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Showing content with the highest reputation on 11/18/2023 in all areas

  1. This is The Daughters of Joshua Cabe. Josh, Buddy Ebsen, and his partner Bitterroot, Jack Elam, are about to have a showdown with the bad guy, Leif Erickson. Now Jack has been in many westerns, and you see how he's wearing his gun. I don't think Buddy ever had one on before. I'd hate to try to ride a horse or do any work wearing that gun belt.
    8 points
  2. And now the people that'll piss on SASS...the very organization that gives them this forum...for their own gratification. Gotta love the Cowboy Way... Phantom
    8 points
  3. True story: Lady is out walking on a mountain trail when she sees a momma bear coming toward her. She slowly backs away, and I guess the outcome was okay. But it reminds me of that singin' story by Phil Harris. Can't remember all the lyrics, but, Ol' Phil says, "Lord, you rescued Daniel from the lion's den; you rescued the three from the fiery furnace. Lord, I'm askin' you, please... If you can't help me, don't help that bear!"
    7 points
  4. Since SASS, in their infinite wisdom, has changed WBAS from a shooting competition to a fantasy game, several former WBAS shooters have started shooting Wilder Bunch. We took the SASS WBAS rule book and threw it in the trash. Many of our rules were taken from 2 and 3 gun rules. Shooter may start up to and including condition one. May move with loaded and cocked gun, as long as finger is out of the trigger guard. Still have the 170 rule. Finger out of the trigger guard during magazine changes. Violation of these rules is a match DQ. There are no minor safety penalties or stage DQs, either you are safe or you aren't. Still have modern and traditional categories. Doughboy, Teddy Roosevelt, Audie Murphy and Bootlegger are additional categories. Basically if a firearm or caliber existed by the end of WorldWar2, there is a place for it in Wilder Bunch. Targets are engaged at distances similar to current WBAS distances. Seven plus yards for pistol and shotgun, 25 plus yards for pistol caliber rifle and 40 yards on out for rifle calibers. Our rule book is about 3 pages. We have been shooting Wilder Bunch at the Texas Doughboy's club in Bowie, Texas since April. We know that this is not for everybody and that's okay. But those of us who prefer a shooting competition to a fantasy game enjoy it very much. There are a few clubs around the country shooting this game. That's about as brief as I can make it. So read it fast before it gets pulled.
    7 points
  5. Yeah I heard that one as well as the bear sitting down and started saying a prayer and the guy asked the bear if he was a Christian bear and he said he was. The guy thought he was saved until the bear said "Please bless this meal we are about to partake in". TM
    7 points
  6. Since I didn't give you any advice...are you trying to tell me that there is another "Know It All" out there??? Phantom
    7 points
  7. I'll grant, it looks right tasty, but taco? TA-for-gawd-sakes-CO???? By all that is sacred and profane! That's NOT a taco, either soft or crisp! Sortuva poutine shawarma wrap.
    6 points
  8. I actually ran into Buddy Ebsen in Marina Del Rey, CA back in ‘83. Literally. We were both walking towards each other watching a gorgeous redhead get into a Corvette. I apologized and he laughed and said “It looks like we have the same taste in women.” He wasn’t wearing a gun at the time that I could see.
    6 points
  9. Well I have only had three beers and nothing to eat since breakfast….. and it looks pretty good to me!!! Regards Gateway Kid PS pretty sure my college roommate invented those back in ‘79; after a shall we say “mind altering experience” at a really big frat party!!!
    6 points
  10. Gee Phantom I’m sorry you felt un invited when you went to the Texas Doughboys page. What made you feel that way? The Texas Doughboys will not be a sass affiliated club in 2024. Using world wars won 3 gun rules we have taken a different path that would not be available to us using sass rules. we had our date for our big match The Texas International March 22,23,24 way before the other club announced they would be doing the 24’ state match. Shame they are both on the same dates. As Hoodoo said earlier about what we do and how we do it. With 6 divisions and a truck load of side matches ,banquet with a big prize table. starting up to condition 1 and moving with chamber loaded firearms yes , we are the wilder bunch.
    6 points
  11. Hi Fallon, Well, here we go. Yes. And. No. The Open Top (specific not a Cap Gun) and the Mason wedges are made differently from Cap Gun wedges. Apparently you know that. They do not fit correctly because they can't. Depending on your view, either the Arbor is too short, or the bore in the barrel lug is too deep. The parts DO NOT seat properly. Now, the reason you received the answer you did from Uberti, is because the fit (it is suppose to fit solid) of the Arbor to the Barrel is abominable. Not even close. Unless you correct the Arbor fit, the wedge fit will NEVER be correct. You need to sit down and READ the information provided by Larsen E. Pettifogger. Unless you correct the fit, EVERY time you take the gun down to clean, you get a "different" gun when you put it back together. Did I mention "READ" the information from Larsen E Pettifogger? Oh, well then, sit down and READ the information from Larsen E. Pettifogger. There is another cheap seats way to fix the fit but I ain't gonna go into that here. Oh yea, just for FYIs, Uberty built Cap Guns have exactly the same Abomnable Barrel to Arbor fit, and have for DECADES. Uberti has never seen fit to fix it.
    6 points
  12. "French Tacos" https://seattle.eater.com/2023/9/22/23885761/french-tacos-brick-n-cheese-first-us-location-seattle "It consists of French fries, cheddar cheese, cheese sauce, chipotle sauce, caramelized onions, and meat (or meats) wrapped in a big flour tortilla and cooked on a panini press. It’s the kind of thing a Taco Time employee would make after having four beers, or a college kid would consume after having six beers. It’s called a French tacos (even one is a “tacos”), and it has basically nothing to do with actual tacos, or Mexico." "If Americans have heard of French tacos, they’re likely confused that they are called “tacos,” look a bit like burritos, and taste like neither. "
    5 points
  13. That's not the point! The point is to Buy More Ammo.
    5 points
  14. If you find a good price on bullets that you like, I'd recommend buying a bunch of them. Because you never know when your bullet supplier is going to develop a taste for wine and cheese and up and move to France. Just saying...
    5 points
  15. Just to let you Pards know of the danger lurking to you North with the current (Mis)Government. Hint: Google Steven Guilbault's name.
    5 points
  16. 5 points
  17. 5 points
  18. The reason they do not fit correctly is because the arbors are too short.
    5 points
  19. one of the greatest TV skits of all time. Les was perfect in his description of the events.
    5 points
  20. And I really appreciate that Kemosabi. Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to let that slip out!!
    4 points
  21. Back in the 80’s me and 3 of my city boy surfer friends went to Yosemite for a 4 day camp trip. I think we stayed in the Dewey Point Campground and the first morning we were there we hiked to Dewey and Glacier Point. These points overlook the valley. I had my backpack packed with a gallon of water, some snacks, some survival gear and my Colt .45 Combat Gov’t loaded with 230 grain hardcast and 3 other mags loaded the same. If I remember right the hike was 3.5 miles to the first site - Dewey Point. After we had gone a couple of miles one of my buddies offered to take the pack. I said “No”. None of these guys knew a thing about guns. We stopped for a break. I went into the woods due to nature’s call. When I came back here’s Paul rifling through my pack. I immediately got mad and snatched my bag and he says “What do you have this for?” He held up my .45. I asked him for it back. He said “No!” The safety was still on and being that Paul was a big guy and in superb physical shape I didn’t figure tackling him was the way to go so I said “Paul, we are about to fight. You might hurt me but I know how to fight and I will fight dirty. Give me back my gun.” He stared at me for a second then handed it over. We continued our trek and about 15 minutes later I saw claw marks in the pine trees in this round of pine trees. They were all 8-12 feet off the ground. I had seen black bear claw marks in tree trunks as a kid. These were way bigger than those and much higher. The picture @T.K.posted above with the bear paw looks like it could have made the marks we were seeing in the trees. Dave says “I wonder what did that?” I said “Bears…or maybe one bear that’s been around for years.” ”No way…you’re high! No bear could do that!” Craig and Paul both said nearly at the same time. “I think Tom’s right.” Then Paul says “Good thing we have a gun” (oh…all of a sudden Mr. Lefty is happy there’s a gun. I said something I remembered from a funny joke) ”What do you mean ‘We’ white man?” Anyway, that evening we went to the Ranger’s Campfire for their evening lecture and it was about bears. My skeptical buddy Dave told the Ranger about the claw marks we saw on the trail and asked if those were really bear claw marks. The Ranger said “Absolutely those were bear claw marks. There’s a big male brown bear we call (a name I can’t remember) and standing upright and stretching he could easily reach 12 feet.” My buddies didn’t doubt me anymore. Luckily, none of them were dumb enough to ask if a .45 would stop a bear. Guns were illegal in Yosemite then. Later Paul asked if my .45 could kill a bear. My inner little devil popped up and I got to use another joke line. I said “Oh, the gun’s not for the bear. It’s to slow one of you down if the bear is chasing us so be nice to me for the rest of this trip.”
    4 points
  22. You'll have to ask my gal!
    4 points
  23. I don't have a dog in this event, but I do wonder if this is a testimonial to the brilliance of the JMB 1911 design. Cheap guns don't have the level of handwork, fit and finish that do the more expensive ones. Yet, if they continue to function this is an indicator of how good the 1911 design actually is.
    4 points
  24. I sent the link that Joe provided to my son-in-law. He loves to cook and try new things. Thanks Joe
    4 points
  25. Buddy was a shooter in real life. He even had a reloading setup in his dressing room on "Beverly Hillbillies". There was a picture in an article in "Guns of the Old West" about twenty years ago, IIRC.
    4 points
  26. OK, OK, so they were Canadians and were released right away!
    4 points
  27. So give "people" what they want. No laws against abortion at any level of government; national, state, county, city, homeowners association, nada. Also eliminate government regulation of medical insurance, so that those who oppose abortion are not required to pay for it. No one will be happy...the perfect solution. Women who want an abortion will pay for it themselves. Those underage retarded girls who are raped can be helped by private charities. Get the government out of healthcare, and things will improve.
    4 points
  28. I usually take the time on this day to talk about events that occurred thirty-three years ago now. The humor, the anxiety, the stress and even the bizarre happenings of the night before, the day itself and the days and weeks that followed. Today, though, I want to take a moment and reflect on exactly how momentous that day was in my life. It literally changed my life in numerous ways. First and foremost, through all of the chaos of the day, I was fortunate enough to marry the love of my life, and she has stayed with me all these years. Yes, still for reasons I am unable to explain other than I am simply incredibly lucky or she is incredibly crazy, or both. I am confident I couldn’t have done what I have done without her beside me, or sometimes in front of me pulling, other times behind me pushing me forward. I also began to grow up, and grow into the one thing in life I have been most proud of being, other than a husband and father. A soldier. My activation for Desert Shield / Storm on that day was a sobering experience in so many ways. Saying “until death do us part” hit very close to home. Yet I had gone into it with eyes open, and I continued to do so. I continued on, re-enlisting into the National Guard, becoming a combat medic and an NCO. Hopefully those I served with, upon reflecting, still believe I did both jobs well. I know I gave both my best. Finally I was accepted into a family, and became a part of a clan. Not as an in-law. As a son and as a brother. I could not have been closer to my father and mother-in-law if I had been born into the family. I miss them both painfully every day. My brother and sister-in-law, for better or for worse, have always treated me as a brother and I couldn’t ask for anything more. So, upon reflection, I cannot think of any single day in all of my life that has been filled with more humor, more stress, more weirdness, more love, or one that was more pivotal in my life than November 17, 1990. My wedding day. The picture says it all.
    4 points
  29. He was a great man. A uniter, not a divider. A sense of humor and humility. A smiler and a laugher, not a glowering scowler. Wish we had someone who was even a quarter of that man.
    4 points
  30. MORE FROM THE BOOKMARK, THAN FROM THE BOOK Jacob Keller opened the family Bible, picked up the bookmark, read it automatically. It was a single note sized sheet, folded in thirds, and it was originally sealed with absolutely bright-scarlet sealing wax. He tilted it a little to catch the light across it, and it was exactly what he expected. The impress was a rose. He looked at his father, a pale eyed lawman in the comfort of his own home, a man comfortable in moccasins and children: a small boy, and a girl of identical vintage, each occupied a thigh, and the Grand Old Man's arms were around both: Jacob wasn't sure who looked the most pleased -- his pale eyed Pa, who held the children; the children themselves, delighted to be in such proximity to a man who so obviously cared for them; or the green-eyed woman who looked at them with an expression of warm approval, the same expression she wore when she looked at the pale eyed youth standing with the fingers of one hand light on the open pages. Linn was looking at his children and laughing quietly, then he looked at Jacob, nodded. Jacob took a deep breath and read, his voice measured, deliberate, his pronunciation flawless: Esther leaned back and closed her eyes and rocked a little, smiling as she did, remembering what it was to be a child on her Daddy's lap, back in the Carolinas, back on the plantation. Esther's Daddy used to read Scripture aloud of an evening. Esther remembered feeling safe, and loved, sitting on her Daddy's lap with his arm around her middle, feeling the words vibrating in the chest she cuddled into as a child: she remembered feeling in that moment that everything was absolutely right with the world. That was before the War, of course, before the internecine hell that ripped her life apart, that saw most of her family murdered, that saw her turn into a red-headed Goddess of War when that small bunch of damned Yankees came to plunder more than the family silver: she'd killed with pistol and with shotgun, she'd laid wait in a closet and she'd run a damned Yankee through the belly with a saber taken from another damned Yankee, and as he lay choking on his very life on what should have been the inviolate territory of a teen-aged girl's bedroom, Esther Wales, as she was then, took a grim and dark satisfaction with knowing she'd looked into the eyes of the man she'd killed, both in the moment he reached for her, and in the moment when the light went out of his eyes, and he sighed out his last breath, and his soul with it, a damned Yankee, killed with Yankee steel. Jacob Keller read aloud, his syllables confident and reassuring, and Esther could hear the maturity he would achieve: he had not his father's deep, fatherly tones, not yet, but that would come with time. Jacob read with his fingers on the bookmark, and its handwritten message from a man he remembered. He read one chapter, as was their nightly custom: either he, or his father, would read from the Book, after supper and after the young were cleaned up and almost ready for bed: Jacob knew that before he was halfway through the chapter, the twins on his Pa's lap would be asleep, leaned against him, warm and safe in a protective father's arms: he knew he would step forward and take one, his Pa would carry the other, and they would bear the twins to bed, and tuck them in, and withdraw silently. All this Jacob realized, with one part of his mind, while another part read the words and turned silent print into spoken language. He came to the end of the chapter, and he read the note, his eyes passing over the distinctive handwriting -- the hand of a man who took pride in what he wrote, and that told Jacob the writer very likely took pride in all else that he did. He folded the note, closed the Bible, stepped around the little podium, advanced on an absolutely silent tread toward his father. Jacob picked up his little brother, hoisted him so the lad's cheek lay over Jacob's shoulder: Esther gave him that warm, approving, motherly look, and Jacob closed his eyes, briefly, an old grief aching in his young heart. Esther was not his birth-mother: she who bore him, she who'd looked at him with those same gentle, motherly eyes, was long dead, murdered, and her murder avenged: that Jacob was here, with his actual father, was little short of a miracle, and the miracle was due to the man who wrote the note that was now folded as a bookmark in the family Bible. It wasn't much of a note, just a few lines -- A father needs a son, A son needs a father. It was signed simply, S, and the Rose was sealed beside the single sinuous letter inked onto good rag paper. Father and son carried the Keller young to their bunks: they withdrew afterward, usually Linn retired to his study, and Jacob, to his studies: uncharacteristically, Jacob followed his father to the study door and said, "Sir, a moment, if you please." Linn stopped, turned: Jacob had the immediate impression Linn was not only not surprised, but that he expected Jacob's words. "Please come in." Linn's study smelled of books and just a light whiff of brandy: the stove pushed enough warmth to be welcome, but not so much as to be stifling, and Jacob saw its draft was most of the way shut. He nodded when he saw it, just a little bit of a nod, as he recognized the competent hand of their hired girl. Jacob waited until his Pa poured two brandies, handed him one: the two hoisted their heavy, cut-glass tumblers in silence, drank. Two pale eyed Keller men placed their empty glasses on the desk. Linn thrust his chin toward a chair; he turned, backed into his own, and the two sat together. Jacob did not miss the approving look his father gave him: Jacob showed due respect in accepting the brandy, in sitting as his father sat, and not before. "Speak your mind," Linn said quietly. "Sopris, sir." Linn nodded, once, slowly, his eyes veiled. "I owe him a great deal." "I owe him more," Linn admitted. "Sir?" "You know him as Agent Sopris." "Yes, sir." "He was that," Linn said quietly, "and much more. He did a great deal for this country no one will ever know about. His work ..." Linn frowned, considered. "We were members of ... multiple societies," Linn said carefully, "two of which I retain, one of which is utterly vital for reasons I will neither explain, nor will I accept question." "Yes, sir." "You remember he took you in and healed you." "He did, sir." "He treated you with courtesy." "He did, sir." "You were hungry and he fed you, you weren't quite naked but he got you scrubbed clean and into clean clothes, he healed your back and he held you when you woke with nightmares locked behind your Adam's apple, trying to scream their way out." Jacob's expression was haunted, the look of a man who was seeing an utter and absolute horror, something a thousand miles beyond the far wall, something that would shock a normal man into insanity and curl the hair on a bald man's head. "Yes, sir," Jacob said. "That is so." "You have been wondering about him, here of late." "I have, sir." Jacob did not wonder that his father divined his thoughts: he'd observed his pale eyed old Sheriff of a father knew things, it was simply a fact of life, one that Jacob accepted as a truism. “When did you see him last, sir?” Linn closed his eyes and turned his head a little – something Jacob saw only once before, when something caused the man considerable pain – Jacob opened his mouth to apologize, but Linn raised a forestalling palm without looking. “You remember your Aunt Duzy.” “Yes, sir.” “Sopris … thought a great deal of her.” “Yes, sir.” “She was a most admirable woman, Jacob. Let that be the memory we keep. She was a most admirable woman, a most capable woman, a woman of beauty and of breeding and …” Linn stopped, swallowed: Jacob held silent, seeing the genuine sorrow that escaped his father’s usual reserve. “He – Sopris – thought well of her,” Jacob hazarded. Linn nodded, slowly. “Was she not family, Jacob, and had not your mother set her cap for me” – his grin was quick, there-and-gone, and surprising – it wasn’t what Jacob expected to see – “well, I might have put one knee in the dirt and pled my case for her hand.” Jacob considered this for a long moment. “I see, sir.” “Sopris … held her in … very high esteem.” “Yes, sir.” Jacob frowned a little, leaned forward. “Sir … when Aunt Duzy died …” “He and I were the only ones at her interment, yes, and that was at his request.” Linn rubbed his palms together, slowly, thoughtfully, hard-earned calluses whispering to one another in the room’s quiet as he did. “I was the closest thing to a father she had.” Linn closed his eyes, took a long breath, blew it out. “He never said as much, but I’ve a notion he was about to ask my permission to pursue her hand.” Jacob nodded slowly. “And now, sir?” “I’ve not been back to Sopris Mountain but the one time since.” “They are buried side by side, sir?” Linn looked at Jacob: his was not the look of horror he’d seen in his son’s eyes, but rather of a deep and abiding sorrow, the kind a man knows when someone closer to him than his own brother, is no more. “Yes, Jacob,” Linn said slowly. “Yes, they are.” “Thank you, sir,” Jacob said quietly. “Normally … normally a man like him would have a grand funeral, a state occasion with orators both secular and religious.” Linn leaned back in his chair, his eyes wandering the juncture between wall and ceiling above and behind Jacob’s head, then he looked at his son and grinned a little. “He would have none of that. He said to let the streams deliver his oration, let feathered throats sing his praises, and instead of men declaring that he was flying with the angels, let those feathered angels that know the length and breadth of the skies, carry word of his deeds to the Almighty.” Jacob considered this, and was quiet for a long minute and more. “You’ve answered my question before I could give it voice,” Jacob finally said, his words slow, thoughtful, then he looked at his father and grinned – that same half-crooked grin he’d seen on his Pa’s face, a grin he honestly didn’t realize he wore. “Sir,” he said finally, “this is the first time I got more from the bookmark, than I did from the Book!”
    4 points
  31. Tisas is a product of Turkey. Good quality at a good price. Now...about all that stuff you put on about your accomplishments...do you know it takes like a whole page???? Phantom
    4 points
  32. When my hitch was up, my First Sergeant said, “I suppose you want to spit on my grave when I die.” ”No, First Sergeant, I never want to stand in line again.” PS: I think he actually said pee.
    4 points
  33. Next time use the FKCGG signal.....
    4 points
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