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America
- Thread starter Mick
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Bwanabud
Active member
Our objectives and philosophy are very similar, we'd get along just fine in a hunting camp...I stick to B&C guidelines for myself, and travel to many states each year in my quest.
Every sportsman has a right to set their own legal standards, but for me tag soup is good for the soul and teaches us just how much we don't know about our quarry
Im on a quest for a 200" net bc typical muley. You are right tag soup is good for the soul.
it makes really shitty venison jerky though. for eating, you cannot beat a fat young doe. i found (and finished off) a car-injured young doe a few years ago, still had spots on its butt and milk dripping from its chin. (joking there) best meat i ever had, you could have eaten & swallowed it without teeth. a buddies wife did not really like deer meat. he accidentally killed a young one when his arrow flew over adult does back. after trying fawn, his wife told him to "kill more of the little ones..."
My buddy killed one at 10 yards this year. I dont know how he found him in the scope lol.... I think he was,tryin to catch his mama,to nurse/s.
That was the best eating buck I have ever had. The desert ones taste good anyway, this one was amazing!
Ftr, my bro is 70 with not a tooth in his head....
Good morning America, how are you
Riding on the city of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulled out at Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no names
And freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rail is all they feel
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Nighttime on the city of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again
The passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearing railroad blues
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Riding on the city of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulled out at Kankakee
And rolls along past houses, farms and fields
Passin' trains that have no names
And freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
And I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor
And the sons of Pullman Porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpet made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rail is all they feel
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Nighttime on the city of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again
The passengers will please refrain
This train has got the disappearing railroad blues
Good morning, America
How are you?
Say don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the train they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
When I was a kid I would get paid $5.00 to split and stack a cord of firewood by hand with an axe, maul and wedges. It was hard work for a 10-12 year old kid but five bucks was good money back then. On a good weekend day I could do two cords and still have enough daylight left to go huntin' or fishin' until dark.
I could then walk into town to the local general store and buy a box of paper low brass shotgun shells for $4.99 or a brick of 500 .22 shells for exactly $5.00.
I remember the carnivals with the shooting booth. The trick was to get a good bead on a target and take one shot. None of the guns shot straight so you had to determine where the point of impact really was and adjust accordingly.
I could then walk into town to the local general store and buy a box of paper low brass shotgun shells for $4.99 or a brick of 500 .22 shells for exactly $5.00.
I remember the carnivals with the shooting booth. The trick was to get a good bead on a target and take one shot. None of the guns shot straight so you had to determine where the point of impact really was and adjust accordingly.
we sure did. i got so drunk on election night i didnt find out who won until the next morning. when i did it felt like christmas, my birthday, 4th of july and winning the lottery rolled into a nice fat doobie. could you imagine watching her walk up and down air force 1 stairs? they would have had to have some sort of elevator for her.
i know the feeling. in 84 i was paid $15 a cord to split oak with a 12 pound maul. camping out in the woods for a week at a time working sunup to sundown. brutal work. we were splitting black oak rounds up to 7' diameter. 2 of us would work 1 round at a time working the outside.
Yup... I woulda been happier though if Alfred E. Neuman or Willie Nelson had beaten her...
Most of us lived a ways off from the bus stop to go to school so we would walk through the woods with our rifles and shotguns to the bus stop, hunting on the way. I got a lot of grouse, squirrels and other critters for the dinner table. If I shot something in the morning I'd gut it and hang it in a tree and pick it up in the afternoon on the way home.
We were allowed to either leave the guns on the bus or take it into school and leave them in the coat room. Ammo stayed in your pocket or desk.
It wasn't a big deal. No one freaked out, no lock downs, no shootings. It was just the way of life back then .
A lot of us ran a few traps in the winter. Checked them in the morning , reset them if needed and check them on the way home in the afternoon. Made good money back then catching muskrats, beaver, coons and the occasional fox or mink. An otter or fisher cat was a huge bonus but that didnt happen very often.
Every Spring a fur buyer would come and set up at the local Grange hall and buy all the local trapper's furs. It was good money back then. I remember one Spring I got almost 400.00 bucks for my furs. I felt like the richest 15 year old kid in the world.
I bought a rifle. A used Savage model 99C in .284 cal.with an old Redfield scope and still had money left over.
We were allowed to either leave the guns on the bus or take it into school and leave them in the coat room. Ammo stayed in your pocket or desk.
It wasn't a big deal. No one freaked out, no lock downs, no shootings. It was just the way of life back then .
A lot of us ran a few traps in the winter. Checked them in the morning , reset them if needed and check them on the way home in the afternoon. Made good money back then catching muskrats, beaver, coons and the occasional fox or mink. An otter or fisher cat was a huge bonus but that didnt happen very often.
Every Spring a fur buyer would come and set up at the local Grange hall and buy all the local trapper's furs. It was good money back then. I remember one Spring I got almost 400.00 bucks for my furs. I felt like the richest 15 year old kid in the world.
I bought a rifle. A used Savage model 99C in .284 cal.with an old Redfield scope and still had money left over.
Bud man, with your posting, you gave me the answer of a lifelong question!
Since mid 70s I read the german translated MAD Magazine and asked myself, is he called Alfred E. Newman or Neuman in the original US magazine. Danke man!
very much in form for the history of this crew
like contractors stiffed on payments, and many others
pulling a guy's pension at the end of his career? just routine business for this bunch
That fuckin crook should be worried about prison, not pensions. He is probably getting an "AIDS SURVIVOR" tramp stamp hopin to keep the sphinch an exit only.... fuck that guy.
St. Phatty
Active member
Looking at most of the mass shootings,
the shooter used a 223/5.56 caliber with a 16 inch barrel and 1:7 twist.
Just an interesting fact associated with the tragedy.
Though I'm not sure what Paddock used in Las Vegas.
The AR-15 has a strange place in American culture.
In the movie "Alien Covenant", then 23rd century colonists shoot firearms that look and shoot, in the movie, exactly like AR15's.
the shooter used a 223/5.56 caliber with a 16 inch barrel and 1:7 twist.
Just an interesting fact associated with the tragedy.
Though I'm not sure what Paddock used in Las Vegas.
The AR-15 has a strange place in American culture.
In the movie "Alien Covenant", then 23rd century colonists shoot firearms that look and shoot, in the movie, exactly like AR15's.
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