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The floating crane YD-171, better known as "Herman the German", at the Long Beach Navy Yard in 1957. At the start of the Second World War, Germany built four heavy lift floating cranes. Herman the German was originally known as Schwimmkran nr. 1 and was completed in 1941. She was used to repair German warships and submarines in the Baltic. She was based out of Kiel at the end of the war and captured there by the British along with a sistership. Given to the United States, the crane was dismantled and shipped all the way to the Long Beach Navy Yard. The crane was reassembled at Long Beach in 1946, entering service as YD-171. The crane operated at the Long Beach Navy Yard from 1946 until 1994. Following the closure of the shipyard, the crane was sold to the Panama Canal Commission. She was used to replace two older cranes that were used to perform repairs to the canal locks. Arriving in Panama, the crane was renamed Titan. Titan is still working on the Panama Canal today. She is capable of lifting 340 long tons. While the platform she rests upon has been rebuilt and modernized with new propulsion units, the mechanical components of the crane are largely original. Titan has operated for over eighty years and shows no sign of slowing anytime soon.

I just pulled a batch out of wet tumbler. I had 45 colt / 45 acp and 30 cases of 44-40. I did not think a problem because the case tolerances are so tight it would be extremely unlikely that cases would interfere with each other. (Deep Breath here) Well………...28 of the 44-40 cases ended up in a mixed marriage. Will jot down another reason 44-40 is bad for mental health. LOL

That’s the bonus you get for choosing Chicago.

The Highways to Hell.

Here ya go Widder, I fixed it fer ya .......Kajun In my best Charlie Farquharson voice (of Hee Haw's KORN news fame)....Beepadeedeedeedeepadeep....this news just in from WNN (Widder News Network..... "TW has decided to give 1/2 price deals on Chicken toenail clippers and Possum Dentures, for those whose pet Possum has lost its teeth. TW has his own brand of Chicken Nail Clippers (CNC). His vending hours will vary, depending on when he's not hugging babies, kissing women or fiddling with chickens."

“Stand your ground. Don’t fire unless fired upon but if they want war, let it begin here.” Captain John Parker

I cock both, then alternate cock. Usually start with my right, so it can be headed to holster while I'm shooting my last shot from my left pistol. It is much better to cock right while shooting left, than to wait until right before you shoot that gun to cock it. Gives the gun time to settle back in your hand. Also, after shooting one gun, ideally it will be heading for the next target while you're shooting the other. As far as split pistols, (as unpopular as it is) I don't mind one here and there as it changes things up a little. I DON'T, however, want 7 split pistols in a 10-stage match! Possum

those were the days of machinists doing great things ,

......... but, Lord knows, it desperately wants to ......

Howdy Fallon, If you're going to mix brass like that you have to expect these illicit pairings. I suggest that you throw a couple of shot shells in with the brass. That way you can be sure that they get to the alter. Rev. Chase Not approved to perform weddings in Connecticut

WTS 40-65 Browning 1885 BPCR High Wall single shot rifle along with all the accessories to get you loading for it. Asking $3,000 for the whole package plus shipping, no trades. includes: Rifle with original Browning rear vernier tang and front globe insert sights, with soft case Brass: 520 total pieces of properly head-stamped 40-65 brass (very hard to find these days) 250 new starline 200 once fired starline 36 once fired Peterson 34 new Bertram Dies and bullets: Lyman 40-65 dies and compression plug Redding pro 40-65 seating die 200 spitzer 400gr lead bullets sized .409 Assortment of .40 cal fiber and poly wads Also have a .410 lube sizer die For those who are interested in shooting long range matches or especially if you’ve ever wanted to compete in BPCR silhouettes, this rifle was engineered to weigh in just under the NRA weight requirement for BPCR competition. It’s a 30” half round half octagon badger barrel on a Miroku made 1885 high wall action with a coil spring. Bore is pristine. This rifle was able to dial in the 1123yd buffalo at The Whittington center range in Raton, NM and repeatedly score hits. The 40-65 cartridge is favored for its lighter recoil and somewhat similar ballistics as a 45-70. The package can be delivered FTF if in the South/Central TX area (will be at TX State championship match at Plum Creek), otherwise buyer will pay to have rifle shipped from my FFL to yours at cost. Rifle will ship to FFL and accessories can be shipped directly to you if you choose.

Robert Muldoon, long time ago Prime Minister of New Zealand, who said after being asked if he was concerned about the large numbers of New Zealanders migrating to Australia, replied “no, it had the effect of raising the average IQ of both countries.”

FROM BREAKFAST TO DEBRIEF I saw that little girl’s eyebrows raise a little. When Shelly jumped into my arms, why, I hugged her like I always do, and I hoisted her a little like I always do, and I give a little shake like I always do, and her spine gave kind of a rippling pop like it does when I haven’t stretched out her back for a while. Shelly slacked her grip and leaned back enough to look at me. “You idiot,” she smiled, “you damned fool, you stupid hard headed contrary –” I picked her up again and put my mouth on hers. I had no idea who-all might be watching. I genuinely did not care. Breakfast was good. We ate with a good appetite, and as I finished my coffee, Angela gestured for a podium to be set on the table at the front of the room. “The debrief will begin,” she said: “Sheriff, could you come up and give us your recollection of events, please.” I winked at Shelly: she looked at me and said “Please, Linn, don’t be so long winded!” “Does yas knows me or what?” I asked in a nasal drawl. I placed my Stetson beside the wooden tabletop podium. “Sheriff Linn Keller, Firelands County,” I said, lifting my chin: “My wife, Paramedic Shelly Keller, Firelands Fire Department.” Heads turned; Shelly colored delicately and she shot me a complex look that I think meant she loved being introduced but she was ready to clobber me for making all those people look at her like she was something special. “Nurse Angela instructed that I should tell you what I remember.” I looked at my daughter. Angela folded her arms and lowered her head a little, looking at me through her lashes, just like her Mama was prone to do in such moments. “I remember, just now, eating a loaf of bread toasted up and buttered, a dozen eggs fried up, a pound of bacon fried crispy, a big plate of fried taters and two pots of coffee for breakfast.” I looked at Angela with my very best Innocent Expression and added, “It isn’t wise to eat too much on an empty stomach.” Angela began patting her foot like a schoolmarm and I looked at the rest of the assemblage: the men were grinning, or hiding their smiles behind casually-raised hands. I looked back. My voice and my face were now serious. “We responded to a reported tractor trailer wreck. Upon arrival we observed it was on fire, unknown cargo. The fire department responded, with the paramedic squad. “I observed a particular color and texture of smoke that told me a nitrate based fertilizer was not only burning, it was close to detonating. “The Fire Chief realized we were in too dangerous a situation, we were too close, he ordered all hands to drop their hoses and pull back, fast.” I swallowed as I looked at the memory of my wife atop that laid-over truck’s cab. “My wife was making entry to evacuate the driver. My concern was to get her away from there. To that end I jumped on my horse and we rode for the front of the cab. “My wife was coming through the windshield with the driver. “Another rider was there and grabbed the driver, I grabbed my wife and we proceeded to get some distance, at least until a giant kicked us all in the backside and I ended up flat on my back with every bit of wind knocked out of me, every locust in three states singing in my ears, and I wondered why in two hells I was just a-layin’ there on the damp ground. “Rescue arrived and took charge of my wife. I got in the saddle and headed for the ridgeline a quarter mile distant, where I’d seen the driver and the other rider’s horse. By the time I got there, the other horse was gone. The driver and I walked back.” I chuckled, just a little. “I will admit the driver was walking considerably better than I was. If I didn’t have an arm over my Outlaw-horse’s neck, I’d have been eating dirt, for all the way back the deck assumed a distinct series of maneuvers – roll, pitch and yaw, all three.” A dignified older man raised a hand: “Sheriff,” asked he, “how would you rate your hearing?” I considered for a moment. “Sir” – I looked very directly at him – “Doctor?” “Doctor will do.” “Thank you, Doctor. I seem to have no more locusts singing in my ears. I would say my hearing acuity is better than I remember.” Another hand. “Yes, sir.” “Sheriff, how would you rate your sense of balance?” I could not help but laugh, just a little. “Doctor, is it?” – a nod – “thank you, sir.” I squared my shoulders, laughed. “I am most pleased to report the deck underfoot neither rolls, pitches, nor yaws, and that is quite honestly a great comfort!” “Sheriff, have you questions for us?” “I have.” I looked at my darlin’ daughter, sitting back beside my wife, doing her best to look professional, competent and innocent, not necessarily in that order. “First, please forgive my bluntness, but where exactly am I; how did I get here; what has been done to me; but first and most importantly, is my wife entirely well?” Shelly lowered her head, her face positively aflame. I raised an eyebrow to my daughter, looked at men and women alike, assembled and paying very close attention to me. “Sheriff, perhaps you’d like to sit down, this may take a while.” I picked up my Stetson, walked back to Shelly: Angela rose and followed discreetly, sat beside Shelly. I looked over as Angela leaned forward a little. “You might know this as an M&M,” she almost whispered. “Mortality and Morbidity. It’s where cases are discussed, frankly and without accusation.” I raised an eyebrow, nodded, then turned my attention to the dignified older man behind the podium. More coffee appeared: Shelly passed, as did Angela, but like Fitz told me once, “The Navy runs on coffee, and so do I!” I sipped hot, fragrant coffee, smiled a little – Angela must’ve told them I like vanilla and honey in mine, I thought, and made a mental note to thank both the cook and my daughter for that kindness. “Sheriff, you are in the Millersburg Hospital. I feel safe in saying we are the premier treatment facility for this quadrant of the galaxy. You were transported here courtesy your daughter” – the Doctor nodded to Angela, who inclined her head a little in acknowledgement – “I understand she arranged for your and your wife’s transfer from your local Firelands facility, back on Earth.” I nodded, my eyes never leaving his: I wanted it evident I was listening carefully to the man’s words. The doctor then described matters which were quite honestly well above my understanding. On the one hand, Mama was a nurse, my daughter is a nurse, my wife is a paramedic, and I am not entirely unintelligent. On the other hand, when a clinical discussion of repair of inner ear cilia goes into far greater and technical depths than I’d ever known existed, all I could do was sit and listen and hope that eventually he’d say something that would make sense to my admittedly limited education in the Materia Medica. That wasn’t bad enough. I’d heard Shelly and Angela professionally discuss something called “shock lung” in context of IEDs or other overpressure events. Apparently mine were and it damn near killed the both of us, they admitted they honestly had no idea why or how I was able to mount up, ride a quarter of a mile, walk a quarter of a mile back with the driver and not just up and die, let alone live long enough to get to our local hospital and then get transferred out. The Doctor yielded the floor to another specialist, who discussed retinal damage due to concussion and acceleration-deceleration injuries, and how these injuries were treated: damn near every word of that work, done to both Shelly and myself, went sailin’ over my head, and I am not the least bit ashamed to admit to it. Once another couple of fellows spoke, and by then I was feeling completely outclassed and absolutely at sea, Angela rose and adjusted a little near-transparent boom mic I hadn’t noticed, apparently some kind of an earpiece apparatus. “The Sheriff and his wife are alive,” she said bluntly, “because he was wearing a belt plate. Unfortunately it did malfunction, it did result in their being hit by the pressure wave and injured, but it worked well enough to keep them alive until we could treat them. The original belt unit is being examined to see why it was not working as it should have; if there is a flaw, we wish to disseminate this information, system-wide.” She looked over at me, her expression solemn. “You should each be wearing one, not just the Sheriff,” she said quietly. “To that end, you are each wearing a new, tested unit, and should you be in another explosion, it will muffle both sound, and will cushion the overpressure and acceleration waves. If you are touching another person, if you are touching another living creature, the protective field will safeguard them as well, and that brings us to Outlaw.” Angela lifted her chin; the front of the room, where I’d stood and where other speakers had just vacated, became a grassy pasture. Red barns with white trim appeared in the background, white-painted fences ... it looked like a scene I'd seen in Kentucky, many years ago. Outlaw was surrounded by at least a dozen children, all about Michael and Victoria’s age, and Outlaw was quite obviously enjoying a currying. He always was an attention hound, he always did love being fooled with, and between being fed little dainties off flat palms – the only thing I recognized was an apple, halved and offered up – and multiple carefully-applied curry-combs, why, I reckon he must have felt like equine royalty. “The veterinary corps is not here to deliver their report,” Angela continued, “but bottom line, Outlaw was seriously injured but is now healthy, and he should have no memory of the event – which I’m sure you’ll forgive the lengthy veterinary presentation that memory block alone would generate.” I nodded but said nothing. “Sheriff, if you’d like to bring your coffee, you and your wife will be given a final examination, and a written back-to-work authorization.” I frowned at my coffee mug, looked up at Angela. “How long have I been here?” I asked. “One week,” she said crisply. “You were between your wife and the blast. You took the worst of it.” Shelly’s hand found mine, under the table. “Are there any further questions or comments?” Shelly and I come down from Outlaw-horse’s back and I tossed his reins over the hitch rail. The firehouse door near to exploded out and the entire Irish Brigade came charging out at the top of their lungs: we were seized, glad-handed, back-pounded, bear hugged, and somewhere in all that confusion, I managed to ask Fitz if anyone else had been hurt when she went boom, and he said no and it’s about time I got back to work, and I was a good-for-nothing layabout and seven kinds of a scoundrel for scaring them like that and he’d even gone to the expense of having his good suit cleaned for he was sure he’d be pallbearer at my funeral, and I allowed as it does a man good to smell like Moth Balls in church, and I am not the least bit ashamed to admit that we seized one another and crushed one another in a long, tight bear hug.

Have any of you heard the rumor that TW is gonna have a 'vendor spot' this year at the TN State. Apparently his new business is gonna have a vendor trailer set up representing his new business "Pet Traders, Inc." Although not a special 'Cowboy Match Special', he'll have his normal deals of trading a Banty Rooster for a few young chicks. He claims his 'Banty's can crow better than any Banty out of Alabama or Georgia. I'll have to see it to believe it. BUT, to get approval to set up a vendor spot, he was required to have a couple special deals. Sooooo, TW has decided to give 1/2 price deals on Chicken toenail clippers and Possum Dentures, for those whose pet Possum has lost its teeth. TW has his own brand of Chicken Nail Clippers (CNC). His vending hours will vary, depending on when he's not hugging babies and kissing women. I have not been compensated for this advertisement but rather do it as a free public service. Your Welcome! EDIT: and don't buy his 'Ivory Toothpicks', regardless of price. ..........Widder

Once in a while, I get an unforeseen 9 mm stuck in a 45 caliber when I’m dry tumbling. I turn my Tumbler on and then hold the 45 case up of against the center stud. In about 10 to 15 seconds, I can pull the 9 mm out easily. Uriah

One of Wartrace favorite sons and World Champion Duelist, TN Williams, got injured this morning. You won't believe it, but he was injured while drinking milk. The cow stepped on him. Another true story. Just ask Krazy Kajun..... ya just can't make this stuff up! ..........Widder

Prohibitions: In Islam, everything considered harmful either to the body, mind, soul or society is prohibited (haram), while whatever is beneficial is permissible (halal). Islam prohibits Muslims from consuming pork, alcohol or mind-altering drugs Know thy enemy

You're so old, you taught Keith Richard how to play guitar.

I remember going up Kettle Hill with T.R. Bully, Bully! fun fact: T.R. was the only President to win the Nobel Peace Prize and earn the Medal of Honor

DO NOT DO IT!!!! Seating the bullet deeper will raise chamber pressures to dangerous levels. Doesn't matter if the load is compressed or not. Buy different ammo that will cycle in your gun.