AGYoung

My 650xl also went KaBOOM. Forced a primer and bang. I posted the pix on this site in case anyone wants to see. Only casuality was my underware needed changed. That was a LOUD bang. Anyway, I called Dillon and they sent me a COMPLETE primer system. Not only is the equipment bullet (me) proof but their warranty is also the same.

Chickens in Choppers - I love it

WW231 is mine

My favorite is 230gr FMJ over 6.1gr WW231. Been using this since 1994 with great results

The warranty, the customer service, and the quality of the products keep me coming back for more.

I'm still awake. Never be able to sleep again.

That's exactly what I mean, that's an analog answer to a digital person. I read in inch pounds. Finger tight begs to to question my fingure or your finger. To me finger tight is 30 inch pounds which is way too tight for correct function. I live and die by exact information. Can I get a torque setting for each bolt and screw to make me happy and sleep snuggly at night?

Even so it's still a good read

If you want the best laugh pepole fighting back go to www.ebolamonkeyman.com

I'm going to figure out where to get one, no two, as many as I can get.

I have a real cheap fix. I put mine on a mouse pad that sits on a small piece of carpet. Absorbs the harsh vibration and slows the process. I'm loading .45. A .22 cal brass rod cleans the tube after each days session. I also clean the bowl with acetone on a QTip. The bushing I clean with windex. The red bushing is adjusted to .001 and I've had zero problems. Just like anything else, you have to maintain your equipment.

I had a similar problem, I was tightening the pawl screw too tight. It only needs to be snug the rubber washer holds it nicely. I'll agree a drop of friction fighter never hurts. I just wish Dillon would provide torque settings for the nuts and bolts. I like having an exact spec to follow.

When you vac / pack, how long does the vac last? I loose it after 3 / 4 weeks no mater how I seal them.

I'll never be able to look at a Ninja the same way again.

I wrote it and I still get a tear everytime I read it. I just think od Ugly and my world is in perspective again.

One of the best I've heard to date.

My sister in law was perfectly serious and didn't catch on until my wife and I were ROFLing. After 3 Whats? We told her. She didn't truly get it until my brother explained it to her.

It is very true that many walk among us. I have even had a few of them in my employ. Former engineers, teachers and yes one PhD. It doesn’t take a lot to come up with a few of these “gems”, only the keen ear to hear them when they happen. Dilbert has been based on the “gem” people. To add one. My sister in law was talking with my wife and I prior to our marrage. Since we were of different faiths, she asked about our future children. My wife and I both said we were really agnostic. Without missing a beat she said with a straight face “Well, I guess the kids will be diagnostic, then”

I put all my loaded into Dillion / Midway 100 round boxes. Gives me a chance to inspect each round and mark them with my cross code so I have a chance to retrieve them at club matches. If you find .45 ACP with a black / red cross, they are mine. I then put them into vacuume sealed food bags. It's takes up less space, are water proof and easy to throw extras in the car, just in case.

A small coffee can full has been my best luck load. More it jams up, less it runs out too soon.

To me a firearm is a precision machine part and since nobody asked to see what was in the box, it went to UPS, got shipped ground and arrived at the destination (the manufacture of said firearm) as it should. What the heck is wrong with that?

Who remembers putting match stick in the fence post and shooting them with a .22? How did you feel when you lit one? Can you say on top of the world?

I guess ya' all know my grandma, Uh?

I've had one for 17 years and haven't used it very much. I was getting military once fired .45 ACP and once I did the batch, I was done. I tried to remform some .45 ACP range pick up that had small PP with no luck. Doesn't work for that. Trash can works best.

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long age been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark grey tabby, striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!" All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him, up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find. One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear. Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain. Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.