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  2. Agreed! Great job to all those that put on the match and the numerous volunteers that ensured everything went smooth. I'll definitely be back for the OK State Championship 2020 at this club.
  3. Yep....... The only good that comes from working is that it helps pay for........ ...... the bullets, the truck, the side x side, the stop at the distillery.........
  4. I'll have to mention that one next I see him.
  5. Need some help pards. I've been itching to do some deer or hog hunting. Problem is that I can't seem to find a decent place that either isn't packed shoulder to shoulder with other hunters, doesn't break the bank, or have some strange rule such as "Can't hunt on the weekends 'cause that's when I hunt". True story about that last one. Looked into public hunting but the nearest place that I can find that would allow me to hunt deer or hog with a rifle seems packed with every would-be hunter. I'd only be able to get in late season hunts. Which doesn't bother me except that I don't have much time around the new year season. May give it a go anyways. If y'all know a landowner who's friendly towards hunters or if y'all got any leads on a good bit a land to hunt. I'd much appreciate it. I've got a couple of people interested in hunting but I just can't seem to find a good place. I'm in Wichita Falls, Tx. About an hour and a half northwest of Dallas. I'd like to stay within Tx if possible 3 hour drive would be about max as I'd have to be able to make it back for work.. I really miss my old lease, that place was like home...
  6. Congratulations to all the category Champions. Congratulations to Cooncan for Top overall Lady shooter. Congratulations to Deadeye Dillard for Top overall Male Shooter.
  7. That grand Irishman, Michael O'Sage
  8. what do you have??? I support alot of new shooters, always looking for more guns and reloading stuff
  9. I really do not know. This is a question for a California FFL dealer.
  10. I need to pack, make bullets, service the truck, tune up the side x side, go to the Distillery, ..... and Work keeps gettin in the way. Never fails when there is something I want to do, It gets busy.
  11. Sheriff Linn Keller, Firelands County, Colorado, leaned against the post holding the roof over the board walk in front of the Sheriff's office. Coffee rippled and steamed in the tin cup he held; his gaze was across the street -- a little to the right, the Silver Jewel, and a faint trickle of piano music as the doors opened, then shut: his gaze drifted down hill, past the Municipal Building and then the schoolhouse, and an observer might have seen his eyes tighten a little at the corners at the sight of children, outside, at play. There was just such a watcher, a physician, leaning against the same boardwalk post as the Sheriff: where the lawman's shoulder occupied the eastern exposure, the healer's shoulder resided against its western face: he, too, held a steaming tin cup of coffee, and he turn his own gaze from his old and pale eyed friend's visage, to the laughing, shouting, squealing children at their energetic play. Sheriff Marnie Keller, Second Martian District -- renamed by its inhabitants, Firelands, ostensibly for the nearby and very extinct volcano, but actually because they considered themselves pioneers -- smiled as she too held a steaming mug of something hot and black, something they called coffee, unless they were inclined to use uncomplimentary or even profane adjectives with which to malign the vile brew. The Sheriff watched the surprisingly tall children at play: Mars' lighter gravity allowed a greater height at a younger age, and all were markedly taller than their Earther norm. Marnie leaned against the recycled-plastic, 3-D-printed door frame: it was identical to every other doorframe in the Colony, and every door would interchange with every other door, and every last one of them rubbed high up in the same spot, and every one of them had been either soaped or oiled to keep it from an annoying chatter. She felt more than heard a familiar warmth behind her: she knew hands would descend upon her shoulders, and they did, and Dr. John Greenlees Jr. began to rub, and then knead, the pale eyed Sheriff's shoulders. "Mmmm," she purred, "I'll give you a week to stop that!" "Vile stuff," Sheriff Linn Keller complained, tossing the contents of his tin cup into the dirt street: never one to buck a winning hand, Dr. John Greenlees toss the contents of his own cup into the dirt. Each man turned, set his empty on a shelf on the outside wall of the Sheriff's office. Sheriff Marnie Keller dumped the contents of her recycled-plastic, 3-D-printed mug into the nearest recyclo, dropped the cup in after it, frowned a little as she did. Dr. John Greenlees Jr, her husband, very carefully did not laugh at his wife's expression. He knew why she looked disappointed. She'd told him the recyclos should make some kind of a sound when they digested something -- a blurp, a grint, a hiccup even -- but liquid, solid, metal, plastic, whatever went in, was accepted in a shocking, absolute silence, and for some reason, he knew, that spooked his pale-eyed wife. Sheriff Marnie Keller smiled as the younger children charged her; she squatted to receive their charge, dispensing hugs quickly, vigorously, laughing as she did: she wanted to make sure their children regarded the Law as a real person, as someone they knew, hopefully someone they liked and didn't want to disappoint: she sat, cross legged, and the children plopped to the floor, cross legged as well, fanned out in front of her, bright-eyed at the prospect of having the Sheriff tell them a story. Sheriff Linn Keller reached in a coat pocket and almost smiled. Dr. Greenlees smiled, just a little. "Marbles?" "Yep." "You're going to lose again." "Nope." Linn looked at his old and dear friend, mischief in his pale eyes. "They're going to win." "And they'll win all your marbles." "Not all of 'em." He withdrew his hand from the pocket. "I'm not due over there until noon. How about some decent coffee?" "Thought you'd never ask." It took stern address to the Earthside bureaucracy to get their recyclos reprogrammed to where they would make decent coffee. Earthside promised action, Earthside pledged, placated, promised, stalled and delayed ... as usual. It was, as a matter of fact, a young radiographer who figured out how to bypass the safeties and change a few critical parameters in the program: his first try resulted in the recyclo swallowing its own guts -- which, he admitted later, scared the blue Hell out of him, because it was theoretically possible to program one to swallow itself and keep swallowing, which could theoretically cause a black hole, which was the entire reason the tamper proof safeties were built in. The radiographer's second try was far more successful that his first: he was able to manufacture another recyclo to replace the one he'd inadvertently destroyed (something that was theoretically not possible, but like he'd told the Sheriff, he wasn't interested in the impossible) -- and then he made the very first decent mug of coffee that was ever brewed on Mars. Sheriff Linn Keller rubbed his chin as he studied the finger-drawn circle. "Knuckle down!" came the youthful challenge, and the Sheriff nodded thoughtfully, reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a prized, polished-agate shooter, held it up between thumb and forefinger. "This one," he said, "feels lucky." He tossed it up in the air, caught it, cocked it behind a bent thumb, set his knuckles down in the dirt. A flick of the weather tanned thumb, the sharp click of glass colliding with glass. Sheriff Marnie Keller raised her eyebrows and looked around. "What story would you like to hear?" she asked innocently. The doorway she'd occupied earlier was crowded with three or four more souls, all watching, for their children were the pride of the entire colony: each child might have two parents, but they had many, many aunts and uncles, and every last one of them took a fierce joy in beholding "Their Martians" growing and learning, and they especially delighted in the Sheriff sitting among them, telling them a story, or reading from their own, locally printed books -- real books, not glowing screens. "Snowflake!" a dozen young throats cried, and Sheriff Willamina Keller nodded. "Snowflake it is!" she declared, then brought her hands up to just shy of shoulder high, opened her fingers quickly, dramatically. Sheriff Linn Keller knew he was watched by more than just his young competitors, and he did not care. He was enjoying himself, shooting marbles with schoolboys like he was a schoolboy again himself. He did not intentionally throw the game; no, he was outmatched when he started, and he knew it, but it pleased him to compete against these schoolboys, knowing full well they would very likely beat him: they shouted, they laughed, and the Sheriff relaxed, and smiled with them. Sheriff Marnie Keller said, "Snowflake was big and Snowflake was black and shining, and Snowflake had what kind of feet?" "Fuzzy feet!" the children shouted in chorus. "Right you are!" the Sheriff declared, emphasizing her words with a poke of her finger. "And what magic did Snowflake have?" "Snowflake could fly!" they shouted, and a mountain fiddler punched her husband in the shoulder: Marnie's ear drew a little, pulling back as if tugged by an invisible thumb-and-forefinger, knowing the fist belonged to a dear friend and distant relative of hers, knowing the shoulder she'd just slugged belonged to her husband, a blond haired, blue eyed Teutonic fighter pilot recruited for this Mars project, a man with a rearing black mare embossed into his flight suit. A mare with fuzzy feet. Sheriff Linn Keller sauntered into the Silver Jewel, his coat pocket considerably lighter than when he'd begun. Mr. Baxter looked up from his perpetual burnishing of his beloved bar, raised an eyebrow. "Well? How'd it go?" he challenged, and the Sheriff laughed and propped a playground-dusted boot up on the polished brass foot rail. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "they skinned me out of most of my marbles, but I can't say I lost today!" Mr. Baxter nodded knowingly, remembering when his own son was young, remembering when he taught his son to whistle and to whittle and how to catch fish in a swift stream. "No," the Sheriff repeated thoughtfully, accepting the beer Mr. Baxter slid across the mahogany to him, "I can't say I lost a'tall."
  12. Y'all got one that works with osage? We got a new shooter from Osage country and he'd like to come up with something incorporating that. I'm not too good at naming things.
  13. Guess we just don't do that here where I live.
  14. I shot two handed in Wrangler and it never felt right... Everyone told me to shoot the based category until I got the feel for CAS, well it's time to shoot what feels natural to me... Fortunately I am already accustomed to transitioning the left gun to my right hand, all I have to do now is remember to drop the left to my side. I've switched to traditional for WB too, for the same reason...
  15. Have you tried baking soda and hot water? Aluminum, hot water and baking sida creat a chemical reaction with silver tarnish. It just disappears. If you don't have an aluminum pan, I've lined a pyrex baking dish with aluminum foil snd used it.
  16. The only reason to darken the door of a Dick's would be to purchase an item that is a loss leader. And even then the discount over price at competing retailers has to be significant. In Elk Grove for firearms there is Wild Bill's Wild Old West Trading Co. & if it is like Wild Bills 2 in Carson City, NV has a huge selection of firearms in a tiny venue. I am sure it isn't as diverse as the NV location. It is in Commifornia so, there will be no "featured" AR's, AK's, H&K 91 or FAL clones plus most of the semi-auto handgun models available in states other than Massachusetts. A CA resident can't legally acquire the hottest pistol today, the Sig 365, unless you have a parent or child 21 years or older living in another state & they gift it to you. Of course you and the gifter have to show up at an FFL, hand the gun to the FFL & after 10 work days you can pick it up assuming you pass the CADOJ background check. I am not sure who has to pay the state transaction fee & FFL's charge for their services. Does that have to be a gift?
  17. Today
  18. Doc, keep faith in the Lord God and Jesus Christ; I will pray for you and yours tonight. Hoss C.
  19. Gran Paw I'll take 5 and 6 . I would like to get the two XL maroon shirt on your other post also. Send PM where to send the gold on PayPal. Just wondering if shipping can be combined and what the total will be for all three. Thanks RC
  20. I still think a matched pair is over rated. I should double duelist style, and while most of my guns are Colts, none of them are in the exact same configuration. But I've been known to pair Colt with a Smith, a Buntline with a Nagant, a Walker with an SAA, and many other configurations. That they are different does not bother me.
  21. I'll take one with a new uncut lifter arm for a 45.
  22. You hit the ones I grew up with. I'll add, Santa Rosa Ave, in Santa Rosa CA. E. Cotati Ave. Cotati CA. Petaluma Blvd. Petaluma CA. Novato Blvd. Novato CA.
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