Worst non racial epithet or insult you've personally heard anyone use.

[Charlie_Wayne]

@gigi

Nah. Salespeople need to start with “Sir” and it’s in their best interests to do so given that some people might not like the presumed familiarity.

That is certainly the way that I feel and when the sales person loses a commission, they will understand in a way that no amount of words of explanation will ever convey.

If I had written the above post but never referenced “Big Guy” or my weight, then the point would be strictly about familiarity. I’m not going to spend a thousand dollars in a store and allow the sales person to make their commission from that sale if I feel they are not treating me with respect and if they call me “Chief”, then I don’t feel they are treating me in a respectful manner.

Thank you for your post GiGi.

[Sanity_Challenged]

It’s been over 20 years, but I still remember seeing an extremely irate young woman telling the guy who had pissed her off that “It’s not too late to grab your daddy’s shotgun, crawl back up your mother’s cunt, and abort yourself!”

[slowlearner]

Vonnegut had a character exclaim, Why don’t you go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut? Why don’t you go take a flying fuck at the moooon!
My favorite category is more frustration than insult. Fuck me running. Fuck me dead. Fuck me blind. Fuck me on the wrong side of town. Endless, just like the little frustrations in a working man’s day…

[Daylate]

“Your face looks like a bouquet of angry assholes”

[Penfeather]

@Charlie_Wayne

I am 5’8" tall and at one time, I weighed about 220 lbs.

I used to get called “Big Guy” most everywhere I went in my city. But in a different city they would call me something else, like “Buddy” or “Pal” or “Boss” or “Chief”.

I always hated - absolutely hated - being called “Big Guy”. What the Hell is wrong with “Sir”?

Recently, I walked into a furniture store to buy a thousand dollar mattress. The salesman sitting behind the desk piped up with, “Hello Chief”. I told him that I did not appreciate him calling me “Chief”. I told him that we didn’t know each other and he had no business calling me “Chief”. I then told him I did not want him to speak to me again and I bought the mattress from a different sales person. I’m certain those sales people worked on commission.
The funny thing is that in every different city, most people would tend to use one of those names but in a different city, they would choose to use another name instead. I have never understood why that is.

Sure thing, Sport.

[cochrane]

@TreacherousCretin

“Tiny-Brained Wiper of Other People’s Bottoms.”

Another one from Monty Python and the Holy Grail:

You empty-headed animal food trough waterer.

[kayaker]

@Charlie_Wayne

Recently, I walked into a furniture store to buy a thousand dollar mattress. The salesman sitting behind the desk piped up with, “Hello Chief”. I told him that I did not appreciate him calling me “Chief”. I told him that we didn’t know each other and he had no business calling me “Chief”. I then told him I did not want him to speak to me again and I bought the mattress from a different sales person. I’m certain those sales people worked on commission.

Small world. It was Levin Furniture, right?!

That salesman is a buddy of mine. You’re not telling the whole truth. You were wearing a full Native American head-dress, right?

[WotNot]

I once heard one guy accuse another of having “chewed his way up from the bottom of the abortion bucket”.

[Springtime_for_Spacers]

My father, a maths teacher, would tell underachieving pupils “The only thing you’ll pass is water.”

[Soylent_Juicy]

When I was a teenager I heard someone refer to a friend-of-a-friend as a “sperm-burping gutter slut from hell”.

[Urbanredneck]

Guy at work today insulted me by asking about my professional credentials. Registered electrician 15 years.

[Urbanredneck]

@lieu

I was in the outfield (not a Zeppelin album) at a Rangers game years back when I heard someone yell out to Jose… “Hey Canseco, I hardly recognized your wife since she started shaving her back.”

In addition to roars from the home crowd, even Jose had to turn around and look up, a little astonished at that one.

I imagine right fielders have heard them all.

[RTFirefly]

@Daylate

“Your face looks like a bouquet of angry assholes”

I’m saving that one. I’m sure opportunities to use it will arise.

[elmwood]

@Charlie_Wayne

But in a different city they would call me something else, like “Buddy” or “Pal” or “Boss” or “Chief”.

It’s a blue collar thing. If you don’t like those terms, you might as well avoid stepping foot in an outdoor wear or workwear store, hardware store, or any independent “guy” store in the Rust Belt and Midwest.

“Boss” is a term that’s frequently used in prisons, when prisoners address guards and other authority figures. Ex-cons still use the term quite a bit on the outside, especially in customer service jobs. (“You want the engine flush with that oil change, boss?”)

[Drunky_Smurf]

@Charlie_Wayne

I am 5’8" tall and at one time, I weighed about 220 lbs.

I used to get called “Big Guy” most everywhere I went in my city. But in a different city they would call me something else, like “Buddy” or “Pal” or “Boss” or “Chief”.

I always hated - absolutely hated - being called “Big Guy”. What the Hell is wrong with “Sir”?

Recently, I walked into a furniture store to buy a thousand dollar mattress. The salesman sitting behind the desk piped up with, “Hello Chief”. I told him that I did not appreciate him calling me “Chief”. I told him that we didn’t know each other and he had no business calling me “Chief”. I then told him I did not want him to speak to me again and I bought the mattress from a different sales person. I’m certain those sales people worked on commission.
The funny thing is that in every different city, most people would tend to use one of those names but in a different city, they would choose to use another name instead. I have never understood why that is.

[k] Cool, whatever you say, Slick. [/k]

[The_Second_Stone]

Your reputation precedes you.

[TreacherousCretin]

I heard this story on the old Dick Cavett Show (I think):
Many moons ago, authors Gore Vidal and Norman Mailer were involved in a disagreement of some sort. Things came to a head when they ran into each other at a party-- Mailer punched Vidal in the face.
Vidal’s spoken observation on the event: “Words failed him. As usual.”

[Skald_the_Rhymer]

I have a pair of first cousins, brother & sister, who grew estranged after their mother died because they disagreed on how to split the inheritance. The sister, in accusing her brother of being a criminal and a homosexual, referred to him as a “pussy-licker.”

Apparently she was confused as to who homosexual men prefer as their sex partners.

[Machine_Elf]

I saw this in the Usenet newsgroups about twenty years ago. Don’t know who wrote it, but it was genius:

@author unknown

My Dearest Timmy,

You vulgar little maggot. Don’t you know that you are pathetic? You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas, I’ll bet you couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer on the lips than be seen with you.

You are a fiend and a sniveling, back-boneless coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you. You are a bloody nardless newbie twit protohominid chromosomally aberrant caricature of a coprophagic cloacal parasitic pond scum. And I wish you would go away.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a putrefaction, a big suck on a sour lemon with a lime twist.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in regret for what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, a ferment, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

If you aren’t an idiot, you made a world-class effort at simulating one. Try to edit your writing of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little twit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. Your hand even refuses autoerotism. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape kind of stupid. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on the warm side of Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of your drivel.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of your of what you wrote, because, well… it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective… Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us “normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are “challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been “right”. Sort of like parking in a handicapped space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you (like passing gas, for instance).

In short, if I traded you for shit, I would lose the container I brought you in. Otherwise, have a good day.
And let me add:

“We’ve all heard that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually reproduce the works of Shakespeare. Now, thanks to the Internet, we know this is not true.” - Robert Wilensky, University of California

[Charlie_Wayne]

@kayaker

Small world. It was Levin Furniture, right?!

That salesman is a buddy of mine. You’re not telling the whole truth. You were wearing a full Native American head-dress, right?

Amazing! That is right.

But your buddy was naked and instead of a head, he had a bowling ball attached to the top of his neck.

Oh wait! That was a dream I had. Never mind.