My Dad used to take me on his summer business trips where he drove from town to town talking to his clients which were hotels.
He taught me the effective use of the F-Bomb, which I used to his great embarrassment when my Grandma and Grandpa drove me to a event and someone cut them off.
A 8 year old dropping a 5 minute profanity laced rant in front of his elderly grandparents isn't so awesome and they knew who to blame for my language.
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My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
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