For listing some of the more obscure and unusual insults.
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I want to stab that man in his eyeball with a shrimp fork.
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he has the charisma of a fetid dingo kidne
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Paxton deserves to be destroyed like a slug dropped in a bowl of salt.
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My wife has a copy of Jewish Curses For All Occasions. One of my favorites she paraphrased as:
May all the world’s greatest doctors know of your case.
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My mom’s oldest friendship was with a delightful woman who once told an asshole,
“May you go bald from the sides up.”
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upon hearing something utterly idiotic from someone totally committed, entrenched even, in their own stupidity, my mum would comment - in her perfect Memphis debutant voice:
“you jus’ wanna shake 'em til their teeth rattle a little bit. bless their little heart”.
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Go to the golf course and work on your putts.
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May Trump’s coffin be the size of a hatbox.
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I was onstage with Gothic Without Death.
It was an 80s industrial band. My pal Archaela read her poetry, while Mike Dead made his guitar make impossible noises. Several other friends banged on a large number of various metal objects: large (a door from a pickup truck), medium (bar/restaurant CO2 tanks), and small (pie tins); creating heavy duty, beautiful rhythms. Archaela liked my poetry - and me - enough to ask me to join.
It was the second time we played The Falcon Lounge, and I amusedly noticed the sound man had remembered I’m smol. My mic stand was ridiculously short, so short I drew Archaela’s attention to it. She chuckled. Then I walked up to it, and it hit me right between my bOObs. We LOL’d.
Some asshole at the back of the packed house yelled,
“Show us your tits!”
I did not flinch. I did not react at all.
Every guy there yelled their enthusiasm for this demand. I expressionlessly adjusted my stand, then tapped the mic while tilting it to the preferred angle.
It was live.
I was livid.
I stepped closer to the mic and looked over the crowd. All suddenly fell completely silent.
Still expressionless, in a clear, baritone almost-whisper, I intoned,
“Show us your dick. …If you can…find it.”
The joint erupted in cheers and wild applause - with at least three times the volume as before.
Still expressionless, I turned and picked up my notebook, and we began playing.
Every piece we performed was loudly cheered. The end of the set was met with the same sort of noise they’d made when I’d ahem dressed down the idiot.
We never got so much applause at a gig.
No one, other than my bandmates and the band for whom we opened, spoke to me all night. Audience members avoided my gaze, quit talking, and made more than enough room for me to pass.
As one does, whenever a nuclear furnace approaches.
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Wow, what a beautiful comeback!
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Sounds like basic primate behavior when a superior/stronger member of a group has established their supremacy. Alpha, you!
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Thanks! It just came out of me, too. I didn’t plan what I’d say, nor how I’d say it.
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