This version of d0t stinks, bad. Let's give our boy some ideas for future skins on lgmb: -vietnam_vet_d0t, he had his legs blown off but he also can do karate. he voted for Trump but just to rile up those pink haired "f****ts" (undecipherable/fighting words) -tough_guy_d0t, he upped his game and fights fat tweens at the Sbarros at the mall.

- just_a_regular_guy: has no tattoos, listens to radio rock and is pretty laid back… yet somehow still insufferable - insurance salesman d0t - animal rights d0t: only eats vegan fish sticks - guy at shows who meets the band and says 'good set, but…'

Word_Is_Bond_d0t, his word is bond, till it ain't

Evil hero dot. He just makes posts about how he got laid 20 years ago

Straightvin. Dothack changes his name to Kevin. No other discernable difference.

i'd like a GAY sassy dot

MAGA_Dot

How about a sober d0t where I post like a normal person and refrain from being confrontational and stop the retarded shit I used to do. I'm trying that one.

I want one wear he claims to have been in a mid level touring nu metal band like maybe Spineshank. Actually maybe lower level like Factory 81 or Relative Ash might be better. Like he claims he was their fill in bass player or something and he has all kinds of wild tour stories.

Give me a few Belmont.

See, dot, the problem is that sober you is still you. The characters are just madlibs thrown in front of your personality. Which regardless of alcohol, is really yucktown. You're human repellent, feller. Might as well put a funny bow on the can of repellent

At Belmont's request - When I got the call to fill in as a bass player for a mid-level nu-metal band on tour, I thought it was just going to be another gig. I had no idea what kind of madness I was stepping into. The first stop was a show in Cleveland where we were opening for Factory 81. Those guys were absolute maniacs on stage, but it was the afterparty where things got real. Someone convinced the hotel to let us turn the pool area into an impromptu acoustic jam session. Factory 81's frontman was howling lyrics into a stolen pool noodle while we tried to keep a straight face and play along. Security shut us down eventually, but not before the drummer from Relative Ash cannonballed into the pool, fully dressed, with a bottle of whiskey in hand. The next night in Chicago was no less chaotic. The venue was this gritty dive where the walls were coated in layers of band stickers and sweat. Relative Ash's energy was infectious, and by the time we hit the stage, the crowd was already a swirling mass of chaos. During our set, my bass strap snapped mid-song, and one of the guys from Factory 81 jumped on stage, holding the bass up so I could finish the riff. After the show, we all piled into a diner at 3 a.m. The waitress recognized us and said, "You guys better tip well; I've seen your stage dives." Somewhere along the way, we found ourselves at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, trying to fix our van with duct tape and borrowed tools. Factory 81's bassist swore he could "MacGyver" the thing, but the duct tape only held for about 50 miles. That breakdown turned into an impromptu roadside concert for a group of truckers who honked their approval as we jammed on acoustic instruments. Relative Ash's singer was swinging a mic stand around like it was a sword, nearly taking out a side mirror. That night, we slept under the stars, laughing about how we'd tell this story as if it were glamorous. By the time we hit the East Coast, the camaraderie was solidified. There was one night in Boston where Factory 81's drummer and I got into a heated argument about the best bassline in nu-metal history. It ended with a slap-bass battle backstage while Relative Ash egged us on. We might've gotten a noise complaint from the venue staff, but they couldn't deny we were having fun. That night, the crowd went berserk during our set, and someone handed me a shoe as a "souvenir." To this day, I don't know whose shoe it was, but it's still in my collection. By the end of the tour, I was half-dead from exhaustion but riding high on adrenaline. The bonds we formed, the insanity of life on the road, and the sheer unpredictability of every moment made it unforgettable. Touring with Factory 81 and Relative Ash taught me that nu-metal wasn't just about the music—it was about the chaos, the community, and the stories you could never make up if you tried. Every time I pick up my bass now, I think of those nights, the people I met, and the wild ride that cemented my love for this crazy life.

Jesus f*cking christ, You're the worst

Shove your awful AI prompts up your ass

ok, i'm gonna go back to bed. i just woke up dreaming of GAY sassy dot