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Everything posted by Alpo
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The book I'm reading has these child prodigies. Remember Doogie Howser? TV show about a super genius kid who was the medical doctor and he was about 14. Same kind of thing. The two girls - one 16 and one 17 - have masters degrees and have flown their own plane to some place in New Mexico, and they are having trouble getting a hotel room because of their age. And I remember back in the late eighties I was out on the beach doing something and this kid came up and asked me if I would rent him a hotel room. Spring break. He said he'd pay for the room and he would give me a hundred bucks for doing it. But he couldn't get a room because he was too young. But then I was remembering back in the 70s, when I was in the high school band. We went out of town several times and spent the night in a hotel or a motel. These 15/16/17 year old kids. And they rented those rooms. And if we trashed the room, who would be responsible? The school? School board? Band boosters? This was 50 years ago and I never wondered about it, until reading that story tonight.
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I'm aware that means the speed limit is 26.01 mph. I didn't make up the sign. It probably should say √625.
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Ah. So it is. That is funny.
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A Tippi poster or a telephone booth? Or the two combined?
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I haven't looked at any of those yet. However - many years ago when I was a wee small child I would file and I would saw the same way - back and forth. And then someone pointed out to me that both file blades and saw blades had teeth that only cut in one direction. So if you apply pressure on the backstroke, you not only are not doing any cutting, but you are actually dulling your blade. And I noticed that many YouTube videos show people filing. And they're putting pressure on both the forward stroke and the backstroke. And they're supposed to be professional metal workers.
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Skills I discovered I needed for shooting Cowboy Action
Alpo replied to Dapper Dave's topic in SASS Wire Saloon
Would that be the Carolina Belles? -
Something I found interesting on those rifles listed. I have thought, for many years, that the standard barrel length for the Winchester rifle was 20 inches for the carbine and 24 for the rifle. And all of those guns are a half inch shorter. Saddle ring carbine - 19 and a half inch barrel. Rifle - 23 and a half inch barrel. They have several listed that are longer than the standard 24 inch, but thenTHEM I understand. Winchester would make it as long as you wanted, for an additional dollar an inch. But still - just looking at the three Father Kit asked about - 23.5 inches, 25.5 inches, 23.5 inches. It almost makes me want to run a cleaning rod down the barrels of mine, and measure them. I've always assumed that they were 24 inch.
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Anybody but me remember Utah Bob's story about his fifth jump? On a Friday the 13th, no less.
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Useless fun fact-ish type stuff
Alpo replied to Wallaby Jack, SASS #44062's topic in SASS Wire Saloon
Did y'all notice, in the bottom left hand corner - wrought iron versus steel - that wrought iron has greater tensile strength than wrought iron. I thought that was an interesting factoid. -
This is from YOU'RE STEPPING ON MY CLOAK AND DAGGER. A memoir of his time in the OSS during World War II. By Roger Hall. So far it is an excellent book. Parachute training. To be qualified in parachute you have to make five jumps. This is his description of the last jump. Number five was the night jump, our last and qualifying descent. For a change, I jumped leading the last stick. The weather was foul, got worse, and by the time my plane took off, it was rough going around the drop zone. We went on in, there was only one stick left, and the pilot figured we’d have time to make our run. Going into the zone, the plane behaved as a thing possessed. One jumpmaster wanted to send us out, the other thought the weather was too rocky. The pilot chimed in with the news that he’d infinitely prefer to lighten the load. The jumpmasters were still undecided. One of them asked me, “How about it, Lieutenant?” “I’m all for getting the hell out of here. What about the men?” “They’ll follow you.” “Tell him we’ll try it.” It was raining hard, and I kept my head inside, out of the slashing prop blast. The red light came on. Then there was a blinding flash of lightning, and I went out minus the green light, without ever hearing “Go!,” or feeling the slap on my leg. I wanted to get into heaven while the gates were still ajar. Once out of the plane, it was the easiest jump of them all. The lightning obligingly spotted the landing zone for me two or three times, the atmosphere was heavy because of the rain, and I came down ever so gently. I even managed to hit close to the trucks, with the landing itself being one of those cushion jobs I’d dreamed about. As I was rolling up my chute, all the while muttering hearty self-congratulations, a voice near the trucks called, “Is Lieutenant Hall on the field?” “Right here, Lieutenant Roger Wolcott Hall, United States Parachute Infantry!” I felt nine feet tall. The owner of the voice came sloshing toward me. All I could make out was a trench coat and a helmet liner. “How was the weather up there, Lieutenant?” “Rough, very rough.” “Do you think they should have sent you out?” “Those boys know their business.” “How was your jump?” “Frankly, a thing of beauty. Everybody else all right?” I was in an expansive mood, and quite willing to forget past indignities. “Yes, everyone qualified. Your class did a good job.” “You bet they did. One sixteen’s a fine bunch.” “Congratulations, Lieutenant Hall.” He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. “When you get back to Washington, would you give General Donovan my regards?” “Sure will.” I was still too far up in the clouds to use my head. “Regards from whom?” “My name’s Gaither. Ridgely Gaither. Good-night, Lieutenant Hall.” “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Good-night, sir!” Only the commanding general of The Parachute School.
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Just think about this for a moment. A lot of people put out these little flags on Memorial Day. But do they pick them up? Several years back I noticed one Memorial Day that there was a whole bunch of those little flags in front of a church. I thought that was kind of neat. Spaced about 2 feet apart all the way down the property line. Couple days later I drive by the church. Several of the flags are still standing there. Several are laying on the ground. And a few of them are out in the street getting run over by traffic. Not so neat. A guy lived a block or so away from me and he had one of those little flags by his mailbox. I thought that was kind of patriotic, until I saw a dog pissing on it. Hmmm So those hundreds of flags that get put in cemeteries on Memorial Day - does anyone pick 'em up, or do they just stay out there till the wind blows them down and the rain rots them and the various and sundry critters do bad things to them?
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Was there really any particular reason to be insulting?
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Ah, what do you know? You spell humor with two "U"s.
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