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  2. Lawman Mark, You are to be commended for showing those 1911's in their proper way..... Cocked and Locked. Thank You. ..........Widder
  3. Capt.: Yes, SPF. Flanigan; the grips came from now retired Collins Grips; they were made for original S&W New model #3s and required some slight sanding on the edges to fit. They could be further slimmed down but I wasn't that persnickety about it.
  4. Remember that almost all police chiefs are political appointees. To get their job they had to kiss a politicians back side. To keep it..... you get the idea.
  5. If you have never cooked with meatballs you have never met some of my friends! Blackfoot
  6. Since SASS rules require long guns to be cleared (used to require "action open" as well) the only way to enforce compliance is to attach a penalty for failure to do so.
  7. You can boil those in kerosene for 5 hours and they won't fall apart! Blackfoot
  8. I did. If I had to do it over the loops would be for 12 gauge and I'd wear the belt with the buckle to the rear.
  9. The Defender comes with only one magazine, and only one set of grips. These have a MSP of $549, and are selling for about $499-$529. The Mil Spec parkerized comes with upgraded grips, holster, magazine pouch, and two magazines. MSP is $780, and are selling for around $650-$675. I'm not familiar with, nor can I find the middle model you referenced. I have an EMP-9mm, a 1911 Loaded 9mm, a 1911 MC Operator .45, a Mil Spec .45, a stainless TRP and a TRP 10mm. I love every one of them, and am looking forward to buying a Professional model in .45 soon.
  10. So if you’re going to whet our appetite with pics why not add the sequences?
  11. Allie Meaux, you'd really enjoy yourself at Black Gold. There's actually two liquids on tap there, beer and Copperhead juice! Beer you've had but Copperhead juice is something special. You'd know a bunch of people and you've got a bunch of friends you haven't even met yet and you also will meet family there, I know I have! Kajun
  12. Well at least it made a nice impression.
  13. Oh crud! Now I have to clean my computer. Blackfoot
  14. Merci beaucoup petite fille! I tole you fo sho dat I knowed a whole passel of dem Meauxs in Louisiana, dey's good people! Widder, you are a spelling jeanyus! Kajun
  15. I just got though reading an article about loading for long range shooting with the .45-70. The items that it appears I need are: -24" brass drop tube -Sinclair Primer Pocket Uniformer -Lyman M-die for getting precise neck expansion. -Redding Micrometer adjustable compression seating die -.030 King Veg wads I am not in any hurry to get the items as I still have to move 1700 miles so the less I buy now the less I have to move. But, do these sound right? I have a set of RCBS .45-70 dies, several Lyman molds, and a wad punch die that I'm a little fuzzy on using. The article said to "fire-form" the brass, which I assume means to load them up and shoot them. from then on I only resize the neck. Do I have that right?
  16. https://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/codes_displaySection.xhtml?lawCode=PEN&sectionNum=16170
  17. Rye, if I see your name on a "Who's Coming" list to a match we are going to, I will make some for you. That will keep you out of the freezer aisle. Plus you can always make a bunch and freeze them yourself, and you will know exactly what is in them! There was a family gathering when I was very young at a relatives house (you never seem to run out of cousins in Italian families). Somebody opened a cupboard and there was a jar of the famous "Ragu" spaghetti sauce. Nonna cried. Took it personal. If you wanted sauce, ask her. She would love to make it for you. Another infamia was Chef Boyardee Beefaroni. Then Spaghetti-O's. Trying times indeed for Italian grandmothers. (back in the day, infamia meant a loss of Roman citizenship. Today it has evolved into a synonym for "shame on you.") Give it a shot. Make some sauce or meat balls. Freeze what you don't use. Keep it simple with the ingredients. Remember, many of these dishes were "peasant" dishes way back then. You used what you had. Once you get the hang of meat balls and sauce ("gravy" on the east coast), we can talk about making pasta from scratch. One hint. Adding red wine to a tomato based sauce makes it sweeter (and a good excuse to have some wine while you cook). There are certain sugars in tomatoes that only dissolve in alcohol. Buona fortuna!
  18. 79. A RIVER'S HUNGER I've never known the Sheriff to show yella. Not once. Not ever. He's walked away from fights before, or tried to. Trouble was ... the fellows he walked away from, weren't willin' to let a peaceable man be peaceable, and the Sheriff had to knock the Dog Stuffing out of 'em, and once he was done educatin' the sinners with his version of the Jaw Bone of a Jack Mule -- I think he used a singletree in one case, he used his boots in another, just plainly stomped the fellow's hands and ribs until he was curled up and all the fight in him was soaked into the dirt and gone -- well, they l'arned that it holds no profit to trouble a peaceful man who just wants to be left the hell alone. Like I said, I never once knew the Sheriff to show yella, and when he said, "Jacob, we are not ridin' a foot further," and he taken up his hat and his grip and so did I, and we clumb off attair train and collected our horses and our saddle bags and we got off attair train and they barely got the ramps pulled free when the train whistled and started chuffin' and we stroked our horses' necks and spoke soft to 'em and the Sheriff he looked genuinely troubled. I will admit I felt an awful lot less than comfortable, for the Sheriff, he taken off his Sky Piece and bowed his head and so did I, for when Pa allowed as 'twas the right time to talk to God, he did. He was talkin' to God now and he was implorin' the Almighty to have mercy upon the souls He was about to receive, and at my Pa's quiet words, at those simple words spoken by a man with an utter and complete conviction that he was right ... well, I recalled how Mother can see things that mortal men can't, how Sarah and Miz Bonnie and hell even Angela know things there's no way they could and Angela not even blood relation -- well, when Pa he taken off his Stetson I did too and we both bowed our heads, and we both said Amen and then we both stepped into saddle leather and the Sheriff he was still troubled. I saw him look at the telegrapher's office there at the depot and that meant he was thinkin' to send ahead that we'd not be on the train to pick up that pa'tickelar prisoner, and about then the door swung open and attair fella in sleeve garters and that flat top black brim cap came out and looked at us kind of surprised and said "Sheriff? I thought you were on the train!" Pa he said not a word, he stuck out his hand and this fella put a paper in it and Pa he read the paper and his jaw run out and he considered and then looked at me and said "Jacob, we are for the livery. We will grain our horses and have them curried, we will get a meal and a good night's rest and then we will take the special home." "Yes, sir," said I, kind of puzzled, for things just were not goin' accordin' to how I understood it to be. Y'see, we'd meant to cross the Big Muddy on attair steam train and pick up a prisoner we'd been wantin' to bring back so we could give him a fair trial and call him for the lyin' cheatin' woman abusin' thievin' son of Perdition he was, and then hang him, and the whole community heard we was goin' after him and some of the fellas they allowed as they'd hold themselves a competition to see who could tie the purtiest noose of thirteen turns, and the Sheriff he allowed as if they were goin' to they'd best give him their best work right now for we was fixin' to head East and the train pulled out in a half hour, and the Sheriff he picked a winner and they all went to the Silver Jewel to drink to their success and we boarded the train to go bring an evil man back to face what was comin' to him. We taken our mounts to the livery and talked to the hostler, the Sheriff he was about the easiest to talk to man I've ever known and attair hostler he allowed as he knowed all there was to be knowed about whatever 'twas they was discussin' so the Sheriff he set down on a crate and the hostler he parked his pitch fork and pocketed his coin and he recht behint some hay and pulled out a bottle and the two of them held a powwow and a palaver and a council of war. Now directly the Sheriff he recht in his coat pocket and pulled out attair paper the Lightning Man give him and I read: PRISONER ON EASTBOUND PASSENGER TRAIN UNDER GUARD MEET AT YOUR STATION I considered this and wondered if that's why the Sheriff ... no, I puzzled, he didn't have this information before he stood up and said we were gettin' off. Might be, I considered, he had the Sight, and then I recalled that things like blowin' fahr and stoppin' blood with the Word and the Sight were all gifts given only to woman. I finally allowed as I had no idea so I waited until attair horse handler run down like a clock run out of main spring and the Sheriff and me we went over to the hotel and signed for a room and set ourselves down for supper and about the time mashed potatoes and gravy set down in front of us, about the time we'd split open them hot rolls and laid a good paste of gut grease on 'em why the holler went up that the bridge went down and the train was lost. I looked up and raised an eyebrow and the Sheriff he looked at me and never made a move other'n to keep eatin' so I didn't neither. Directly, why, the town marshal come in and he looked kind of flustered and the Sheriff he turned and throwed up his hand and the fellow came hustlin' over lookin' all sweaty and greasy and he couldn't decide whether to whip off his uniform cap or slap it back on his head and he finally give up and hung it on a peg and set down, rubbin' his face and his mouth was workin' like he had too many words to say and they were gettin' in one another's road and finally the Sheriff said, "Tell me in plain language, son," and the Marshal blurted, "The damned bridge went down and took both trains with it!" The Sheriff give me a long look and I give him a long look back and I realized why the man got off the train. To this day I have no idea how he knew, but know, he did. 'Twas not until we were breakin' over the last crest and startin' into that long down grade into Firelands that he spoke of it. "The river is hungry, Jacob," he said. "It wanted your mother and I stole its prize so it ate a prisoner instead but that wasn't the last of it." "Yes, sir," I replied, for I knew the story -- how three men wanted to relieve Mother of that emerald mounted cameo I'd given her, how she laid one's arm open, the Sheriff shot a second and then Mother went over the rail backwards, and pushed away so she'd hit the water instead of hittin' a lower deck on the way down, how the Sheriff stood up in the bow of ther skiff while four Boston Whalers rowed like giants, how the Sheriff made the one and only cast of a lariat that went where he wanted it, the absolute only time in his entire life he'd ever done that, and how he hauled Mother out of that muddy river and bent her over with his forearm across her belly -- "I broke her like a shotgun," he explained it, and she'd throwed up about ten gallon of river water and coughed and took off breathin' ag'in. He said they held a drumhead court on the foredeck the next mornin' and the Captain was the judge, for on a riverboat, the Captain is the Law, and the prisoner he tried to escape and the river drowned him. The Sheriff's eyes were distant as he taken a long breath, as he taken another drank of coffee, as he considered his now empty plate, and his voice was quiet as he said, "The river is still hungry, Jacob, and I did not wish to feed it my firstborn son."
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