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Our family gun shop is located in a small town about 50 miles from Las Vegas. Within that small town there are around five actual brick and mortar gun shops - four of them are decently located in high traffic areas on main roads... And then there is ours; well off the beaten path built on the back portion of my Mom's residence property. No one finds us "by accident". Had a 94 year old gentleman come to our shop yesterday to consign some firearms with us. No big deal - we get a fair number of consignments. But this gentleman was consigning his life long collection with us - including a fairly large collection of new in box unfired Colts. He had never been to our shop before - didn't live in Pahrump. We asked him, "Why us? Why not a shop in Las Vegas or one of the other shops he had to pass to come to us?" He responded that he was 94 years old and wanted to ensure he was treated fairly and if he happened to pass before his collection was liquidated - he wanted to know his wife would not be cheated. He had asked around and apparently our name kept coming up as a good choice. So a man we had never met - traveled an hour to a little shop in nowhere Nevada to entrust us with well over $20,000 of firearms in the first batch - simply because of we are known for doing people right. It is nice to have a good reputation.

My second oldest granddaughter (18) graduated Saturday from the Montana Youth Challenge Academy in Dillon - think voluntary military school, light. She's a different person than she was 22 weeks ago, with a new sense of direction, self-worth, confidence, and self-respect. She's lived in numerous hovels on the Flathead Indian reservation growing up, comes from a broken home, was very withdrawn, a lot of emotional abuse from her parents, and she's still got some work ahead of her to finish high school or equivalency, but I think she's gonna be OK. Brigadier General Trenton Gibson, the Adjutant General of the National Guard, addressed the graduates, as did the past adjutant, Major General John Hronek, four Montana state legislative Representatives, proxy speeches from Senators Daines and Sheehy, and a few other dignitaries. https://www.mycacademy.org/ Salute to Cadet Reum from a proud grandpa.

During the shooting of "To Have and Have Not" in 1944, a tragedy struck the set that most never even heard about. One of the lighting crew members received a phone call during a break that shattered his world. His wife had been killed in a car crash back home. The man collapsed onto the floor of the Warner Bros. lot, cradled by colleagues who tried to comfort him in silence. In the midst of the chaos of filming and production schedules, very few paused to think about what would happen to his two young children now suddenly without a mother. Humphrey Bogart, the film's lead actor, quietly stepped away from the set later that day. Without drawing any attention, he called his personal assistant and gave instructions. The funeral arrangements were to be handled discreetly and covered in full, including casket, transportation, burial, and service. He told his assistant to never mention his name to the family. A few hours later, he spoke privately to a friend in casting, asking for help arranging temporary child care for the grieving crewman’s kids until more permanent arrangements could be found. What stood out was not that he helped, but how he did it. No producer, no fellow actor, not even the director Howard Hawks ever learned about it at the time. Bogart returned to set the next morning as though nothing had happened, performing his scenes opposite Lauren Bacall with his usual calm precision. He never asked if anyone noticed, and no one realized what he had done. Over the next several years, long after the shoot had wrapped and the crew had scattered across different studios, something extraordinary happened behind closed doors. Every month, a check arrived at the lighting technician’s home, enough to cover food, clothing, schoolbooks, and later, college application fees. The envelopes had no return address, and the bank routing was impossible to trace back to any personal account. Only after the technician passed away in the early 1970s did his children, now adults, open a locked box in his study and find a letter with Humphrey Bogart’s name signed at the bottom. In it, he had written, “What you gave to the film helped me shine on screen. What I can give your family will never repay that, but I hope it eases your days a little.” This was not a one-time act. According to a former Warner Bros. accountant who spoke anonymously decades later, Bogart often gave private financial support to the families of set builders, assistants, and drivers who faced hardships. He preferred working-class people who never made the front page but made the movies possible. Lauren Bacall once hinted at this side of him in a rare quote: “People saw Bogie as tough, maybe a little cold. But he carried burdens no one saw, gave love where no one looked. He’d take care of a man’s family, pay the doctor bills for a sick mother, and never ask for thanks. He did it because he believed that was what decent people did, even if the world didn’t care.” During the filming of "The Big Sleep" in 1946, a grip whose wife had tuberculosis received a quiet visit from a nurse who offered home care, completely paid for. She never said who sent her. The crew guessed, but no one said anything aloud. It was understood that Bogart was doing something again, and speaking it aloud felt like disrespecting the silence he chose. Humphrey Bogart’s image was built on hard edges, dry wit, and trench coat cool. But the real man, the one who watched over the quietest workers on set, carried a heart so heavy with loyalty that it spoke most loudly when it said nothing at all. He never wanted his name attached to those acts. But the families remember. And the lives that moved forward because of those silent kindnesses carry his signature far more meaningfully than any role ever could. In a world built on credits and headlines, his finest roles unfolded in shadows where no applause could reach.

A couple of months ago I did a little report on the Henry .327 rifle. After a tune-up and throwing away some parts I was, and continue to be, amazed at how well it works. I prefer tuned 73s with short strokes and remembered I had converted a Ubert 73 rifle to .32 about 20 years ago. It ran but not as well as I hoped so I dismantled it and used some of the parts in another project. I decided to dig out the barrel and some other parts and try again. Unfortunately I had cut off the chamber area so I would have to cut new threads on the barrel. I had sold my old lathe and only have an 80 year old 9" Logan right now. I immediately had a problem as the barrel was a little too big for the through hole in the headstock. I had to shorten the barrel to 16 1/2" to get it to fit into a four jaw chuck and a dead center mounted in the tailstock. It just barely fit. Lots of parts had to be modified or made new. Here is a photo showing some of the parts. Starting at the top. The dovetail for the fore end cap had to be recut 3" forward. The chamber section I had cut off the original experimental .32 barrel 20 years ago. (Why I did this I cannot remember.) An adapter to go from a Uberti mag tube down to an old Marlin mag tube. The bolt had to be modified. A new follower made. The shortened barrel with new threads. The rear sight dovetail had to be moved forward and the old one filled. The carrier had to have a piece of brass tube soldered in and machined to .32 size. It also had to be shortened. The Marlin mag tube and a piece of Uberti tube beneath it. The bolt had to be turned down and the extractor and bottom tab moved to fit the .32. .357 bolt on the left, .32 on the right. The 20 year old carrier shortened compared to a stock carrier. A piece of Uberti tube was green loctited to the Marlin tube to fit the barrel hanger. A spacer had to be machined to take up the space left by the shortened carrier. The finished rifle. It seems to cycle fine and the 16 1/2" barrel actually makes for a well balanced rifle. I am gathering parts to build a second 73 but using a carbine barrel to lighten it a bit.

By the time I got my stuff together, Sportsmans Warehouse was out of stock. They had the 30" version, but I couldn't see cutting off the barrel and losing the perfectly good choke tubes. Didn't want to do online order and pay shipping and pay an FFL transfer fee, so I waited patiently. Then, the most unlikely store in my area, Modern Warriors, (which deals in high end AR's and 1911's and such) had one, and only one, in stock. I went there and found it was still in the box, they never put it on display. now it's mine.

Other fans as well as the players should not have to listen to such extreme rudeness. Lifetime bans should be imposed not only on this jerk but on those who use continuously use foul language and/or drink themselves into a stupor. I would like to take kids and grandkids to a ball park without having them listen to such trash. Want to curse and get drunk? Do it at home while watching a game on TV. Manners are important when in public.

$187.

My dad was a Marine in WWII. He was 17 when he arrived at boot camp Pendleton. First day or so all recruits were issued their gear, including mess kits. Once dad was back at the barracks, he etched his initials (DRV) deeply and largely across the tin plate cover dish. He survived the war and took on several diferent careers and jobs over the years. 50 years later he was the sports equipment manager at Washington State University. There was a 2 week football summer camp for high school boys. They were all given various mess kits first day and my dad issued them out. In doing so, he noticed one with DRV initials carved large across the lid. He set it aside. Yes undeniably, it was his old mess kit from WWII He gave it to me and now his granddaughter has it. A piece of family history that will be passed down for future generations.

In 1974 I was driving passed an old two-story house and noticed a white-haired elderly lady sitting on the porch waving at the passing cars. Something impressed me that I needed to go back and visit that lady. I learned that she was now living alone since her brother had died in a brush fire, that she was legally blind and waved only due to hearing the passing cars. Her yard was horribly overgrown, but for the next three years I took my mower and kept her homeplace clean every week up until her death. I dearly loved Miss Baker and miss her like family...

Mrs. Lose thought I needed to get away for awhile this afternoon so she told me that if I went down the hill to Escondido with her that she’d buy me dinner at our favorite hamburger joint. Well I needed to mail a package at the post office down there so I agreed to go along if we could stop and mail it. The date was made. Mailed the package and get back in the car and I said where to? and she said ALDI she needed to do some shopping. I’ve driven by Aldi many times but never been in one. We parked and crossed the parking lot to the front of the store and I turned into the cart corral to get a shopping cart and this scruffy looking guy pushing a shopping cart asks my wife for a quarter. She digs around in her purse and hands the guy a quarter and starts pushing his shopping cart and he walks off. I have no idea what’s going on and she says it’s so that the wheels don’t lock up on the shopping cart. She points to this gadget with a little key thing on a coiled cord and a coin slot with a quarter stuck in it. I said why didn’t I just get one of the other carts instead of using his and she said because I would have had to put a quarter in the slot and I said but it still cost us a quarter. Anyway we go in the store and that place looks like a bomb went off. She’s looking for large tomato’s over in the tomato section and I find large tomatoes over with the apples and oranges. I’m looking for bananas and she told me over by the lettuce and cabbage. She wants some sweet onions and the sign says $1.94 per bag but all of the sweet onions are loose not in a bag, so I get a bag and fill it up and she says that’s too many onions and I said what difference does it make? So she puts most of the onions back and we keep shopping. I’m looking for some BBQ rub and amongst the seasonings is a bunch of energy drinks. It just seemed like whoever was stocking shelves just put stuff wherever there was a space. I worked in a grocery store in my younger days and would have been fired if I stocked like that. So we get up to the check out stand and there is no greeting from the clerk, no thank you, no communications at all except for the total that we owed. As we’re walking out my wife recognized the security guard and stopped to say hello. I walked out with the cart and this, I guess you’d call her, statuesque good looking blond lady is walking up to the front entrance and I asked her if she had a quarter. Well I guess that was the wrong thing to ask her because she asked me why I’d ask her for a quarter and just then my wife walks up and asks me if I asked that lady for a quarter. I admitted to it because based on the guy who got her to fork over a quarter on the way into the store I thought it was the thing to do. As I’m getting the “You don’t just ask any body for a quarter” lecture there’s another guy pushing a shopping cart back to the cart corral and asks this lady looking for a shopping cart if she had a quarter and she dug around in her purse and handed him a quarter and takes off with his cart into the store. Well we went to eat at the burger joint and there was another rather nice looking lady that showed up at the counter as I was ordering and I was really tempted to ask her for a quarter just to see what would happen, but I didn’t.

Today was day one of my first shoot after 3 years of watching our son shoot. Thought I was prepared. Read first stage over and over again told myself I had the sequence down. Got online first shot with rifle……. yup you guessed it wrong target. Started day with a “P” and several misses. Looked back after finishing stage and saw the ear to ear grin on my son’s face. Wish I had started shooting with him sooner. Had a blast and cannot wait to go back tomorrow and finish last 4 stages.

...... HAPPY BIRTHDAY U.S.A. 🙃

July 17, 1944. Dale Evans stands barefoot on a dusty Los Angeles soundstage, taps the heel of her Gibson guitar twice for invisible count-off, and belts the first verse of a song she wrote on butcher paper while frying eggs for her son the night before. Nobody knows the tune yet—“Happy Trails” is still a scribble—but Republic Pictures suits lean in like prospectors hearing gold under shale. Three decades earlier she was Frances Octavia Smith, a shy red-haired farm kid who eloped at fourteen so she could escape cotton rows and taste city air; the marriage lasted less than a harvest, but the freedom stuck like prairie burrs. She waited tables in Memphis through the Great Flood of ’27, sneaking onto WMC radio after closing shifts to sing jazz standards under a fake name because minors weren’t allowed on the late-night frequency. A program director finally asked her real handle; she invented “Dale Evans” on the spot—“Dale” after a favorite cowboy serial, “Evans” because the script needed symmetry. The new persona unlocked doors. She became Chicago’s “Queen of the Air,” cashing twenty-five-cent requests while studying arrangement theory by transcribing Benny Goodman solos at half speed. Hollywood followed, and so did heartbreak: studio press agents wanted a glamor doll, so she performed vocal warm-ups inside a mop closet to avoid gossip scribes who mocked her Oklahoma vowels. Yet she weaponized those vowels, turning rustic honesty into a brand. When wartime producers begged for a duet partner to tame Roy Rogers’ rambunctious fan base, she brought her guitar, one coffee-stained lyric sheet, and the nerve to insist on equal billing. Roy nodded once and never looked back. November 29, 1952. A stiff breeze lifts the canvas walls of a makeshift tent hospital in Seoul, and Dale—clad in USO khakis stitched with a hidden pocket—slips harmonicas and peppermint sticks to wounded infantrymen who think she’s there only to croon. Between sets she scribbles prayer notes for mothers back home, then mails them from a Taiwan layover because Pentagon censors can’t track foreign postmarks. Returning stateside, she discovers her newborn daughter Robin has Down syndrome. Studio publicists urge silence; instead Dale writes the bestseller “Angel Unaware,” funneling royalties into scholarships for special-needs kids long before the term existed. She and Roy adopt four more children—two mixed-race, two war orphans—defying sponsors who warn it could “confuse Middle America.” She shrugs, records a Christmas special emphasizing family is chosen, and ratings jump twelve points. In 1969 she testifies before Congress, slipping a harmonica to a bored page boy and telling senators that inclusive playgrounds cost less than wheelchairs. During breaks on the “Roy Rogers Show” she sketches prosthetic-saddle designs so kids with cerebral palsy can ride horses; ten prototypes later, a San Bernardino ranch teaches therapeutic riding nationwide. At seventy she earns her pilot’s license, flying rescue dogs from hurricane zones because “trail bosses don’t retire, they reroute.” She dies at eighty-eight with boots by the bed and a half-finished lyric about Martian cowgirls grazing red-dust skies—a reminder that imagination’s horizon always shifts. The Friday after her funeral, children at a Phoenix rehab center strum borrowed guitars and shout her unfinished chorus. The staff hears something familiar: two heel taps, and a melody that still promises happy trails. #cowgirl #happytrails #trailblazer #usousa #texas dale evans hidden stories queen of the air roots angel unaware legacy roy rogers duet origins cowgirl innovation tales

Long guns shall have their actions open with chambers and magazines empty and muzzles pointed in a safe direction when transported at a match. SHB p.18 Action Open (lever & pump action long guns) – BOLT not closed completely. Action Open– (SxS & single-shot firearms) – functional firearm that opens without manipulation of the release mechanism (e.g., top/side lever/button) SHB p.43 HOWEVER! At the very first TG Summit a proposal was accepted for Match Directors to add "...unless enclosed in a case or scabbard" to their Range Rules. It was decided to NOT CODIFY that exception...and it was NOT RECORDED in the meeting minutes. If/when allowed, due diligence at the unloading table was stressed (as well as at the shooter's vehicle pre-match). That exception has since been applied (by some Match officials) to include long guns transported in fully enclosed gun carts. Always check with Match/Range officials to verify their policy regarding long gun transport requirements.

COFFEE Now, some folks are fond of iced coffee But I gotta say me, not so much I like mine fresh from a pot on the stove All steaming and hot to the touch I’ll drink it when frost’s on the pumpkin And when fresh flowers wilt in the heat Sometimes with both cream and some sugar But sometimes just coal black and neat You miight say, “That makes no sense at all, Bob” “You’re liable to faint dead away” But when temps are in straight triple digits My insides are stable all day

Covered! Our dog sleeps in our bed, so there's about 7 hours with both of us!

Picked these up for 2k all 3. Pretty stoked!

YES.

I was looking for a place to put this!

On this day in 1787, the Constitutional Convention is underway. A small state delegate stands up and addresses the large state delegates in the room. Actually, he didn't calmly address them so much as he *blasted* this statement at them! Can't you just imagine the tension in the room when he was done? "I do not, gentlemen, trust you. If you possess the power, the abuse of it could not be checked; and what then would prevent you from exercising it to our destruction?" This may be one of my favorite quotes from the Constitutional Convention. It summarizes, so succinctly, the fears felt by the citizens of so many small states at that time. How can America be self-governing, but also ensure that the large states do not constantly trample and abuse the small states? As you know, the Convention ultimately worked out many compromises. Our Constitution is full of many checks and balances that work as safeguards for our liberty. Just another reason to celebrate during this long Independence Day weekend. #TDIH #AmericanHistory #USHistory #liberty #freedom #ShareTheHistory

All my life until about 10 years ago, my doctor was an MD. Whenever a blood test came back with something too low or too high, a prescription was promptly issued, and I marched down to the pharmacy for another bottle of pills. Switched to D.O. (Doctor of Osteopathic medicine) Blood test numbers were questioned: ie, have you changed any eating habits, exercise habits, etc. Why are you on three different blood pressure medicines? Has your blood lead level been tested (after lifestyle was discussed)? The D.O. just seemed much more thorough in asking about why something was happening instead of automatically slapping a bottle of pills in my hand. Just sharing in case some pards are getting tired of the bottle of pills merry go round. And yes, I am feeling and doing much better.

This box turtle has been under foot around our buildings for at least 20 years. He(or she) is unique with a hole in its shell in lower left. It would come out in our sawmill and munch up night crawlers that would come out of the rich soil of the floor. Somehow it has survived thousands of trucks and other traffic on our farm. Although I've not tried to handle it, it is comfortable with me being close. It doesn't pull in or try to run away.

First shoots are something to remember with humor and hold as a benchmark for seeing how far you have come a year or so down the road!! Never mind the grin on the kid’s face!! Check the one on yours!! You’re gonna find that you are happy just to be among folks like yourself who enjoy what they’re doing and want to share it with everybody!! WELCOME!! Now you have an excuse to spend your kid’s inheritance!! 🤣 BE SAFE! HAVE FUN!!!

He just needs his dog, Spot!

Do SASS rules allow for posthumous induction to the Hall of Fame? Hells Comin deserves to be inducted.

Back in the early ‘70s, we moved to a new area. I had already graduated high school and was working full time, but my little brother who was eleven years my junior had to start fourth grade at an entirely new school! The first week of school, an older kid pushed him around and took his lunch money while they were on the bus. After a week of this, little brother came to me for advice. I told him that he should take his baseball glove and bat with him to school and if this kid tried it again, to cap his knee! Two days later, the bus driver was parked in our driveway with the bus and little bro! He told me that he’d have to kick him off the bus and that we’d have to find another way to get him to school. I told the driver that this kid had been bullying little brother and probably other kids too. He said that it didn’t matter, the bully was suffering from a busted knee and he had no choice. I told him that I would report HIM for failing to care properly for his passengers and that our folks would sue the school, the county, the school board, and that we’d file criminal complaints against him and the other kid! Little brother rode the bus. The other kid never bothered another kid again! The lesson ended there!!

Nope. If it's a good rib, it doesn't need a coat or even sauce. If it's not a good rib, don't eat it. Like corn dogs just fine. With mustard.

Let’s talk about a little Southern word that packs a whole lot of mystery: “directly.” Now, if you’re not from around here, you might think “I’ll be over there directly” means immediately, like someone is dropping everything and heading your way at lightning speed. Oh bless your heart. You sweet, literal thing. But in the South? “Directly” is not about time. It’s about intention. It’s a soft promise. A gentle nod. A “soon-ish, maybe after I finish what I’m doing, but don’t rush me” kind of word. My Grandpa used to say it all the time. “Grandpa, when you coming in for supper?” “I’ll be in directly.” That might mean five minutes… it might mean when the sun goes down and the garden’s watered, the dogs are fed, and he’s had time to sit on the porch while watching the squirrels fuss at each other. And yet we never doubted him. We knew he’d be there. Just not right now. See, “directly” in the South is a lesson in patience. It’s a little time cushion wrapped in charm. It tells you someone is coming, but on their own time, and you best not rush em. It’s polite procrastination with a drawl. So no, maybe not everybody says it, but down here, it stuck. It became part of the rhythm of life. Like sweet tea and slow sunsets. Like sitting a spell or fixing to do something. When my Grandpa said “I’ll be over there directly,” it didn’t matter how long it took, he always showed up. And that’s the thing: It’s not about the clock. It’s about the follow through. And that’s the kind of Southern I hope to always be. The kind that may not rush, but always shows up. #SouthernSayings #DirectlyMeansEventually https://www.facebook.com/share/1Aapgfsv9q/?mibextid=wwXIfr

I love staying at home most of the time. If you can swing retirement, do it as soon as possible. It minimizes contact with jerks.

And to add more proudness this was the first shoot where we shot the ammo we reloading. Everything went bang the way it was supposed to. Win win today.

Somebody get ahold of Rye Miles and tell him that Alpo has hacked his account!