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      Abbreviated rules   07/28/2017

      Underdawg did an excellent job of explaining the rules.  Here's the simplified version: Don't insinuate Pedo.  Warning and or timeout for a first offense.  PermaFlick for any subsequent offenses Don't out members.  See above for penalties.  Caveat:  if you have ever used your own real name or personal information here on the forums since, like, ever - it doesn't count and you are fair game. If you see spam posts, report it to the mods.  We do not hang out in every thread 24/7 If you see any of the above, report it to the mods by hitting the Report button in the offending post.   We do not take action for foul language, off-subject content, or abusive behavior unless it escalates to persistent stalking.  There may be times that we might warn someone or flick someone for something particularly egregious.  There is no standard, we will know it when we see it.  If you continually report things that do not fall into rules #1 or 2 above, you may very well get a timeout yourself for annoying the Mods with repeated whining.  Use your best judgement. Warnings, timeouts, suspensions and flicks are arbitrary and capricious.  Deal with it.  Welcome to anarchy.   If you are a newbie, there are unwritten rules to adhere to.  They will be explained to you soon enough.  

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El Mariachi

'I can't believe we made it'....

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.

 

....Nina Hagen and Ecstacy. It was all downhill from there.

 

I dunno, Nina was pretty far down the hill at that point.

 

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Funny, this is the same generation that has produced the couch potato, self absorbed idiots that populate the world today and yet their parents sit back and wonder why the world is all fucked up. It didn't happen in a vacuum, you ass carrots. If you hadn't been passed over for that Little League team position when you were little, you wouldn't be "That" parent screaming at the coach for not selecting your little ill behaved, overweight, mouth breathing monster.

 

Another item, people have been around for a few milenia, it's funny how each generation likes to think they are special for having survived in to middle age and beyond. Guess what you narcissistic buttwads, everyone before you made it too. Get over it. Get you and your kids off of the fuking couch, stop sharing your nauseating life on Facebook and do something real.

 

*The rant above is not directed at any SA'ers, just at the world in general. And get of my lawn!

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Well, "back in my day" we knew how to spell millennia. The soaker is a good example of the modern kid: too lazy to right-click on the spellchecker even with the red line staring him in the face.

 

 

NTTAWWT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Well, "back in my day" we knew how to spell millennia. The soaker is a good example of the modern kid: too lazy to right-click on the spellchecker even with the red line staring him in the face.

 

 

NTTAWWT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What red lienes?

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Well, "back in my day" we knew how to spell millennia. The soaker is a good example of the modern kid: too lazy to right-click on the spellchecker even with the red line staring him in the face.

 

 

NTTAWWT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What red lienes?

Dropping the ball Snaggs. You got one word correct there. I hope it's not catching.

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We had a family reunion this past weekend, and me and my two same age cousins we're talking about this... all the crap we did, crazy plans we came up with and excuted, trouble we got into, and we're here today.

 

As a reference point, I was born in the Eisenhower Administration; I remember air-raid drills and bomb shelters… we were ground zero in those days, use to go to Saturday matinee movies by ourselves, ate Good Humor ice cream, etc… built tree forts from construction scrap lumber and maybe a few borrowed sheets of plywood… had our own Ithica .22 rifles before the 5th grade… knew how to patch a flat bike tire, etc…. Oh! Yea forgot.... use to get the shit kicked out of us by the nuns if we couldn’t add, subtract, multiply or divide fractions on the spot without paper, understood Latin, or didn’t have your homework done. And may all the saints help you if your shoes weren’t polished..

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Living in the western world over the past 50 years. Yeah that must have been some rough shit.

Oh yeah, Manhattan Beach was an absolute 5th World shit hole back in the day.....:lol:

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Funny, this is the same generation that has produced the couch potato, self absorbed idiots that populate the world today and yet their parents sit back and wonder why the world is all fucked up. It didn't happen in a vacuum, you ass carrots. If you hadn't been passed over for that Little League team position when you were little, you wouldn't be "That" parent screaming at the coach for not selecting your little ill behaved, overweight, mouth breathing monster.

 

Another item, people have been around for a few milenia, it's funny how each generation likes to think they are special for having survived in to middle age and beyond. Guess what you narcissistic buttwads, everyone before you made it too. Get over it. Get you and your kids off of the fuking couch, stop sharing your nauseating life on Facebook and do something real.

 

*The rant above is not directed at any SA'ers, just at the world in general. And get of my lawn!

Boom

 

I agree 100%, parents act like they had nothing to do with the outcome.

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If sailing survives, I wonder when regattas will start giving out participation trophies.

 

I remember not being picked for the 7th grade basketball team. I was butthurt and thought my world was over. My dad just told me to HTFU work harder in our driveway court and put me in a church league. By the end of the basketball season I was better than most team members tails on the court in PE.

 

As a child of the fifties, it seems to me the eighties were when the slide toward over-protectiveness began. Was that when all the missing kids started showing up on milk cartons?

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Milk carton missing kids was in the 70's, from what I can remember. Some scary stuff was going on back then. Hasn't gotten any better today.

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Well, "back in my day" we knew how to spell millennia. The soaker is a good example of the modern kid: too lazy to right-click on the spellchecker even with the red line staring him in the face.

 

 

NTTAWWT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just starting my 6th decade, so thanks for calling me a kid, that felt good, although compared to someone of your age I am sure I am a kid. As far as spelling, as the CEO and chairman of the Vowels for Poland campaign, I occasionally omit a vowel to show solidarity with my vowel deficient countrymen. The missing "n" was however an oversight. We can discuss that mistake in Pedantry Anarchy if you like.

 

BTW, spell checker is two words, that red line staring you in the face should have tipped you off. ;)

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Too fukin shay, sir. I gots me 2 red lines right there. I do take your points. I've hustled my butt off over these 7+ decades, mostly due to the bad luck of no trust fund. My eldest, 28, is a starving artist who lives on Lake Shore Dr. and isn't starving due to his great fortune of genetics. He once called me a slacker. I guess that's because I missed out on those Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes, wasn't elevated to the USSC and didn't win a Super Bowl. His mother, my trophy ex, and a do-gooder beyond measure is an old lefty of the spare the rod sentiment. The kid is still pissed I sent him to Outward Bound. My childhood WAS outward bound. I thought it was pretty good.

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Too fukin shay, sir. I gots me 2 red lines right there. I do take your points. I've hustled my butt off over these 7+ decades, mostly due to the bad luck of no trust fund. My eldest, 28, is a starving artist who lives on Lake Shore Dr. and isn't starving due to his great fortune of genetics. He once called me a slacker. I guess that's because I missed out on those Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes, wasn't elevated to the USSC and didn't win a Super Bowl. His mother, my trophy ex, and a do-gooder beyond measure is an old lefty of the spare the rod sentiment. The kid is still pissed I sent him to Outward Bound. My childhood WAS outward bound. I thought it was pretty good.

It's ok old timer, it sounds like you did ok. My almost 25 y.o. daughter is in her last year of pre-med, has a 3.9 GPA and does't use Facebook often among many other good qualities so I am pretty happy about her. Bit of a slacker myself but I have had a pretty interesting life so...

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If sailing survives, I wonder when regattas will start giving out participation trophies.

 

 

 

You must have never been to a wooden boat regatta.

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We were up in the high country camping and came across a father and his two sons walking back to camp along side the road after a long hike. After we passed I looked in the rearview mirror saw the father stick out his thumb. Stopped, backed up and picked them up. We have a extended cab but they jumped in the bed and down the road we went. I remember riding in the back of pickups when young and it made me smile that these boys got to enjoy what we took for granted when young. Doubt the father was old enough to have enjoyed it as well when young.

 

Good times.

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Chum

 

I was just learning to walk during my Dads tour on Guam. He and his buddies would haul icechests and picnic baskets to the tropical waterfall well up the mountain and the moms and kids would follow along. After the long hot sweaty climb to the falls, everyone would jump in the pool at the base of the falls to cool off. Afterward, when opening the picnic baskets to eat, there would always be items missing like fried chicken and other goodies that the womenfolk would swear had been packed back at the kitchen. Many years later when the Japanese soldier who had hidden out for decades we realized that it must have been him raiding the picnic baskets. In his account of those long years in the jungle, he admitted hiding near the remote falls and it wasn't until he stole a Sunday newspaper and saw the Emperor shaking hands with President Nixon did he believe that the war was actually over.

 

http://www.history.com/speeches/speeches-hirohito-visits-the-united-states

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That generation also spawned

The Lawyers that realized they could sue for any reason and collect for filing paper work.

The Ass hole Politicos that have regulated the US to DEATH, especially in Calif.

More Lobbists in congress than elected officials.

 

I survived the Punk era too.

 

 

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Guest Dabnis

Many years ago, our two daughters, now in their fifties, "interacted" with varying neighbor's kids. I found out:

 

"Never, ever, criticize your neighbor's dogs or kids, in that order".

 

Pauk T

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At the club the other day and the paid adult tennis instructor for our junior program tells me he supplied the names of the kids that should get

awards at the annual dinner to the parent member volunteer who oversees the program. most improved, MVP, best record, etc

Next day parent gives the list back to the instructor and says please change 5-6 names on the list and pick different kids.

Instructor asks why?

Parent says those kids won awards last year, and we want to spread them around

Instructor says ok, might be some of the same kids, but these awards are for different achievements than last year. different age groups, etc, Not the same thing.

Parent says no matter, we want to spread them around

Instructor disagreed but changed the names and then caught hell from parents who's kids were ripped off.

Then you have to sit through 150 kids individually being called up and getting participation awards.

 

Used to be the team tee shirt you got to wear as a uniform was your participation award.

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Guest Dabnis

At the club the other day and the paid adult tennis instructor for our junior program tells me he supplied the names of the kids that should get

awards at the annual dinner to the parent member volunteer who oversees the program. most improved, MVP, best record, etc

Next day parent gives the list back to the instructor and says please change 5-6 names on the list and pick different kids.

Instructor asks why?

Parent says those kids won awards last year, and we want to spread them around

Instructor says ok, might be some of the same kids, but these awards are for different achievements than last year. different age groups, etc, Not the same thing.

Parent says no matter, we want to spread them around

Instructor disagreed but changed the names and then caught hell from parents who's kids were ripped off.

Then you have to sit through 150 kids individually being called up and getting participation awards.

 

Used to be the team tee shirt you got to wear as a uniform was your participation award.

 

Rewarding achievement is so unfair.

 

Paul T

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Funny, this is the same generation that has produced the couch potato, self absorbed idiots that populate the world today and yet their parents sit back and wonder why the world is all fucked up. It didn't happen in a vacuum, you ass carrots. If you hadn't been passed over for that Little League team position when you were little, you wouldn't be "That" parent screaming at the coach for not selecting your little ill behaved, overweight, mouth breathing monster.

 

Another item, people have been around for a few milenia, it's funny how each generation likes to think they are special for having survived in to middle age and beyond. Guess what you narcissistic buttwads, everyone before you made it too. Get over it. Get you and your kids off of the fuking couch, stop sharing your nauseating life on Facebook and do something real.

 

*The rant above is not directed at any SA'ers, just at the world in general. And get of my lawn!

Boom

 

I agree 100%, parents act like they had nothing to do with the outcome.

 

 

 

TV.... the downfall... it was our parents who thought it was ok to sit in front of the tv all day / night... which morfed into sitting in front of the computer and now cell phones...

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Jarts.

 

Klik-N-Klaks.

 

 

That is all.

Is that the clickity clack Savage you mean?

 

 

Nope, these toys.

51Jo7r192eL._SX466__zpsapiceicf.jpg

 

71bb4b70d4aa2142b9cf3544b5333171ZXJlenBs

 

Plastic resin toys that you would get going in a high speed opposite circle and hit each other producing a "klik klak" sound.

 

The plastic balls would (supposedly) shatter and take out an eye (producing a Lawyers wet dream).

 

 

And, no, I was far too young and innocent to even think of any other uses for them.

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Jarts.

 

Klik-N-Klaks.

 

 

That is all.

 

 

If you can find a pic of the Lovely Nurse on F/Book.....you'll see just how good dentistry actually was back in '71.....

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At the club the other day and the paid adult tennis instructor for our junior program tells me he supplied the names of the kids that should get

awards at the annual dinner to the parent member volunteer who oversees the program. most improved, MVP, best record, etc

Next day parent gives the list back to the instructor and says please change 5-6 names on the list and pick different kids.

Instructor asks why?

Parent says those kids won awards last year, and we want to spread them around

Instructor says ok, might be some of the same kids, but these awards are for different achievements than last year. different age groups, etc, Not the same thing.

Parent says no matter, we want to spread them around

Instructor disagreed but changed the names and then caught hell from parents who's kids were ripped off.

Then you have to sit through 150 kids individually being called up and getting participation awards.

 

Used to be the team tee shirt you got to wear as a uniform was your participation award.

 

Rewarding achievement is so unfair.

 

Paul T

 

Back in the '80s the military decided they need a ribbon to take the place of the Letter of Commendation because the letters only showed up in your 201 (personnel) file, not on your uniform. At the time the lowest ribbon for doing something good during peacetime was the Army Commendation Medal (ARCOM) which actually required something pretty significant to be awarded. So they came out with the Army Achievement Medal (AAM) which was basically an atta boy you could wear over your left pocket.

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Jarts.

 

Klik-N-Klaks.

 

 

That is all.

Is that the clickity clack Savage you mean?

 

 

Nope, these toys.

51Jo7r192eL._SX466__zpsapiceicf.jpg

 

71bb4b70d4aa2142b9cf3544b5333171ZXJlenBs

 

Plastic resin toys that you would get going in a high speed opposite circle and hit each other producing a "klik klak" sound.

 

The plastic balls would (supposedly) shatter and take out an eye (producing a Lawyers wet dream).

 

 

And, no, I was far too young and innocent to even think of any other uses for them.

 

These days they would come with a full face helmet. Like an Opti.

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Guest Dabnis

 

 

At the club the other day and the paid adult tennis instructor for our junior program tells me he supplied the names of the kids that should get

awards at the annual dinner to the parent member volunteer who oversees the program. most improved, MVP, best record, etc

Next day parent gives the list back to the instructor and says please change 5-6 names on the list and pick different kids.

Instructor asks why?

Parent says those kids won awards last year, and we want to spread them around

Instructor says ok, might be some of the same kids, but these awards are for different achievements than last year. different age groups, etc, Not the same thing.

Parent says no matter, we want to spread them around

Instructor disagreed but changed the names and then caught hell from parents who's kids were ripped off.

Then you have to sit through 150 kids individually being called up and getting participation awards.

 

Used to be the team tee shirt you got to wear as a uniform was your participation award.

 

Rewarding achievement is so unfair.

 

Paul T

 

Back in the '80s the military decided they need a ribbon to take the place of the Letter of Commendation because the letters only showed up in your 201 (personnel) file, not on your uniform. At the time the lowest ribbon for doing something good during peacetime was the Army Commendation Medal (ARCOM) which actually required something pretty significant to be awarded. So they came out with the Army Achievement Medal (AAM) which was basically an atta boy you could wear over your left pocket.

 

 

Right, I got out of the Navy Reserve in 1961. In the 8 years I was in, I didn't kill anyone, blow up anything, capture or rescue anyone.

So, I didn't receive any medals. However, I did get to keep my uniform with the Construction Electrician, 2nd Class emblem on the sleeve.

 

IIRC, it had the big flap in the front, with 13 buttons.

 

Paul T

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

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Guest Dabnis

My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

 

I did some testing on these in our garage, which is the first floor of our entire house footprint, into wet newspaper:

 

https://www.corbon.com/General/glaser-safety-slug.html

 

They worked exactly as described, oh my!! My wife, upstairs, was a bit concerned about the neighbors hearing the sound.

She said "It shakes the house, you know.

 

No, the police never came to the door.

 

Paul T

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

My dad brought home a mirror shipping crate that was made out of wood... I am guessing it was 3' X 5' X 1'. It was from Italy and kind of a work of art itself. He stood it up way far away in our back yard and refiled it with sand. Then he got some bulls eye targets and couple boxes of .22 amo and let us have at it why he sat there and superivised for the first couple of hours... after that in his mind we were good to go..

 

Do that these day and you'll be on the 5:00 PM news and the moring talk show circut..

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

My dad brought home a mirror shipping crate that was made out of wood... I am guessing it was 3' X 5' X 1'. It was from Italy and kind of a work of art itself. He stood it up way far away in our back yard and refiled it with sand. Then he got some bulls eye targets and couple boxes of .22 amo and let us have at it why he sat there and superivised for the first couple of hours... after that in his mind we were good to go..

 

Do that these day and you'll be on the 5:00 PM news and the moring talk show circut..

 

 

 

Would you believe that in '71, my buddies and I would actually drive our mini-bikes across Manhattan Beach to the gigantic TRW property near MB Blvd.& Aviation with our .22's and (shudder)........shoot jack rabbits?.....

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Paging Tom Ray, Paging Tom Ray. Tom Ray please report to GA. Another Gun thread drift in progress. That is all.

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It's a thread about being lucky to be alive. We were kids armed with semi automatic rifles. Not only are we lucky to have made it, so is everyone around us. :)

 

Fuck, no. We had bolt-action. I took the police firearm safety course that was held in the basement of the police station. We blew the hell out of targets using Lee-Enfields rebored for .22 load. There were dozens of us there, waving around loaded rifles, trusting as all hell.

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Not sure it was luck with us when it came to real rifles. We started early and were usually supervised until age 14 or so when we got driver's licenses.

 

I think I was nine or ten when my dad gave me his old Remington 550-1 semiauto, which he'd refinished and re-blued with the love only a father can give. When I was still living at home, he'd use it whenever he wanted. After I moved 75 miles away, he was always borrowing it. After five or six years of that, I found him a near NIB 550-1. Hid it behind the curtain at Christmas to give him a taste of his own medicine.

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Road skiing was popular when I was young. I wont elaborate but it involved cars, riding boots, beer and doctors. And police on one memorable occasion.

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Road skiing was popular when I was young. I wont elaborate but it involved cars, riding boots, beer and doctors. And police on one memorable occasion.

We did Van's tennis shoes screwed to old water skis. Lash in, grab the 'tow' rope and I'd drag your drunk ass down 12th Street then crack the whip ya at Center. We went thru a lotta coke and Bandaids back then at Heathen Corner.....

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Road skiing was popular when I was young. I wont elaborate but it involved cars, riding boots, beer and doctors. And police on one memorable occasion.

We did Van's tennis shoes screwed to old water skis. Lash in, grab the 'tow' rope and I'd drag your drunk ass down 12th Street then crack the whip ya at Center. We went thru a lotta coke and Bandaids back then at Heathen Corner.....

 

:) Garbage can lid tubing was fun as well but because of the noise you couldn't use the same street twice on the same night.

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The cool thing about the clickity clack was that it could also fire from the locked bolt position, which necessitated clambering each round one at a time. We used to think we got more fps without the blowback loss. Also, it never fired a whole magazine on semiauto without some kind of stoppage anyway, maybe that kept us from becoming mass murderers, who knows.

The stoppage part sounds like an M-16. I always liked firing the M-16, no recoil, very light, very accurate but jebus those things love to jam.

 

When I was a teen we would walk through our suburban community carrying an old Ithaca lever action single shot .22 and a Remington pump .22 with a 10 round tube magazine and a hundred or so rounds of .22 longs.. We would go to the railroad tracks on the edge of town and plink at beer cans in the woods next to the tracks. We would go back there at night with a couple of six packs of whatever was on sale to ensure there were always empty cans to shoot at. I guess if we tried that today it wouldn't end well.

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Can we not turn everything into a gun thread?

 

It hasn't turned out so well and I can't convince my child how good it has become.

So, you are against the 2nd?

 

Damn, I always wanted to say that!

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Can we not turn everything into a gun thread?

 

It hasn't turned out so well and I can't convince my child how good it has become.

So, you are against the 2nd?

 

Damn, I always wanted to say that!

 

 

 

I don't know what the 2nd is but I'm guessing it's a shit of a thing.

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

My dad brought home a mirror shipping crate that was made out of wood... I am guessing it was 3' X 5' X 1'. It was from Italy and kind of a work of art itself. He stood it up way far away in our back yard and refiled it with sand. Then he got some bulls eye targets and couple boxes of .22 amo and let us have at it why he sat there and superivised for the first couple of hours... after that in his mind we were good to go..

 

Do that these day and you'll be on the 5:00 PM news and the moring talk show circut..

 

 

 

Would you believe that in '71, my buddies and I would actually drive our mini-bikes across Manhattan Beach to the gigantic TRW property near MB Blvd.& Aviation with our .22's and (shudder)........shoot jack rabbits?.....

 

 

We eventually graduated to four legged targets.... mainly the rats in the barn... We had to use shotguns for rabbits..

 

By the way Snowman... have you talked to your buddy Falcon lately?

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

My dad brought home a mirror shipping crate that was made out of wood... I am guessing it was 3' X 5' X 1'. It was from Italy and kind of a work of art itself. He stood it up way far away in our back yard and refiled it with sand. Then he got some bulls eye targets and couple boxes of .22 amo and let us have at it why he sat there and superivised for the first couple of hours... after that in his mind we were good to go..

 

Do that these day and you'll be on the 5:00 PM news and the moring talk show circut..

 

 

 

Would you believe that in '71, my buddies and I would actually drive our mini-bikes across Manhattan Beach to the gigantic TRW property near MB Blvd.& Aviation with our .22's and (shudder)........shoot jack rabbits?.....

 

So you're the one who shot out the window in my Father's Corvair.

 

I still remember that day he came home from work...

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I'm from "the great northern land" we called this "bumper shining"...you stood on the edge of the street and caught on to the bumper of a passing car and skied behind it on your shoes until you fell off.

Road skiing was popular when I was young. I wont elaborate but it involved cars, riding boots, beer and doctors. And police on one memorable occasion.

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Anyone ever can cars at night by stretching fishing line across the road at bumper level with cans attached to the ends?

 

Great sport, although it helped to be able to sprint at least a hundred yards if your target turned out to be older teens or young adults.



 

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

Really, we used to fly model helium dirigibles in our basement when we lived in Madison, WI. My dad was Air Force.

It really made you think in terms of 3D movement. and to plan ahead before making adjustments. I was about 6 or 7 yrs old.

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Funny, this is the same generation that has produced the couch potato, self absorbed idiots that populate the world today and yet their parents sit back and wonder why the world is all fucked up. It didn't happen in a vacuum, you ass carrots. If you hadn't been passed over for that Little League team position when you were little, you wouldn't be "That" parent screaming at the coach for not selecting your little ill behaved, overweight, mouth breathing monster.

 

Another item, people have been around for a few milenia, it's funny how each generation likes to think they are special for having survived in to middle age and beyond. Guess what you narcissistic buttwads, everyone before you made it too. Get over it. Get you and your kids off of the fuking couch, stop sharing your nauseating life on Facebook and do something real.

 

*The rant above is not directed at any SA'ers, just at the world in general. And get of my lawn!

 

This is POTW material!

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Used to be the team tee shirt you got to wear as a uniform was your participation award.

 

BOOM!

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My dad and I had a shooting range in the basement, we shot .22's into telephone books and boxes of newspapers. No ear protection, middle of suburbia, no problems with neighbours...the good old days.

 

My dad brought home a mirror shipping crate that was made out of wood... I am guessing it was 3' X 5' X 1'. It was from Italy and kind of a work of art itself. He stood it up way far away in our back yard and refiled it with sand. Then he got some bulls eye targets and couple boxes of .22 amo and let us have at it why he sat there and superivised for the first couple of hours... after that in his mind we were good to go..

 

Do that these day and you'll be on the 5:00 PM news and the moring talk show circut..

 

but some now aspire to be on the news...

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Road skiing was popular when I was young. I wont elaborate but it involved cars, riding boots, beer and doctors. And police on one memorable occasion.

we did "bumper hitching" behind city buses. in the winter. you could ski for hours until the driver caught you.

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It's a thread about being lucky to be alive. We were kids armed with semi automatic rifles. Not only are we lucky to have made it, so is everyone around us. :)

 

Fuck, no. We had bolt-action. I took the police firearm safety course that was held in the basement of the police station. We blew the hell out of targets using Lee-Enfields rebored for .22 load. There were dozens of us there, waving around loaded rifles, trusting as all hell.

 

dad's training for shooting groundhogs with the old cooey 22s was "don't shoot at the house, and don't shoot in the barn". he never did find out where all the holes in the fence posts came from.

 

i picked up a box of CIL whiz bangs just for nostalgia recently.

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