Apology to the community

[oldtimer]

It's been in my vocabulary for years.

[Thaddeus Smith]

I prefer the phrase "****** canoe".

[Thaddeus Smith]

Douchecanoe*

[MORE KLIPSCH PLEASE]

It's been in my vocabulary for years.

 

 

Now I've heard and used the word "Douchebag" but not "Douchebaggery"..... I like it   

 

MKP :-)

[oldtimer]

Oh I have lots more but fear to test them here without cause.

[garyrc]

Wow!

 

I don't know what you said, and like others, I won't look it up.

 

Your contributions over the years have been considerable. 

 

As far as your labor background is concerned, I'll point out that I heard all the words, repeatedly, at my work, coming out of the mouths of Ph.D.s.  Sometimes the energy release of some fine old Anglo Saxon expletives, especially if they stir anger in the listeners, is helpful.  Evidently, those utterances still work, given the warning point you got.

 

A famous witness to the firing of a CIA director told us that he had never heard so many verboten words, arranged so creatively, as when he heard them coming from a certain President of the United States.

[WMcD]

Okay, apology accepted.  Except you had to use db, didn't you.  Wince.  A Parthian shot.  I'll get on my high horse now.

 

I believe this forum is treasure of intellectual and technological discourse as well as warm friendships.  It is not an army barracks, a ship at sea, a bordello, a locker room, or a construction site.  So the argot of those institutions have no place here. 

 

For the life of me, I don't understand why foul language is adopted by the speaker as the mark of anything meritorious.  But we hear this often.  A young man grows to adulthood and decides that the use of billingsgate makes him a tough, world-wise man, worthy of respect.  It is, to the contrary, in my view, very un-intellectual, simply impolite, and decreases any respect which might otherwise be attributed to the thoughts behind the words.

 

It may have been for the best that I was never asked to be a moderator.  I'd clamp down on language to conform to 1940's radio standards.  Even BS (per PWK) would be limited to those initials. And no clever initial groups either.  All this just tarnishes an otherwise magnificent forum.  Also, ladies don't like them.

 

End of rant and stepping down off my high horse.

 

WMcD

Edited July 26, 2016 by WMcD

[oldtimer]

High Ho Silver!

[WMcD]

Okay, I'll be violating my own standards here just a little.

 

I used this story in a class I taught as an example of "issue recognition."  You have to recognize the legal issue before making an analysis.

 

Boys, brothers Peter and Paul wake up one morning a decide they are now all grown up and can therefore cuss.  Peter resolves, I'll say "hell" and Paul resolves, I'll say "***."

 

They go down to the kitchen and their smiling mother asks, "What would you boys like for breakfast?"

 

Peter says, "What the hell mom, I'll have a bowl of Cheerios."  But mom, offended by her son's rude language, slaps him across his face.

 

She turns to Paul and asks, "And what would you like for breakfast?"  Confused, Paul says, "I don't know mom, but you can bet your *** it's not going to be Cheerios."

 

Lessons: Don't cuss to your mom.  Bad language has unintended consequences.  Don't put up language on the forum which you would not say to your mom.

 

Smile,

 

WMcD
 

[WMcD]

Lovely work by the software.  Years ago it didn't like room treatment. Figure it out.  Smile.

 

WMcD

Edited July 26, 2016 by WMcD

[oldtimer]

To the Batcave!

[twk123]

Okay, I'll be violating my own standards here just a little.

 

I used this story in a class I taught as an example of "issue recognition."  You have to recognize the legal issue before making an analysis.

 

Boys, brothers Peter and Paul wake up one morning a decide they are now all grown up and can therefore cuss.  Peter resolves, I'll say "hell" and Paul resolves, I'll say "***."

 

They go down to the kitchen and their smiling mother asks, "What would you boys like for breakfast?"

 

Peter says, "What the hell mom, I'll have a bowl of Cheerios."  But mom, offended by her son's rude language, slaps him across his face.

 

She turns to Paul and asks, "And what would you like for breakfast?"  Confused, Paul says, "I don't know mom, but you can bet your *** it's not going to be Cheerios."

 

Lessons: Don't cuss to your mom.  Bad language has unintended consequences.  Don't put up language on the forum which you would not say to your mom.

 

Smile,

 

WMcD

 

 

I read this and immediately had to watch this scene:

 

 

As for swearing here, we should remember that Klipsch is a commercial enterprise and what is said here reflects on their brand image and reputation and should adjust our use of words as such.

[oldtimer]

That's too easy.

[Gilbert]

High Ho Silver!

 

 

You said "Ho", shame on you. I expect an immediate apology.

[oldtimer]

 

High Ho Silver!

 

 

You said "Ho", shame on you. I expect an immediate apology.

 

 

I'm sorry.

[DizRotus]

My little brother is a graduate of USNA.  He would return from a cruise swearing like a . . . well . . sailor.  He didn't even realize that every other word from his mouth was an Anglo-Saxon expletive.

 

My father took me aside to ask me to ask my brother to expand his vocabulary to include words of more than four letters.  The overuse of expletives dilutes their value to shock when you really need them.  It also suggests a weak vocabulary; one devoid of words with oomph, but that would not shock your mother.

Edited July 26, 2016 by DizRotus

[dirtmudd]

Hello everyone. After 16 years here I have finally earned a 'warning point'. I wanted to apologize to all the members here that read the offensive words that I posted and promise that I will refrain from using foul language in the future. In an attempt to explain, not justify, my use of coarse words here I will say that my working background was in labor. The work was hard and men were men and we men conversed as men. Sometimes words were used among ourselves that may have been offensive to more tender individuals, but at the end of the day we were bound by a bond that was built around hard work and accomplishment. You learn a lot about people when you are pushed to your limit in conditions that test a persons endurance and work ethic. So it is from this background, manually pounding granite 12+ hours a day (mostly nights), that I am trying to transition from to the more modern world where people are now more easily offended.I feel like a douchebag, however that feels. I have no experience with douchebags just as I have not had interaction with the seemingly softer individuals that are so prominent today. So, I am a relic. A specimen from the past. Thank goodness that I am no longer employed and subjecting others to my crudeness.I will soon go to the Gulf Coast to meditate for a few weeks and hopefully return as a more understanding and caring individual with the understanding that our world is now more sensitive and quick to shoot off a message to authority when subjected to crude language. Today I will go buy khaki pants and a baby blue button-down shirt to begin my transition to understanding.Wish me luck!Keith

At the top of the stairs he finds a chamber. It is almost a hemisphere with a great many doors all the way round its circumference. There is a large crowd, huddled in various groups. From the shouting, Rael learns that there are 32 doors, but only one that leads out. Their voices get louder and louder until Rael screams "Shut up!" There is a momentary silence and then Rael finds himself the focus as they direct their advice and commands to their new found recruit. Bred on trash, fed on ash the jigsaw master has got to move faster. Rael sees a quiet corner and rushes to iT

At the top of the stairs, there's hundreds of people

Running around to all the doors

They try to find, find themselves an audience

Their deductions need applause

The rich man stands in front of me

The poor man behind my back

They believe they can control the game

But the juggler holds another pack

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I'd rather trust a countryman than a townman

You can judge by his eyes, take a look if you can

He'll smile through his guard

Survival trains hard

I'd rather trust a man who works with his hands

He looks at you once, you know he understands

Don't need any shield

When you're out in the field

But down here, I'm so alone with my fear

With everything that I hear

And every single door that I've walked through

Brings me back, back here again

I've got to find my own way

The priest and the magician

Singin' all the chants that they have ever heard

And they're all calling out my name

Even academics, searching printed word

My father to the left of me

My mother to the right

Like everyone else they're pointing

But nowhere feels quite right

And I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I'd rather trust a man who doesn't shout what he's found

There's no need to sell if you're homeward bound

If I choose a side

He won't take me for a ride

Back inside, this chamber of so many doors

I've nowhere, nowhere to hide

I'd give you all of my dreams, if you'd help me

Find a door that doesn't lead me back again

Take me away

[wstrickland1]

 

douchebaggery

 

This will now be part of my daily vocabulary at my shop 

 

MKP :-)

 

 

and dumbassery, maybe even jackbaggery

[oldtimer]

My little brother is a graduate of USNA.  He would return from a cruise swearing like a . . . well . . sailor.  He didn't even realize that every other word from his mouth was an Anglo-Saxon expletive.

 

My father took me aside to ask me to ask my brother to expand his vocabulary to include words of more than four letters.  The overuse of expletives dilutes their value to shock when you really need them.  It also suggests a weak vocabulary; one devoid of words with oomph that would not shock your mother.

 

Very true.  That's why the combination of both is verbally devastating.

[oldtimer]

 

Hello everyone. After 16 years here I have finally earned a 'warning point'. I wanted to apologize to all the members here that read the offensive words that I posted and promise that I will refrain from using foul language in the future. In an attempt to explain, not justify, my use of coarse words here I will say that my working background was in labor. The work was hard and men were men and we men conversed as men. Sometimes words were used among ourselves that may have been offensive to more tender individuals, but at the end of the day we were bound by a bond that was built around hard work and accomplishment. You learn a lot about people when you are pushed to your limit in conditions that test a persons endurance and work ethic. So it is from this background, manually pounding granite 12+ hours a day (mostly nights), that I am trying to transition from to the more modern world where people are now more easily offended.I feel like a douchebag, however that feels. I have no experience with douchebags just as I have not had interaction with the seemingly softer individuals that are so prominent today. So, I am a relic. A specimen from the past. Thank goodness that I am no longer employed and subjecting others to my crudeness.I will soon go to the Gulf Coast to meditate for a few weeks and hopefully return as a more understanding and caring individual with the understanding that our world is now more sensitive and quick to shoot off a message to authority when subjected to crude language. Today I will go buy khaki pants and a baby blue button-down shirt to begin my transition to understanding.Wish me luck!Keith

At the top of the stairs he finds a chamber. It is almost a hemisphere with a great many doors all the way round its circumference. There is a large crowd, huddled in various groups. From the shouting, Rael learns that there are 32 doors, but only one that leads out. Their voices get louder and louder until Rael screams "Shut up!" There is a momentary silence and then Rael finds himself the focus as they direct their advice and commands to their new found recruit. Bred on trash, fed on ash the jigsaw master has got to move faster. Rael sees a quiet corner and rushes to iT

At the top of the stairs, there's hundreds of people

Running around to all the doors

They try to find, find themselves an audience

Their deductions need applause

The rich man stands in front of me

The poor man behind my back

They believe they can control the game

But the juggler holds another pack

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I'd rather trust a countryman than a townman

You can judge by his eyes, take a look if you can

He'll smile through his guard

Survival trains hard

I'd rather trust a man who works with his hands

He looks at you once, you know he understands

Don't need any shield

When you're out in the field

But down here, I'm so alone with my fear

With everything that I hear

And every single door that I've walked through

Brings me back, back here again

I've got to find my own way

The priest and the magician

Singin' all the chants that they have ever heard

And they're all calling out my name

Even academics, searching printed word

My father to the left of me

My mother to the right

Like everyone else they're pointing

But nowhere feels quite right

And I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I need someone to believe in, someone to trust

I'd rather trust a man who doesn't shout what he's found

There's no need to sell if you're homeward bound

If I choose a side

He won't take me for a ride

Back inside, this chamber of so many doors

I've nowhere, nowhere to hide

I'd give you all of my dreams, if you'd help me

Find a door that doesn't lead me back again

Take me away

 

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.

My words but a whisper your deafness a SHOUT.

I may make you feel but I can't make you think.

Your sperm's in the gutter your love's in the sink.

So you ride yourselves over the fields and

you make all your animal deals and

your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away

in the tidal destruction the moral melee.

The elastic retreat rings the close of play

as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way.

But your new shoes are worn at the heels

and your suntan does rapidly peel

and your wise men don't know how it feels

to be thick as a brick.

And the love that I feel is so far away:

I'm a bad dream that I just had today

and you shake your head and say it's a shame.

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.

Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.

Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.

See there! A son is born and we pronounce him fit to fight.

There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.

We'll make a man of him, put him to trade

teach him to play Monopoly and how to sing in the rain.

The Poet and the Painter casting shadows on the water

as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.

The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other

as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.

The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling

but the master of the house is far away.

The horses stamping, their warm breath clouding

in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.

And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.

And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.

Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.

The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river

where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:

the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose

and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.

The young men of the household have all gone into service

and are not to be expected for a year.

The innocent young master - thoughts moving ever faster -

has formed the plan to change the man he seems.

And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.

And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.

Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.

What do you do when the old man's gone - do you want to be him?

And your real self sings the song. Do you want to free him?

No one to help you get up steam

and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.

I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.

My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.

So come on all you criminals! I've got to put you straight

just like I did with my old man twenty years too late.

Your bread and water's going cold.

Your hair is too short and neat.

I'll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone,

you meet the stares, you're unaware that your doings aren't done.

And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.

But how are we supposed to see where we should run?

I see you shuffle in the courtroom with

your rings upon your fingers

and your downy little sidies

and your silver-buckle shoes.

Playing at the hard case,

you follow the example of the comic-paper idol

who lets you bend the rules.

So!

Come on ye childhood heroes!

Won't you rise up from the pages of your comic-books

your super crooks

and show us all the way.

Well! Make your will and testament.

Won't you? Join your local government.

We'll have Superman for president

let Robin save the day.

You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.

The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.

And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are

and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.

And you wonder who to call on.

So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?

And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?

They're all resting down in Cornwall

writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition

of the Boy Scout Manual