snuff tobacco or snuff porn?
You can roll it in salt and it is probably still healthier than a BigMac.
Sounds more decadent than degenerate, and I’m all for more decadence in life.
For me, asking to borrow things that you have no intention of ever giving back is just over that dividing line between the stuff I’d confront someone about (i.e., redeemable) and the stuff that sends up a big “don’t associate with this person ever” warning flag.
Well the question was about irredeemable degenerates, not people who do harmless shit that you don’t like. To me someone who is an irredeemable generate is someone that I can’t employ, live with or associate with.
If anyone has some awesome employees that you feel the need to get rid of becuase they spit or use chewing tobacco, then you’re an idiot. Sack them and send them my way. Good people are too hard to find to toss out for bullshit reasons.
Gaudere’s Law strikes again! :D:D:D:D:D
Can’t say I regard all of these things as irredeemably degenerate, but they definitely elicity WTF responses of disgust and annoyance in me:
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Sex without protection or birth control.
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People who talk about their bodily functions in great detail. Ever.
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People who fart and burp openly like it’s a matter of pride.
I would also like to add that I cannot mark up books or dog-ear books or do anything to books other than leave them in the most pristine condition. Not even college text books. I don’t judge people for doing this, really – especially if they are getting something out of it! But it does make my skin crawl. I kind of feel queasy when I see writing in books. It is because they are sacred to me, if anything can be sacred in my world.
I talk about language use a lot and it hadn’t happened yet, so I guess it had to happen sometime. 
I’m going to step way out on a limb here and say it didn’t work, based on his record.
Smokers in cars who throw their butts out the window. It’s annoying to have a little lit bomb flying towards you and your car, and once I had one actually fly in my window and land on me.
To turn it around for a bit, here’s two things I used to do as a kid that used bug the hell out of my Dad’s (now ex) girlfriend:
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After finishing all of a slice of pizza except for the crust, I would then dip the crust into my soda to get it soggy and sweet enough to devour.
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Generally while at the dinner table I would get lost in thought and have a somewhat blank emotionless expression, which for some reason she would interpret as “making a face”.
I second the use of a car horn for any reason other than a legitimate emergency or warning. In particular, it pisses me off when people arrive to pick you up, and instead of ringing your doorbell, they just sit in your driveway and honk the horn.
That’s seems wrong to me on so many levels, from disturbing my neighbors to expecting me to respond to the horn like a dog to a whistle.
People do this quite deliberately, and inform others that they are doing it, as a sort of novelty item of degeneracy. Google “Depends Party” (or better yet, don’t
).
I’ll say right away I’ve never attended any such, ah, festivities. I have however heard of them, and some people who actually did this. Same sort of people who think vomiting from drinking too much is a competition sport (and screamingly funny).
The minor differences between models of Lee-Enfields is of precisely zero importance or interest to anybody outside the gun collecting hobby. Ditto for Garands, Mausers, and other obsolete rifles. Ditto for 1911’s, Lugers, High Powers, Radoms, and other military handguns of the past.
Historic rifles? The average surplus rifle has no more claim to historicity than a surplus pair of skivvies or a surplus case of C-rats. Collectors who emote over these old rifles amuse me. “Oh! The stories this old SMLE could tell if only it could talk! Who knows how many jerries it sent on to glory?!” That’s right. Who knows? It is exactly an anonymous hunk of wood and metal. It can’t tell any stories. It has no memories. It has no feelings. It is a piece of obsolete machinery. Likening a mass produced infantry rifle to a Van Gogh borders on the disingenuous.