Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Bad Dog Cafe' started by Old Deaf Roadie, Mar 4, 2021.
This is some high-quality perspective.
I go all over the place with doom. I like the more stonery bands like Electric Wizard, Sleep and Mephistofeles, the more traditional bands like Cathedral and St. Vitus. I go pretty deep into funeral doom, like some of the drone bands as well.
"a yellow-bellied polecat of dubious antecedents and conjectural progeny."
Oh wait, that wasn't me. That was Sgt Beaufort's loose translation Cochise regarding of indian agent Meacham.
I haven't really been called bad things face to face other than friends joking around (or were they? Hmmm). I am sure plenty of bad things were said behind my back when I was a manager or director, etc.
I'd have replied, "All of them."
My grandmother would say, “Bless your little heart” when I acted like a poop. Can I say poop here?
A good southern put down
Not really the worst I’ve been called but someone once told me I looked like I would make a good undertaker .
I couldn’t even respond because I had no idea if that was an insult or what he was trying to say.
My man. Some of my favorites are: Pallbearer, Khemmis, Sleep, Electric Wizard, Uncle Acid, Windhand, Cough, Bell Witch, Slow, Atramentus, Obsequiae, Alcest, True Widow, Ghost Bath... and you get the idea.
I love traditional doom, prog doom, stoner, pysch, funeral doom, doomgaze, black metal, post-black metal, atmospheric black metal, folk metal, and the list goes on.
Been called most words in the book and a bunch that aren't. Few of them have carried the foolish derision of those who believe 'millennial' to be an insult.
Also, I guess I technically am, but I make the cut off by a few months and am very unlike most millennials. I guess you just don't like me and are looking for a lazy way insult me for being born a different year than you.
at work one day, I got "%$%^%$#@@#$$%%^, &*&^$&(*(*&^%$#$#[email protected]#%^%, mofo ,)(*&^%%$^^&&&, "I started to laugh, made my day becuse by 07:00AM her day was ruined
I forgot about Cough and Atramentus, haha. I don't want to clog up this thread though. Feel free to shoot me a private message if you want to keep up the metal talk.
Yeah, for sure. Back to the regularly scheduled programming.
"Precious"... and it hurt. Am still working through it with my therapist.
There are a few of us around!
The perfect response.
Hurtful names I have been called that I think I can say here without official reprimand:
You missed an opportunity to come back with: "Keep it up, and you'll be the next!"
Worst thing was when one of my favorite teachers in college told me “you’re a great musician, I just wish you weren’t such an awful student.” That one stung.
Other than that I’ve been called the f-word by random meatheads and tough guys more than I can count. And never even by some Ivy League sports type of douchebag either, always by some waste of life who’s trying to compensate for something. Testosterone is a hell of a drug.
Having worked security and customer service for sporting events and concert venues for 14 years as a manager, I have been called many very uncomplimentary things, especially at gate areas.
As we were a contractor, I certainly could not offer a snappy rejoinder.
It got to be a regular thing for people to yell, "This is ridiculous!" whenever they did not get their way
(which was never), and I had to suffer a lot of F-bombs with no opportunity to retort.
I got really good at a stink-eye look that would shut them up, cold.
My favorite was always the patron yelling, "I demand to speak to the manager!"
I, whom they had just showered with F-bombs, would say, calmly, "I am the manager."
This was usually followed by, in an even louder voice, the patron saying, "I demand to speak to the person in charge!"
I would pause a heartbeat, and say quietly, "That is me."
Then, apply stink-eye.
The job could really make you dislike some people.
Ticking both the work-related and me-being-in-the-right boxes, the one I'm most proud of is the complainant who was reduced to silent but very-definitely heel-stomping rage. None angrier, none sweeter.
Heathen. That reminds me of Sanford & Son's Aunt Esther.
Back in the 90's I worked at the prison. It only took a few hours on the job for me to realize that there are two kinds of people on earth: African and KKK. People who had never seen me before anywhere on earth took one look and immediately judged me to be card carrying KKK. As if I were personally responsible that they had pulled that trigger or robbed that bank. Anyone who knows me personally would laugh long and hard at the suggestion and the inference.
They never realized that it only made me feel sorry for them. For some it was part of their act, necessary to survive the stint. For others I could only wonder what kind of childhood they endured to make them place their unflinching trust in such a tainted lens. If you think I'm evil then you obviously have never seen real evil. Maybe that's something to be glad about, I don't know.