Timestepper

Well Dave, how far are you from the Mapco Station at exit 24 in Pleasant View? I stopped by there for coffee twice in two days (on the way to and from Marion, Illinois.) and I'd sure be honored to buy you a cup sometime. Far as that goes, I've been known to hit the Pilot over in Oak Grove at exit 89 in Kentucky, too.

Ever notice how "Little Debbie" is shown on the box only from the neck up? Ever wonder why that is? It's because, after all those delicious treats, from the neck down she's "BIG Debbie."

Congrats! Today is my oldest brother's 61st birthday, so she shares her b-day with a helluva' guy! (Just don't don't ever tell him I said that!)

Two lines immediately come to mind: "That's no hog, that's my wife!" And "That was no accident, that was unyielding stupidity!"

Last time I floated - 'bout three weeks ago - I could have limited out if I'd felt like cleaning fish, so I guess that's a 'yes.' Come to think of it, of all the times I've fished the Clinch (and that's been a BUNCH!), the only time I've ever even seen a Game Warden was at the take out ramp and he spent 5 minutes admiring my canoe cart without ever asking for my license.

Those weren't mishaps, they were character builders! I'd like to have check me again too, Dave. Unfortunately she's eleven hundred miles and more than twenty years in the past from where I am now.

It's stocked - Eagle Bend Hatchery is just across the river from where I take out - but there's also a better than fair amount of wild fish. Currently there's a 14 - 21 inch slot limit and only one fish over 21 inches may be kept. I might also mention that the state record Brown (28lbs,12oz) came out of this same stretch of water.

Ramjo, you may very well be right, but not thinking about fish is almost a cardinal sin in my family. Then again, the most recent story I've told here happened back in '91 - I don't claim to be perfect now, but I'd like to think that I've learned at least a little bit over the years. Naw, hipower, this happened in the mid-late '80's, so they'd probably be old and wrinkly by now. (But damn, they sure looked looked good back then!) (And I still get tongue tied around beautiful women.)

Welcome home, Jack!

Welcome home, Robert!

At one time Sassafras was the "New World's" biggest export to Europe. It does indeed seem to have very good tonic qualities and my wife and I drink Sassafras tea on a fairly regular basis. Besides the tonic effect, it also has anti-coagulant properties. Sassafras was banned from commercial sale several years ago (1960, I think) because safrole is indeed a carcinogen and anecdotal evidence seemed to show that extended consumption could cause liver damage over time. What the freak-the-f*uck-out panic spreaders of the FDA didn't bother to take in account about safrole is it can not be metabolized by humans and so poses (in my understanding) no real negative health risk. I also seem to recall that in the early/mid 90's the ban was removed from Sassafras extracts from which the safrole has been removed. Aside from that (we have sassafras growing all over our ridge and ready to hand), we also have mullein (Indian tobacco), rosemary, sage, calendula, purslane, cinnamon basil and a few others that I can't think of right off hand.

Wow, good stuff! WD - We're anxiously waiting for some more stories! In the mean time, I can certainly identify with you - In high school, I hit a 'coon with my car one Friday night and, since he wasn't torn up too badly, I tossed him on the floorboard in the back seat figuring that I'd skin him out on Saturday morning. Great plan until the son of a b*tch came back to life just as I was pulling into the driveway at home! (When Pop found out the whole story of why my car rolled over the rose bushes and smacked the squirrel feeder was because I'd bailed out of the car before it stopped whilst trying to escape a pissed off 'coon, he didn't even ground me!) R_Bert - I feel your pain. When I was in high school, I had a little Dodge Dart and one weekend a buddy and I went up to Kanopolis Reservoir (in West Central Kansas) to do some fishing. We'd parked in the parking lot of one of the swimming areas, had the trunk open and were getting our stuff ready and I laid my car keys on top of the ice chest and promptly forgot about them while I was getting my rod rigged up. Finally got everything ready to go and as I was closing the trunk lid, I noticed my keys still on top of the cooler. At that point,everything seemed to go into slow motion. I saw the keys, understood what they were and that they weren't in my pocket but was somehow powerless to stop the trunk lid from closing; KA-THUNK... CLICK! "Oh holy crap! I can't believe I just did that!" Since the front of the car was already locked up, after discussing it for a minute we decided to go ahead and fish and worry about it later. Four hours later, we were more or less fishless but thirsty as hell and thought maybe we ought to see if we could figure out a way to get things opened up. I knew the back of the back seat would come out fairly easily and allow limited access to the trunk and I'd used a coat hanger to unlock the car once before. Of course, we were at the lake and there wasn't a freakin' coat hanger with 25 miles, but I was young and resourceful and finally came up with the idea of breaking off the radio antenna and bending it into a hook. Surprisingly, it worked like a charm and I was inside and had the back seat out within a couple of minutes. Problem was that while I was trying to reach through into the trunk, I accidentally kicked the gear shift into neutral and the car started rolling... toward the freakin' lake! My buddy couldn't get in to hit the brake because my legs were in the way, and he couldn't reach the brake with his hand because I'd slid the front seat all the way forward to facilitate removing the back seat, but at the last moment he had a flash of pure inspired genius and grabbed the wheel and steered the car into a huge rock! When the car slammed to a stop, I shot out from where I'd been wedged, broke off the rear-view mirror and cut my hand on an exposed screw. But my car keys plopped off the cooler, out of the trunk to the floor board! We were so busy congratulating each other that it wasn't until we'd gotten the car back up to the parking lot and reloaded that we noticed the pin hole in the radiator from when the car had hit the rock... Still feeling pretty proud, I once again unlocked the trunk and rummaged around until I found some Stop-Leak while my buddy took a bucket and went to the lake after some water. It didn't take long for the Stop-Leak to work and we decided to reward ourselves with a quick swim before heading home. Not being one to tempt fate any more than I already had, and since we were the only ones there, I made a point of leaving my car keys ON THE ROOF OF THE CAR. I'm gonna' stop right there with just one little warning: Guys, don't EVER leave your keys on the roof of your vehicle when there are magpies around - you really will not like trying to explain things to your parents after you've walked four miles to the nearest payphone and called them collect. Edited to add: I just read back through this thread and scared the hell out of myself. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea for a new thread after all?

There is, but it ain't pleasant: The firecrackers landed right between them and started going off. The Warden jumped and fell backwards off his bucket while his son screamed and wet his pants. Still thinking it was my buddies, I was rolling on the ground laughing when the Warden got there and wanted to know in no uncertain terms just WTF was going on and did I have any idea what kind of effing trouble I was in? As it slowly sank into my head what I'd done, I started stammering and apologizing all over the place. He kept chewing my butt and by the time my buddies actually walked up from where they'd been fishing, I was pretty sure I was going to jail or at least losing my hunting & fishing privileges for life. Fortunately, by then the Warden's son had stopped crying and the Warden himself had calmed down enough to remember that he'd been young and stupid once himself, so he chewed my butt for another twenty minutes and then made me promise that I'd never ever EVER do anything like that ever again. (I haven't.) Of course, maybe the worst part of it all is that, even after thirty years, my buddies still won't let me live it down.

7. Back in the mid 90's I did a lot of bow hunting for Mule deer as well White tail. One Saturday morning I decided to do some spot and stalk up in the Saline River Valley of Kansas (about 15 miles from where I lived at the time). Little did I know I was coming down with the flu. Made a two hour stalk on a 6X6 muley and finally closed to within about 12 yards. It was an easy shot, I had the wind in my favor and the buck had no idea I was anywhere around... until I eased up over the bank I was hiding behind, came to full draw... and puked all over myself. 8. I was about waist deep in water, fishing a small cove of Wilson Reservoir in North Central Kansas when the prettiest game warden I've ever seen pulled up and got out of her truck. She asked if I was doing any good and I looked at her and replied something along the lines of "Not as good as I'd like to be doing." About the time I realized what I'd said sounded entirely more lurid than I intended, things got even worse: Two young ladies in bikinis walked by in the parking lot just as Miss Gorgeous Game Warden asked what I was fishing for. Already about half rattled by my inadvertent double entendre, and with one eye still on the bikinis and blood rushing everywhere except my brain, I blurted out "White breast and crappie... er... uh... white bass and crotchy! Er... uh... Hell, I don't even know what I'm f*ck, uh, fishing for!" Fortunately for me, she started laughing so hard she could barely ask to see my license. I was beet red as I waded out of the water to show it to her and she was still chuckling as she checked it. Having already lost all composure as well as control of my mouth, I blurted out, "Well thank God at least one of us is having a good time - Oh crap, I didn't mean that!" She started laughing so hard that all she could do was shake her head and hand me back my license. And I was so thoroughly embarrassed that all I could do was walk to my pickup and toss my gear in the back. As I was getting in to leave, she drove by and paused long enough to say, "Thank you so much - I really needed that!" Then she started laughing again and drove away. I won't say that's the most embarrassed I've ever been, but it damn sure ranks way up there.

My wife does not have the combination to my little safe, but it's not about trust or privacy so much as because I can't remember the effing combo myself (although I can still get in if I use a stethoscope to listen to the tumblers fall - I don't keep anything in there but my will and a very rare and valuable book). She does know where the key to the gun cabinet is - on my key ring, on my belt - but she's never asked me for it because, in her words, "There's nothing I need in there that I can't get to with a crow bar!"

Man, guess I'm not gonna' be any help - I thought you talking about some sort of exercise machine! (And I still wouldn't be able to help.)

I know we've all shown our @sses, so to speak, at one time or another, so there's got to be some good stories out there. I'll even start it off (even though, admittedly, I've seen/done so much dumb stuff that I don't really know where to begin). 1. Several years ago, a buddy of mine made the mistake of going deer hunting while he had a bad head cold. To shorten a short story even further, while intensely studying some deer a couple hundred yards away, he reached for his sinus spray and grabbed a squeeze bottle of doe urine instead. The results, while absolutely hilarious from my point of view, were not at all pretty. 2. While guiding some friends from out of town on a fishing trip in 1990, I boldly stated, "Yep, I reckon I know this area better'n I know my own front yard!" then I turned around and walked off a ten foot bank. 3. Hunting with a buddy, I stepped in a hole and tripped. I recovered nicely, but then I made the mistake of turning around to warn him about the hole and walked straight into a tree limb. (Knocked off my hat and glasses and damn near pierced my ear.) 4. In 1985, while fishing Webster Reservoir in northwest Kansas, I spent an hour and 15 minutes fighting a 20-30 pound flathead on ultra-light (4lb. test) gear. Finally got him worn out and up to the bank then tripped over a rock when I reached down to grab him and ended up neck deep in water with no fish and no rod. 5. In 1991, my neighbor and I backpacked into the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming from the Reservation side. It was tough going and took us two days to cover 18 miles to a series of three absolutely beautiful mountain lakes. After setting up camp, we decided to fish a little bit before starting supper. On my first cast I hooked and finally landed a gorgeous 30 inch lake trout. Taking out my camera, I snapped a quick 3 or 4 shots, then waded out and released the fish... not realizing I had used up the last of the film earlier in the day. (Biggest freakin' fish of the whole damn trip and all I have is a frustrated memory.) 6. Figuring I was going to play a great practical joke on some buddies and scare heck out of them, I snuck up on their fishing spot after dark with a pack of fire crackers. When I got into just the right position, I lit the fire crackers and gave them a nearly perfect toss.. Problem was, I'd spent so much time sneaking, that I didn't realize my buddies had moved and the local Game Warden and his son had moved into their spot. Anyone else?

If that's directed at me, yep, I've gone several times, but not recently.

Oops! Brain fart. Humblest apologies to Tommy Lee. Only thing I can think is that I had just been talking to someone about Billy Bob Thornton about the same time that La. Gov. Bobby Jindal was mentioned on the radio. My bad!

Sounds like you've got it pretty well figured out. Just be advised that alfalfa has an incredibly long (40 feet or more) root system which makes it great for preventing erosion, but once established it also has the potential to use a BUNCH of water. (Of course this makes it very drought tolerant as well, which can be a good thing.) Good luck!

I know this has been around for a while, but it's still one of the funniest things I've ever read online. Hope ya'll enjoy it! WARNING : ONLY Read This When You Are Able To LAUGH OUT LOUD I went to Home Depot recently while not being altogether sure that course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'you're definitely going to sh*t yourself' road-kill chili. Tasty stuff, although hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat it, the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.. Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No 'Watson's Movement'. Despite the chillies swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I was unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my dear wife as 'thunder and lightning'. Knowing that a time of reckoning HAD to come, yet not sure of just when, I bravely set off for Home Depot, my quest being paint and supplies to refinish the deck. Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about, dropping items in for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the toilets that the pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that 'Uh -oh, oh sh*t, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different. The chillies from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestine, forcing their way into the large intestine, and before I could take one step in the direction of the toilets which would bring sweet relief, it happened... The chillies fired a warning shot. There I stood, alone in the paint and stain section, suddenly enveloped in a toxic cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as a red aproned clerk turned the corner and asked if I needed any help. I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what his reaction would be to the toxic non-visible fog that refused to dissipate.. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate: I could've warned that poor clerk, but I didn't. I simply watched as he walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all he could do before gathering his senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving his arms about his head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then it made me laugh. ........BIG mistake!!!!! Here's the thing: When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down' if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun. Suddenly things were no longer funny.. 'It' was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the toilet, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand explosion took place. Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the toilet seat because my ass is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of 'Shock and Awe'.. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, 'Son-of-a-b*itch!, did it smell that bad when you ate it?', then quickly left. Once finished, I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.' My smirking of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return. Home again without my supplies, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Lowes. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. B*stards claim they're going to have to repaint the store.

Love Jack Reacher! Tom Cruise not so much. Darn near anybody would make a better Jack Reacher than Tom Cruise. 15 years ago, the best possible choice would have been Tom Selleck with Bobby Lee Jones a close second. Now, I'd take Kevin Costner or Hugh Jackman or any one of several others - anybody BUT Tom Cruise. B'lieve I'll save the cost of admission for the movie and spend it on another Reacher audio-book read by Dick Hill.

It wasn't made from a vehicle, it was made from film, using a camera.

I think Heaven, too, is subjective to most of us. In the slightly abstract, one man's Heaven may be another man's hell and vice versa. I remember going on a date, years ago, with a young lady who presented herself as a conservationist and naturalist. With that in mind, I planned a lovely picnic far out in the country and completely surrounded by nature. She was, to say the least, absolutely disgusted. When I apologized and explained that, given her apparent passion for nature, I thought she'd enjoy a meal created from natural products in a natural setting, she exclaimed, "This isn't NATURE! This is the freaking WILDERNESS!!!" As for me, I'm not sure where Heaven is or whether I'll ever get there. But as long as I continue to live my life honestly and in the way that feels most right to me, personally, I'm not terribly worried about it. Nor do I think I need be. A friend of mine once said, "Religion is when you believe in hell. Spirituality is when you've been there." I still don't know if I completely agree with that statement, but I've noticed that, while I'm not at all what most would consider religious, there are times when I am indeed a very spiritual s.o.b.

I'm on the road a minimum of five days a week. My weekends are divided between recuperating from the previous week, spending time with my lovely wife, taking care of any issues that may have come up during the week which she couldn't handle and hunting/fishing, as well as mentally preparing myself for the following week. It's tough to juggle things sometimes, but thanks to a strong work ethic and a wonderful partner, for the most part, I am one lucky, contented son of a gun!