the United States, which means that most of the equipment the U.S. tries to donate instantly becomes expensive and unwieldy paperweights. Then there's the fact that complicated equipment needs constant maintenance to function properly. An impoverished hospital in the Congo probably doesn't have a whole lot of people on staff that are qualified to service this monstrosity:

Mike Miesen/The Atlantic
"The best we can do is stack the parts to look like a robot friend for the children's wing."

Sometimes, medical devices are donated without all the parts they need to function. In others, they just break down and nobody knows how to fix them. Whatever the individual reasons may be, the World Health Organization estimates that around 70 percent of donated medical equipment in sub-Saharan Africa isn't being used. As one hospital administrator who spoke with The Atlantic put it: "Donations just do not work. That is almost always the case."

And it's difficult or impractical to properly dispose of the busted equipment, which means that many third-world hospitals have store rooms groaning under the weight of costly, useless crap that the developed world has helpfully donated to them.

Operation USA
They're looking at maps, wondering what ever-poorer country they can palm these off on.

It's almost as if charity, without some kind of research and forethought, is a half-measure that mainly makes the donors feel good about themselves and/or take a deduction on their taxes. In fact, we'd bet that the more needy the recipient and the more emotional the cause, the more likely donors are to blindly give without scrutiny. After all, wouldn't you feel like shit questioning the motives of, say, a charity intended to help wounded veterans?