48, male, no words have ever or will ever make me fight – that nonsense is for immature punks.
Finally found the quote I was looking for. I had thought it was Ron or Scott Asheton, but actually it was Wayne Kramer of the MC5:
“So all these articles kept saying that these kinds of bands were inspired by the MC5, and from where I sat [in jail], ‘punk’ did not have a good ring to it. So I was flushing these articles down the toilet because, in jail, a punk is somebody that they knock down and make their girlfriend. You know, ‘I’m gonna make you my punk’ – and that kind of talk could get you killed, right?” – Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, p. 281
Earlier in the book there’s a reference to the word “punk” having been used in William S. Burrough’s novel Junky, and Burroughs is quoted as saying “I always thought a punk was someone who took it up the ass.” (p. 260)
I’d expect that for most white people today “punk” would be understood as either a fairly generic insult or a reference to punk rock, but based on the above I’d guess that before about 1975 it may well have been considered “fighting words” by many young white men.
I have a severe hearing problem, and people that mock me for it are instantly and permanently on my shit list. In most other respects, I am Mellow Yellow. You can say what you want about my hair, my clothes, the way I walk, the way I talk, these things will get me slightly annoyed at most.
Nothing anyone can say about me will cause me to lose my temper. I was in the newspaper business as repoter and editor for over 20 years, and have been taunted, insulted and, yes, even shot at. I got pretty disgusted a few times and a little scared on one occasion, but never lost my temper.
On the other hand, disparaging remarks about the moral character of my wife, mother or daughters-in-law probably would get you punched. I’m normally a level-headed guy, but push my buttons often enough and I’ll respond. The worst trouble I ever got into (law-wise) was just months before Razorette and I were married. I was working construction and one of my crewmates was a fellow who had dated my betrothed a couple of years before. He voiced a less than flattering opinion of her romantic proclivities, not once but several times. I broke his hard hat with a two-by-four. Unfortunately, the hat was on his head at the time and I ended up talking to one of my father’s colleagues about the incident for a couple of hours. (Dad was a cop.) I got fired from the worksite but the “victim” declined to file a complaint, mostly because he didn’t want to admit in an affidavit what he’d said that prompted my “assault.” I was lucky.