Jump to content
SASS Wire Forum

Leaderboard

The search index is currently processing. Leaderboard results may not be complete.

Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation on 03/30/2024 in all areas

  1. A 20-mule team before its 165-mile journey to the railhead in Mojave, California. C. 1883-1889. The purpose of the twenty-mule-team wagons was to transport 10 short tons of borax ore per journey. The rear wheels, standing at a height of seven feet, were equipped with 1-inch-thick iron tires. The wagon beds, crafted from solid oak, measured 16 feet in length and 6 feet in depth, with an empty weight of 7,800 pounds. The convoy, extending over 180 feet with mules in tow, consisted of three wagons: the first as a trailer, the second known as "the tender" or the "back action," and the last serving as a water tank. When loaded with ore, the complete weight of the mule train, including the wagons, amounted to approximately 73,200 pounds. The water tank, holding 1,200 US gallons, supplied the mules with water during the journey. An additional 500-US-gallon wagon was occasionally appended to deliver water to a dry camp along the route. Over a span of six years, the teams successfully transported more than 20 million pounds of borax out of Death Valley. The horses, positioned as wheelers closest to the wagon, were ridden by one of the two individuals typically required to operate the wagons. While larger than the mules, the horses were considered less intelligent and less adaptable to desert conditions. Remi Nadeau's historical account, "Nadeau's Freighting Teams in the Mojave," highlights the mules' superiority for general use in the desert region. The teamster controlled the team using a single long rein, known as a "jerk line," aided by a lengthy blacksnake whip. Typically riding the left wheeler, the teamster could also operate from the trailer seat, managing the brake on steep descents. The swamper, usually riding the trailer, would be positioned on the back action in hilly terrain to operate the brake. Armed with a can of small rocks, the swamper could encourage an inattentive mule to return to work. Both men were responsible for preparing the team, tending to the mules' needs, and addressing any veterinary or repair requirements. A mid-day stop allowed for feeding and watering the mules in harness, while night stops provided corrals and feed boxes. Each day's travel averaged around 17 miles, and the entire one-way trip took approximately ten days. The company constructed cabins at night stops for the use of drivers and swampers.
    9 points
  2. A friend of mine was talking about opening a restaurant. He gave me some ideas for names he had come up with and asked my opinion. I told him since it was an American food type restaurant he should pick a name that sounded homey and maybe run by a married couple. I recommended the name: “Sam & Ella’s” He liked the name. It took him a few days to see the joke. He didn’t see the humor in it though…
    9 points
  3. Me and BlueJeans had been talking over buying a new vehicle. Watching You Tube Videos, going over manufacturers build-it pages. Details of add ons, etc. What we wanted and what we decided on based on quality, reviewss, and costs, we settled on a King Cab Nissan Frontier. Checking local inventories of Dealers in area we found what we wanted and went to check out the vehicle. A salesman met us, we discussed the vehicle we wanted and if still in stock. Yes it was and asked for test drive. When we got back the salesman asked how we liked it and we told him we wanted to talk it over and would let him know the next day. No hard sale, or asking us what we had for trade, etc. Just a thank you and hoping we would be back if everything was to our satisfaction in the vehicle. We talked it over that evening, decided how much to put down and which vehicle we wanted to trade in. Our 2018 car or our 1999 Ford Ranger. Next morning we drove our 2018 car, met the salesman and negotiated. Our car was appraised. Figures came out. Manufacturer had a 2000.00 incentive off the suggested price. Dealer had a 5000.00 incentive added to this (neither off which we had expected nor mentioned the day before). When the offer came, and we were surprised how much was offered for our vehicle, just to play the game I told salesman to add another 1500.00 for the offer of our trade in we would purchase the new vehicle. Wasn't 10 minutes later salesman came back and said manager accepted the deal. Now the goodies, nost dealerships have all kinds of add on to raise their profits and we expected them. But dealer only added, sales tax, registration and license, and a 50.00 office fee. With trade in, incentives, and down payment cash, we have a 3 year loan at 1.9%. Now the kicker added, this is funny. The Manager came out and said if we wanted a car besides our new truck, knowing we had a 1999 Ford Ranger, they had several last year new EVs autos and would take 18,000.00 off sticker asking and offer us 5000.00 for our Ranger. We said thanks, but no thanks. The whole process that morning took only 1 hour. They said to come back by 2PM and the new truck would be detailed, etc. for us to pick up. It was. Have to say, this has been in my years before dealing in buying a vehicle the easiest, and most stress free experience ever. I would go back to this dealer again. Oh, 6 free oil and filter changes included.
    7 points
  4. These are the same people who don't have Iced Tea in Winter. Avoid them.
    7 points
  5. 7 points
  6. I have a perforated septum from long-term exposure to heavy metal fume at a plant I worked at from '78-'01. I've had a little fun with it. One of my daughters has "facial jewelry", so I was at the mall with her one day, bought a pair of cheap hoop earrings, and slipped one through my nose... she didn't think much of ol' dad trying to bond with her.
    6 points
  7. Nothing worse than an uncooperative nipple.
    6 points
  8. On NCIS, whenever something did not seem right to Abby, she called it hinky. So one episode she said something was hinky and apparently McGee had enough. "Why do you keep saying that word? Hinky. It's not even a real word - it's a made up word!" And she gives him that look, that says that he's the world's biggest idiot, and says, "All words are made up words McGee".
    5 points
  9. No, the primers will stay and the prices will go down ‘cause they’re screwing us with their price gouging, still! Just like the fu…… Know what? Never mind. It’s too nice a day for higher BP’s Sunshine and snacky cakes. Sunshine and snacky cakes. Sunshine and snacky cakes...Ommmmmmmm
    5 points
  10. Was in one in New England when both my sons were young. Waiters were great. Ended up a knock down drag out water fight between my sons and the waiters. My sons lost. They were soaked when we left but had a great time. Talked about it for weeks.
    5 points
  11. Yep! We’re all gonna die. The world will be over. Send your donations to your favorite pro 2A organization or your rights will be in peril. We’re all gonna turn gay and the catfish will run off to Mexico.
    5 points
  12. FENCE SETTIN' I wasn't sure at first. I thought it was my daughter Dana, settin' on the top rail of the whitewashed fence behind the barn, least until I got close enough to see her boots. I couldn't help but grin. Marnie wore red cowboy boots and Dana wore black, and these ... these were red. I clumb up on the fence and throwed my leg over, then my other leg and there I set beside my darlin' daughter, and her lookin' out over the pasture, her eyes full of memories. Dana and Marnie both braided their hair and wrapped it around their necks, and twice it spared them a throat-slash in a close encounter of the bladed kind: both times the attempt was not well received, and the individual that tried it, come out in second place -- one will be in prison another twenty three years, the other commenced to assume room temperature our friendly local coroner's slab. We set there side by side, neither of sayin' a word. I hadn't expected Marnie to show up. Ordinarily she'd open an Iris in my study and step out lookin' all gorgeous and ladylike in a McKenna gown, and she'd told me she was known in all the Confederate worlds by the way she dressed -- "brand recognition," she'd said, and smiled as she did. I waited for her to speak. If she was here, and she wasn't in her Ambassador's gown, she was here as just her, and that suited me fine. I saw her bottom jaw slide out and she looked down and said, "Daddy, do you remember when I first came out here?" "I remember," I said gently, for the evening was quiet, and there was no need to speak loudly a'tall. "You brought me out here to show me the horses." I thought of that evening, and how little she was ... four years old, no bigger'n a cake of soap, big eyed and scared of everything, even me. I didn't know quite what to do with her but I figured if I acted like I did, why, I might do something right, so we come out here behind the barn and I whistled up the mares and I let Marnie stand behind me as the mare come up and snuffed at my shirt front, and two others come up, and I unwrapped several of those red and white swirlie striped peppermints and proceeded to bribe the mares with 'em. I told Marnie horses bribe as well as any politician. She pretty much hid behind me, least until one of the colts come up, one of the little bitty fresh laid ones, I don't reckon he was more'n two days old: hungry, frisky, curious, he come up a-buttin' his Mama for a meal and she stood for it and Marnie watched that cold with big and solemn eyes and when he come up for air, why, Marnie started out from behint me just a little an' that colt saw her and I don't reckon either of 'em had ever seen a little bitty version of the full grown product before. I let nature take its course: Marnie was hesitant to touch the colt, but she did, and the colt laid his chin over her shoulder and Marnie looked at me with great big eyes and I said quietly, "He's giving you a horsie hug," and Marnie tentatively, carefully, gave the colt a hug. The mares wandered off and the colt followed his meal. I hunkered down beside Marnie and she looked at me with big and wondering eyes and she looked after the horses and I said "What are those called, Marnie?" and Marnie whispered "Horsie puppies." I couldn't help but grin to hear it. All this went just a-whistlin' through my mind in the two seconds after she asked if I remembered, and I allowed that I did. "I didn't know what a good man was," she said, her voice distant as she swam through memories of her own. She turned and looked at me and said "I never knew anyone could be gentle, but you were." I nodded slowly. "You taught me to be a lady, Daddy." Now that honestly surprised me, for I don't ever recall teachin' her how to sit or stand or walk with a book balanced atop her head, I never taught her to sew nor flirt nor pout, and Marnie laughed, for I reckon I looked surprised, or confused, or both. "You ... treated Mama like a lady. All the time. I don't ever remember your raising your voice, not once, not ever, inside the house." She smiled and interrupted me before I could say it -- "I know, Daddy, you dislike loud noises!" I laughed, nodded. My daughter knew me better than I realized, but I was not surprised at this. "I remember ... it wasn't much later, a week or so ... you asked me if I'd like to ride a horse." I nodded again. Marnie looked down, swallowed. "I was scared," she whispered, then she looked at me, and I could see that little girl she'd been, looking at me out of those pale eyes, alone, vulnerable, frightened. "I was scared to ride a horse, Daddy, I was scared to tell you no, I was scared to do anything that would raise your voice or raise your hand --" "You were walking on eggshells before you started school," I murmured. "Do you remember what you asked me next?" I smiled, for there was a memory I had chambered up and ready to go. Little four year old Marnie Keller wore a frilly dress, and knee socks and little saddle shoes, her hair was braided and she sat on the top rail of the fence behind the barn. The big man with pale eyes walked a spotty horsie up to her and it sidled up to her and he said, "You could ride with me. Come on over behind me, darlin'." Her pale eyes were uncertain, her face was pale, she swallowed hard, but she hooked her heel on the second rail down and leaned forward -- she grabbed the shoulder of his coat and she stepped over, onto the saddle skirt -- she had not the least idea that she could sit, and what Shelly saw when she came out to call them to supper, was a strutting Appaloosa stallion at an easy canter, mane and tail floating in the chilly evening air, a pale eyed man with a big grin on his face riding proudly in the saddle, and standing up behind him, a laughing little girl with even white teeth, a little girl with blanched-white knuckles as she death gripped the man's Carhartt shoulders, as she stood up behind him, feeling taller and faster and happier than she ever remembered being in all her young life! "I remember," I said quietly. "That was the first time you ever rode a horse. Your Mama still has the picture." I looked over at Marnie. "Do you know what I saw when I looked at that picture?" Marnie blinked, curious, smiled just a little, shook her head. "I used to stand up behind my Mama a-horseback, when I was that size. Mama had a picture, I don't know whatever come of it, but I remember ... feeling ..." I looked down and I couldn't help but smile. "Marnie, you looked happy. You looked at the world for the very first time with fearless eyes. When I saw that picture, I knew I'd done something right." Marnie reached over, laid her hand on mine. "You did many things right, Daddy. That's why I'm here." "Oh?" "I wanted to sit here and remember the first time things went right in my life." There are times in a man's life when he realizes just how profound an effect he's had, and this was one of those times. "I wanted to sit on the fence, Daddy. Here's where it all started."
    5 points
  13. An old fave Date and Walnut loaf wonderful to east just baked out of the oven and slathered in butter.
    5 points
  14. Last weekend I shot 10 stages with my ROA’s and they ran flawlessly. When I got home I got them out to clean them and one nipple on each cylinder was stuck. As is my normal practice I use anti-seize on every nipple whenever I put them on. The other five on each cylinder came out without issue and all still showed the anti-seize on them. I tried every trick I knew on the other two, soaked them with Kroil, froze them, heated them, and still the two nipples just laughed at me. As you can imagine I don’t liked getting laughed at, so out came the big guns. I had to drill them then use a left handed extractor but that taught them and they gave up the fight. I finished up by getting the correct size tap and chased out all the threads. Next I’ll throw the cylinders and nipples in the ultrasonic cleaner and get them nice and clean again just so I can put antiseize back on them and put them together. Hopefully the other nipples learned a lesson and won’t try to fight me the next time.
    4 points
  15. Eliphalet R. Moderator Admin 480 Gender:Not Telling Location:Everywhere, USA Interests:Cowboy Action Shooting! SASS# SASS Moderator SASS Headquarters Posted Tuesday at 04:28 PM If you are buying or selling items on the Classified Forum, check your profile and delete your email address if you added it under any of the "Contact Methods". You are making yourself a target for scammers. They do not have to be Wire Members to see your email address and try to rip you off.
    4 points
  16. You’ve got your email address under contacts in your profile page, that’s an open door to scammers. Intersport Performance is a known scammer.
    4 points
  17. Smart ass...how else are ya suppose to see if the damn thing is working...wait till it pops out onto the floor?
    4 points
  18. I know bupkus about boats, LOL. I was in the Army. I wanted safe, I dug a hole. I did not have to fear the ship sinking out from under me. neener-neener LOL. I do however, understand the "theory" of driving boats. And why big ones do not stop, turn or back up on a dime. Kinda like driving a semi. Conspiracy theories abound. Real or memorex? Dunno, don't care. I know these days, nothing is normal. Are there people who would do us harm? Yes. Would these people stoop to industrial sabotage, electrical grids, pipelines, infrastructure, etc? (big boats carrying goods to/from port hitting a bridge and bringing it down in the river thus blocking traffic to that port for an extended period...yeah, that fits the above, doesn't it?) Ask yourself this, every time you see one of these stories. Or why certain politicians, other people do what they do; Why? Who got/gets paid? Who benefits? SO I found this. No idea if the guy's on the level but seems pretty straight, far as I can see. Any of y'all a ship's captain or driver, have at it. To me, seemed to make a lot of sense in how this could have "accidentally" happened.
    4 points
  19. Going down I-75 near Macon, Ga. I was behind a convertible Cadillac with a beautiful blonde driving alone. As I got closer to pass her, saw her bumper sticker that said "I caught the crabs at Dirty Nellie's"........Sure was a gross let-down to see her bragging about it.....then I learned Dirty Nellie's was a seafood restaurant where you selected your own crablegs.....
    4 points
  20. Now, see, that’s painting with a really broad Yankee profiling brush. I can guarantee you in the country parts of some Yankee states if you ask for iced tea any time of year you will hear “Do you want sweet or unsweetened, Hon?” Also, anyone that will not eat ice cream in the winter is someone to steer clear of ‘cause they’re pretty really mean people. The kind that put a hair in their milk and poke holes in the assorted chocolates at Christmas.
    4 points
  21. “BUGLER! SOUND RECALL!” A pale-eyed ambassador tilted her head and regarded the Judge: her expression, her posture, told His Honor that he had her undivided attention. She’d been formally received: on a world where the swiftest transportation was the fastest horse, the arrival of a boxy, chisel-nosed shuttle, shining and silent and descending from the skies, was unusual enough to catch the eye: the shuttle, as it always did for a State visit, descended along a prescribed course, and watchers knew to anticipate its approach from a particular direction, they expected to see it descend along a designated path: signals were passed, flashes of reflected sunlight if in the daytime, torches ignited in a particular pattern along relay-points, if at night. The shuttle’s course was long and straight; it came at a steady velocity, slowing only after crossing the river; one mile more, and it came to a stop, hovered, descended straight down in the middle of a grassy clearing. The pale-eyed Ambassador stood in the shuttle’s broad hatchway as the fan-shaped ramp lowered: a brass band greeted her with a brisk air, a distinguished representative removed his fine, tall hat and formally bade her welcome: only then did she set foot on the soil of this Confederate world. Ambassador Marnie Keller allowed the representative to take her hand, raise it to his lips: his expression was solemn, his eyes unusually so: Marnie knew the man to be a charming dinner companion and an expert dancer, and she also knew that his delight would be expressed with shining eyes and a cheerful voice. She saw instead a troubled man. A dignified woman in a McKenna gown sat across from His Honor the Judge. Tea was brought, hot, steaming, fragrant: Marnie had been instrumental in introducing both the Camellia shrub and Bergamot to the planet, and both were enthusiastically embraced: on this trip, she’d brought coffee plants, and complete instructions for their horticulturists, but for now, tea was a new drink, and very popular with those who could afford it. Marnie’s choice of the tea and bergamot was intentional. There were multiple well-established crops introduced to this world’s fertile soils. Marnie did love her Earl Grey tea, and tea had receded into distant legend in the common imagination. Her gift of plants the year before, with instructions on where to plant them, and how to care for them, when and how to harvest, was enthusiastically received. The first crops were carefully dried, brewed, sampled and pronounced good. Marnie knew that a very few containers of dried leaves were sold, among those few who could afford it just yet … and she knew these were sold in Japanned boxes with illustrations of a woman in a long gown, presumably her engraved image, pressed into the heavy paper boxes in four colors. “Your Honor,” Marnie said neutrally, “you have the look of a troubled man.” He nodded, set his delicate china teacup down, untasted. Marnie set hers down as well. If the matter was serious enough to warrant his emptying his hands and giving his full attention to what he was about to say, it was serious enough for Marnie to empty her hands and give him her undivided attention. “Are you familiar with our methods of execution?” he asked. “I am not.” “For particularly heinous crimes, we have the Pits.” “I am not familiar, Your Honor.” “I believe you have Coulter’s Hell on your world.” Marnie smiled, just a little, nodded. “I’m familiar with Coulter’s Hell,” she affirmed. “I have been through it several times.” “We have something similar.” “Is yours a place of execution?” “It has been. One pit is reserved for … truly terrible crimes.” Marnie waited as the man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There are mud pits in various colors. Our men of science tell me they can color up from mineral content, or from something they call algae.” “I am familiar with several varieties of colored algae.” “There’s one pit that has something in it. It’s not algae. If you throw … they tested it yesterday to make sure it works … they threw a dead chicken in it and watched it dissolve.” “Dissolve.” “We make condemned prisoners view this dissolution, one week to the day of their date of execution.” “And how are the prisoners executed?” The Judge swallowed, looked away, looked back. “Terrible things happened,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Terrible. I hesitate to describe them.” “Your Honor, you’ll find I have a cast iron stomach. Please speak plainly.” “There was brutality, Madam Ambassador. Cruelty and monstrosity more terrible than a civilized mind can grasp. A man was found guilty, and he was placed in a small metal cage. The door was riveted shut and remains so.” Marnie’s eyebrow raised. “He was … his cage was placed on a wagon, and this was taken to the place of execution. “He was shown the ramp his cage would slide down and into this bubbling pit. “The dead chicken was thrown in and he watched as … as whatever devil’s soup lives there … dissolved the chicken.” “The prisoner will be dissolved alive.” “The pit is quite warm. I am told it’s not hot enough to boil a man to death, but he’ll scream with pain when he is introduced. The cage will sink to half its depth and he will … between the heat, and being eaten alive …” The judge shivered. “The family of his victim will be assembled, to witness this most horrible death.” Marnie nodded, tilted her head a little, studied the Judge’s face. “And you are quite sure you have the actual culprit.” The judge nodded, then shook his head. “There is always doubt, Madam Ambassador. Evidence was presented and the jury was convinced. This fellow … he is a known criminal, but to create horrors of the magnitude of which he is accused …” The Judge shook his head. “He was brought back from having been shown, and one week to the day from his guilty verdict, he will be slid down the ramp, still riveted in that small steel cage, and he’ll scream his last, while his victim’s family watches.” “And when will the execution take place?” “Today.” “Then I am just in time,” she murmured, and picked her tea up again. The Judge looked at his tea, still untouched, shook his head. Marnie placed her delicate teacup on its saucer just as an urgent knock drove against the inner chamber’s door: a messenger threw the door open, paper in hand. “Your Honor,” he said, “we convicted the wrong man!” The Judge powered to his feet. “Your Honor, when is the execution?” “He’s being taken there now!” “How do we stop it?” The Judge looked at the messenger. “Have my surrey hitched up!” “Yes, sir!” “Your Honor,” Marnie said crisply as they rose, “can we get to my ship? It’s swifter than –” “Yes,” the Judge said, “we can do that!” A bugler and a red-faced Sergeant rode ahead of the Judge’s surrey. The bugler blew a sharp summons, clearing the road ahead of them: the Judge’s face was grim, he had an arm clamped hard down against his chest, reins in his off hand. The chestnut was a pacer, and swift: she was a racer, and the lightweight, two-wheel surrey was a younger man’s carriage, but it suited the Judge, who remembered what it was to drive behind a fast horse, and never lost that love. Marnie spoke quietly into her lace-trimmed sleeve-cuff: as horsemen and a racing-style surrey came into the clearing, men came to attention on either side of the diplomatic shuttle: the boarding-ramp was down, the pilot was at the controls, Marnie hiked her skirts and jumped from the surrey, hit the ground running. Three steps and she was on the ramp, her hand gripping the Judge’s coat-sleeve. The ramp was only just beginning to whine shut when the shuttle jumped straight up like a scared jackrabbit, if a jackrabbit can make a hundred yards straight up in two seconds. “Does the condemned have any last words?” A known thief looked out through the bars that held him, crouched and cramped, for the past week. “Would it do any good?” he snapped. “I didn’t kill nobody, so be damned with you all!” The executioner nodded at an old man, who hitched a spring loaded hook onto a heavy ring welded to the back of the condemned man’s small cage: when the mechanism raised the back of the ramp and the cage slid into the pit, a team of mules would be used to pull the empty cage back up the timber ramp, as buckets of water sloshed the hungry mud off the metal, lest the mud it dragged back onto the wooden ramp, eat great gouges in the ramp. When the cage came out, they knew, it would be completely empty. The hungry mud would have eaten every particle of the prisoner. Silence descended over the scene: the executioner brought out his watch, consulted it. The prisoner, alone, naked, waited for the mechanism to activate, waited to hear gears and springs beneath him start to clatter, start to hoist the back of the ramp, start to slide him into Hell while he was still alive. Something silver streaked over the horizon toward them. The diplomatic shuttles were normally silent. This wasn’t. The shuttle screamed through the air, a high-pitched half-whistle, half-siren, louder as it approached, shining and arrow-swift, drawing a straight line for the Place of Execution. His Honor muttered, “If only we had a bugler!” “Bugler?” the pilot laughed. “We can handle that! What call, sir?” The Judge’s eyes widened. “Sound Recall!” The pilot’s hands danced over a small keypad, and Marnie smiled, just a little, as her uniformed Confederate pilot murmured, “Sound files, bugle calls, Recall.” Beneath them, a hatch opened, a bank of a half dozen loudspeakers dropped into the slipstream, adding to the ship’s rumbling vibration as it shrieked through the air. The executioner watched as the hand swept upward, biting chunks from a man’s lifespan with each tick of its mechanism. He gripped a short, smooth, cast-iron handle, waited for the appointed moment. The watch’s long, slender second hand touched the ornate, hand-painted 12 at the top of the age-yellowed watch dial. The executioner gripped a small handle, pulled, stepped back: the preacher began reading from the Book, and beneath the condemned man, beneath the riveted-shut cage, a powerful spring began to unwind, turning an axle, turning gears, turning a screw mechanism which hoist the back of the ramp. Heads rose, mouths opened as something boxy and silver stopped overhead, dropped straight down toward them, as the commanding, sharp, precise notes of Recall shivered the air. “STOP THE MECHANISM!” The executioner shoved at the short, cast-iron handle, shoved harder, desperately trying to stop what he’d started: he put both hands on the smooth, red-painted handle, shoved impotently at the locked bar, the well-greased mechanism sounding like it was chuckling at his efforts. The mule skinner spat a brown stream of tobacco juice, picked up the reins: “Yup there, now, yup, boys,” he called, and the mules surged forward, against the chain. The cage started to slide, stopped suddenly, held by the chain and by two mules. The shuttle landed, the ramp dropped, the Judge ran up, his hand driving into his coat. He pulled out his gavel. A Judge’s gavel was made of the hardest wood on the planet. Its handle was turned, shaped, given particular decorative looking rings that served as a key, as a signature: the Judge’s gavel was the only thing that could stop the ramp’s mechanism: as the silver diplomatic shuttle lifted, pirouetted, backed against the rising ramp, the landing ramp blocking the cage from sliding off smooth timbers, the Judge drove the handle of his gavel into the execution machine’s socket. Gears slammed to a stop. The Judge looked at the executioner. “We have the wrong man.” Sheriff Jacob Keller listened to his sister’s recounting of her latest diplomatic venture. “What happened after they got him out of the cage?” “They made the official proclamations that he was innocent, that the right man was found, the usual language.” “What about him? Any compensation for wrongful conviction?” “I argued that his reputation was stained beyond redemption and through no fault of his own. We agreed that a fresh start was indicated, so we moved him to another world entirely, someplace that had never heard of him or his homeworld.” Jacob raised an eyebrow. “I set him up with his own tea plantation,” Marnie smiled. “That was a year ago. Yesterday I received a package of tea by courier post, and a note.” She handed Jacob the note. I hope this blend is to your liking. It was signed with an ornate, capital R. Marnie raised a small, cloth-wrapped package, closed her eyes, took a deep, savoring breath. “He got the blend just right.”
    4 points
  22. When I first heard of this book The author was explaining how you knew if you were a southern belle. Two things stuck with me - she had a list. One was if you were in your fifties and you still called your father Daddy. And another one was ordering iced tea in a blizzard. She said that she was visiting some friends in New York City one time, and there was a blizzard blowing, and she and her friends went into this restaurant to get out of the snow and the cold. She noticed that half of her friends ordered coffee, and the other half ordered hot chocolate, while she ordered iced tea. That was when she realized that she was a southern belle.
    4 points
  23. '24 Classic Cowboy/Cowgirl Showdown Buckles have arrived!! May 2nd - 4th 12 Classic Sub-Categories Currently sitting at 36 Confirmed Entries! Classic Dinner Friday night! Time is running out... April 6th deadline! https://butterfieldgulch.com/match-event-info
    4 points
  24. I wonder if people are really that foolish Just look at who gets elected.
    4 points
  25. Rocks from cars either in front, overtaking you or coming in the other direction. You still see them occasionally, I suppose laminated front windscreens have made them more of a thing of the past and most insurance companies down here give you a replacement windscreen annually with your policy at no cost.
    4 points
  26. Maybe that's the brain tumor that makes him think that this looks okay.
    4 points
  27. Quick update! Infections doc called and took me off of the rough antibiotic. It was reaching the toxic level. I will resume the medication that I was on before the surgery. Home health was here early to check and change the bandage. It was completely clean! We’re going out for a sit down lunch today for the first time since we’ve both been home!
    4 points
  28. Even if Vista Outdoors sells to a CZ company, the primer factories are going to stay right where they are. With the current onerous import/export regulations the obummer administration put into place, primers are not going to suddenly be exported out of the US. As @Pat Riot stated so eloquently "The Sky is Falling. The Sky is Falling." NOT
    3 points
  29. Here at the Lake of the Ozarks we have a place called "Big Dicks Halfway Inn". It's famous for "Shooting the Minnow". Yes, they put a live minnow in a shot glass with your choice of hooch and you drink it. They also sell a lot of t shirts. By the way, the place is the halfway point on the 94 miles of the Lake. Coyote Kid
    3 points
  30. Sanger A sandwich. Sanger is an alteration of the word sandwich. Sango appeared as a term for sandwich in the 1940s, but by the 1960s, sanger took over to describe this staple of Australian cuisine. Sangers come in all shapes and sizes for all occasions—there are gourmet sangers, steak sangers, veggie sangers, cucumber sangers, and even double banger sangers.
    3 points
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.