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Saul R W

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Everything posted by Saul R W

  1. There was a Love's across the highway. Wonder if the manager sabotaged the competition?
  2. Sooooo old school, I had to Google "O.G." to figure out what in the heck you were talking about. Not many gangstahs in my clan, but the few who do go that way are the baddest of the bad, unfortunately.
  3. Huh, I just discovered for the billionth time that America's interstate truck stops aren't quite as romantic as Waylon, Willie and the Boys might want us to think. Half an hour waiting for a shower, and the one I ended up with had what looked like a 14-pound pile of bear scat sitting on the drain. I'm no doc, but that bear needs to see his internist. Quickly. I got my five bucks back from the front counter, and will shower at Brat One's place on Sunday instead (or take a dive into the first open water I come across), and stink in the meantime. Ain't no way I'm playing Septic Boy the Pooper Breaker Upper for the privilege of using a five dollar shower.
  4. Ditto, young feller. We might yet make a fortune together, even if your lovely missus cracks your pecans every Sunday and makes you miss out on a perfectly good work day. (But then again, lotsa luck getting me to lift a finger on Saturdays.)
  5. New eyes would profit me more than a new tape. A new brain wouldn't do me any damage, either. As for vocabulary, I keep a pile of dictionaries within reach. Blame Webster, et al, for anything I post that isn't monosyllabic. English is a tough racket. My muddah tongue, once a word gets spelled, it can never be spelled any other way, ever. Put two or three Hebrew letters together randomly, and they have intrinsic meaning as a word, and could not ever possibly have another meaning, because the letters themselves hold meaning. Not so with English, which is by nature a confusing rats' nest, but versatile. Thanks for your tolerance of the kids who always sit in the rear of the class shooting spitwads, and for your humor, Au Seeker. Bill did a fine job choosing his moderators/babysitters.
  6. If you ever figure out the proper spelling in English, let me know. I've seen Chanukah spelled at least six ways in prominent Anglo-Jewish publications over the years. Accurate transliteration from a Semitic language that predates ancient Rome and Greece by thousands of years, and with no English phonetic equivalents for several letters, just ain't possible. It's like trying to reproduce a classical painting using a paintgun at 50 paces. I'm very certain we'll collide a time or two once I'm back, Mike. You're a gentleman, and an interesting fellow with whom to converse, and a pleasure to run into, online and in person.
  7. An addendum, hardtimehermit: I failed to mention that the old opium dens had not been entirely abandoned at the time I was growing up in Prescott. The Yavapai County DA and his assistant, along with several county and city lawmen, prominent downtown businessmen, and my stepfather and his employees, used to smoke pot down there. It was the late 60s and early 70s, so not too surprising to round a bend in the labyrinth to find a community pillar in a cloud of his own making under his store or office. The world changes, but not much.
  8. I have been in the old tunnels honeycombing downtown. My stepfather remodeled the Palace, Brownlow's Department Store, AZ General Supply, and several other buildings within a couple blocks of the courthouse when I was a kid, and I explored. From the basements, it was possible to travel for many blocks without surfacing, including under the courthouse (I'm certain someone has gated the tunnels for security reasons by now). There were rooms under both the plaza and Whiskey Row filled with narrow bunks, old opium dens and lodging for both Chinese workers and hookers. The first time I started wandering around down there, my younger brother and I eventually emerged from a storm sewer at the old high school (now a middle school, I think). And yes, the whole complex was filled with artifacts.
  9. In the words of my favorite hippie cowboy singer, I'm on the road again, back to the land of ticks, chiggers and toothless maidens (with apologies to the minority of my former neighbors who don't chew tobacco, don't smoke meth, and who actually have 15 or 20 teeth per head), to haul a second load of stuff I probably don't need. Measure twice, move the trailer once. I really need to remember that one. In preparing for this latest trip, predawn this morning I towed my live-in horse trailer, which has had the horse section converted to a workshop, over to a house I bought to rehab and sell. It turns out the clearance between house and neighbor's fence is precisely 1.25 inches too narrow for me to get the trailer into the back yard without disassembling something (the fence seems the most likely victim), so for now I rehauled the trailer back to the senior citizen RV park where I've been staying for the past couple of weeks, where the neighbors hate me for the rattling and banging of equipment strapped to the truck bed (park rule #83, as one neighbor has reminded me half a dozen times, prohibits the outside storage of tools or personal effects, including items visible in vehicle beds, and #178 proscribes dirty vehicles within park boundaries, which requires a trip to the car wash before coming home, every single time, six days a week). An F550 doesn't blend well with golf carts, a converted horse trailer doesn't blend well with $250k wheeled palaces, and I don't blend well with shuffleboard-playing CA retirees, but they'll have to put up with staring at the horse trailer and stacked buckets filled with unsanctioned dirt until I get back from MO and figure out how to shoehorn the trailer into the new shack's rear yard. I shall post less while on the road, so our esteemed moderators will enjoy a hard-earned breather. Happy fifth day of Chanukah, y'all, and happy prospecting, too ...
  10. When I was a youngster and fresh back to the States after living outside the country since infancy, I discovered a coal and diamond deposit next to and under an old school building in Arizona. The deposit consisted of dime-sized chunks of coal, which I correctly identified, and many small diamonds, some with perfect clarity, and others with either green or blue impurities. The incorrectly identified "diamonds" even scratched glass, which I proved on the windows of my mother's home (undiscovered until later). I let my best friend in on the secret, drew up a 60-40 contract in my favor (he would recieve 40 Red Ryder wagonloads of diamonds for each 60 wagons of loot I took home), and we began excavating, straight down five or six feet, and then under the school's footings. School was out for the summer, so it took a while before we were caught and accused of attempted sapping of one of Prescott's historic buildings. By that time, the hole was large enough for two kids to work side by side, and we were long past the old stem wall and well on our way to tunneling entirely under and beyond a rear corner of the building. It turned out I'd located the school's old ash dump, which contained a considerable amount of unburned coal and a lot of crushed bottle glass. The police officer (who was already familiar with me, and would become more familiar in coming years) tasked with investigating explained to me that an addition to the school had buried the old dump. Back when he attended that school, before the addition was built, kids would line bottles up on the ash dump and practice rock throwing, which was sanctioned by teachers as long as the glass was broken into small enough pieces to not be too hazardous to bare feet. Point being, I learned early that not everything that's hard, clear and sparkly is a diamond. Also, that it's important to understand history (human, geological, and sometimes both) to understand what you've found today. In your case, the Netherlands have a well-documented history of glassmaking, and parts of your country must almost be paved with the offal of that craft, so if you find a hard, clear, sparkly near-surface specimen there, think glass, not diamond, especially if the specimen far outweighs the largest unflawed diamond ever found anywhere on the planet. Reality can be a bugger, especially if it clashes with hopeful but erroneous presumptions, but experiencing dashed hopes can be an important part of learning. Or not. That really is a pretty hunk of glass.
  11. John B., thanks for a memorable post. If not for the obviously painful backstory, it would have been amusing to read your brief summary of the sultanate.
  12. "Conservative" means very different things in different contexts, in different places, and at different times. In much of Asia, Africa and the M.E., conservative means militant Islamic nutcase-ism. Hitler's Europe was also conservative. At few times and few places has conservatism taken on the meaning it currently holds here in the States (and in Israel and perhaps in the U.K.), where it has come to mean a political ideology that emphasises individual responsibility and individual rights (unless you ask someone from the opposing party).
  13. Borax is a lovely O2-keeper-awayer for forge welding. It might work for your smelting, too. Don't use the kind with detergents added, but rather pure sodium borate or maybe one of its kissing cousins, (di)sodium tetraborate.
  14. As a member of a nation in exile that lost well over one third of our entire world population between 1939 and 1945, including hundreds of members of my own extended family (although I was not yet born then), I can attest to the truth that the ability to defend one's life, family and people is of indescribable importance. And that six-plus million was in addition to the 20-plus million (a painfully conservative estimate) of us murdered by Christian Europe over a period of many centuries, during all of which time we were kept unarmed. For every life lost to murder, an entire future world is forever erased. One murder? All of the future accomplishments of that single person are left undone, but gone also are the medical discoveries, literature, advances in the sciences, acts of kindness, everything that might ever have been accomplished by that person's children, grandchildren, and descendents for all time, uncountable millions of lives erased by a single murder. While it's true that many of my fellow Jews here in the States support gun control, the percentage is not very different from any other demographic in this country, if adjusted for place of residence. Outside of several major metropolitan centers, my folks are likely to support the Second Amendment as wholeheartedly as any other group. My generation in particular was heavily influenced by Orthodox rabbi and founder of the Jewish Defense League Meir Kahane of blessed memory, who coined the slogan "For every Jew a .22," which has since been rewritten numerous times to promote packing larger calibers. In our Torah, essentially the Jewish people's Constitution (to us, of course, much more than simply a legal document, but also an eternally binding contract between us and our G-d), it is forbidden NOT TO kill an assailant who intends to physically harm oneself, one's family, or one's neighbor (and in this context, all humanity is a neighbor). Good post, Garimpo.
  15. You might also try adding lime to the ore prior to firing, which could give O2 and other undesireable characters a place to call home, and prevent them from recombining with your metal.
  16. ... except the parts that want to dump you down a hole or off a cliff.
  17. In which state or region was it found? It looks suspiciously like the calcite with which my Ozarks driveway was paved, only bigger and more noduley. Then again, I'm partially colorblind, so might be missing an obvious clue as to ID.
  18. Looks like a collection of silicon-oxygen tetrahedra to me, with light iron staining.
  19. Always the natives, no? In my case, my hard as nails Eastern European Jewish immigrant grandfather pointed across a synagogue basement dining hall at my mother, and told my young immigrant father in Yidspeak, "Marry that girl or you're stupid (the actual phrase he used for "you're stupid" translates to something like "you have doughballs for brains"). She has a good family, they've been here longer, and she cooks." My father listened. I'm grateful and forever in the debt of my grandfather and both parents. My permission was freely granted after the fact.
  20. That's very possible, Jack. In the photo, the threaded end looks flat to me, but if it's round on that end, I withdraw my guess, and fall back on the failsafe "I've been wrong before" statement.
  21. Speaking of shady characters, I keep running into Mike around town, and he's always trying to sell me something -- I'm reminded of a couple of my cousins who sell insurance. (Seriously, though, he's a great guy to run into, and oh boy, does he know detecting.)
  22. My edit feature disappears now and then, too. Suspicious character that I am, I'm pretty sure that AU Seeker watches for me to post something dumb or to make a really embarrassing typo, and then shuts down my edit for that post to make the mistake part of the permanent record. I lay awake (or is it lie awake?) nights fretting over hundreds of uncorrectable errors. Okay, time to go pretend to earn a living. Bagels and beans don't buy themselves ...
  23. Believe me, I've considered eating a chew once a month myself. It couldnt be any less healthy than the ankle cancer a fellow will end up with after walking around with deet-soaked socks and cuffs for a decade.
  24. Yep, I discovered those little meaty flavored anti-tick and flea cubes for dogs shortly after ending up in the Ozarks. Once a month treat for the pups, and no more daily tick-picking (except for the millions of chiggers and ticks that ended up on me).
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