My folks were hippies. Did the woodstock thing and all. I grew up around them smoking pot at parties and stuff. When Nancy Reagan told us all it was bad my parents told me she was full of shit, that smoking dope sometimes was as ok as drinking a few beers and that when I moved out of the house I was free to do what I wanted.
As for sex, pretty much the same thing. Wrap your willie, wait till you’re an adult, and don’t do it here.
I’m as honest with my kids about drugs now.
Lace codes (and brace or strap codes I’m reminded above) are largely dead now. It started letting up when it was discovered how dope blue Docs looked with red laces.
See? The system works!
Hitting a guy with an ax handle. There’s not a lot of nuance or grace in it.
Back a few lifetimes ago in this area it was anti-gay.
Yeah, absolutely. It’s’s an old Skinhead/Bonehead thing. You’d rock different colors to say what you sort of believed. Red was neo-nazi, white was klan or white power, blue I think was pro cop, yellow was anti-gay, green was something bad but I don’t remember what, may be you robbed everyone. This was kind of nationwide but varied by area somewhat. Like blue could mean pro cop or anticop. This was way before think blue line stuff.
So growing up you’d see a bunch of bone heads strutting around with white laces and you’d know they were all racist shiteaters.
Mostly I think it was a way for skins to decide who to fight. Like I say, I was a punk, so not as much into fighting for fun like most skins were. I just ran with some because being a skater and a punk then was a little harder if you got caught alone. And having friends that liked to fight was just good sense.
I’m 52 now so I don’t punch anyone anymore. But back in the mid '80s to early '90s I was one of a few skatepunks that ran around with some ofe the local Unity Skins. We did a fair bit of nazi punching (and ax handling). This was toward the end of lace codes and wearing patches on bomber jackets. I’m not sure we changed anyone’s mind but for a few years, no one was rocking confederate flags or white laces in the open. But I’m just some random guy online so take everything I say with a grain of salt.
(White, red, and yellow laces still give me pause. My teen came home one day wearing yellow laces and we had to have a talk. After some fact checking, and him explaining some stuff, I let it go and got a pair of yellows for my boots. Funny how things change over time and areas).
You’re not wrong but I was speaking more generally.
There’s a whole other 50% in the buildings that didn’t.
I have a big Veto bag. It was a gift from one of my bosses. I’d never have bought one (though I have occidental bags and am not afraid to spend money on tools) but god damn, it is a fine piece of gear. If it ever wears out, I’d deff buy a new one.
I’ve never gone through this exactly but have had stints of prolonged pain. I really hate painkillers. I try to meditate. I try to remove my self from the pain and see it externally. Not make it disappear, just see it as separate from myself. And I try to focus on the temporary nature of it. It will pass. In time, I won’t even remember how intense it was. The memory will be there, but not the detail.
Nope. East coast.
If you want a tattoo, or several, it’ll sort of decide for you. Like go into a shop, meet some artists, look through their portfolios. Something will jump out at you and the pain will work itself out. Really, meet the artists. You want someone you vibe with. You’re going to be in an intimate relationship with them. And you don’t want some nut-jobs mojo getting in your skin.
Everyone feels tattoos different. My worst were my elbows, center of my sternum, and by far the worst, my inner wrist. My buddy had real problems getting his palm done but mine just felt weird. I’ve heard ribs are torture but mine were OK. The top of my foot was brutal, my friend (different dude) said he almost didn’t feel his. Keeping clean, follow whatever after-care that particular artist says to do until you learn your body and have experience on how you personally heal. And after it’s healed, sunscreen.
Also, try to remember, tattoos aren’t a static piece, they’re dynamic. They change over time and you wear them in. They’re like a good pair of jeans, they reflect wear and tear. They can fade a bit, they can get a little muted. This is part of the beauty. They aren’t stickers.
Same car! I covered her with stickers and vinyls. Her name is Lydia the Tattooed Subie.
I think honor is living by the rules one sets upon themselves and others. Especially when shit gets hard. It’s easy to say “I help people” but it’s a lot harder to push a car to the shoulder in the rain because somebody has a flat on a highway. It’s also easy to say people should let you in line because you have two items but do you do that when you have a full cart but really want to get home soon? I try to teach my kids “if you can help, you have to help”. When they do that, they bring honor to themselves and the family.
Ymmv.
(This is for native storage but I’m bored and want to contribute)
I do the genre thing. I’ll simplify them first. Like I have-
1 big one for Ska.
1 for first wave ska.
1 for second wave.
1 for 3rd.
No reggae, thats 1st wave. Same with rocksteady, dub, dance hall, etc.
Metal is all metal. No crossover or Nü.
I do separate Punk and Skate Punk though, the latter being the old Thrasher Mag Skate Rock tapes.
Rock is a mess but everything from AcDc to Pusa.
Hip-hop is anything that even could be considered rap.
EDM is the same.
Just super broad strokes. Then a playlist is either a genre or two or the entire catalog of a few bands. Occasionally, if I get super motivated, I’ll do a playlist with albums, but rarely any more specific than that unless I need something particular- Like one for running, or a game session.
Hank Scorpio is the only correct answer. Or maybe it’s wrong, i dunno, but I think it’s correct.
I did. Back in the old days we had phones connected to wires called land lines. The phones were controlled by shitty companies similar to cell service providers or cable companies (almost as archaic as land lines).
I was having trouble getting my land line up and running after a move. A bad day at work, money trouble, and a phone that still wouldn’t work, set me off. I totally lost my shit on a poor, under paid rep. I mean, I went off. It was brutal. I think I made her cry. The people in the room I was in (rental office at the new apartment complex) all left the room.
After a solid 2 or 3 minutes of me just ripping into this innocent person, I caught myself. I realized what I was doing mid-rant and just stopped. I sort of gasped and said “oh god. What the fuck is wrong with me?” or something similar out loud. I spent the next couple of minutes apologizing and telling this person how big a shit head I was being. I admitted that I had crossed a line, commended them on their professionalism, and took full responsibility for making this their problem when it clearly wasn’t. I was sincere and I was honest. I told her that she should hang up on me and make a note in my file that I’m a problem. I also said that I’d never yell at a rep like that again. And humbly asked if ther was anything she could do to help me. She did. She solved whatever bullshit problem there was and was so rad to me.
She went so far above and beyond after I treated her like shit. That was close to 30 years ago and I still have never even raised my voice to a rep since. As bad as some places are, as poorly trained as some reps are, even as shitty as some reps are, I’ll never forget how rotten a person I was in that moment. I don’t want to be like that. That’s not the kind of world I want to live in. And frankly, fuck a dude that would talk to me like that.
Ooof. Or that thing in your chin just under your tongue.
It was more like when you move out and are on your own.