Things you have an irrational hatred of

[LoathedVermin72]

Shellac and The Jesus Lizard are not post-rock

I'm not about to burden some poor Arctic Monkeys fan with the term "noise rock"

Surely noise rock is a much easier term to understand than post-rock...also the Arctic Monkeys aren't exactly a band that's popular in the mainstream these days so...

this whole scenario is befuddling

I thought you said you were more chill now

i could have used all caps

[Jorge]

"Hatred" is a little strong but the phrase "lived experience" kind of annoys me. What other type of experience is there that isn't "lived"? Seems redundant

[pepperwhiteMFC]

There’s living, and then there’s LIVING.

[bodysnatcher]

"Hatred" is a little strong but the phrase "lived experience" kind of annoys me. What other type of experience is there that isn't "lived"? Seems redundant

My buddy and I were talking about this particular phrase the other day. It registers directly in the “hatred” spectrum for me

[Higgs]

My truth from my personal lived experience is that these terms are all fucking stupid.

[Bammer]

"Hatred" is a little strong but the phrase "lived experience" kind of annoys me. What other type of experience is there that isn't "lived"? Seems redundant

My buddy and I were talking about this particular phrase the other day. It registers directly in the “hatred” spectrum for me

It’s right up there with “community members”

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[E.H. Ruddock]

lol trag

[spike]

My wife tossing her used paper napkin(s) onto her plate after a meal.

[bart]

My wife tossing her used paper napkin(s) onto her plate after a meal.

What why? This is a standard thing…

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Yeah what the hell

[spike]

confirmed bart never does dishes

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[dad]

guys, I think spike wants her to eat the napkins.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Please don’t hit her

[spike]

I’m guessing you’re just using paper napkins because you’re about to move. In which case, grant her this luxury!

we are forgoing the serviettes and formal evening wear for dinner atm

[Bammer]

“Wine tasting”

[Jorge]

My wife tossing her used paper napkin(s) onto her plate after a meal.

Can you elaborate? This seems like something most people do unless I'm misunderstanding

[Ello Sailor]

Yeah, I don't get it. Maybe she shits in the napkins?

[Higgs]

What is she meant to do with the napkin?