Posts by Douglas Taylor4

Sandra Chase16 said:- stealing peaches
- stealing cabbage

Pastoral, man!

- handing out plasma

Rock and Roll, what a mess!

Zachary Bishop82 said:my daughter started freshman year of high school🙂

What I was actually looking for was someone more mature.

Daniel Bailey7 said:Lastane, am I losing my mind here? Back when I was fourteen, I absolutely refused to be the class clown. Is there something wrong with me? 😬

Looking back, my fourteen-year-old obsession with getting laid—which, let’s be honest, was pretty much the standard preoccupation for any street kid my age—felt like something straight out of *Amarcord*.

stressee said:When I think about those islands, I just remember the Blue Seagull Crew and sinking a galley.

It’s probably for the best you didn't call them over—just two little Tony types completely mesmerized by the ocean.

Everyone seems to be some kind of wunderkind these days.
I was reading by the age of seven.
Started school at seven, too.

mainscream said:The top 5 animated series from Eastern Europe

Look, they’re all decent enough, but nothing even comes close to "Maxie".

Nicholas Perez33 said:what I’d actually end up doing isn't exactly romantic 😬 😬 😬

Orange, stop breaking women's glasses!

stormyviper11 said:Thanks, Douglas Taylor4. Watch that space, because there's plenty more where those came from... 🙂

My respect.
Next time I step onto the ice, I’ll be thinking of the Ballad of Gretzky.
I’m going to memorize it by heart before my first puck drop.

Keep on rockin'

dmj said:Are there actually any others like this, without me having to list all the artists?

Honestly, screw any songs set in Mexico.
"Ballad on Ice" is a hundred times better.

...

A lethal club,
A lethal hand,
A lethal hand
Of someone wild.
...

dmj, you’re on another level.
When I finally start that punk rock band in my late thirties, I’m definitely buying the rights to this chorus.

If it weren't for those annoying, colorful emojis, I’d demand a whole row of nothing but bowing ones.

Cheers.

Since there’s already a motto in his signature and total chaos in his head, it’s high time Zelig puts out a music-themed special issue to soundtrack his constant forum posting.

'1977' performed by Billy Childish & thee Mighty Caesars:

in 1977 i Hopa i go to Heaven ' Cos i been too Long on The dol and i can't work AT All Danger Stranger you Better paint Your faca no Elvis
'Cos I been too long on the dole
And I can't work at all

Danger stranger
You better paint your face
No Elvis, Beatles, or the Rolling Stones
In 1977

...

In 1977
You're on the never never
You think it can't go on forever
But the papers say it's better
I don't care 'cos I'm not all there
No Elvis, Beatles or the Rolling Stones

And then we have this very important numerological sequence...

In 1977
Sod the jubilee
In 1978
In 1979
Stayed in bed
In 1980
In 1981
The toilet don't work
In 1982
In 1983
Here come the police
In 1984

Franz Ferdinand is a total fake from '77, but whatever, they're alright.
And honestly, they aren't that far off from Interpol either; if you look at what separates them from gentlepuma20, they're basically in the same orbit.
I really need to start listening to something actually modern.

In the spirit of classic progressive rock—where every song seems to be about architecture or comfort food like bratwurst and mulled wine—I’m adding my two cents.

Last winter, I definitely put on some extra weight thanks to those street food stands.
I’d walk through downtown, grab a quick bite, and tell them, "Give me one of those thick ones, please, with plenty of ketchup and mustard..."
The problem is, I really shouldn't be eating pork.

Nicholas King62 said:I think the second track from Interpol is solid, especially when you get to "Slow Hands," but honestly, the rest of the second half could have been skipped entirely.

Personally, I can't stand those last two tracks.

RE: Weddings

Weddings are alright. In a way, I actually enjoy them. It’s nice seeing people let loose and just be happy for once. The charming d. Gedge (The Wedding Present) has already explained somewhere—maybe in a print mag or online—exactly why weddings are cool; he used the word "surreal" or something along those lines. Either way, I always have a good time at weddings. There’s good food, a few drinks... it’s hard to complain.

RE: Interpol

I get it, I get it... all that hype and whatever, but it doesn't change anything. Their first album has that gorgeous track, "Leif Erikson":

"She swears I'm slave to the details but if your life is such a big joke, why should I care.
...
She feels that my sentimental side should be held with kid gloves but she doesn't know that I left my urge in the icebox"

Pretty sweet.

And Antics has a few solid tracks too. As soon as they start playing, I find myself singing along with the guys, though naturally, I'm singing in English:

"We aren't going to the small rural village, we're heading to the city"

So yeah, that's how it goes.

Maybe they're overhyped and as obnoxious as any other indie phenomenon, but their records are good, and that's all that matters.

Raymond Barrett12 said:Do a little digging into that "rural midwest ice hockey league" thing 😬. You won't find a town there with more than 1,400 people, and they play their games on frozen lakes. It’s probably structured like this: the starting lineup is just a bunch of guys aged 25 to 40, the defense is all guys in their 40s and 50s, the subs are just kids under 25, and everyone else in the village consists of massage therapists, cooks, coaches, water boys, equipment managers, and whatever other random odd jobs you can imagine... 🙂

Exactly!
That’s where I’m headed.
One of these days, people will be reading about how Douglas Taylor4 skied his way all the way to Finland.

I honestly don't understand why people are still making such a big deal out of this. It’s like watching someone argue about whether a certain type of steak is cooked perfectly when everyone can clearly see it's burnt to a crisp. You have to look at the facts here instead of just following the hype. If you actually sit down and analyze the situation, it becomes pretty obvious that the current approach isn't working. It’s inefficient, it’s messy, and frankly, it’s a waste of resources. It reminds me of how some companies try to fix a massive structural flaw with nothing more than a quick coat of paint—it might look okay for a second, but the foundation is still crumbling. We need to stop settling for mediocre excuses and start demanding actual substance. If we want results, we need to change the strategy entirely. Otherwise, we're just spinning our wheels and pretending we're making progress.

Music is useless if you’re just standing there being passive. Give me sports any day! Sure, that sound might follow me around until the day I die, but watching from the crowd is honestly half-baked. To all you people who think you can just pick up a six-string and master it—keep dreaming. I actually tried wearing one of those trendy urban caps once, but I ended up losing my good one, the real rural style from Maine, somewhere on the side of the road in the dark. First off, all that "start your own band" talk or "this band could be your whole life" nonsense? It’s nothing but fairy tales for kids. It’s way too late in the game for me to start sitting behind a drum kit. Honestly, I’d rather just hang a heavy bag in my garage and beat the hell out of it with my hands and feet. If that means I have to ditch the riffs and Slayer, then so be it. Who cares?
...
Pools and water sports—honestly, water is the mother of all mediums. It’s just a shame I recently developed a chlorine allergy. Now, after a swim, I spend a full 24 hours dealing with a runny nose and coughing like my lungs are trying to exit my chest. Every Sunday, instead of going to church (not that I’ve made any formal vows to God anyway), I head over to the Washington Cathedral, shower off, and offer up a little prayer before jumping back into the pool. I’ve been working on my buoyancy lately, and while I’m painfully slow, who cares? By every fifth stroke, I hit such a state of pure nirvana that I feel like I could swim all the way to Soft instead of just doing my usual laps. And I mean true nirvana here—not some pathetic indie rock version you'd find in Seattle. If you want more technical details on the sport, check out Ribafish. My old man knows the drill.

Bikes are absolutely wrecking my back. Once I’ve actually got the cash to burn, I’m going to buy one that is ergonomically tuned to perfection. Naturally, I’ll be consulting with DeKes before I make any moves. I’m a simple guy—when I open up a catalog and see a massive pile of different models, it just drives me crazy. Give me freedom from choice!

Hockey—it starts with just a little amateur skating, but whenever I look back at my old BB posts, I can almost feel myself gripping a hockey stick. It’s such a rush. You get a group of guys together in the local ice rink, shout "Hanson Bros!" just to hear the echo bounce off the walls, and start slamming that stick against the ice. Man, oh Canada, I'm right back there!

If we’re ranking sports balls by importance, here is how I see the hierarchy: 1. Water polo, 2. Soccer, 3. Ping-pong, 4. Volleyball, and 5. Basketball.
Look, man, I’ll be honest—I’m officially done. I don't think I have it in me anymore. If I actually stepped onto a soccer field right now, trying to dribble a ball around, everyone would just be standing there laughing their heads off at me. My buddies from the neighborhood were practically begging me to get back out there, but I just shut myself in my room instead. Now, I spend my time just rearranging my collection—original CDs, burned discs, whatever, even the ones without tracklists. Honestly? It feels pretty damn good to just have some peace and quiet. Listening to something like the Go-Betweens' "Before Hollywood"... that’s exactly what this is. Just pure, solitary bliss.

Mopeds—or as I call them, "city boy cosplay." To me, a moped is only "charming" if you’re starring in some vintage black-and-white French cinema. You know the scene: it’s 4:00 PM, you’re sprinting down the stairs, clutching a leather briefcase in one hand while trying to keep your hat from flying off with the other. Down at the curb, there’s a girl waiting for you, looking perfectly poised—a classy Frenchwoman with windblown hair. You give her a quick kiss on the cheek, hop on the moped, she wraps her arms around your waist, rests her head against your back, and you two ride off into the sunset through the streets of Manhattan. The soundtrack? It’s all Jam, early Film, The Who, Elvis Costello, or maybe the '68 Rolling Stones. In reality? It’s an impossible fantasy. Don't bother trying to make it happen; it just isn't worth the hype.

Table tennis was honestly the only thing that kept me sane during my time in the service. Honestly, I’d much rather be gripping a ping-pong paddle than a rifle any day of the week.

Rafting is definitely on my bucket list. If I had the choice, though, I’d rather be out in a canoe, drifting down a lush, emerald-green river like the ones you see in the Pacific Northwest. Doing that sometime in August would be absolutely stunning.

Skateboarding—I’m not hanging it up just yet. I actually walked away from it back in '84 because my deck was so worn down that riding it became straight-up dangerous. Mind you, we didn't have these high-end pro boards they sell nowadays; things were much more primitive. And yeah, let's be real, I was never exactly a natural at it. But once I finally lose my mind, I’m going to record a Big Boys mixtape on a TDK cassette, grab my Walkman, and head straight for the middle of Times Square. I don't care if the kids there start screaming—whether it's out of laughter or pure terror.

Skiing—even though it’s become such a jet-set cliché—I’m hitting the slopes this winter, because frankly, I’ve decided I’m going to. If that means trekking out to some local hills in the Appalachians with nothing but some rental gear, then so be it. I'm doing it.

Softball—look, sorry guys, I’m a total softie. Still, there’s a part of me that wants to grab a bat, swing for the fences, and swear like a sailor while sliding into home base in my white undies. Soundtrack: "Beat on the Brat" (the Ramones/NmN version for us heavier hitters).

Watching sports on TV is just plain boring when you're flying solo. If I had my buddies hanging out nearby, I’d actually find myself getting into things like ski jumping, downhill racing, the Tour de France, or even Formula 1. Actually, scratch that last one—Formula 1 is garbage. Total trash.

Extreme sports are total garbage. Either you’ve got deep pockets for all the gear, or you need a car to get to the sites, or you have to actually figure out how this complicated crap works—and even then, one wrong move and you’re broken for good. Who has the bandwidth to master all that? Honestly, Douglas Taylor4 is just simple-minded; his brain moves at a snail's pace and he talks so slow it's mind-numbing. He's boring as hell. Screw flying sports. It's disgusting. I guess that's just my luck being a Cancer.
...

Yeah, right, I’m lying through my teeth. Ha! In reality, I’m stuck at home reading books and listening to that pretentious art-school rock played by some androgynous kids who look like they have cashew nuts instead of biceps. Honestly, that’s my latest obsession: 1977.

Long live sweat and the spirit of 1977!

Dana Anderson4 said:The Top 5 Drinks to Avoid on New Year's Day

I’m starting to feel like I might be better off just fully committing to Islam.
God is calling my name.
Alcohol is nothing but trash.
A cold drink after lunch is a must—usually a beer when the summer heat kicks in or when I'm hanging out with friends. But honestly, every once in a while, I’ll go for a shot of bourbon before the meal. That’s just how I roll.
I’m probably just going to sleep through New Year's Day anyway.
Goodnight.

Alex Rogers91 said:Look, man, I think you’re talking out of your ass today. We let you off the leash for a second and now you think you own the place? It's funny how Meira can call someone a poser for their butt, but you aren't allowed to say a word.
Besides, this is the third guy from Canada you've picked a fight with today... Why don't you just shut up and relax!

Listen here, Alex Rogers91, whether I'm talking nonsense tonight or not, God knows I'm fed up with all this garbage—both mine and yours. That's why I'm heading back home to my mom's place in rural Kentucky to get away from it all.
And you better watch your mouth; she’s from Canada, and she could easily run circles around you.
I certainly won't be the one falling for it.
I have zero tolerance for violence.

David Sullivan4 said:I threw that firecracker right next to myself on purpose. Why? I don't know yet. I'll figure it out later.

The main thing is that you aren't planning your own suicide.
Ditch the metal and get back to some gritty rock. Rock is life; metal is just death.
Still, I'm not worried about you since you aren't a die-hard Joe Biden Division fan.

Nicholas Perez33 said:🙂

My personal top 5 metal albums:

1. Slayer - Reign in Blood (obviously)
2. Metallica - ...And Justice for All
3. Sepultura - Chaos A.D.
4. Napalm Death - Diatribes (a bit of an outlier, right?)
5. Death - Symbolic

Come on now, don't walk away from this one.
gentlepuma20 told me—and I believe her—that you're just a poser, plain and simple.
Just face facts.
Nicholas Perez33 = (black) metal poser

David Sullivan4 said:1. So he just grabbed a firecracker off the table and tossed it on the floor. Now everything reeks of gunpowder and I can't hear out of my left ear.

What a total wuss. He doesn't even know how to handle a simple firecracker properly.
If you're going to call yourself a rocker from The Rolling Stones, you better act like one!

Man, that Jihadist buddy of his has completely ruined him. It's a good thing they live thousands of miles apart.

*shakes head in disbelief*