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Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967

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Posts posted by Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967

  1. No, not that kind - THIS kind:    image.png.f4a42f6ac679da5690380ba6975a6325.png

     

    Bud's Gun Shop.  De facto sponsor of Hickock 45.  And evidently a source of all sorts of wonderful things related to our sport.  Any of y'all familiar with 'em?

     

    I somehow got on their list.  Receive regular email notices of sales and available products.

     

    But golly gee, guys... lighten up awreddy!  I can see and appreciate an occasional email.  Daily email is borderline excessive, in my opinion... but dang!  Minimum of three, average of four, and as many as EIGHT in a day??  :wacko:

     

    Sheesh!!  :(   

      

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  2. Good lord~!!  :blink:

     
    Quote

     

    25291.

     Commencing on July 1, 2025, any person who owns, possesses, or has custody or control over any firearm subject to registration pursuant to this division that is not currently registered is guilty of an infraction punishable by a fine of one thousand dollars ($1,000).

     

     

     

  3. 19 minutes ago, Abilene Slim SASS 81783 said:

    Oh Lydia, oh, Lydia, say have you met Lydia
    Oh, Lydia, the tattooed lady
    She has eyes that folks adore so
    And a torso even more so
    Lydia, oh, Lydia, that encyclopedia
    Oh, Lydia, the queen of them all
    On her back is the Battle of Waterloo
    Beside it the Wreck of the Hesperus too
    And proudly above the waves 
    The Red, White and Blue
    You can learn a lot from Lydia

     

    Still the best presentation!  :lol:

     

     

     

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  4. 2 hours ago, Pat Riot said:

    Maybe then all the loudmouthed gun owners will Stand in Defiance and do something. But I doubt it. It’s all hot air and bull sh**!

     

    I recall going to a pro gun rally in Sacramento years back to fight the Antigun politicians and their agenda. So many gun owners were going to go and raise hell. It was all over the internet. 
    I got there 2 hours ahead of everything that was supposed to kick off at 11:00 hours. 
    There was me and maybe 25-30 guys there. That’s it. It was freakin’ embarrassing. The news crews didn’t even bother getting out of their vans. 
     

     

     

    Pat, I went to one something like 30 years ago - there were thousands of us on the Capital grounds.  Excellent speeches and presentations, the crowd was extremely well behaved and civil, and when we left, the place was sparkling clean.  I recall Willie Brown peeking around his curtains at us from his office.

     

    That night the news reports barely covered the event; according to them, there was a "small gathering" in Sacramento.  We were portrayed as little more than a handful of whiny rednecks.  :(

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  5. 14 minutes ago, Subdeacon Joe said:

     

    Yes, he went "full Political" (is that like full semi-auto?), which is his job, in pointing out the confusion and disbelief of the very left leaning talking heads of the very left leaning Big Corporate Press, and his condemnation of their very left leaning political masters.   

    He pointed out the denial by the left leaning politicians and press that their "progressive" policies which punish honest citizens (gun control, raising the value of the threshold for felony theft to $950, etc) and reward criminals (gun control, no bail release, raised felony limit, policies to not prosecute trespass, burglary, etc.) encourage crime.

     

    It's gotten so bad here in California that even The Gav managed to get it past his hair gel that his progressive policies only encourage crime and violence.  https://www.kqed.org/news/11975692/prop-47s-impact-on-californias-criminal-justice-system

     

    That's a very long article.  Worth reading while keeping in mind that it's presented by KQED, the Bay Area's PBS station - and accordingly with a strong left lean.  

     

    Some of the stuff presented is real heartburn material - specifically the Prop 47* arguments - most of which seems to be utter nonsense:

         *Prop 47 - Intentionally mis-named The Safe Neighborhoods and Schools Act

     

     

     

    Quote

     

    Among our findings:

    • The Numbers: Shoplifting numbers reported to law enforcement have not risen since Proposition 47, but the rate of arrests has fallen significantly. And there is evidence that many retailers do not report all thefts to police.
    • Police and Retailer Response: Police and retailers have become less aggressive at engaging and arresting low-level shoplifters in recent years.
    • Misplaced Blame: Proposition 47 is often blamed for crimes that are well outside its purview, such as organized retail theft rings and flash mobs targeting luxury goods stores.
    • Felony Threshold: There’s no evidence in California or elsewhere that increasing that dollar threshold for felony shoplifting has led to more theft.
    • Repeat Offenders: It remains incredibly difficult for prosecutors to aggregate charges and charge repeat shoplifters with felonies.
    • Drug Courts: Participation in some diversion programs, particularly drug courts, has dropped over the past decade.
    • Positive Outcomes: The ballot measure has saved the state more than $800 million by keeping people out of jails and prisons, savings that have been funneled into reentry programs with incredibly high success rates.

     

     

    Brings to mind that old saying I used to hear growing up in Texas back in the 50's and 60's - "Don't be peein' down my neck and tell me it's rainin'!"  <_<

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  6. Quote

    Frank P. O’Toole, 40, was sentenced on Feb. 2, 2024 by U.S. District Court Judge Angel Kelley to time served (six days) and three years of supervised release, during which period he must complete 250 hours of community service. 

     

    I'm wondering what the 250 hours of communty service will be....  :huh:

     

    Golly gee - almost seven hours a month of community service for three years!  Such an inconvenience!  Why, that just might be considered a violation of the poor miscreant's 8th amendment rights!  <_<

  7. Summer of '75 I was hunting up in @Subdeacon Joe country, a few miles north of Clearlake Oaks.  As I was glassing an opposite hillside across a valley, arroyo, or whatever it was, my eye caught a glimmer of a reflection.  I mentioned it to a buddy, and he said that he'd heard that a P-51 had crashed in the area a couple years before.

     

    Hmm... I'd been "buzzed" by a blue Mustang a couple years earlier while hiking not far from there.  At the time I'd been torn between being pissed at the jerk or appreciative of seeing that gorgeous blue and gold craft.

     

    Two or three weeks later I returned to the area and hiked in to the site with a backpack containing a few tools.  If indeed there was a crashed Mustang, I would've loved to harvest the brass Rolls Royce placard from the engine - I'd seen examples at air shows.

     

    Well... it indeed was a '51.  And it appeared to be the same plane I'd seen earlier.  But instead of a brass RR, I discovered a rocker cover with "PACKARD" pressed into the sheet metal.  Merlin engine, built by Packard under license from Rolls Royce.  

     

    I did take home a couple of souvenir pieces; the wreck site had been visited by rescue personnel, but no salvage had been attempted.  Indeed, some sort of tracked equipment had evidently been used to access the site.  However, there wasn't much left of the pilot and passenger to rescue.  Indeed, the plane - and its occupants - had fairly exploded on impact.  The concussion was so great it literally cleared an area seemingly at least half the size of a football field.  No fire, just pure concussion from the impact.  At the time of my "visit," grasses had grown to maybe shin height; otherwise, it almost looked like a bulldozer had scraped the manzanita and scrub oak into a roughly horseshoe shaped boundary.

     

    It truly was a mess.

     

    A couple of very interesting reads below ~ I suspect the accounts of the incident are still questionable.

     

    Background Story

     

    The Pilot

     

    The Plane

    image.png.62f46ef5ebc75060684398c1faee7d02.png

     

    There were 12 of these; this was the only one that wasn't buried, broken, bent, or crushed to some extent.  It was a simple matter to remove the circlip and drift the wrist pin from a totally mangled con rod.  The piston then sat on my desks at work for over thirty years.

     

                              image.png.2c7bd3a08f9e5d865932b30af24df4b9.png

     

    Packard V-1650 Merlin engine

     

    image.png.bb19472969d36065be0667f438f18b9e.png

     

     

     

     

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  8. So I had four DEWALT cordless tools here - a 12v drill, a 20v drill, a 20v angle driver and an 18v reciprocating saw.  The saw actually belongs to the Kid, and he "borrowed it back" a few weeks ago.  

     

    I'm wanting to get a recip of my own and an impact driver, both in 20v.  Might consider a circular saw, too.  To that end, I'm looking at buying bare tools and batteries separately - doesn't seem to be much of a price break in buying a tool with batteries and charger as a set.  Sooo... if the aftermarkets are decent, I'll seriously consider 'em.  And unlike the Kid, I'm not using them daily.  

  9. I like Dewalt power tools - particularly the cordless models.  And I have a few.  Now, my son, Sassparilla Kid, has a LOT of 'em... drills, drivers, saws, whatever, and he uses 'em.  

     

    But the batteries have gotten to be danged expensive - and I cringe at the thought of spending a hundred bucks on a 20 volt drill battery.  That said, I see aftermarket batteries on Amazon for much less.  The Kid's a purist - he scoffs at the idea, but being an old pensioner, I tend to be a tad more budget concious.   :rolleyes:

     

    So... any of y'all have any experience with these aftermarket units?  

     

    2 genuine DEWALT batteries - $158.67

     

    2 aftermarket replacements - $51.93

     

     

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  10. Dang.  I was expecting a thread 'bout gun sights.  Some of my favorites are "Marble's!"  :)

     

    That said, I've always loved marbles.  And THAT said, I was shocked to discover how difficult they were to come by when I set out to have my cub scouts den earn their Marbles Belt Loop.  Dunno if it's universal or just a california thing, but the toy stores wouldn't seem 'em - "it's a liability thing, 'cuz kids might swallow one!"

     

    Sheesh.  :wacko:

     

    Finally found 'em at Wal Mart, in the pet department - sold as aquarium decoration.    

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  11. I think I posted this a few years ago, but @Marshal Mo Hare, SASS #45984's "Mouse Trap" thread sparked the memory.  So....  :rolleyes:

     

    The Giant Mouse of Solano County

     

         “We have a mouse.”

         With that simple, four-word phrase, the Now-Former-Missus-Hardpan made a compound declaration:

         1). We have a problem.  By “we,” she really meant “I,” herself, had a problem, therefor “WE,” including ME, have a problem.

         2). I (meaning herself), was not happy; therefore YOU (meaning me) had a new priority in life.

         And…

         3). I (now meaning me), was responsible for addressing the situation post haste.

         All in all, I couldn’t blame her.  Few people harbor a stronger dislike for mice than me.  The diminutive representative of the Order of Rodentia and I have a long and antagonistic history that I will not elaborate on here.

         So…

          “No problem!” I declared.  I immediately procured a “new old stock” Victor mousetrap from a box in the garage, baited it with the never-fail, irresistible combination of bread and Skippy Peanut Butter (Crunchy, of course!), and placed it strategically in front of the refrigerator – the site of the “mouse sign” discovered by the Now Former Missus.

         Now… just a matter of waiting and the problem would be solved!

         With that, we set about our respective nighttime routines – me puttering about for a bit then changing into my jammies and climbing in to bed; she changing into scrubs and packing her “lunch” for work – the night shift in the Emergency Room of the local hospital. [Note – for some reason, they don’t seem to like the term “graveyard shift” in hospitals.]

         Eventually, I had tucked myself in, was snuggled cozily in bed reading a book when the Now Former Missus walked in to give me a quick smacker and wish me “good night” before heading off to deal with the results of the latest session of the Vallejo Friday Night Knife and Gun Club.

         Just as she was about to leave, we heard a definitive “Snap!” from the kitchen.

         With a gleeful smile, she declared “You got your mouse!”

         I sprang out of bed and we darted into the kitchen to claim our prize.

         But…

         Huh!  Where the heck’s the mousetrap??  It was gone!

         After a moment of searching, we found it across the room, behind the roll-away dishwasher.

         Empty.

         What the heck?

         Suddenly… “Shh!”  the NFM said.  “I hear ‘im!”

          “Huh?  You hear him? What… squealing in agony?”

          “No!  I hear him walking! Now ‘Shh’!”

          “Don’t be silly.  You can’t hear a mouse walking – they’re quiet as a mouse! That’s why they call ‘em ‘Mice!’”

          “No!  I HEAR him!” she declared, and with me closely following, walked across the kitchen and stepped down into the laundry room, snapping on the light as she did so.  She paused, listening intently, then leaned over the washer and dryer, lifting the re-chargeable flashlight from its cradle and shined it behind the appliances, playing the beam over the area where I had been repairing a wall.

          “There he is!” she declared.

         I looked over her shoulder, just in time to see the last nine inches or so of an ugly, bare, tapered tail drawn into a hole in the plastered area.

         After a moment of stunned gazing, I turned and opened the back door.

          “Where ya going?” she asked.

          “To the garage to get a gun!  That ain’t no mouse… that’s the biggest bleeping RAT I’ve ever SEEN!”

         Well, I fetched my pellet gun in to the house, loaded it, and propped it next to the bed.  the NFM left for work, and I crawled back into bed, destined for a night of poor sleep.  I was plagued by dreams of myself in an Alamo-type setting, surrounded by the entire Rodent Corps, feeling envious of The Boy Who Drew Cats as the haunting melody of a young Michael Jackson singing “Ben” echoed in my head.  We actually had three cats at the time, but I felt quite sure that if they encountered The Beast, they would be single-handedly outnumbered, outclassed, and possibly in mortal danger.  Come to think of it, even our two dogs, Woody and Sandie, would likely be the underdogs in such a meeting.

         Bright and early the next morning, I arose, dressed, and by the time the NFM found her way home I had made a trip to the hardware store for a Victor RAT trap. One of the BIG ones, capable of hurting fingers and toes. When she arrived, I proudly showed her where I’d set the trap – baited with bread and peanut butter, of course – behind the washer and dryer, evidently his choice of entrance and egress.

         We were safe!

         That evening, we were sitting on the sofa, enjoying a superb supper of Chinese take-out and watching Jeopardy on TV.  My pellet rifle leaned against the nearby door frame. Woody and Sandy lounged on an area rug, each with a chew toy, and a couple of cats lounged nearby.

          About halfway through the meal, the NFM’s head suddenly swiveled to me and with a burst of anxiety she asked “Where do you think that giant mouse might be right now?”

         Kinda resenting having my supper and Jeopardy interrupted with a silly question, I rejoined with “Oh, ya never know…!  Why, he might be right behind this very couch, at this very moment!”

          “OH!  We better look!”

         Drat.  Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut until after supper?

          “Okay.  We’ll look right after we’re done eating and after Jeopardy’s over.”

          “NO!” she said, an expression of alarm and anxiety plastered across her face.  “We need to look NOW!”

         Recognizing from her tone that supper was officially over – at least until I demonstrated that we were safe – I sighed, and said “Oh, Hell.  All right.  You get a flashlight and stand by the end of the sofa; I’ll lean over, grab the back, and when I pull and lean it toward me, you look.”

          “Okay! Let’s do it!”

         She leaped to her feet and scurried to the end of the sofa, scooping up a handy torch.  I sighed again, stood, turned around, leaned over and grasped the back of the piece.

          “Ready?” I asked.

          “Yes!  Let’s do it.  NOW!”

         I shook my head, and leaned back, lifting the furnishing away from the wall as she bent over with her flashlight on, peering into the freshly opened cavern.

         She gasped, let out a most un-humanlike shriek, then screamed “THERE HE IS! OMIGAWD, THERE HE IS!”

         I yelped and dropped the couch.  She screamed, and the BEAST charged from it’s no-longer-secluded hidey-hole.  Sandie started ‘Yipe-yipe-ing’ and running in circles.  Woody stood and ‘Woofed!” a bit, unable to focus on the high-speed action with his cataract clouded eyes but still wanting to contribute.  The two cats sprang up and hissed and yowled.  I snatched up my pellet gun, but was unable to draw a bead on the not-so wee beastie in the cyclone of wife, rat, cats and dogs – despite her repeatedly screamed commands to “Shoot it!  Shoot it!” 

         Oh crap.  I tossed the pellet rifle onto the love seat, grabbed the fireplace shovel, and joined the chase, with each whap! just missing sending the creature off to Cheeseland.

         Finally, and to my utter amazement, it seemed to dive right through the louvered sheet metal of the furnace, and disappeared into the wall.  I studied that fixture at length afterward, and never did understand how it could squeeze in; seemed as unlikely as a horse fitting into the doghouse.  But it did. 

         After a few minutes, the tempest of wife, cats, and dogs waned with exhaustion.  Three or four of us flopped onto the couch; the others pretty much dropped where they found themselves, everyone panting and all eyebrows raised.

          “Well… obviously, he has more than one entry point!” I said.

         Eventually we returned to our normal evening routine.  The NFM went off to work, I went to bed, and all the critters slept with one eye open, except for their frequent nighttime patrols.  I seem to recall having joined them in a couple of those patrols that night.

         Next morning it was back to the hardware store.  This time I stocked up on an additional half-dozen Victor rat traps. The BIG ones; the ones that can break fingers or toes.

         I baited ‘em and studiously placed them all in places the “not-so wee beastie” could wander, but where the cats and dogs would not.  And placed two of ‘em behind the sofa, back-to-back, to cover both possible directions of entrance.

         The NFM came home from the “office,” and I showed her the locations of the traps.  She had a short nap, then up for the day, as she was off that night and wanted to be able to sleep.  We did Sunday kinds of things, and saw no sign of the Beast.  A nice Sunday supper, watched TV and read for a while, then off to bed.  She would have Monday off, but I had a long day ahead of me. 

         We read our books for a while, said our “goodnights,” then lights off.  Just starting to doze when suddenly there was a loud “SNAP!” just on the other side of the wall by our heads – where the sofa was positioned.  Immediately, there was a very audible squealing… abruptly silenced by a second “SNAP!”

          “OMIGOSH!  We GOT ‘im!” I said.

         We both bounded out of bed; I grabbed a softball bat and the NFM a flashlight, and we cautiously made our way into the living room, snapping on lights as we went, a couple of cats and dogs trailing cautiously behind.

         She positioned herself in a line with the sofa – but not too near – while I grabbed an armrest and pulled the furnishing away from the wall.

          “There he is!” she exclaimed. “And he’s DEAD!”

         I looked… and sure ‘nuff, he was done in. It took two full-sized Victor rat traps – the BIG ones, that can mangle and remove fingers and toes – to bring him down, but he was a goner.

          “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be right back!  I’m gonna go get a garbage bag and a shovel and we’ll get him outta here.”

         I did, and we did… we both remarked on his size and coloring.  Not only was he HUGE (we estimated about six pounds), but oddly colored. If he was a horse, I would have called him a “paint.”  Multi-colored; actually quite handsome, as giant mouses go.

         But we slept well that night – all of us… the intruder was no more, and the danger was past.

         Next day:  Just before noon my desk phone rang.  I answered, and it was the NFM.

          “Well,” she said, “I’ve spent all morning cleaning – hitting every place that creature could have been with a strong bleach solution.

          “And guess what!”

          “Uh… I give up,” I replied.  “What?”

          “Well,” she continued. “I moved the entertainment center away from the wall [no mean feat for a girl – that thing was heavy!]  And… there was another one, dead in the trap you’d put there!”

         Oh CRAP!  Was there a colony of the animals?  Hopefully it was only a mating couple, and hopefully we’d gotten ‘em before they were successful in that mating.

         A few days later, Thursday, as I recall, I had another call from her.

          “Guess what?” she asked.

          “Oh no…” I groaned.  “Don’t tell me we have another ‘visitor!’”

          “Nope.” She said.

         She continued, “I was outside with the dogs when Merle [our next door neighbor] looked over the fence.  I was talking to him for a while, when he suddenly asked ‘Hey, you guys haven’t seen any rats around, have ya?  My two pet Fancy Rats got out last week and I haven’t seen ‘em since!’”

          “Oh NOoo… you didn’t tell ‘im, did ya?”

          “Oh HECK no!  Poor guy – but now we know!”

         We sure did.

        

    Postscript:  About a month later, she again called me at work.

          “Guess what?” she asked.

          “I’m almost afraid to ask,” I sighed.  “But go ahead.”

          “Well…” she continued.  “Merle saw me over the fence a few minutes ago… and asked if we could keep our eyes open – his pet boa constrictor got out, and – ”

          “QUICK - CALL THE REALTOR!”

     

    image.thumb.png.717da92fedd39073d830a676679d2ac0.png

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  12. 1 hour ago, Sedalia Dave said:

    image.thumb.png.7800bfb1d2438629dfc0a6e936a579b8.png

     

    I once had all but one hoof of a blacktail buck stuffed into the trunk of my 1974 Fiat 124 Sport Spider.  :rolleyes:

     

    The day after returning from a week-long, unsuccessful hunting trip to Siskiyou County, I was driving through the hills above San Mateo when the buck dashed out in front of me.  The car suffered a cracked headlamp; the deer a broken neck.  He fit, after I moved the spare tire and tools into the miniscule back seat.  And oh yeah - different zone, but I tagged 'im with my unused tag... "just in case."  ^_^

     

    Two or three other times I had blacktail bucks crammed into the front-end trunk of my '73 Super Beetle.  (Them blacktail's ain't very big)  :lol:  

     

    image.png.99743a25d33d5b9bd9186e71a47fbef8.png

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  13. 8 minutes ago, watab kid said:

    i feel a bit bad for te CA residents , they dont have all the other options the rest of us have , but then im not overthinking it as they really did vote their own problems in , you could vote them out you know ? that said i hope my shooting friends in CA have everything they need , i do - just loaded 1000 rounds of 45 in the last few weeks , 

     

    Good grief.  Right... WE voted for the ammo law.  And WE didn't vote it out.

     

    Shame on us.  Hell.... shame on me ~ it's obviously my fault.  -_-

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