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• An Oxford comma walks into a bar where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars. • A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly. • A bar was walked into by the passive voice. • An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening. • Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.” • A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite. • Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything. • A question mark walks into a bar? • A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly. • Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out -- we don't serve your type." • A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud. • A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves. • Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart. • A synonym strolls into a tavern. • At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar -- fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack. • A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment. • Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor. • A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered. • An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel. • The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known. • A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned a man with a glass eye named Ralph. • The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense. • A dyslexic walks into a bra. • A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines. • A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert. • A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget. • A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.

https://genealogytrails.com/main/davycrockettdescendants.html

Ruger new model Vaqueros. OP, have you attended any shoots yet? Buy NOTHING, until you have attended a few shoots.

Couple days late

Who remembers Zzyzx? We met many years ago when he would drive from California to Pennsylvania annually to visit his son. He searched out the nearest cowboy club, which fortunately was ours, and joined us during his stay. I remember asking him how long he would be staying and his reply was something like "It didn't take me a week to get here to turn around and go home in only a week or two." We were pretty much guaranteed to having him with us for two monthly matches each summer. He was likely in his 80s then and shot full-bore black powder and, claimed that he added a grain each year in honor of another birthday. Needless to say, we could easily see, hear, and smell whatever bay he was shooting in. I just loved him! His son reached out to me last night to let us know that Zzyzx had passed earlier this year at nearly 96 years old. He made sure to tell me that our club had always been one of his favorites. As it turns out he has EVERYTHING cowboy that belonged to his father and has asked permission to come to our match/es to sell it. I'll be first in line to get something in remembrance of one of the sweetest, most memorable cowboys I've met in my 24 years of CAS. RIP Zzyzx aka Harry Campbell

I find it humorous that the company selling that latch on Amazon is called “Vintage Technologies”.

Your email address is hidden from the outside world by default. If you add it again to your public profile, you are opening yourself up to scammers. Stop it! Don't post your e-mail address within threads. Use the Private Message feature!

Battleships USS Texas, USS Maryland, USS Arizona, and USS Nevada cruising under the incomplete Golden Gate Bridge in 1936. https://navalhistoria.com/uss-nevada/

I had a woman I worked with convinced that she could buy a trunk monkey from the Suburban Auto Group. I convinced her to call them. She did. She was not as amused as the lady that answered the phone was. I got a lot of dirty looks for a few days. Probably because every time she glared at me I burst into laughter. She was and maybe still is a brunette.

Please - go to some matches and try different guns. Rugers are tough and good guns but they aren’t right for everyone. Lots of folks like the feel and balance of a Colt or Colt clone. Make the choice yourself. No one but you can decide the best fit for yourself. Just my $.02 worth.

Yall been dealing with NIAA every time yall talk to Widder, so I don't see why AI is much differnt

Another thing that could be easily overlooked is the sights. Highly recommend going with fixed sights. Adjustable sights limit the categories that you can shoot in. BS

YENTA, THE MATCHMAKER Angela Keller sat with her white-stockinged knees carefully together, her hands very properly folded in the skirt of her white uniform skirt, her head tilted a little the way a woman will, when something interests her. She was listening to the regular cadence of tones from the black-plastic-grilled speaker. She knew it was Morse code -- beyond that, she had to wait for the twins' yellow-painted Number Two Lead pencils to quit their busy lines and curlicues, and their results ripped free of pads maintained for that purpose, and handed to her. Angela smiled as she read this modern day transcript of a Morse code message, and part of her mind quietly appreciated that this scene had been played out more than a century before, when a man who'd worn Confederate grey, inclined a professional ear to a polished-brass sounder and interpreted a rapid series of clicks and clatters, letting the metallic racket run in his ears and out the Barlow-whittled tip of his stub of a pencil. Angela read the regular print, looking from one page to another -- even their handwriting is almost identical! she thought -- she looked up at the twins and smiled that gentle smile of hers, then she rose, knelt, opened her arms. Michael and Victoria happily embraced their big sis, delighted to have so obviously gained her approval. Angela knocked at the door, then looked down and smiled: she stepped back a little, bent slightly, looked at the round lens of a doorbell pushbutton. "Mitch?" she called. "It's Angela. Permission to come aboard!" There was a heavy, mechanical sound as the door was remotely unlocked, and Mitch's voice grinned from the rectangular doorbell, "Permission granted!" Angela straightened, pushed open the door, stepped inside: she carefully closed it behind her, smiled a little at the sound of heavy bolts driving home, securing the portal. If I rode a wheelchair for a living, she thought, I'd have a fortress too! She turned at the sound of hydraulics whining; a moment later, a panel opened and Mitch rolled toward her, grinning. He extended a hand and Angela ignored it: she bent, hugged him, giggled, and he hugged her back, laughing. "You've lost weight!" she exclaimed, and he slapped his stumps and declared firmly, "The Alfred Hitchcock method! Lose weight fast, use a knife!" -- they both laughed, for it was an old joke between them: it started out as Angela's psychic slap-in-the-face to him when she was first taking care of him, right after he'd lost both legs from being hit by that drunk driver, and Mitch seized on the phrase as a survival tool. Rotten humor, he'd told her later, was his salvation, and Angela agreed, for she'd seen that same particular tool used by the Combined Emergency Services more times than she could count. They strolled and rolled into the kitchen: "The Navy runs on coffee, and so do I!" Mitch said firmly, reaching up and turning a little carousel: "Individual packages, take-a you pick!" Angela bent, studied the selection, chose what she thought was the strongest brew: the coffee maker already had water in the reservoir, and her big mug of steaming-hot wide-awake was quickly and fragrantly produced, Mitch's right behind it, and the two of them took their places at Mitch's kitchen table. "Deborah's gone for the day," Mitch said as he slopped milk from the plastic jug into his big insulated travel mug with MITCH'S GAS TANK hand painted on the side. "How's she getting along?" Mitch set the jug down, looked very frankly at Angela. "She is the best thing that ever happened to me," he said softly, then chuckled. "I remember when we first met" -- he looked sharply at Angela, who regarded him with an innocent batting of her long, curled eyelashes over the glazed rim of her heavy white-ceramic mug -- "I'd not gotten ... the idea of not having legs anymore was just sinkin' in and it felt like an anchor pulling me to the bottom of the ocean." "I remember," Angela murmured. "You were profoundly depressed." "Yeah," Mitch said quietly, nodding, then took a sip of his steaming-fresh brew. "Then this really good looking gal in a skirt comes into the room. "Here I am, feeling all sorry for myself, I can't hardly look at her -- what woman wants half a man? -- she sat down and looked at me." His voice softened a little. "Angela, I honestly can't tell you just how surprised I was when she hiked that skirt up." Angela hid her quiet smile behind her cup, gave him those big lovely eyes to show him she was listening and listening closely. "She unbuckled her left leg, she pulled it off her stump, she took it overhead in both hands and heaved it across the room into my belly -- I caught it and I'm starin' at her like she just sprouted a third eye -- she pulls off her right leg and hauls off and heaves it across the room at me, she points that finger of hers at me and said, 'Now that I have your attention, you listen to me!' " He took a long breath, sighed it out, smiled. "That," he said softly, "was the beginning of my recovery. I have no idea why, but she stayed with me every step of the way. "We've set the date. We're getting married. She's got your invitation made out and ready to send." Angela set her mug down carefully, clapped her hands with delight, laughed. "So she got your attention!" -- her voice was sunshine and merriment, and Mitch laughed with her and nodded. "I understand you arranged for her visit," Mitch said quietly. "Thank you." "A nurse is many things," Angela said quietly. "Some are more satisfying than others" -- she leaned forward, lowered her head a bit, smiled, spoke as one old friend to another -- "but the best part is becoming Yenta, the Matchmaker!" "I was surprised when the twins asked if you could come by today." Mitch shifted a little, pushed up on the arms of his chair, resettled himself on the gel doughnut under his backside. "I was watching your traffic stop a couple days ago." Angela nodded. "That one," she admitted, "did not go quite the way I expected!" "I thought you were hurt." "No. Just the windshield and some sheet metal." Mitch set his big plastic travel mug down, leaned forward, looked intently, directly, into Angela's pale eyes. "I don't have many friends anymore," Mitch said, his voice quiet, intense: "no man can afford to throw a friend away and I don't want to lose any more." Angela watched him frown, look away, swallow, look back, and she knew what he was saying was both spontaneous, and whole cloth. "Angela, you be careful. You're the only one of you we've got." "Angela, I mean it. I had a crush on you in school and" -- his teeth clicked together as he looked away again, as if he'd let something slip he didn't mean to. "I shouldn't have said that," he muttered. Angela reached across the table, gripped his hand. "Mitch?" she almost whispered. "Thank you." Mitch looked back, nodded, then grinned. "The world has a shortage of good matchmakers," he grinned. "I don't want anything to happen to my favorite Yenta!"

I've been using electric garage door openers for 40 plus years; my only disabling failures have been due to a lightning strike and a broken spring; pretty darn good reliability, as moving parts go. You do not need to carry a key; just install a touch pad on the overhead door frame. I'm a Luddite too; but some electro-mechanical devices are just too useful to ignore; even the Amish use power tools. LL

Ya know - a couple of my companies are exploring A.I. for social media creation and automated responses. I initially skimmed the post the first time, but reading this post again - it reads almost EXACTLY like an Artificial Intelligence created ChatGPT style posting. And if you read it ALOUD - there is no doubt it is a generated post. Im having my doubts that our "friend" with a whole 5 posts actually exists.

And updated proof that indeed all four feet can be off the ground....

I recommend going to a match and asking about reloading. Someone, if not many, will step forward to mentor you. I have offered at our club to teach anyone how to cast bullets from .38/.357 to .458 for the .45-70. The match director has offered to teach anyone to reload. I would do the same.

I'm forced to order a beer and a shot of bourbon now. The Texas brother swapped over to Catholic.

Man, there are a bunch of great folks from Tennessee. Hook up with some of them and if you can make the Tennessee State Championship you will be overwhelmed by that crew. Especially if you could make the Swap Meet there, you could definitely get to handle a bunch of guns of all flavors.

It's happened again! Despite the Security Notice we posted, despite posting it here. Your e-mail addresses are hidden from the outside world by default. But, many have added their email addresses again under "contact methods" or somewhere else in your public profile. If you have done that, scammers can reach out, pretending to be the seller and an unwary buyer sends the money to the scammer by mistake. Deal through PMs or directly via phone, unless you are very sure of the seller's email address. Never pay for guns via Paypal Friends & Family, or any other venue that does not support firearm transactions!!

This is what I heard from him…

A local sporting goods store may only have ammo loaded with 158-grain lead bullets. These will do but will have excessive recoil. You could order ammo online from Cowboy Choice Ammunition, Bullets by Scarlet or Bang and Clang. They load ammo specifically for the CAS market. There are many casters who sell 125 grain bullets suitable for CAS. If that is all you need ask us and we can give you the names of at least a dozen casters who can sell you cast lead bullets in the weight and profile you want. You won't see much shotgun ammo loaded with #7 shot. However, #7 1/2 and #8 are very common. If you can tolerate the recoil, Wal*Mart 100-round bulk packs are not too expensive. One couple I shoot with shoots these. I only use them for busting clays. Fiocchi makes 7/8 oz, 12-gauge Extra Low Recoil shells you can order online. These are a possibility if you can't obtain Winchester AA low noise, low recoil shells. You can load equivalent shells for about half the cost of these with the right equipment.

Five probes have left the solar system. The Pioneers are dead. New Horizons will need centuries to “pass” the Voyagers.

If you haven't already, take some time and go to a match. Talk with the people there. If you smile nice they may let you get the feel of their guns. What caliber, stainless or blue, barrel length? Plow handle or Bisley grips? What category are you thinking about? Some categories are more caliber specific. Good luck in your search. BS

Ruger vaqueros are very popular. Can be tuned and built solid.

I'm sure he would beat me pretty easily if he would learn how to properly hold a revolver.

UPDATE::: if the light fails to light and you know the battery is charged wipe the lens of the motion detector with a paper towel. It seems moisture or dew build up and keep the sensor from operating. The motion detector lens is the dark gray circular area on the round light and the lighter protruding circular area on the long light.

If I was using the garage just as a utility shed, I'd probably forego the garage door opener, as well. But all it takes is one time of pulling up to the house in a drenching Florida rain to appreciate having the little electric motor to crank the door up for me. Re the 'old school' double-sided latch -- seems to me there's not a lot of point to the extra mechanism/installation hassle, especially with a single-width garage door. On a related note, with the way most garage doors are made up these days, it seems you'd need some kind of solid filler (a wood block, maybe?) to give the lock something solid to keep it from being ripped out of the door.

Launched in 1977, it’s now 15 billion miles from earth. It took 5 months to fix a glitch in its computers. Think about that, the computers aboard are over 47 years old, and the engineers communicate with it using 1977 computers and their ancient language from earth. A stunning achievement! https://abcnews.go.com/amp/Technology/nasa-voyager-1-spacecraft-sending-readable-data-back-earth/story?id=109572983

Thanks for the suggestion? Now I know who my true friends are. Lol TM

Oh my God, I was wrong. I recently bought a Glock 17 and that's why all my thoughts are now focused on it, which is probably why I thought that EL LOBO TEJANO meant ordinary pistols

My feeling would be to go a little more based on the pic. I crimp mine so I can't see/feel the end of the case. Glad that was the issue. It's always nice to have an easy and inexpensive fix!