I can relate to ALMOST DRANK THE KOOL -AID. It was my maternal Uncles who were the antagonists, not my Dad. I never drank their KOOL-AID and made damn sure it was never offered to my son when I became an adult. #PeaceMarshall
Well done, dickhead. Australian proverb. Was my dad’s favourite saying. Might still be. He used it mostly when driving. Like say, if someone cut him off in traffic, or didn’t use their indicator, he’d yell, ‘well done, dickhead,’ out the window. If he could. If they weren’t within range of his booming voice, he’d say it anyway. Because, you know, it had to be said.
Oh yes, it was completely a sarcastic jibe. Not one you’d ever want to be at the end of. Sometimes it was dad’s players at the receiving end of a “well done, dickhead.” Which was when they knew they were doing a shit job.
For the record — I never actually call my dad, Dad. To be honest I don’t refer to him at all. Is probably why am spitefully refusing to use a capital ‘d’. We’re not exactly on speaking terms. Yet mentioning his…
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