Acdc Quotes

Country’s for dancing and crying. AC/DC is for cleaning your truck.

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap.’ – AC/DC

We roll tonight to the guitar bite Stand up and be counted for what you are about to receive We are the dealers We'll give you everything you need Hail hail to the good times Cos rock has got the right of way We ain't no legends ain't no cause We're just livin' for today For those about to rock, we salute you For those about to rock, we salute you

You're always pushin, shovin Satisfied with nothing You bitch you must be gettin old

...the thunder from Down Under that gives you the second-most-powerful surge that can flow through your body.

I've never met someone who died.I mean someone who could actually talk to me about it.Was it all bright lights and Mormon Tabernacle Choir music?" She smiled in spite of her fear.She'd used this tactic before with victims in their first stages of shock to calm them down until help could get there."Well,I can't really be sure but I think I remember hearing Queen's 'Another One Bites The Dust',"she quipped.He snorted."Well, at least it wasn't ACDC's 'Highway to Hell'.

AC/DC is very easy to miao along to!

Ten Best Song to Strip 1. Any hip-swiveling R&B fuckjam. This category includes The Greatest Stripping Song of All Time: "Remix to Ignition" by R. Kelly. 2. "Purple Rain" by Prince, but you have to be really theatrical about it. Arch your back like Prince himself is daubing body glitter on your abdomen. Most effective in nearly empty, pathos-ridden juice bars. 3. "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones. Insta-attitude. Makes even the clumsiest troglodyte strut like Anita Pallenberg. (However, the Troggs will make you look like even more of a troglodyte, so avoid if possible.) 4. "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. The Lep's shouted choruses and relentless programmed drums prove ideal for chicks who can really stomp. (Coincidence: I once saw a stripper who, like Rick Allen, had only one arm.) 5. "Amber" by 311. This fluid stoner anthem is a favorite of midnight tokers at strip joints everywhere. Mellow enough that even the most shitfaced dancer can make it through the song and back to her Graffix bong without breaking a sweat. Pass the Fritos Scoops, dude. 6. "Miserable" by Lit, but mostly because Pamela Anderson is in the video, and she's like Jesus for strippers (blonde, plastic, capable of parlaying a broken nail into a domestic battery charge, damaged liver). Alos, you can't go wrong stripping to a song that opens with the line "You make me come." 7. "Back Door Man" by The Doors. Almost too easy. The mere implication that you like it in the ass will thrill the average strip-club patron. Just get on all fours and crawl your way toward the down payment on that condo in Cozumel. (Unless, like most strippers, you'd rather blow your nest egg on tacky pimped-out SUVs and Coach purses.) 8. Back in Black" by AC/DC. Producer Mutt Lange wants you to strip. He does. He told me. 9. "I Touch Myself" by the Devinyls. Strip to this, and that guy at the tip rail with the bitch tits and the shop teacher glasses will actually believe that he alone has inspired you to masturbate. Take his money, then go masturbate and think about someone else. 10. "Hash Pipe" by Weezer. Sure, it smells of nerd. But River Cuomo is obsessed with Asian chicks and nose candy, and that's just the spirit you want to evoke in a strip club. I recommend busting out your most crunk pole tricks during this one.

He turned up the car radio and punched buttons until he found something loud and thumpingly exultant, some piece of jolly stupidity from AC/DC.

Cut the crap, no-bullshit rock’n’roll, no arguments allowed, mate.

I thought those were pretty big words coming from a guy who covered AC/DC songs.

I shoot from the hip and keep a stiff upper lip. —AC/DC

Never mind,' Fran said. Her father was amazingly broad-minded, but an AC/DC fan he was not.

You fucked up, mate. Looks like you’re a goner.

Janie sped away in her convertible. Her car’s speakers blasted AC/DC’s Highway to Hell for good measure. She smiled as she mouthed the lyrics, ironically feeling like she was escaping hell.

Mungkin iya, suatu hari aku mau jadi petani. Mencangkul sambil menyanyikan lagu-lagu AC/DC, kayaknya gagah sekali. Aku baca di koran, katanya pembangunan mal di Jakarta masuk rangking sepuluh besar di dunia, dan orang-orang bangga. Aku justru heran, sebenarnya itu kemajuan atau kemunduran, sih?

It's a long way to the top, If you wanna rock n' roll

They set off and drove up and along Maltsborough road to the sound of AC/DC, played volume level two and a half.

Flu made who,” Fran said bleakly. “Pardon?” “Never mind,” Fran said. Her father was amazingly broad-minded, but an AC/DC fan he was not.

He doesn't comment on any of the music I play: Sonny Rollins followed by AC/DC followed by the Broadway score from My Fair Lady.

Agarré uno al azar y lo metí en la ranura. Por los altavoces internos y externos del robot empezó a sonar Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, de AC/DC, a un volumen tan exagerado que la silla en la que iba sentado empezó a vibrar.

I noticed that Halliday had added an old eight-track tape player to the cockpit control panel. There was also a rack of eight-track tapes mounted over my right shoulder. I grabbed one and slapped it into the deck. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap by AC/DC began to blast out of the robot’s internal and external speakers, so loud it made my chair vibrate.

Usually, these services went something like this: an aggressive message on why going to hell would be like putting your face in the fire while listening to AC/DC, and that the solution to hell is to “ask Jesus into your heart.” In this paradigm, Jesus becomes the ticket out of a bad situation, and all that’s required to get your free pass is to “repeat this simple prayer after me.” And, poof…you’re “saved” and now a fully vetted Jesus follower. American Christianity has been poorly marketing Jesus in this way for years. The deep, mysterious, and beautifully difficult message of Jesus becomes diluted to the point that we sing, “I have decided to follow Jesus” or “All to Jesus I Surrender” as we make our way up the aisle—thinking that following Jesus is actually that simple. What’s worse is that often our motivation for “asking Jesus into our hearts” is that we’re petrified of the myriad of ways that Jesus will have us tortured for eternity if we don’t properly pray the “sinner’s prayer” to show him that we love him back. From that night forward, we’re supposed to faithfully attend a “Bible-believing church” and destroy our Guns n’ Roses CDs in order to show that we actually meant it when we prayed it. In American Christianity, we’re often sold this bill of goods that makes following Jesus look relatively easy…as if it were a singular event instead of a radical new lifestyle. Said the magic prayer? Check. Willing to go to church? Check. Going to work really hard to cut back on how much I use the “F word”? Check. The rewards of following this simple, relatively easy checklist of what it means to follow Jesus supposedly has a huge payout. Not only do we get to claim our “get out of hell free” card, but

I liked AC/DC,” Lee said. “If you were going to shoot someone, you’d really want to do it while you were listening to them.” “What about the Beatles? Did you feel like shooting anyone listening to them?” Lee considered seriously for a moment, then said, “Myself.

I think we might have found the Highway to Hell. We really might be in an AC/DC song at the moment.

I spent a lot of time on the banks of the Suwannee growing up. Cookouts and swimming at Purvis Landing. There was a rope swing on an old cypress tree. Swing out into the dark brown water. The bank was lined with cypress knees. You learned to let go. We went fishing up near Log Landing Road. A remote area. More snakes than people. One Saturday we were joined by a boat. A new doctor in town. He raced up and down a short stretch of river. Blaring ZZ Top "Legs." The boat's wake crashed against the shore. Scared all the fish away. Changed our dinner plans. It ended with a crash. His boat raced into a log floating slowly downstream. He screamed for help over AC/DC "Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution." Not help for himself. Help for his boat. It sank into the Suwannee. And the fishing improved.

Fifty Best Rock Documentaries Chicago Blues (1972) B. B. King: The Life of Riley (2014) Devil at the Crossroads (2019) BBC: Dancing in the Street: Whole Lotta Shakin’ (1996) BBC: Story of American Folk Music (2014) The Weavers: Wasn’t That a Time! (1982) PBS: The March on Washington (2013) BBC: Beach Boys: Wouldn’t It Be Nice (2005) The Wrecking Crew (2008) What’s Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A. (1964) BBC: Blues Britannia (2009) Rolling Stones: Charlie Is My Darling—Ireland 1965 (2012) Bob Dylan: Dont Look Back (1967) BBC: The Motown Invasion (2011) Rolling Stones: Sympathy for the Devil (1968) BBC: Summer of Love: How Hippies Changed the World (2017) Gimme Shelter (1970) Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World (2017) Cocksucker Blues (1972) John Lennon & the Plastic Ono Band: Sweet Toronto (1971) John and Yoko: Above Us Only Sky (2018) Gimme Some Truth: The Making of John Lennon’s “Imagine” Album (2000) Echo in the Canyon (2018) BBC: Prog Rock Britannia (2009) BBC: Hotel California: LA from the Byrds to the Eagles (2007) The Allman Brothers Band: After the Crash (2016) BBC: Sweet Home Alabama: The Southern Rock Saga (2012) Ain’t in It for My Health: A Film About Levon Helm (2010) BBC: Kings of Glam (2006) Super Duper Alice Cooper (2014) New York Dolls: All Dolled Up (2005) End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones (2004) Fillmore: The Last Days (1972) Gimme Danger: The Stooges (2016) George Clinton: The Mothership Connection (1998) Fleetwood Mac: Rumours (1997) The Who: The Kids Are Alright (1979) The Clash: New Year’s Day ’77 (2015) The Decline of Western Civilization (1981) U2: Rattle and Hum (1988) Neil Young: Year of the Horse (1997) Ginger Baker: Beware of Mr. Baker (2012) AC/DC: Dirty Deeds (2012) Grateful Dead: Long, Strange Trip (2017) No Direction Home: Bob Dylan (2005) Hip-Hop Evolution (2016) Joan Jett: Bad Reputation (2018) David Crosby: Remember My Name (2019) Zappa (2020) Summer of Soul (2021)

The Royal Marines description of me as “happy-go-lucky” is good for many things, but somehow it doesn’t wash with university applications. And with my mediocre A level results I was getting a hefty number of rejections winging my way. A lot of my good friends were heading to Bristol University. But I had as much change of getting in there with my ACDC grades as Deborah Maldives had of winning a beauty pageant.

Who the hell is that?” Chase barks. He watches Pete’s prideful swagger all the way down the aisle until he disappears from sight. Chase looks down at me. I shrug. “He’s a friend.” “Since when do you have friends like that?” he asks. He steps toward me, and I step back, until my back is against the shelves behind me. I don’t like to be cornered, but Chase has no way of knowing that. I skitter to the side so that I’m not hemmed in. “Friends like what?” I ask. I know he’s referring to the tattoos. Pete walks by the end of the aisle and waves at us, and then he winks at me. A grin tugs at my lips. I shrug again. “He’s really very nice.” “Where did you meet him?” I can tell the truth or I can lie. But then I hear Pete one aisle over as he starts to sing the lyrics to Elvis Presley’s “Jailhouse Rock.” I grin. I can’t help it. “He’s helping out at the camp this week,” I say instead of the truth. Well, it’s sort of the truth. “Where’s he from?” Chase asks. “New York City,” I say. Pete’s song changes from Elvis to AC/DC’s “Jailbreak.” I laugh out loud this time. I can’t help it. “Your dad’s all right with you hanging out with him?” My dad is covered in tattoos, too, but most of his are hidden by his clothing. “He likes Pete,” I say. “I do, too.” Chase puts one arm on the shelf behind me and leans toward my body. I dodge him again, and he looks crossly at me. “Don’t box me in,” I warn. He holds up both hands like he’s surrendering to the cops. But he still looks curious. “So, about tomorrow,” he says. “I can’t,” I blurt out. I think I hear a quickly hissed, “Yes!” from the other side of the aisle, but I can’t be sure. Chase touches my elbow, and it makes my skin crawl. I pull my elbow back. “Don’t touch me,” I say. Suddenly, Pete’s striding down the aisle toward us. His expression is thunderous, and I step in front of him so that he has to run into me instead of pummeling Chase like I’m guessing he wants to do. I lay a hand on his chest. “You ready to go?” I ask. He looks down at me, his eyes asking if I’m all right. His hand lands on my waist and slides around my back, pulling me flush against him. He’s testing me. And I don’t want to fight him. I admit it. Chase makes my skin crawl, and Pete makes my skin tingle. It’s not an altogether pleasant sensation, but only because I can’t control it. He holds me close, one hand on the center of my back, and the other full of breath mints and assorted sundries. He steps toward Chase, and Pete and I are so close together that I have to step backward when he steps forward. I repeat my question. “You get everything?” He finally looks down at me. “I got everything I need,” he says. His tone is polite but clear and soft as butter.

Can I make a request?” He raised a questioning eyebrow over his round glasses. A creature growled low and slow from its hiding spot behind a tree. “Play ‘The Boys are Back in Town,’ by Thin Lizzy.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ames grumbled. “Obviously Metallica is the correct choice for a fight like this.” Wolfgang interjected. “If your new buddy is also a DJ, then I humbly disagree and request ‘Back in Black’ by AC/DC.

Wyatt James! Put me down!” “Pulling out the middle name, too, ACDC? Too bad mine isn’t after a band who sang what I’m pretty sure was the background music when a lot of women became baby mommas. Yours included.” “Ew! Don’t remind me!” Annie wanted to complain again about him carrying her like a sack of potatoes, but if she were being honest with herself, all thoughts of complaining flew out the window as soon as she realized how great the view of his ass was as she got up close and personal with it.

The fixed and fluid reported liking classic rock in about equal numbers. While our 2017 survey did not include questions about which types of classic rock people like, the aforementioned Facebook study did find a few classic rock bands that Republicans and Democrats were equally likely to be fans of. They included Bon Jovi, Aerosmith, Journey, AC/DC, and Metallica. We suspect that, if asked to clarify, the fluids likely would have identified boutique subgenres of classic rock, as opposed to usual guitar-riff fare.

Once I’m done, I feel slightly better, and after drying off, I find my way back into the wardrobe and slip into an old, holey, AC/DC t-shirt. One of my favourites, my comfort shirt.

En plus de suspendre le linge sur la corde, de savourer le café ou de faire la vaisselle sur des rythmes de AC/DC, l'une de mes habitudes préférées est de boire le thé dehors, sur la terrasse. [Pe lângă întinsul rufelor pe sârmă, savuratul cafelei ori spălatul vaselor pe ritmuri de AC/DC, unul dintre tabieturile mele preferate este băutul ceaiului afară, pe terasă.] (p. 123)

We laugh at the devil as a premodern myth, akin to Thor’s hammer or Santa Claus. We scratch our heads at the New Testament’s language of the flesh in a sensual culture where people equate feeling good with being good. And when we hear the world, we envision a spittle-spewing street preacher with a bullhorn in a public park, railing about the dangers of AC/DC and the impending rapture.

It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll) . . . ✮

- Coś ty zrobił? Wzruszył ramionami i usiadł obok. - Tutaj się w ten sposób nie pije - skwitowała krytycznie Chyłka. - I chyba w ogóle nie ma takiego drinka. - Oczywiście, że jest. Z twoim zapleczem pijackim powinnaś o tym wiedzieć - odparł, wyciągając nogi na fotelu. - To TnT. - To tytuł kawałka AC/DC, Zordon. - I skrót od tequila and tonic. Zwie się to także tektotonikiem. - Mniejsza z nomenklaturą. Pijmy.

Cult. My Dad always used to say he didn't care at all about fashion. But he (and everyone I know) care deeply about style and what it says about who you are and the group you want to fit in with. Everyone from the Cowboy to Joe sixpack, the retiree to grumpy teen, dress in a way that clearly communicates to others their chosen group that they want to belong. My Dad would say, "I'm retired, I can wear whatever I want' but I never saw him wear a suit to play golf or an AC/DC concert T-shirt to the links. 'Style' as a concept has been hijacked to mean elite, refined and expensive when it should be thought of as a basic expression of life in much the same way as we all identify with music or speech. At the end of the day style is communication.

ACDC This strain contains high Sativa and low THC level of about 0.42% to 1.2%. The strain is the result of a cross between the Ruderalis and Cannatonic strains added in equal parts. ACDC tastes pleasant but strange, with touches of sweet, skunk, and earthy flavors. The aroma is sweet and earthy with hints of citrus as well.