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^^^^^Yeah, what he said. ^^^^^

My wife started a book club 20 years ago. This sounds like it should be on their list. Title and author?

Okay, where is the, 'I just spit coffee all over my screen,' emoji?

From Texas archives.

Since she has a collection of shark teeth, I bet it becomes the top shelf item. Apparently one that size can have a four figure value, perhaps five if it is special. https://megateeth.com/product-category/megalodon-special-values/ on the other hand there are several on eBay that are not asking for much.

DEAD line

OLD school

In other words, there are no angels among your characters?

Let me know when Tales of the Hardpan comes out! Delighted in your ability to tell a tale!

I'm more impressed by a couple of other things in the 007 clip.... First, the dude pulling grenade pins with his teeth. Must have some mighty good dentures, likely as a result of pulling grenade pins with his teeth! Second... downing a helicopter with an AR-7~! Granted, he did shoot the dude with the recently teeth-pulled grenade, but still... that's a hell of a shot for a short-barreled .22 rimfire "survival rifle."

Sometimes the introductions are quite worthwhile. I had fun with mine, which I've used multiple times. In part, it reads, "This is a work of fiction. "If you see someone you recognize in here, it's your own wild imagination. "If you see yourself in here, it's your own guilty conscience!"

A TRUCKLOAD OF POST HOLES Michael sat, silent and watchful, in the passenger side of the old, faded-orange Dodge pickup. He and his pale eyed Pa just delivered a load of cedar fence posts to a neighbor. The posts were longer than the truck bed. Michael helped his Pa set the pipe rack onto the bed, he frowned with concentration as he and his Pa worked and wiggled and tapped with a dead blow mallet to get the bolt holes lined up; his young and dexterous hands reached under, slid on washers, threaded on nuts, and he held a combination wrench on the bolt's head while turning the ratchet and socket beneath. The back half of the rack, back at the tail gate, dropped into the stake pockets and just sat there. Michael and his Pa stacked long cedar posts on the headache rack, then they boomed it down to the headache rack: Linn ran chain through the welded pipe assembly, passed the log chain under the stack, wrapped the ends over -- left over right, right over left -- hooked the chain to itself, and applied a snap binder. Michael had never seen a snap binder used. His Pa talked as he worked, teaching as he went. He showed Michael how to slip the chain link sideways into the grab hook -- "Two kind of chain hooks, Michael," he said, "a grab hook and a slip hook" -- Michael originally tried to slip the point of the hook into a chain link, and his Pa laid a fatherly hand on the lad's shoulder and laughed quietly at a memory: "I did that exact thing at your age. Here's how it works" -- and Michael felt at once grateful his Pa showed him how to do it right, and felt like a dunce for not realizing the right of it before he was shown. Linn leaned his weight into the snap binder. Michael saw how the load shifted, ever so slightly, under the tightening: Linn grunted, strained, then looked at his son and said, "I need a cheater. Pass me yon chunk of two inch pipe." Michael walked over to the barn, picked up the indicated tool, brought it back, watched as his Pa slid it over the handle of the snap binder, effectively lengthening its handle. "Now this'll either tighten up real nice," Linn said, "or it'll break the chain." He heaved his weight against the handle. It snapped over center. Linn slid the pipe off the handle, cheerfully beat on the chain with the cheater. "That," he said in a satisfied voice, "is not going anywhere. Now let's boom down the back." They'd taken the load to another ranch about an hour away: he backed the truck up against an empty hay wagon, he and Michael released the chains, laid the linked steel off the sides: it was easier work getting them off the headache rack and onto the wagon. The drive back was a little faster. Michael noticed how careful his Pa had driven, taking the posts to the neighbor: he was too young to appreciate the handling characteristics of a four wheel drive truck with a high center of gravity, but he could not help but notice there was something different, and filed that question away for when next his Pa had him behind the wheel. "Sir," Michael asked, "Gammaw was a deputy back East." "She was a deputy town marshal, yes." "Sir, you said she dearly loved being Sheriff out here." Michael saw a quiet smile -- there, and gone -- on his Pa's face. "Yes, Michael. She did." "Sir ..." Michael frowned. "If she loved being Sheriff so much, how come she quit bein' a deputy marshal?" "She got done dirty, Michael. They screwed her over. She told 'em to go --" Linn bit off the salty phrase he was about to utter, frowned, reconsidered. "What she suggested they do was not only anatomically impossible, it was socially unacceptable." Michael had heard this vague suggestion before. He hadn't a true appreciation for whatever profanity this represented, but he knew if his beloved Gammaw was mad enough to use less than ladylike language, she had to have a reason. "Michael, I'll tell you the same thing your Gammaw told me." "Yes, sir?" "You know that Webster's Dictionary is stipulated to in every courtroom in the country as the courtroom definition of any word." "Yes, sir." "Well, if you look up the phrase 'Dirty Suth'n Politics' in Webster's, you'll find the black silhouette of Athens County, Ohio, right at the head of the column." "Yes, sir?" "Your Gammaw carried a two cell Mag-Light. You recall my three-cell, back at the house, the one you helped me convert to LED." "Yes, sir." "That one was hers, too. She liked that two cell really well. Council President stole it from her. Claimed he borrowed it. Then the town marshal decided he'd do her dirty and threatened to pull her commission. She showed up at Council meeting and he threatened to arrest her for wearing a gun without police credentials and tried to take it. She introduced the business end of a .45 automatic to the end of his nose, doubled him up -- I understand she had the fastest knee in town -- once she bounced his head off his own desk, right in front of every Councilman present, she showed him her credentials from another jurisdiction, said if he ever tried to lay a hand on her again she'd rip his head off and drop kick it over the nearest roof line." Michael waited. "She talked to the Prosecutor afterward and he allowed as the Marshal was armed when he tried to lay hands on her and take her sidearm, so she was rightfully defending herself, and if he wished to press charges, she had the prior claim and could charge him with aggravated specification, which would have meant he'd be facing a mandatory prison term, loss of law enforcement credentials, things like that." "Yes, sir." "Your Gammaw didn't take nothin' off nobody." Michael grinned. "I always did like her," he said softly. "She'd be pretty damned proud of you, Michael." "Thank you, sir." "I know I am." "Thank you, sir." Linn eased off the throttle, downshifted, cackled up to the stop sign. "I never did like this intersection," he muttered. "Blind rise yonder." "Yes, sir." Linn accelerated, watching his West Coast mirror more than he was looking forward: to his relief, nobody came screaming up over that blind rise behind them. "We'll make better time on the way back," Linn said after they hit the mile long straight stretch, then looked over at his son and grinned. "Better mileage, too. We're haulin' a load of post holes." Michael grinned back. "Tell you what. I've got to gas up and I've got an appetite for a large vanilla cone. How about you?" Michael was growing and Michael was trying hard to be a controlled and maturing young man, but there was no mistaking the delighted little boy in his expression as he replied, "Yes, sir!"

Thanks Dave, mate I'm sorry that I forgot it was you....that file is precious to me and I've printed and used many now. I need something like this below that I found on the web. What I'm trying to do is cut the brass heads of sixteen (16) shotshells and put them into drilled holes in a piece of square stained and routed timber and then varnish it all. The drilled holes will be 20mm, so I would dearly like (if possible and not too much of a hassle) 4 x 4 rows of 20mm circles with a dot dead centre to locate a center punch for the drill. If the circles could be roughly apart like below it would be awesome mate. No hurry ok and if its too hard ....shelve it.

My wife just started reading a book. The introduction is a hoot: "You may want to familiarize yourself with the word “misanthrope” before you begin the sordid tale of my employment. Misanthrope, curmudgeon, and b***h, I find, are the terms used most often when I am forced to describe myself, or when I ask those who know me best to do the same. I started out as such a nice girl, but after a decade in retail, this is what I have become. Ten years of insane bosses, corporate false enthusiasm and, the most warping of all, the customers... In short, dear reader, this is all your fault! "

Only the door skins, if shot once per area. If shot twice in the same spot, the occupant is shot. Unless the occupant opened the window so it was behind the door skin to catch the second bullet. The fender and bedside do not stop a single 9mm from penetrating.

Ask Mel Gibson in the The Patriot...Dog makes a fine meal....Surprise the homeless have not figured that out... Texas Lizard

"Uncle Nate "Skipjack" Porter lived all alone in this castle up on Doe Knob at the very tip top of the Smoky Mountains right next to Mud Gap from 1886-1936. Legend says the front door of the cabin opened up to the State of Tennessee and the back door opened to North Carolina, and each time a lawman showed up to confiscate the willy ole mountaineers homemade blockade liquor, Uncle Nate would quickly scoot out the appropriate door, depending on what state the law represented." - Squire Elroy

" The bow of HMS Hood. No, not that HMS Hood, HMS Hood of the Royal Sovereign class. Of the eight battleships of the Royal Sovereign class, Hood was a slightly different design. Her armament, consisting of four 13.5" (340mm) guns, was housed in two twin turrets. Her sisters opted for a simpler arrangement of barbette mounts. While the barbette mounts were less protected, they were significantly lighter. Their lighter construction allowed them to be mounted higher, allowing British designers to incorporate substantially more freeboard in the Royal Sovereign class. The Royal Sovereign class enjoyed roughly 19.5' (5.94m) of freeboard (the distance between the top of the hull and the waterline). Hood, limited by her heavy gun turrets, only had about 11.3' (3.44m) of freeboard. While low freeboard had actually been a goal of the design (influenced by earlier practices of sacrificing freeboard for a smaller target profile, lighter weight, and greater stability), the performance of HMS Hood compared to her sisters quickly proved its disadvantages outweighed the advantages. The Royal Sovereign class battleships proved to be excellent seaboats for the day, able to maintain acceptable speeds even in heavy seas. In contrast, Hood shipped water and could not maintain speed as sea conditions worsened. She also was noticeably less comfortable in heavy seas, her rolling motion being shorter and jerkier compared to the others (this was partially influenced by the fact that her designers deliberately increased her metacentric height to try and contend with her lower hull). Based on this performance, all subsequent Royal Navy battleships would adopt the higher freeboard design of the Royal Sovereign class rather than Hood's layout. Hood would prove to be somewhat of an evolutionary dead end in Royal Navy battleship design. However, she did influence future designs in other ways. Notably, Hood was the first battleship to trial anti-torpedo bulges immediately prior to the First World War. - Navy General Board"