All Activity

Fixed it for ya. kR

You've got to be a certain age to get that one...

Victim of an NFT Scam or Cryptocurrency Investment Fraud? Take Action Now – Schedule a Consultation with APEX INTERVENTION LTD At APEX Intervention Limited, we are a trusted private investigation and funds recovery firm. As financial regulators and ethical hackers, we specialize in: Cryptocurrency scam recovery NFT scam investigations Fraudulent investment schemes Recovery scam exposure We operate with transparency: Let us show you the true art and integrity of ethical hacking. Our team is fully equipped with industry-leading recovery tools to handle your case from start to finish. Reach out to our team today: Email: info@apexintervention.online WhatsApp: +1 (365) 740-5227 Website: https://apex-intervention.online Your recovery starts with the right team. Choose APEX Intervention Limited – trusted, transparent, and relentless.

We get that you guys like Unique. Now where does a new shooter find this wonder powder? I haven't seen any Unique for sale in over 2 years.

BTT

The Friendliest Bar In Town A WEEK HAS SEVEN DAYS. Everyone knows this. Even the hard-working, hard-studying, totally serious lads of Kappa Phi Delta. Heck… maybe especially the hard-working, hard-studying, totally serious lads of Kappa Phi Delta. And the five day period that comprised the middle part of the week, that part that separated the glorious weekends, was an especially long stretch of devotion to our labors. And so it came to pass, either by committee proclamation, idea-osmosis, or just plain old desperation, that a determination was made that it would be in our best interests – physical, mental, and emotional – to divide this stretch of time into manageable sections. And fortunately, with thanks to Julius Caesar and his invention of the modern calendar in 46 B. C., the five-day stretch separating weekends was quite handily broken up by that most marvelous middle day, Wednesday! (Thank you, Odin!) So, after supper and any homework that couldn’t be put off, but usually no later than 2100 (that’s nine o’clock PM), several of us would saddle up and head out to visit a known establishment, like “The Front Room” pizza parlor or “The John Barleycorn,” just around the corner. Or, if the mood struck, perhaps search out a new watering hole. And we found a few! “The Griffin,” where we were always welcomed (after the women realized we weren’t going to steal their girlfriends) and where we rescued and returned a wounded (but well anesthetized!) sergeant to Letterman Hospital, “The Cock’s Inn,” with the giant neon rooster over the door and where said sergeant dominoed several bar stools, depositing their residents onto the floor. And others. On one particular Wednesday in ‘71, Hank, Bill “Wynuts” Wyant, Louis Quint, myself, and one or two others were packed into Hank’s ’62 T-bird. We were on the prowl. We expected to end up at one of the “established” establishments, and were headed up California Street when someone said, “Look!” Of course, we all looked where someone pointed. And there, was a simple but well-illuminated marquee, declaring the place to be “The 998 Club ~ The Friendliest Bar in Town!” Well, Goll-ee! How could we go wrong with a place posting such a proclamation? “Uh…Hank…?” “Yeah Man! I see it! I’ll find us a parking place!” He did, only a half block away, fortunately downhill from our target. Fortunately, because, although the hike up California Street was fairly steep, we would have gravity on our side when it came time to stagger back to our ride. I’ll be dinged, but the marquee was truthful! We thoroughly enjoyed the next several hours. The staff was friendly, polite, and prompt with service; the other clients were likewise friendly. Good conversations about sports, a few games of dice (Liar’s Dice, Ship-Captain-Crew, and the like), darts, some light-hearted flirting, and general jocularity. A note about the staff! Wynuts, Hank, and I were sitting at a small round table next to a plate-glass window, watching traffic – foot and auto – outside, enjoying our libations and all-in-all having a good time. But at one point, Hank made an exaggerated gesture and swept his drink glass off the edge of the table. Crash! And remarkably, in an instant a young serving lass had the glass, ice, and liquid cleaned up – and a fresh drink on the table. With a smile and no charge! And all was well, until a few minutes later, most amazingly, Hank repeated the move with the same result! And again, remarkably, in an instant that young lady repeated the service, this time with an amused giggle. No one knows why; full moon? Odd conjunction of other planets? Poltergeists? No telling. But, even more remarkably, Hank managed to send THREE MORE GLASSES crashing to the floor! Starting with drink number three, “Miss Brandy” decided to just leave the rubble on the floor. “Watch your step!” she’d say, still with a smile, as she’d plop a fresh glass in front of Hank. At least six drinks were served to the lad that night. But with most of ‘em puddled on the floor, he was sober as a judge when we returned to the frat house. Consequently, “The 998 Club” continued to be a favored spot for a few Wednesdays. Until one… well… one somewhat of a quirky mid-week expedition. On this particular Wednesday, for some reason I was not part of the “break-up-the-week” crew. Actually, I think I was working the swing shift at my mailroom job, and didn’t get home ‘til after midnight. For me it was a quick snack, and off to bed for some sound sleep. Until about 0330. What a racket! The revelers returned, definitely not in “silence mode.” Naturally, I had to bail out of bed to get the story. There HAD to be a story. And there was! And after hearing the story, I must say that to this day I am appreciative of having worked that night. Much safer. It seems that the fellas – “the usual gang of suspects,” with the addition of John “JJ” Jarvis – had set out in earnest to break up the week. And they were quite successful! The “John Barleycorn,” another dive by the waterfront, food at some time during the evening, and then someone realized that “Last Call!” was imminent at whatever pub or tavern they were at. Well, evidently, someone then offered up the observation that if they REALLY hurried, they could make it to The 998 Club in time for THEIR “Last Call.” A good idea, perhaps, but not well thought out and certainly not practical. Of course, those two factors were never an impediment to the men of Kappa Phi Delta! And with that, the fellas rushed out of whatever establishment they were in and dashed the few short blocks to the “998.” Alas, the best laid plans and all that, they were too late. Lights were on, a few souls could be seen milling about inside, but the door was locked. Well, shucks. Now what? Naturally, the proper and logical thing to do would be to saddle up and head home – after all, Thursday would be back to jobs and school, and so some sleep would be beneficial. Uh… nope. ‘Tain’t gonna happen. Not with these fellas! All wired up, or as my dear ol’ grandma would’ve said, “full o’ piss and vinegar.” Could NOT call it a wrap just yet – nosiree Bob! Hank wasn’t driving this night; but he was sitting in the “shotgun” seat of whoever’s car they were in, alternating between snoozing and sipping off his ever-present flask of Old Crow stashed in his vest pocket. Bill “Wynuts” and Louis decided to hike up the street a block or two, just on the off chance that some other place might still be open. But JJ had another idea! In the trunk of the car was a set of golf clubs. And, naturally, in the golf bag were quite a few tees and golf balls. And they just happened to be near the crest of California Street. Hmmm… So, without further ado, JJ selected a nice driver, stuffed a few tees and a bunch of golf balls into a pocket, and set off. Finding a likely spot, he discovered that he could press a tee into the slight gap between the pavement and the cable car track. And what a perfect place to drive balls from! We never did hear if that dozen balls sent flying off into the night did any damage (fortunately, it was late enough that personal injuries were unlikely), but he later proclaimed that he’d achieved tremendous loft and incredible distance! “Dang! I’m sure I got over four hundred yards! Heck, it was so far I couldn’t even hear ‘em hit!” At some point, Hank woke up and realized he was alone. Of course, he didn’t realize that Wynuts and Louis were on a walkabout and Jarvis was playing Arnie Palmer; he quite naturally assumed they were practicing twelve-ounce curls inside the 998 Club. So, not wanting to be left out, he decided to join ‘em. And was quite surprised to find the door locked. Shoving and rattling the knobs did nothing. “Lemme in!” he finally shouted. “We’re closed!” came a muffled reply from inside. “Lemme in!” he demanded. “We’re closed!” was repeated. By now, ol’ Hank was getting kinda frustrated. He just KNEW that his pards were inside, enjoying “Last Call” while he was locked out. “Dang-Blast It! LET ME IN afore I gits my shotgun and BLOWS my way in!” he blustered. This time, there was no response. Accepting that he was not going to gain access – and having no shotgun – he wisely decided to return to the car, crawl in, sip a bit more whiskey and perhaps snooze until the fellas came out and joined him. Meanwhile, Bill and Louis were likewise headed back to the car, where they met JJ. John stowed the golf club in the trunk, and led the others to a vantage point where he could boast of his deed. Of course, none of them could have known that the righteously alarmed proprietor of the 998 Club had in a panic called the SFPD. And the noble and gallant Men in Blue responded with alacrity! Hank was awakened from his slumber by the somewhat noisy and garishly illuminated arrival of two carloads of San Francisco’s Finest, accompanied by an official conveyance colloquially known as a “Paddy Wagon.” With some amazement, he watched as the enthusiastic officers descended on his three astonished and confused comrades. He slid down in his seat, barely peeking over the dashboard, and watched as the fellas were frisked, handcuffed, and unceremoniously shoved into the back of the boxy van-like truck. Instantly sobered up, he decided to move to the driver’s seat – the key was still in the ignition – and follow at a discreet distance, perhaps to render aid to the guys if possible. Well, as luck would have it, it seems that JJ and Bill both happened to know one of the two officers manning the paddy wagon. In fact, they all thought the situation was somewhat hilarious – but they were still going to haul ‘em to the station. ‘Twas protocol, don’tcha know. Once installed in the vehicle, the frat guys discovered they were not alone; there were three or four other drunks, who were themselves quite intrigued by the recent arrivals. And, being Kappa Phi Delta men, our erstwhile heroes were not about to go quietly. ‘Specially since one of their “captors” happened to be a buddy. So, after a quick discussion, they formed a plan – to wit, the three of ‘em started shouting, “Police brutality! Help! Help! Police Brutality!” and began rocking the wagon from side to side. And hollered the louder! Not to be outdone, the officers in front decided to reciprocate by swerving the wagon as violently as they could without toppling the tall vehicle or crashing into something – tree, curb, cars… By the time the wagon approached the police station, the other drunks had all gotten into the spirit of the event and they had a regular chorus going. “Police Brutality! Police Brutality! Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! Sooo-eeee! Sooo-eeee! Sooo-eeee!” repeated again and again, with the prisoners all swaying in unison. When the vehicle arrived at the station, the other officers on duty were surprised to see their comrades exit the front, laughing uproariously, with a drunken choir cheerfully and exuberantly providing an unexpected but loud and melodic chant which, although offensive in words, was in reality terrific comedy. Especially with the one extremely gay drunk singing in a tinkling falsetto. Well, all in all, it was a good-natured “arrest.” It was ultimately established that none of the fellas in capture had grumbled the threat at the door of the 998 Club; indeed, it was decided that everyone hauled in would be released if they could find transportation. And, of course, in short order Hank arrived – with no one the wiser of him being the catalyst of the evening’s topper. Sadly, though, we all felt it prudent to scratch the 998 Club off our Wednesday list. And that was too bad, really… ‘cuz, on balance, it truly was “The Friendliest Bar in Town!”

Sweathogs...!

Up your nose with a rubber hose!

Now THAT'S funny!

A Shady Brady was once described as a straw hat that looks like a pheasant exploded on the front of it. IIRC Horace

Decorated with feathers like Richard Petty, I think was the original intent but now many straw styles are called that.

I used to watch that show back in the day...

The best thing about honey is you can add water and yeast… and presto change-o you get mead. Probably the easiest thing to home brew.

The Holy Black would be appropriate. 🤠

I am, as always, the odd man out - I use Ramshot ZIP for my 38 Special ammo, same load rifle and pistol. Sometimes, you use what's on the shelf...when I run out of ZIP, if I can't find anymore, I have enough Accurate Arms #2 to last for about 10,000 rounds! Usually use that in 9mm. I JUST started loading shotgun and the only thing I could find was WST, which has been a good "training" powder for now. Still working out the kinks of figuring out how shotgun reloading works, not exactly the same as metallic cartridge loading! As mentioned, the full length brass shells are easy to load, (not as easy as my Mec600Jr, but not hard at all), I actually started loading 12 ga doing the MagTech brass shells. Those are really black powder only, even if I do have a couple of Red Dot loads in the manual I got from Midway.

This Saturday, July 19, Wartrace Regulators will have our July, Cowboy/ Wild Bunch Match. It is summer so start hydrating early and bring your rain gear just in case. Registration starts at 8:30, Safety Meeting at 9:30 and shooting starts shortly afterwards. Fees are still $15 members and $20 non-members. Remember we dress according to SASS rules and do not have a summer dress code. Wild Bunch will be shooting stages 1-5 and Cowboy shooters will be on stages 6-10. Hope to see you at the range Saturday! Randy

You are a lucky man.

Go to your room! 🤣🤣

I broke down and bought a straw hat for summer shooting, because as much as I love my bowler, It's black with a short brim...and summer in Southern AZ is no joke. So, straw it was, and yes, we have some "relaxed" rules for summer wear. No, I have no idea why I have such a stupid look on my face, it was a quick photo for reference. Now, I read the handbook, but the funny thing is I still have no idea what a Shady Brady is...

Yes, but it doesn't require a revision to the rules to do. I'm not opposed to the use of .22s as a local matter, stopgap measure, but altering the rules will fundamentally change the game. But, continue down this path, and soon folks'll be shooting in tennis shoes, short sleeve shirts and any other manner of accoutrement they see fit as the cost of boots and hats and cowboy duds is "too expensive" for me... Alas, cowboy action shooting will be dead and gone. (If it isn't already, as least as conceived and promulgated by its' founders).

The tail plane and overall layout is similar to the Soviet Ekranoplan

No, you had that right, it's an addiction...no cure needed.

It's a little far from you but the Delzura Desperados host a Sunday School once a month which is essentially an open shoot for anyone to practice or stop by to see what it's all about. I started last August by just showing up, paying the South Bay range fee, and trying a few guns of the members that were practicing that day. Started collecting my guns almost immediately and then shot my first match in December. It's a great low pressure way to get addicted, I mean started. The next one is on 8/10. https://www.dulzuradesperados.com

My grandpa left me with a tackle box full of old and valuable lures (mostly tri-hooks) or as I call them "trouble hooks"! I could have saved them and sold them for a good price but thought grandpa left them to me to fish with. That's what I did and caught everything from bass to walleye and perch with them but in time over the years most were lost to snags from logs, rocks and who knows what? Thanks to grandpa I caught some mighty fine fish over the years!☺️ The best catch was a 4 pound bucket mouth back in 78"!🤩

When I started getting interested in the sport, I took advantage of the online Handbook and read it "cover to cover" a few times BEFORE I went to my Orientation with Colt Laredo. Every once in a while I get an itch and I just pull it up and peruse it again. HUGE help making sure what I could use and what I couldn't use. Unfortunately, one of this BIGGEST helps was the fact that Wild West Mercantile brick and mortar store was a few miles away from the range, and I got to try on and spend more than a few coins there. I say unfortunately, because they closed the brick and mortar store and went online only. Which brings me to - the Classified here, you are probably going to find a few items you can use - I did. https://www.sassnet.com/uploads/downloads/Shooters Handbooks - CAS/CAS 2025 SHB - Vers 27.9 - May 2025 - FINAL.pdf