Leaderboard

Ole TW was visiting one of his favorite hangouts this morning.....1st Nat'l Bank of Murfreesboro. A armed robber came in and ordered everyone..."Face down on the floor". Then the robber walked over to a patron on the floor and ask..."Did you see my face"? Patron replied.....YES. BANG, shot the patron in the leg and threatened to kill him if he told police. Again, the robber walked over to a patron on the floor and ask....."Did you see my face"? Patron replied....YES. BANG, shot the patron in the leg and threaten to kill him if he told police. Then the robber walked over to where TW was laying face down on the floor and ask...."Did you see my face"? TW replied....... "NO, but I'm pretty sure my wife did".. The man (TW) is a living history book. Another true story! ..........Widder

I told her she done started something...just got done with these, also Grandma's recipe.

I’m headed to the grocery today to pick up the makings for vegetable-beef soup! I usually do three to five gallons and freeze most of it for use in the next few months! Carrot , ‘taters, onions, mushrooms, celery, lots of tomato sauce, spicy V8, and several pounds of cubed beef! It all gets seasoned and sautéed or browned in a cast iron skillet and then cooked together for several hours in a turkey fryer pot!! The hardest part of making it is waiting for it to cook out so’s I can have a bowl!!

I'll try just about any food once. Shortcake does not appreciate "unfamiliar" food. She has a middle school menu; cheeseburgers, fried chicken, grilled cheese, pulled pork, etc. Typically, a 6th grade food selection. Craziest thing I ate was a balut. Her usual line, "Kiss me now, cause you're not kissing me after you eat that crap!"

My wife and I are celebrating our 50th anniversary this year and we were looking for something to do to celebrate. So were are going to take an almost month long trip traveling from GA to OKC to shoot Land Run. From there we will go to Branson, then Nashville, then Pigeon Forge and then back home . We used to live south of Fort Worth (Cleburne) before moving to GA and have a good number of friends there so we will be spending some time in Texas before going to Land Run. I've got the calendar all laid out and had to wait until we were officially registered for Land Run and had camping on the range finalized. Now that Land Run match is all arranged I am going to be making all the camping reservations and scoping out all the activities to do along the way. Should be fun Kajun

Your post has been edited to remove personal contact information. Use the Private Message system. Scammers have been targeting many forums, trying to intercept product or payments.

How 'bout a recipe for a super bowl of chili?

Hold the pickles please, I can’t stand them! The rest of it looks great!

i think all is well , i agree with the response - he is more into this than i am , and im not certain the OP was upset - sounds like all is good to me ,

I thought this might be about school bullies!! The local bully did my little brother that way, taking his lunch, wedgies, noogies, and even took money from him for about a week! He was eight years old and starting at a new school. The next week, the bus driver was waiting for me when I got home from work, (little brother was eleven years younger than I was) and he told me that he couldn’t let brother ride the bus anymore! He also said that I or my folks would have to go to the school to talk to the principal! Turns out, my little brother took a baseball bat and glove with him when he got on the bus that morning. The bully smacked him around and took his lunch money. When he stepped off the bus, little brother kneecapped him, BOTH LEGS!! I went to see the principal and told him what had been happening. I also went to the bully’s parents and explained it to them. That kid never bothered my brother again, nor any other kid either!! 🤨

PORTHOLE Michael noticed Dana was starting to sag. Snow stung their cheeks as they rode: they were dressed for the weather -- it wasn't terribly cold, but it was cold enough, and Michael knew where to get in out of the weather, and that's where they were heading. "Dana!" Dana lowered her head, let the wind press her Stetson harder down on her braids as she turned her head a little to look at him almost sidelong. "We'll break trail. We're close now." The Bear Killer watched this exchange, scented the wind: he turned, looking long into the gathering dusk behind them, then turned and followed, his own progress made easier by a Fanghorn and a mule trampling a path for him. Dana trusted her mule to follow Michael. She ached, she was tired: she gripped the bitless reins with fisted mittens, willed herself to not be cold, willed the pain onto the wind so it could be carried away from her. This did not work, of course, but she did try. Dana looked up, surprised: it was suddenly dark -- as if they rode through a curtain, into night -- the wind stopped and so did her mule. Dana raised her head, lifted her chin from its breath-warmed nest of hand-knit muffler scarf, looked around, frowned. She heard a chuffing, scraping sound, saw a flicker, almost a flash of light -- just a little -- she squinted, frowned, trying to see -- she turned, saw the rounded opening behind where they'd ridden in out of the snow -- She turned again as fire began eating happily at a stack of kindling. Michael must have had that ready, she thought. She saw him turn from the just-ignited fire, take a couple steps, squat: another scraping click, another fire. Two fires? she thought. One for each of us? Isn't that carrying this brother-and-sister thing a little too far? Dana looked around, and so did her mule: the patient old fellow sidestepped over to a handy rock. Dana gratefully used it as a mounting block, or in this case, a dismount block: she stood, looked around, letting her eyes get used to the dark, then took two careful steps down to the sandy, dry floor. She sagged back against the rock, The Bear Killer cuddling up against her chaps. Michael was busy: he disappeared into the dark, while Dana contemplated the vapor cloud of her own breath: she heard something metallic, then Michael finally reappeared, unrolled a foam mat, then a sleeping bag. He looked up at her and smiled a little. "I've had this place ready for some time," he said quietly. Dana wrapped her misery around her like a cloak, one arm over The Bear Killer's shoulders as he leaned his big head across her belly. Michael worked quickly, efficiently: they had a lantern set up, hanging from a hook on a ground stake; Michael had a pot of water on, though where he got the water, she wasn't sure, and when he pressed an insulated mug of honey-sweetened tea into her hands, she really didn't care. Supper was a thick chili, hot biscuits and tea: after supper, Michael got Dana to pull off her boots and lay down, and The Bear Killer was happy to occupy as much of her sleeping bag as he possibly could, which meant Michael threw a quilt over them both and no attempt was made to zip up the bag. Two fires reflected off the curved, native stone wall, Dana's bed between them: a full belly, a warm, furry cuddle buddy and the sound of horse and mule eating -- what are they eating? she remembered wondering, then she surrendered her grip on consciousness, too tired even to give a mental shrug as she realized Michael must've planned pretty well if he even had feed for the livestock. Woodsmoke rose and disappeared; Michael's tread was silent as he went to the opening, activated two devices he'd installed some time before: the entrance was now proof against unauthorized entry, whether by animal, entity or cold gusts of wind: Fanghorn and patient old mule tolerated each other with a studied indifference, as if each considered the other somewhat socially inferior, without being so impolite as to make it obvious: when Michael finally lay down, he, too, lay on a padded mattress, unrolled for the purpose, and necessary: he'd chosen Dana's mattress carefully, for he'd learned the hard way his own overhauled back did not take kindly to cheap or inferior padding. Dana woke to the smell of bacon frying. Michael pointed her to a startlingly out of place door, knowing that Dana was a girl, and girls like certain creature comforts when they get up: when she emerged, she was freshly showered and in clean clothes, she sat cross legged with only a little discomfort, at least for five minutes, when she had to change her posture -- but sit she did, and with a plate of bacon and eggs, with hot biscuits and hot tea. Dana saw the wood he'd laid in was almost depleted; she shook out blankets and helped him stow goods back into a secure metal locker, breakfast dishes, frying pan, mugs, utensils, all went into a metal hatch Dana recognized, a hatch that looked at once competently chosen, and jarringly out of place: it did not take long for the cave to be cleaned up, even to the point of hot ashes and coals in metal pans Dana hadn't noticed the night before, were dragged into a hatch similar to the one in which their dishes were stacked earlier. "Story at eleven," Michael said quietly as he saddled Fanghorn and mule. They rode to the entrance, where daylight was crowding through the overcast. Michael deactivated the doorway and Dana pulled her muffler scarf up over her nose and mouth again. The Bear Killer shook himself, scented the wind. Mule, Fanghorn, Mountain Mastiff and two pale eyed children of the mountains, rode out into the fresh snow on a planet whose mountains were far from the ones in which they grew up.

Very true. Reuters and AP feeds used to be factual, "who, what, when, where, why, and how" in order of importance (traditional journalism devoid of any bias). Today, they choose to apply labels like "victim" and "assailant" to parties. This is done explicitly in some case, and is implied in other cases. The entire "alleged" verbiage has to do with international law, an informed reader should simply recognize it as such. The labels are not facts, they are (pre) judgements and belong in what used to be editorial content. Examples would be (assuming the second example is true): The officer defended himself against and arrested the rioter (bias) The officer arrested the protestor after a struggle (factual) The officer assaulted and arrested the peaceful protestor (bias) Defended, assaulted, rioter, and peaceful are opinions not related to a struggle or an arrest.

I'll be picking up a Zastava M57 pistol in a few days. Thinking with my Chinese Norinco AK-47 (7.62X39), Russian Saiga (12 GA), and Serbian handgun (7.62 X 25), I could shoot a "commie" 3-gun. Maybe not irresponsible, maybe not wise, but sounds like an experience. Do need to get out to Oak Ridge this spring with my cowboy guns. Miss seeing the Outlaws.

At our Halloween shoot we had a couple stages where we shot cards (face-on with revolver and split the edge with rifle) Before The Beep as the way to signify ready. Since it was off the clock it didn't affect score, but after the match the hit cards with highest value earned a gift card for a Nanner Split. (I think it was TW's idea.)

Hi Folks, Like our departed Jimmy Buffet, "Life is tough, I've got too much stuff." This should be a great deal for someone who likes 1860 Colt Army Revolvers and wants to shoot .45 Colt and .44 Black Powder. I have my Great Grandfather's 1860 Colt Army he carried in the war and it's enough for me right now. 2 x Uberti 1860 Colt Army revolvers, slicked by our local SASS gunsmith with posts installed to eliminate cap suck. (Finish is not great, I cleaned them incorrectly once with a product recommended by another shooter and paid the price. It's fine, just not as brilliant as new. Boiling water and Bore Butter forever more for me. (could stand to be re-blued) 2 x Taylor 5 Shot Conversion Cylinders for 45 Colt... (Taylor Tuned by Serial Number to each firearm) 4 x spare cylinders (2 have some finish issue as in photo... full disclosure) All 6 cylinders have SliX-Shot Nipples 900 #10 percussion caps 150 Hornady .44 round ball bullets 1 x Cylinder Loader 1 x Cross Draw Slim Jim brown leather holster 1 x Flapped Brown (Rebel) Flapped Holster You can have the full lot for $750. If you are in North Florida, come shoot with The Cowford Regulators and I can meet you for transfer to a fellow Cowboy. Happy to answer any questions you have. Chris Crisman AKA: Gray Grinner SASS# 105383

Said this back 10 years ago and was attacked by the anointed few .so be it. SAD

For those that purchase vs reload ammo, TargetsportsUSA is another great source to purchase ammo at less than case qtys. If you buy a lot of different calibers they have an ammo+ membership that will save u money on each purchase as well as offer free shipping. right now they have Fed Top Gun 1oz, #8 shot ; 1250fps for $105case or $96.60 for ammo+ members both options offer free shipping. periodically during the year they will also have additional discounts for members. i had a membership for a couple years and saved my club a bunch of money for ammo they used for raffle prizes. im not affiliated with them, just offering up a good deal to those looking….. link below.

Man, I thought you were going to tell me where a great bowl of soup is…

The Tres Rios Banditos shoot in Farmington, only slightly farther than your 1 1/2 hour drive limit. We're a small but persistent bunch, and always have a good time. It would be great to have you shoot with us! Choctaw Jack

Abso-dam-lutely. If I have to develop a taste for it, obviously it doesn't taste good. As a teenager I also drank beer because everybody drank beer and I would "develope a taste for it". But I didn't so I stopped.

I am all in regarding plate racks, swingers, pop ups and all those types of targets. Just make them part of the stage that everyone shoots. There is no need to include "bonus" time. Just Do It!!!!

I guess I'm not lowbrow enough to like catfish or grits. Or sophisticated enough to like champagne. "Sophistication" has nothing to do with it. Some foods some people like instantly. Some they learn to like. Some they never develop a taste for. Some people think they're supposed to like something because of their social class and so eat it because of that. And sometimes people decide that they don't like something without giving it a fair shot because it's "too sophisticated" or "too common."

You could be the only caviar vendor at Black Gold!

THE SIGN SAYS SILVER JEWEL Michael Keller looked around, as he always did, sizing up the snow-silent street. It might have looked like this, Michael thought: buildings were thrown up in an apparent hurry, they were thrown up fast and cheap, and then afterward, effort was taken to wind proof them, and very likely, water proof the roofs. A Fanghorn and a mule stopped in front of an establishment that showed the most foot traffic: a local riding bovine of some sort was tethered in front, and Michael considered that Lightning was making this native riding beast uncomfortable. "I think there's a livery out back," Dana offered quietly, and Michael nodded. They looked up at this rough, sawmill-plank structure, smiled a little as they read the hand painted sign on the plank overhead: The SILVER JEWEL Brother and younger sister regarded this proud pronouncement for several long moments, then they turned away from the restless rider-beast and walked their mounts down the alley beside this Silver Jewel, toward where Dana glimpsed what looked like a livery. A wrinkled fellow lurched out from the livery and openly stared at these two snowy figures, then at the big black Mountain Mastiff happily following their broken trail: the snow wasn't bad here, only about knee deep or so, but The Bear Killer was not about to refuse a broken trail. Lightning bellied down and looked very frankly at the man who'd come out at their approach. To her credit, her chin was tucked, which minimized the appearance of her protuberant canines. "Wonder if Lightning might guest with you for a bit," Michael grinned as the big Fanghorn bellied down: the goggling liveryman watched as Michael reached up and helped his little sis out of her mule's saddle, then waded through snow, the two saddlemounts following. The hostler blinked, nodded, led the way: Dana followed, waited just inside, smiling a little at the familiar smell of hay, of straw, of fresh manure -- cow manure, she realized, distinctly different from second hand horse feed -- Don't they have horses here yet? she thought, her hand resting companionably on The Bear Killer's shoulder as he leaned, warm and strong, against her leg. The hostler stopped, looked at Michael, looked up at the big Fanghorn. "You're Michael," he said. "Yep," Michael grinned, thrusting out his hand, "and I need your good sound advice." "My ... advice?" the hostler blinked, jaw dropping open as the realization hit bottom that here was a famous figure he'd only seen on the Inter-System! "I made a list," Michael said, straight faced, "but there's only two things on it because I hate long lists." Michael raised a finger. "First off, what do I pay you with. Every world has its own currency. I need to know whether this one uses coin, bills, shin plasters, Yankee greenbacks, jewels or what. "Last on the list" -- Michael raised a second finger and grinned again, that contagious grin that pulled the hostler into his confidence -- "does your Silver Jewel yonder have coffee?" Two days later, Michael ho'd Thunder and Cyclone. They were harnessed up to a sleigh with unusually broad runners: they stopped in front of this world's Silver Jewel, rough though it was: Michael read the mashed-down snow and smiled a little as he heard a few tentative notes being played on the brand-new piano inside. Michael helped the ladies out of the sleigh and through the snow, as soon as they came through the cheap-feeling, lightweight front door, the place went silent. Michael had a scandalously-dressed young woman on each arm, and two following: he looked at the openly-staring barkeep and asked loudly, "Are those new stoves workin' all right?" The barkeep blinked, opened his mouth, then grinned: "They are!" "I promised you a proper saloon piano," Michael replied, still in a loud voice, intending that he should be heard, "and if there is a piano, there should be DANCING GIRLS!" Dana glided forward -- demure, ladylike, in a proper McKenna gown: a patron vacated the piano stool and Dana daintily laid a well padded, scarlet-with-gold-trim, tassel-cornered pillow on the stool, then swung her backside, smoothed her skirt under her, sat. Her hands lifted, hovered, hesitated: Michael stepped confidently toward the rough little stage, spun a chair into place, helped the ladies, one at a time, up onto the stage. Four young ladies, recruited by Michael himself, four young ladies with powdered faces and jacked-up hairdos, four young ladies in stockings and dancing heels and sparkly, dangly earrings, seized their long skirts and pulled, tossed them free, leaving their long, stockinged legs exposed -- scandalous! -- Dana's fingers drove down, and this rough copy of the Silver Jewel was suddenly filled by the brisk, compelling notes of the Can-Can, punctuated by hard heels hitting the boards in flawless rhythm with the music. The dancing girls were young, pretty, talented: men who'd come for companionship and a drink on a cold winter's night, found themselves unexpectedly entertained, for Michael only gave three days' notice that he was having new stoves installed in this Silver Jewel, that he was bringing in a piano and a piano-player, that he was bringing Entertainment -- he never said they would be lovely, leggy lassies, but when he leered at the barkeep, intentionally pitching his voice to be heard, when he winked and said "En-ter-tain-ment" the way a man will when he has something less than entirely proper in mind -- well, that night, this offworld version of The Silver Jewel, gained both hard assets, and reputation. Michael knew every world with access to the Inter-System (and that meant every last world in the Confederacy!) knew of The Silver Jewel, and knew of Firelands: he knew that even rough little remote saloons boasted the proud name over their door or on the front of their establishment, and Michael knew that he could have demanded they remove this plagiarizing name, and probably gotten it done. He also knew it was easier to go with a stream's flow than to dam or divert the flow. These outlying, smaller communities benefitted from what he was offering, and what he offered, was commerce. Donating stoves to keep the place warm -- having them installed and wood delivered -- then loaning a piano and providing a piano player, and giving it three days for word of mouth to spread -- Michael knew this Silver Jewel would have a boost in business, and what's good for business is good for the community. It wasn't long before inquiries were route through the barkeep, from the local church, and the following Sunday, just as people were congregating for morning services, a sleigh drawn by three Fanghorns arrived, followed by two more, these drawn by matched mules with black harness, with silver harness furniture hand engraved with roses: good men and true, recruited for the task, laid down a timber ramp and muscled a brand-new piano up and into the church, down the aisle and into position, and once again, Dana glided over to the piano and laid a screaming-bright-scarlet, gold-tassel-trimmed, thick and comfortable pillow on the piano stool, but instead of the driving, bouncy Can-Can, her gloved fingers flowed over new ivory keys, and The Old Rugged Cross flowed out of the piano, a gentle processional as the community flowed into the church, drawn by a tune known to them all. Michael stretched a little to hand the Parson a note, and the sky pilot read it, and read it again, and looked at Michael, and nodded: when Dana came to the end of her processional, she straightened and folded her hands in her lap, and waited. Michael turned to face the congregation. "Your Parson and I are about to do business," he declared, pitching his voice to carry to the furthest row, as he'd heard his father do, as his pale eyed old Grampaw did as well. "I would tell you we've been doin' some horse tradin', but I'd be lyin' through my teeth if I said that." His quick grin, his cheerful words, brought a quiet ripple of laughter from the community at large. "We'll figure to get stoves in here too before next Sunday's service. Back in the back" -- he thrust his chin toward the back, where doors opened again and men brought in wooden crates -- "one crate is full of hymnals and the other is Bibles. "Hymnals stay with the church, but the Scripture is yours. One to a customer, everybody gets one that wants one. "Now as far as cost." Michael looked up at their Parson, winked. "It's winter time and I don't want to go puttin' any strain on anyone's supplies, so come fall harvest" -- Michael looked around, and to the women studying him, he looked almost like a hopeful little boy -- "if one of you ladies could bake me a pie, that'll be my price, but" -- he raised a teaching finger for emphasis -- "but not until fall when there's enough to work with. I do NOT want to run anyone short on anything!" Michael turned and looked at their Parson and grinned, "Do you reckon you can meet my price?" The Parson looked at the piano, looked back as eager congregants removed precious cargo from the crates, opened the crackling-new books, looked at the Parson. A woman raised a hand, stiff fingers stabbing into the air: "I'll bake the pie!" "I will!" three others countered, and Michael sang, "Sollld, to an Americannnn!" The Parson looked at Dana and quietly asked, "Doxology?" Dana raised her hands, brought them down in the instantly recognized introduction, as the Parson turned to his flock and raised his arms: "Old Hundred!" -- and a brand new church piano sang with its joyful congregation. "You planned all this, didn't you?" Dana asked quietly as they followed the freighters back to the Iris. Michael grinned. "Yep." "What else have you done?" "Me?" Michael looked at his little sis with his very best Innocent Expression -- something practiced by every pale eyed Keller man since Old Pale Eyes himself, and with the same utter lack of success enjoyed by each of those subsequent generations. "Yes, you, Michael Keller," Dana scolded gently. "What have you been up to?" "Well," Michael said thoughtfully, drawing the word out, "the crates had more than hymnals and Bibles." "Like what?" "McGuffey's Eclectic Readers, math books, ledger books, boxes of pencils, student notebooks, there were a couple big books showing schoolroom maps we can provide ... world, continent, ocean, weather patterns, ocean flows --" Dana gave him a puzzled look. "I thought those were just hymnals and Bibles!" "Plenty of those," Michael nodded, "and I'm donating stoves, installation and stovewood. I donated piano and hymnals and Bibles, but" -- he grinned -- "the Silver Jewel needs a kitchen. I can sell them kitchen stoves and the goods they'll need to expand into restaurant as well. I can provide schoolbooks. I can provide coffee, tea, restaurant supplies, spices. Next Sunday when they come into church, there will be a table set up with jars of canned pie filling." "You're making sure you can be paid." Michael grinned at his baby sis, shrugged. "I like my pie!"

They’d probably have to deal with my corpse for twenty years!!! It’s doubtful that I would live to be 130+ years old!! 🤣🙄

Senate Bill 749 modified. Now will ban possession of "LCMs" and the grandfather clause is removed. Misdemeanor, up to a year in jail for each LCM. I would basically get life...

They do have well chilled, thirst quenching, soothing refreshments.

thats a good story , im not sure how the injured felt at the time but im glad it turned out right , - sorry so much loss was inflicted getting there does seem justice was served , sometimes its harsh but sounds like it went the right direction to me

Damn that was good. Some marinated Italian mushrooms, soft crust garlic bread, and a dill pickle slice, a bottle of sarsaparilla, and finally the last of the Dutch apple pie. I'll sleep well tonight.

dang it dave - i was content sitting here sipping my whiskey and reading these threads - then i saw those cookies - now i want one and we dont have any here

You don’t need to read past the first paragraph, where it becomes evident the “reporting” style leaves itself wide open to personal narratives and inherent biases instead of objectivity. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Journalism

It used to be that they'd deliver the news then have an editorial page or it's equivalent on TV or radio. Now almost all reporting has some form of editorializing in it. Not that yesterday's news was completely without bias but it's much worse now.

When I saw the original painting of The Buffalo Hunter at the Autry Museum of the American West I thought it would be a good theme for a Yul Lose gun cart. After collaborating with Yul, and Double Diamond the result is what is being offered here. Yul’s cart consists of nicely figured maple, and bocote wood, with ebony inlays, a min wax driftwood stain, and 6 coats of lacquer. Mortise and tenon where required, through dovetail joinery, plus 73 ebony diamond inlays took Yul a total of 240 hours. The 3 piece cart features a cabinet with a bocote wood tambour roll top door, a versatile compartmentized chest, and a carriage with 20” flat free tires. The 3 pieces makes for easy transportation, and assembly. Cart holsters, and a shot gun chamber brush are held in place with magnets allowing for easy removal to make room for a 4th long gun if desired. Double Diamond did all the leather, and an excellent 3D leather rendition of the buffalo hunter. See the detail in the hunters beaded sheath, moccasins, belt, and feathers. Includes: Umbrella Full Sunbrella cover. Guns, and ammo accessible. Cowboy Edge Taper Crimp Tool Shell Bag A few minor dings, but otherwise well taken care of. Delivery at EOT. Load your guns, and gear then wheel this artistic example of fine craftsmanship on the world stage. Stop by the cart corral, and visit with Yul. He will gladly talk gun carts with you. Or anything else for that matter. SOLD Contact me if you have any questions, or need some more photos. https://ddbleather.com https://www.cowboyedge.com https://harvie-brown.pixels.com/featured/buffalo-hunter-harvie-brown.html

Manly or not, the most welcome guests at deer camp can cook!

Ok I read the actual instructions as a triple tap on 1, a triple tap on 2 and then a triple tap on 3, leaving the 10th round for target 4 or 5. It doesn't say in any order so I presumed the order to be as written. 111-222-333- 4 or 5. With 5 being the bonus target.

I registered right at the opening time, took about 5 minutes to get through the whole process. It was a pleasant surprise when I saw that a lot of my information regarding address, phone number and such were stored and "automagically" appeared saving a lot of time. I don't know the people responsible for setting up the online registration process but I'd like to publicly thank them for all the behind the scenes work that went into that process. It's as smooth as I've seen. Looking forward to seeing everyone at Land Run in October. Kajun

What do you call a lawyer who becomes a priest? Father in law.

@Jackaroo, # 29989 Looking forward to meeting you in-person in October 2027 ! I would sign-up for 2027 tomorrow - if they would let me !!!

The reason it’s less common is a lot less people needing new guns. A lot less new people coming into the sport and, unfortunately, more people leaving the sport, for various reasons.