redmanfixit

Thank You Duane, I hate it when I drop words out of my rants! I dropped a " Know" out of there as well and I think it's too late to edit it! Ha! I got it!

Common themes emerge from every thread I read on this topic. Consistency from batch to batch in terms of hardness and dimension (BULLETS). Matching the type of propellant to the mechanical properties of the slug. Good reloading practices. Watching your equipment carefully and taking stastically significant samples during your production process. Read -Demming Total Quality. Or Tools for Statistical Quality Management. Even better, find an old reloading manual from before there were so damned many lawyers involved getting people who are stupid lots of money! There USED to be a tremendous amount of really good information in there. These are pressure devices and as such they have well defined mechanical parameters for their functions. Good engineers are control freaks, that's one reason why old ones are usually so crabby, I think. Control is expensive. The more extreme the environment, the more control costs. There is in fact a way to predict which propellant, alloy combination is likely to produce leading in the bore of a pistol or rifle. If all you want to do is throw a bunch of rounds together to get out out to the range and practice, spend money on jacketed bullets. The combination of an alloy jacket on a lead slug, has proven metallurgical performance over a WIDE range of pressures, velocity and extremes of environment. That's why military ammunition is built and packaged as it is. You may need your gun to run in minus 40 and bone dry to plus 100 and raining so hard you can barely breathe! Or any combination you can dream up. WHAT!!?? Jacketed slugs cost too much?? Well if you look back in the history of the shooting sports, we've been here before. For example; Richard Lee of the good ol Lee reloading company. I'm lucky in an odd way, I guess, because ever since I was very young I found myself hanging around with old machinists, engineers and believe it or not more than a few actual rocket scientists. Mr. Lee is the perennial crabby old engineer. I say this from a place of deep respect. He is one of the remaining living pioneers of hand loading as we know it. He and a few others literally invented Cheap reloads. Get yourself a copy of Modern Reloading it does not cost that much. Read and re-read the section in that book on bullet casting and if you like, gas checks. There is a predictable relationship between the "Pressure" or strength of the alloy you use for the bullet and the pressure of the load you are producing (propellant pressure curve). With a simple hardness tester (about $40.00 from Midway) and as many different reloading manuals as you can get your hands on. You can figure out loads that you can build with WHATEVER components you can get your hands on that will run in your gun without BLOWING IT UP! The ultimate equation in this emerges simply, either pay time or pay money. Economies of scale and rules for manufacturing consistency apply! Recycled lead is a great source for a hand loader but you better know how the metal alloy will behave. There are REALLY good dedicated bullet casters that produce high quality consistent products. They know how the alloy will behave. Leadheads bullets, Oregon Trail, to name only two. These guys are shooters and really know what to do. Nothing replaces working to acquire real knowledge of the engineering behind the recommendations (PAY TIME). Or PAY someone else to acquire the knowledge and produce a product you can just stuff into a case on top of whatever the propellant Du Jour is and go shooting (PAY MONEY)! Up to you! They're YOUR fingers and your expensive race guns! Hell it's ONLY money!!

Presumably, you're loading for a bolt gun. If so, consider Winchester 748. Years ago, I bought this really nice Remington called a Sportsman 78. I worked up a load for it using 28gr of 748 with a 52gr Blitz and adjusted the length so that the ogive of the bullet was about .002 off the rifling. Freakin' thing is a tack driver!! Sierra says you aren't supposed to drive that line of bullets very fast, but in that rifle, I never had any trouble with bullet instability that I could ascertain. No pressure sign to speak of. Primer flattens out but no cratering. I won't say what the velocities I was getting were like because it was a long time ago I checked them. I will tell you though, I started hunting prairie dogs when I was very young and growing up in Kansas. I am sure there's a prairie dog "personal accountability team" in a burrow out there somewhere and my likeness is on the wall in the ready room. Can you say "Detonation" boys and girls...I Knew you could!

Wow! To think all these years I've been trying all this complicated stuff to change my "status" and all I had to do was log on here and enter a line and press "Save".....WOW! Thanks for all the fast responses! Now if there was just something in the Help files on this!

What the heck is "status". When I'm on my profilen near the top of the page, it says I can update it, but I haven't been able to discover actually what it is. It's probably fairly simple to find out. However I'm of an age where increasingly, I'm surrounded by technology which has features I do not understand and thus don't know what to do with! I asked Flex about this and (Gasp) he didn't know either!! Can anybody lift me from my ignorance??

This has been bugging me since I got it from one of my Vet pals. I think that Heroes born of drama in the human experience are important to us as examples of how human kind can rise to meet extreme circumstances. There are, however quiet ones. They go un-noticed often. I do not know the Colonel. I don't even know if he's real, for certain. This is the time of the Internet with all it's promise and peril. I do however know people and have known people that have done this job. So for them, I decided to place it here. This is heavy and I apologize for it's weight. Lately though I have had many occasions to "count my blessings" and after the smoke cleared on reading this there I was again. Kevin Burial at Sea by LtCol George Goodson, USMC (Ret) In my 76th year, the events of my life appear to me, from time to time, as a series of vignettes. Some were significant; most were trivial. War is the seminal event in the life of everyone that has endured it. Though I fought in Korea and the Dominican Republic and was wounded there, Vietnam was my war. Now 42 years have passed and, thankfully, I rarely think of those days in Cambodia, Laos, and the panhandle of North Vietnam where small teams of Americans and Montagnards fought much larger elements of the North Vietnamese Army. Instead I see vignettes: some exotic, some mundane: *The smell of Nuc Mam. *The heat, dust, and humidity. *The blue exhaust of cycles clogging the streets. *Elephants moving silently through the tall grass. *Hard eyes behind the servile smiles of the villagers. *Standing on a mountain in Laos and hearing a tiger roar. *A young girl squeezing my hand as my medic delivered her baby. *The flowing Ao Dais of the young women biking down Tran Hung Dao. *My two years as Casualty Notification Officer in North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland. It was late 1967. I had just returned after 18 months in Vietnam. Casualties were increasing. I moved my family from Indianapolis to Norfolk, rented a house, enrolled my children in their fifth or sixth new school, and bought a second car. A week later, I put on my uniform and drove 10 miles to Little Creek, Virginia. I hesitated before entering my new office. Appearance is important to career Marines. I was no longer, if ever, a poster Marine. I had returned from my third tour in Vietnam only 30 days before. At 5'9", I now weighed 128 pounds - 37 pounds below my normal weight. My uniforms fit ludicrously, my skin was yellow from malaria medication, and I think I had a twitch or two. I straightened my shoulders, walked into the office, looked at the nameplate on a Staff Sergeant's desk and said, "Sergeant Jolly, I'm Lieutenant Colonel Goodson. Here are my orders and my Qualification Jacket." Sergeant Jolly stood, looked carefully at me, took my orders, stuck out his hand; we shook and he asked, "How long were you there, Colonel?" I replied "18 months this time." Jolly breathed, you must be a slow learner Colonel." I smiled. Jolly said, "Colonel, I'll show you to your office and bring in the Sergeant Major. I said, "No, let's just go straight to his office." Jolly nodded, hesitated, and lowered his voice, "Colonel, the Sergeant Major. He's been in this job two years. He's packed pretty tight. I'm worried about him." I nodded. Jolly escorted me into the Sergeant Major's office. "Sergeant Major, this is Colonel Goodson, the new Commanding Office. The Sergeant Major stood, extended his hand and said, "Good to see you again, Colonel.. " I responded, "Hello Walt, how are you?" Jolly looked at me, raised an eyebrow, walked out, and closed the door. I sat down with the Sergeant Major. We had the obligatory cup of coffee and talked about mutual acquaintances. Walt's stress was palpable. Finally, I said, "Walt, what's the h-ll's wrong?" He turned his chair, looked out the window and said, "George, you're going to wish you were back in Nam before you leave here. I've been in the Marine Corps since 1939. I was in the Pacific 36 months, Korea for 14 months, and Vietnam for 12 months. Now I come here to bury these kids. I'm putting my letter in. I can't take it anymore." I said, "OK Walt. If that's what you want, I'll endorse your request for retirement and do what I can to push it through Headquarters Marine Corps." Sergeant Major Walt Xxxxx retired 12 weeks later. He had been a good Marine for 28 years, but he had seen too much death and too much suffering. He was used up. Over the next 16 months, I made 28 death notifications, conducted 28 military funerals, and made 30 notifications to the families of Marines that were severely wounded or missing in action. Most of the details of those casualty notifications have now, thankfully, faded from memory. Four, however, remain. MY FIRST NOTIFICATION My third or fourth day in Norfolk, I was notified of the death of a 19 year old Marine. This notification came by telephone from Headquarters Marine Corps. The information detailed: *Name, rank, and serial number. *Name, address, and phone number of next of kin. *Date of and limited details about the Marine's death. *Approximate date the body would arrive at the Norfolk Naval Air Station. *A strong recommendation on whether the casket should be opened or closed. The boy's family lived over the border in North Carolina, about 60 miles away. I drove there in a Marine Corps staff car. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I stopped at a small country store / service station / Post Office. I went in to ask directions. Three people were in the store. A man and woman approached the small Post Office window. The man held a package. The Storeowner walked up and addressed them by name, "Hello John. Good morning Mrs. Cooper." I was stunned. My casualty's next-of-kin' s name was John Cooper! I hesitated, then stepped forward and said, "I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. and Mrs. John Cooper of (address.)?" The father looked at me - I was in uniform - and then, shaking, bent at the waist, he vomited. His wife looked horrified at him and then at me. Understanding came into her eyes and she collapsed in slow motion. I think I caught her before she hit the floor. The owner took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer and handed it to Mr. Cooper who drank. I answered their questions for a few minutes. Then I drove them home in my staff car. The storeowner locked the store and followed in their truck. We stayed an hour or so until the family began arriving. I returned the storeowner to his business. He thanked me and said, "Mister, I wouldn't have your job for a million dollars.. " I shook his hand and said; "Neither would I." I vaguely remember the drive back to Norfolk. Violating about five Marine Corps regulations, I drove the staff car straight to my house. I sat with my family while they ate dinner, went into the den, closed the door, and sat there all night, alone. My Marines steered clear of me for days. I had made my first death notification. THE FUNERALS Weeks passed with more notifications and more funerals. I borrowed Marines from the local Marine Corps Reserve and taught them to conduct a military funeral: how to carry a casket, how to fire the volleys and how to fold the flag. When I presented the flag to the mother, wife, or father, I always said, "All Marines share in your grief." I had been instructed to say, "On behalf of a grateful nation....." I didn't think the nation was grateful, so I didn't say that. Sometimes, my emotions got the best of me and I couldn't speak. When that happened, I just handed them the flag and touched a shoulder. They would look at me and nod. Once a mother said to me, "I'm so sorry you have this terrible job." My eyes filled with tears and I leaned over and kissed her. ANOTHER NOTIFICATION Six weeks after my first notification, I had another. This was a young PFC. I drove to his mother's house. As always, I was in uniform and driving a Marine Corps staff car. I parked in front of the house, took a deep breath, and walked towards the house. Suddenly the door flew open, a middle-aged woman rushed out. She looked at me and ran across the yard, screaming "NO! NO! NO! NO!" I hesitated. Neighbors came out. I ran to her, grabbed her, and whispered stupid things to reassure her. She collapsed. I picked her up and carried her into the house.. Eight or nine neighbors followed. Ten or fifteen later, the father came in followed by ambulance personnel. I have no recollection of leaving. The funeral took place about two weeks later. We went through the drill. The mother never looked at me. The father looked at me once and shook his head sadly. ANOTHER NOTIFICATION One morning, as I walked in the office, the phone was ringing. Sergeant Jolly held the phone up and said, "You've got another one, Colonel." I nodded, walked into my office, picked up the phone, took notes, thanked the officer making the call, I have no idea why, and hung up. Jolly, who had listened, came in with a special Telephone Directory that translates telephone numbers into the person's address and place of employment. The father of this casualty was a Longshoreman. He lived a mile from my office. I called the Longshoreman' s Union Office and asked for the Business Manager. He answered the phone, I told him who I was, and asked for the father's schedule. The Business Manager asked, "Is it his son?" I said nothing. After a moment, he said, in a low voice, "Tom is at home today." I said, "Don't call him. I'll take care of that." The Business Manager said, "Aye, Aye Sir," and then explained, "Tom and I were Marines in WWII." I got in my staff car and drove to the house. I was in uniform. I knocked and a woman in her early forties answered the door. I saw instantly that she was clueless. I asked, "Is Mr. Smith home?" She smiled pleasantly and responded, "Yes, but he's eating breakfast now. Can you come back later?" I said, "I'm sorry. It's important. I need to see him now." She nodded, stepped back into the beach house and said, "Tom, it's for you." A moment later, a ruddy man in his late forties, appeared at the door. He looked at me, turned absolutely pale, steadied himself, and said, "Jesus Christ man, he's only been there three weeks!" Months passed. More notifications and more funerals. Then one day while I was running, Sergeant Jolly stepped outside the building and gave a loud whistle, two fingers in his mouth...... I never could do that...... and held an imaginary phone to his ear. Another call from Headquarters Marine Corps. I took notes, said, "Got it." and hung up. I had stopped saying "Thank You" long ago. Jolly, "Where?" Me, "Eastern Shore of Maryland. The father is a retired Chief Petty Officer. His brother will accompany the body back from Vietnam...." Jolly shook his head slowly, straightened, and then said, "This time of day, it'll take three hours to get there and back. I'll call the Naval Air Station and borrow a helicopter. And I'll have Captain Tolliver get one of his men to meet you and drive you to the Chief's home." He did, and 40 minutes later, I was knocking on the father's door. He opened the door, looked at me, then looked at the Marine standing at parade rest beside the car, and asked, "Which one of my boys was it, Colonel?" I stayed a couple of hours, gave him all the information, my office and home phone number and told him to call me, anytime. He called me that evening about 2300 (11:00 PM). "I've gone through my boy's papers and found his will. He asked to be buried at sea. Can you make that happen?" I said, "Yes I can, Chief. I can and I will." My wife who had been listening said, "Can you do that?" I told her, "I have no idea. But I'm going to break my ass trying." I called Lieutenant General Alpha Bowser, Commanding General, Fleet Marine Force Atlantic, at home about 2330, explained the situation, and asked, "General, can you get me a quick appointment with the Admiral at Atlantic Fleet Headquarters? "General Bowser said," George, you be there tomorrow at 0900. He will see you. I was and the Admiral did. He said coldly, "How can the Navy help the Marine Corps, Colonel." I told him the story. He turned to his Chief of Staff and said, "Which is the sharpest destroyer in port?" The Chief of Staff responded with a name. The Admiral called the ship, "Captain, you're going to do a burial at sea. You'll report to a Marine Lieutenant Colonel Goodson until this mission is completed... " He hung up, looked at me, and said, "The next time you need a ship, Colonel, call me. You don't have to sic Al Bowser on my ass.. "I responded, "Aye Aye, Sir" and got the h-ll out of his office. I went to the ship and met with the Captain, Executive Officer, and the Senior Chief. Sergeant Jolly and I trained the ship's crew for four days. Then Jolly raised a question none of us had thought of. He said, "These government caskets are air tight. How do we keep it from floating?" All the high priced help including me sat there looking dumb. Then the Senior Chief stood and said, "Come on Jolly. I know a bar where the retired guys from World War II hang out." They returned a couple of hours later, slightly the worst for wear, and said, "It's simple; we cut four 12" holes in the outer shell of the casket on each side and insert 300 lbs of lead in the foot end of the casket. We can handle that, no sweat." The day arrived. The ship and the sailors looked razor sharp. General Bowser, the Admiral, a US Senator, and a Navy Band were on board. The sealed casket was brought aboard and taken below for modification. The ship got underway to the 12-fathom depth. The sun was hot. The ocean flat. The casket was brought aft and placed on a catafalque. The Chaplin spoke. The volleys were fired. The flag was removed, folded, and I gave it to the father. The band played "Eternal Father Strong to Save." The casket was raised slightly at the head and it slid into the sea. The heavy casket plunged straight down about six feet.. The incoming water collided with the air pockets in the outer shell. The casket stopped abruptly, rose straight out of the water about three feet, stopped, and slowly slipped back into the sea. The air bubbles rising from the sinking casket sparkled in the in the sunlight as the casket disappeared from sight forever.... The next morning I called a personal friend, Lieutenant General Oscar Peatross, at Headquarters Marine Corps and said, "General, get me out of here. I can't take this anymore." I was transferred two weeks later. I was a good Marine but, after 17 years, I had seen too much death and too much suffering. I was used up. Vacating the house, my family and I drove to the office in a two-car convoy. I said my goodbyes. Sergeant Jolly walked out with me. He waved at my family, looked at me with tears in his eyes, came to attention, saluted, and said, "Well Done, Colonel. Well Done." I felt as if I had received the Medal of Honor! A veteran is someone who, at one point, wrote a blank check made payable to 'The United States of America for an amount of up to and including their life.' That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.'

4.1 gr Bullseye with 124 gr whatever! Plated, jacketed or hard cast (heavy on the hard if you don't want leading). I'm old. Been shootin Bullseye for a long time. Usually I can find that when there's shortages on everything else, so far. In the wheel gun days it was the hot setup with a 158 gr wad cutter (3.5 gr) for cheap practice ammo. I run the 124gr through a bunch of different short and long 9mm's. It was a standard for .45 ACP at 5gr behind a 230 gr slug. Recoil impulse was a bit crisp but they ran nicely and were accurate. N320 indeed!

I think the 1911 is an archetypal object. It's place in the consciousness of our species is somewhat like the "Singing Sword", a Magyar Bow or a sword made by the masters in Japan or Damascus. Save that obviously it's not a one off. It's an Industrial Age artifact. Yet it has the same mysterious attraction. Americans are an odd lot. Our heritage is one of malcontents, misfits and restless wanderers. The sorts that "don't fit in". There have always been those among our species that just don't "fall in line" or "knuckle under". For whatever reason one day they wake up, look around and the awareness dawns that they gotta get out of here, where ever "here" is. Or perhaps they just turn out to be the sort that find the hard boundaries and rules that cities, states and "civilization" seem always to turn to, in order that they may help those of less hardy constitution enjoy the illusion of feeling "safe". They end up on a ship, perhaps, sent away to a distant shore so the disturbance they carry with them every place they go, does not unsettle souls not drawn to the wild places. So...when you come to that place and you know that you'll leave the objects that others turn to for reinforcing the illusion of control and the feelings of safety, you'll begin to assemble a "kit" for the journey into the wild lands. You can carry only so much. Certain kinds objects have always accompanied that sort. I think of John M. as sort of an industrial age Merlin. Or perhaps a medicine man of great power. Just the sort you might wish to visit right before you leave safety and certainty to go on "Walk About". In a world increasingly flummoxed and confused by pretty, attractive forms that are almost wholly hollow, the 1911 in it's many permutations has a satisfying and enduring substance. I think it "speaks" in a wordless way to the part in us that refuses to cower in the dark and hope for the best. The part that says " Bring it, and you better make it good". I truly hope this part of our nature is not lost from the world! Single Stack is the one true path!

Single stack is the one true path!! This SUCH a cool place for shooters!! You'll like it!

I have undergone EXTREMELY undignified procedures of the sorts listed above. MANY times. I once had Chron's Disease. According to the AMA, much of what I will write here is "anecdotal" and therefore not true. PLEASE do not accept that B.S. argument!! I am un-insurable because of it. I have had NO Symptoms of this horrific disease for over twenty five years. I am robust and healthy!! The essential topic to comprehend falls into the category of Biofilms. This area of biology is blossoming right now in very unexpected ways. I have many Physician friends and a large percentage of them DO NOT get the significance of this. However, NIH has quietly begun The Human Microbiome Project. Look it up. Get a high quality multi-strain probiotic, make it a part of your diet and STAY ON IT!!! You will be healthier, live longer, more resistant to whatever the disease Du Jour is AND you will be smarter. Yes it's true I am a "nut" about this. My life literally depended on it. My prognosis was to die slowly, wasting away from opportunistic infections, malnutrition, and serial surgeries to snip away bits of my intestine as they became too scarred to function any longer. And worse. Look it up! I have written on this forum about this topic. YES I SELL probiotics. YES I think the ones I sell are the best you can get at any price. I have offered my FAMILY discount to any member of this forum that contacts me here. But I DO NOT CARE IF YOU BUY MINE or not!!!! I care about people being sick and dying too soon and sick because of ignorance and pigheadedness. SO...go to the Doc, get looked at to be certain. But.. there is little that will pay dividends in this life like taking charge of your own health. Please spend a little time on this!!! Live long, be well and flourish! You can search this forum for a pointer to my web site, if you care. There are pointers and FAQ pages there, that will lead you world of supportive information on this. I'm not trying to hustle my web site. I want you to live, love and be healthy for as long as you possibly can. Oh...and shoot a lot too!! ;)

There aren't that many people that manage the GSSF at Glock in Georgia so sometimes it takes awhile. Especially if someone goes on vacation. They will get it after awhile.

There are ventless catalytic gas heaters on the market for applications like this. They are radiant type and as you have an unfinished space, making it leak in a controlled way to provide make up air (combustion process will use O2 that must be replaced) should not be too hard. These require no power only a gas supply. Position it near your bench such that the radiant energy will warm you while you work. In the event of a power failure it can be used to keep pipes from freezing. Since infrared heats objects and secondary radiation will heat the air you should have little in the way of an ignition hazard with some simple precautions!

I would also add here, that the decision to be peaceful is completely meaningless without the capacity to be otherwise! The reasoning is transparent, logical and direct. Based on learning history and observing human nature over 58 years, I must say that it is true. Almost all of the real substance of the effect on a person of realizing the truth in this is beyond natural language to articulate. Response-ability. There are other words that have had their meaning lost because of over use. The hyphen helps to redefine them to consciousness. Try it! Reason or die! "The price of freedom is a constant willingness to do sudden battle with utter recklessness at any moment in it's defense."

UHH...well it DID say the edges were sharp and uhhh...well just a little one!

http://www.stumbleupon.com/to/7lEsqe/lee.org/journal/this-sign-has-sharp-edges.jpg/t:4b683347779f3;src:all Hope you laugh!

Welcome to "BEnosverse". This place is full of interesting characters and excellent information on USPSA and shooting in general. It is wide AND deep. Be sure you learn to search the repository of threads. Jeez Louise there's a lot here!

Remember "Reveille Reveille Reveille". (This is what you first hear, delivered at a volume that can make your fillings drop right out, followed by poetry, of all things!) For example; "Drop yer c***s and grab yer socks and let yer feet hit that cold hard deck"! (and just in case you missed the first call) "Reveille Reveille Reveille!"

OK G-Man obviously the sense of humor part, I'm hanging here.....but TEETH....I don't know...I don't know. Guess I could go with the I dot part too.

Jeff, Jeff, Jeff! That's why Squids, Doggies and Jarheads think the Air Force is just a country club with expensive air planes!! Quote Graham Smith "Find something completely and utterly useless and make someone guard it at night." With no bullets in your gun!

Chainsaw attachment.....MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

"How To Simulate Being A Sailor" 1. Buy a steel dumpster, paint it gray inside and out, and live in it for six months. 2. Run all the pipes and wires in your house exposed on the walls. 3. Repaint your entire house every month. 4. Renovate your bathroom. Build a wall across the middle of the bathtub and move the shower head to chest level. When you take showers, make sure you turn off the water while you soap down. 5. Put lube oil in your humidifier and set it on high. 6. Once a week, blow compressed air (or use a leaf blower)up your chimney, making sure the wind carries the soot onto your neighbor's house. Ignore his complaints. 7. Once a month, take all major appliances apart and then reassemble them. 8. Raise the thresholds and lower the headers of your front and back doors so that you either trip or bang your head every time you pass through them. 9. Disassemble and inspect your lawnmower every week. 10. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, turn your water heater temperature up to 200 degrees. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, turn the water heater off. On Saturdays and Sundays tell your family they use too much water during the week, so no bathing will be allowed. 11. Raise your bed to within 6 inches of the ceiling, so you can't turn over without getting out and then getting back in. 12. Sleep on the shelf in your closet. Replace the closet door with a curtain. Have your spouse whip open the curtain about 3 hours after you go to sleep, shine a flashlight in your eyes, and say "Sorry, wrong rack." 13. Make your family qualify to operate each appliance in your house - dishwasher operator, blender technician, etc. Re-qualify every 6 months. 14. Have your neighbor come over each day at 0500, blow a whistle so loud Helen Keller could hear it, and shout "Reveille, reveille, all hands heave out and trice up." 15. Have your mother-in-law write down everything she's going to do the following day, then have her make you stand in your back yard at 0600 while she reads it to you. 16. Submit a request chit to your father-in-law requesting permission to leave your house before 1500. 17. Empty all the garbage bins in your house and sweep the driveway three times a day, whether it needs it or not. Have someone repeat loudly, "Now sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms, give the ship a clean sweep down fore and aft, empty all S**t cans and butt kits over the fantail!" 18. Have your neighbor collect all your mail for a month, read your magazines, and randomly lose every 5th item before delivering it to you. 19. Watch no TV except for movies played in the middle of the night. Have your family vote on which movie to watch, then show a different one. Repeat the same movie several nights in a row. 20. When your children are in bed, run into their room with a megaphone shouting that your home is under attack and ordering them to their battle stations, shouting, "Now general quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations!" 21. Make your family menu a week ahead of time without consulting the pantry or refrigerator. 22. Post a menu on the kitchen door informing your family that they are having steak for dinner. Then make them wait in line for an hour. When you finally get to the kitchen, tell them you are out of steak, but they can have dried ham or hot dogs. Repeat daily until they ignore the menu and just ask for hot dogs. 23. Bake a cake. Prop up one side of the pan so the cake bakes unevenly. Spread icing real thick to level it off. 24. Get up every night around midnight and have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on stale bread. (Call this "Midrats".) 25. Set your alarm clock to go off at random during the night. At the alarm, jump up and dress as fast as you can, making sure to button your top shirt button and tuck your pants into your socks. Run out into the backyard and uncoil the garden hose. 26. Every week or so, throw your cat or dog in the pool and shout "Man overboard port side!" Rate your family members on how quickly they respond. 27. Put the headphones from your stereo on your head, but don't plug them in. Hang a paper cup around your neck on a string. Stand in front of the stove, and speak into the paper cup "Stove manned and ready." After an hour or so, speak into the cup again "Stove secured." Roll up the headphones and paper cup and stow them in a shoebox. 28. Make your family turn out all the lights and go to bed at 2200, saying, "Now taps, taps! Lights out! Maintain silence throughout the ship!" Then immediately have an 18-wheeler crash into your house (for the benefit of aircraft sailors). 29. Build a fire in a trash can in your garage. Loudly announce to your family, "This is a drill! This is a drill! Fire in hangar bay one!" 30. Place a podium at the end of your driveway. Have your family stand watches at the podium, rotating at 4 hour intervals. This is best done when the weather is worst. January is a good time. 31. When there is a thunderstorm in your area, get a wobbly rocking chair, sit in it and rock as hard as you can until you become nauseated. Make sure to have a supply of stale crackers in your shirt pocket. ALT: Find the biggest horse you can, put a 2-inch mattress on his back, and strap yourself to it. Turn him loose in a barn filled with snakes for six hours and try to sleep. Then get up and go to work. 32. For former engineers: bring your lawn mower into the living room and run it all day long. 33. Make coffee using eighteen scoops of budget priced coffee grounds per pot; let the pot simmer for 5 hours before drinking. 34. Have someone under the age of ten give you a haircut with sheep shears. 35. Sew the back pockets of your jeans on the front. 36. Add 1/3 cup diesel fuel to the laundry. 37. Take hourly readings on your electric and water meters. 38. Every couple of weeks, dress up in your best clothes and go to the scummiest part of town. Find the most run down, trashiest bar, and drink beer until you are hammered. Then walk all the way home. 39. Lock yourself and your family in the house for six weeks. Tell them that at the end of the 6th week you are going to take them to Disney World for "liberty." At the end of the 6th week, inform them the trip to Disney World has been canceled because they need to get ready for an inspection, and it will be another week before they can leave the house. No Really it's like this! Stolen from the author SHAMELESSLY!

I knew he was a better man than I, when I watched the segment where he was ripping boards out of a log by hand to make a door for his cabin. My Grand Dad had saws like that, as he trimmed trees among other things. I've run hand saws like that WHOA! Damned good carpenter too!

I shot a match last Sunday near an Army base. I met a young Warrior at that match that had come to practice with us and had a chance to talk with him. I was just blown away by this young man. 2 tours in the box and ready to go back for more. I'm a Vet. Col. North is dead on. These kids are the BEST, and we are Blessed.

Mad Max Wisdom! Universal truth of the human experience! No exceptions! Speed is only a question of money, how fast do you wanna go?