TALL TALES

Talk about anything here as long as it is not against the rules.
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Chuckwagon
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Post by Chuckwagon » Sat Jan 05, 2013 19:21

Hey Lynn,
If a guy answered a question like that, he could end up eatin' cold cereal for dinner the rest of his life! :shock:
If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably needs more time on the grill! :D
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Post by ssorllih » Sat Jan 05, 2013 19:30

I showed it to Nancy and was told that I would be sleeping in the garage and eating from a hubcap if I answered like that.
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Post by el Ducko » Sat Jan 05, 2013 23:13

ssorllih wrote:I showed it to Nancy and was told that I would be sleeping in the garage and eating from a hubcap if I answered like that.
...ever notice how small hubcaps have become, these days?
I tell ya, guys, the demographics are against us now, real bad!
:shock:
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Post by HamnCheese » Sun Jan 06, 2013 22:21

It's a trick question.....If you have to ask the first question you already know the answer!! On the upside, it could be a 50's Chevy hubcap. Just sayin'......

Lynn
Youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art.
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Post by Chuckwagon » Wed Feb 20, 2013 14:21

El Duckaroo... is that a photo of a warm, smoking, duck... after electo-shock therapy? Enquiring minds want to know! :shock:


Topic Split 2.20.13 @0620 by CW. This is the "Tall Tales" Section.
Other posts have been moved to "Hyde Park". See: "WaterBo disappointed with moderator".
Last edited by Chuckwagon on Sun Feb 09, 2014 07:33, edited 1 time in total.
If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably needs more time on the grill! :D
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Post by Chuckwagon » Tue May 21, 2013 05:41

The Legend Of Diamond Mountain

In January 1872, a pair of unconscionably unprincipled prospectors, Phillip Arnold and John Slack, scattered a hundred-thousand dollars worth of diamonds, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds onto the ground atop a mountain in the tri-state corners of Utah, Wyoming, and Colorado! Incredibly, most of the gems have never been disturbed and remain today inside an area only a quarter of a mile square. The pair of unscrupulous California prospectors was preparing the groundwork for one of the greatest "salting" scandals in American history as they returned to San Francisco to announce their "discovery of a diamond mine". Producing "samples" from their magnificent claim, they explained the hardships and dangers involved in locating the mine. Their story was accepted almost without question as the American public dreamed of another California gold rush or Colorado gold camp bonanza. As experts from Tiffany's in New York examined the diamonds, they confirmed their tremendous value, and financiers were willing to invest big money.

Arnold agreed to guide mining engineers (provided they were blindfolded), during the three-day journey to the site located directly south of Brown's Park atop a mountain peaking at 8,933 feet. Having lost all sense of direction, the engineers paid little attention to the area's landmarks and scenery, concentrating upon the claim, as they removed their blindfolds on the fourth day. The diamonds were there all right, scattered freely upon the ground, convincing the most hardened skeptic. The men gathered over 600 diamonds the next day and a corporation was chartered. Upon their return to San Francisco, stock was prepared, claims were filed, and mining laws were developed in their favor. Arnold and Slack were paid $600,000.00 for all rights to their claim and investors couldn't shuffle them out of town quickly enough!

Discovering the fraud by examining the unmistakable marks of a stonecutter's tool, Clarence King, a government geologist, listed ten reasons diamonds could not occur naturally in the area. Further investigation traced the diamonds to Amsterdam and London where Arnold had purchased them for forty thousand dollars in 1871. Of course, by now, the prospectors had vanished completely into thin air. The number of stones used in "salting the claim" must have numbered in the thousands as in the 1800's, "bort" stones sold for only a few cents per carat. Only about 2,000 diamonds were recovered, including those used initially as bait.

Clarence King, the last person to visit the site, filed a report clearly indicating there were hundreds of stones left in the area - a fact no one seemed to be concerned about at first, as investors focused on tracking down Arnold and Slack. Detectives eventually located Phillip Arnold in his hometown of Elizabethtown, Kentucky, in possession of every cent paid to the men for the claim. John Slack was never found, as speculative supposition circulated concerning the man`s probable demise as Arnold held all the money. Slack's ultimate fate remains a mystery to this day. As investors prepared legal actions against Arnold, the man became involved in a business dispute with a local rival in Elizabethtown. The entire matter was settled when Arnold was shot between the eyes during the argument.

Diamond prices increased with time's passing while the remaining salted gems lay upon the mountaintop undisturbed. Years later, folks recalling the swindle began to realize a small fortune could be had at the site of the claim. By that time, Arnold's purchase price of $40,000.00 would have been worth almost half a million dollars. Today? Even more. However, the exact location of the quarter-mile square claim on Diamond Mountain remains a mystery!
If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably needs more time on the grill! :D
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Post by Chuckwagon » Mon Sep 16, 2013 21:23

And now this... from Redzed:

Hey CW! Are you related to this guy? Sure is strong family resemblence and you sound so much alike! :lol:

Image

_______________________________________________

Yup pard, that hombre is one of the "black sheep" of our outfit. As you know, in the west, sheep-men were about as welcome in "cattle country" as Bad Bob passing gas in a church meeting. Yes, yes, the yammerin` yak in your photo is actually "Lily-Liver Luke", my third cousin`s, husband`s, nephew`s, little-known, second-rate trombone player who was kicked out of a third-rate bar band in Rock Springs... when he was caught cheatin` at cards! Everyone knows a "Go Fish" deck doesn`t contain a joker! You see "Lily Liver" was playing "Go Fish" and drinkin` Anti-Fogmatics and Scamper Juice with "Iron Mike" McGillicuddy in the back of a local bizenery known as "Big Tim`s Tongue Oil & Tonsil Paint Thirst Emporium" in downtown Elbow Bend, Nevada... when he discovered he`d had an abrupt and unexpected .45 caliber enema from some forlorn and heartbroken, jealous husband! :roll:

Best Wishes,
Chuckwagon
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If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably needs more time on the grill! :D
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The Horrifyin' Hangin' Of "Black" Jack Ketchum

Post by Chuckwagon » Wed Sep 18, 2013 15:53

The Horrifyin` Hangin` Of Black Jack Ketchum

On July 11, 1899, Sam Ketchum robbed the Colorado and Southern`s Flyer near Folsom in northeast New Mexico with Kid Curry and Elza Lay - fellow members of Butch Cassidy`s "Wild Bunch". Sam`s brother, Tom "Black Jack" Ketchum, had been involved in an argument with a member of the gang and had remained in their hideout in Brown`s Park, near Vernal, Utah. The outlaws, in typical Cassidy style, rushed the train, uncoupled the engine and express car, ran it some distance up the track, and blew up the safe using dynamite. Finding nothing inside the safe, the disconsolate outlaws escaped to hole up at their previously established camp in Turkey Creek Canyon near Cimarron.

Having no trouble picking up their trail, in less than a week`s time, Huerfano County Sheriff Edward Farr, special agents William H. Reno and F.H. Smith, and six other posse members, located the men`s well-stocked hideout. Elzy Lay had hobbled several fresh horses, packed in enough grub to feed a tribe of wild Apaches, and stored away plenty of ammunition. Disappointed in having gained nothing during the robbery, they were overconfident in their retreat. About 5:00 P.M. on July 16th, the outlaws allowed their campfire to burn down a bit and were just about to grill the supper steaks. Elzy walked to the nearby creek to fill his canteen when two bullets struck him almost simultaneously. The first stung like a bee, hitting him in the back of his shoulder. The next one knocked the wind from the outlaw, causing more damage by striking him in his back. Luckily, the slug missed Lay`s spinal column as he hit the ground and became unconscious. Sheriff Farr and his posse members continued to exchange concentrated gunfire with Sam Ketchum and Harvey Logan about fifteen minutes before slowing down to reconsider their condition and collect their thoughts. Wounded in his left arm, Ketchum later claimed he took the first bullet of the firefight. Sheriff Farr was hit in the wrist and calmly bandaged the wound as the gunfight continued. Then "Kid Curry" began firing in some type of wild rage described as "that of a crazed wildcat". One of his slugs penetrated Smith`s leg, injuring the man severely. Almost immediately the outlaw put another bullet through the chest of a volunteer posse member - a cowboy named Love - killing him almost instantly. Gunfire within the ensuing thirty minutes became so intense the participants afterward related dissimilar accounts of just what actually took place.

Elsa regained consciousness about dusk as Sheriff Farr issued the order, "Hands up"! The outlaw rolled over holding a cocked Winchester carbine and both men fired at the same time. The outlaw took yet another slug in the shoulder... the sheriff slumped to the ground gravely wounded by a 44.60 slug. The sheriff later died.

Without their leader, the posse temporarily withdrew to higher ground somewhere. Logan and Lay carefully examined the wounds of Sam Ketchum and patched up Elzy Lay`s shoulder as best they could under the bleak circumstances. The pair tried to assist Sam in mounting his horse but found the effort useless. Sam was in bad shape having lost a tremendous amount of blood and although barely conscious, he realized he would have to remain behind. Logan and Lay knew it as well. Somehow, Logan was able to help Lay mount his horse and checked on Ketchum one more time. Elzy and Sam reported later, they`d never heard some of the words "Kid Curry" repeated as he gigged the horses to make their escape during another torrent of lead rain. Inexplicably, Logan had not received so much as a scratch. Once past the range of short-iron shooters (pistols), Logan did not allow the horses to relent and the animals were winded by the time the pair reached the safety of the mountains. Remarkably, Sam Ketchum held out for days before being captured, although he reported having an awful time in lighting a fire with wet (bloody) matches. The posse took him to the New Mexico State Penitentiary in Santa Fe where he would receive treatment for his arm wound by a prison surgeon. However, on July 24th, Sam Ketchum succumbed to blood poisoning and died inside the prison.

Harvey Logan took his wounded partner to Red Weaver, a man he trusted, to his secluded cabin on his ranch in Eddy County. Logan rode on - eastward into Lincoln County. Red Weaver was of great service to Elsa Lay in healing three serious wounds and over a period of time, the outlaw regained his strength. However, Red Weaver hadn`t counted on his nosy neighbor, a man named Lusk, pokin` around his place. On or about the 20th of August, Lusk rode into the county seat to find Sheriff M.C. Stewart. The sheriff, with Lusk and deputies J.D. Cantrell and Rufus Thomas, approached the cabin early on the 22nd of August as Elsa was cookin` up a little breakfast. Weaver was away from the ranch hunting a deer. As the sheriff`s horse whinnied, Lay darted from the ranch house with a .45 in each hand heading for his horse to retrieve his saddle carbine. Encountering Deputy Thomas head on, Elzy Lay fired at the man with his Colt Peacemaker, striking him in the shoulder, before spotting Lusk and realizing Lusk had tipped off the lawmen. Leveling the big iron at Lusk with five beans in the wheel, he intended to give the man a sudden case of heartburn! Conversely, the bullet tore through the man`s wrist. Turning around quickly to check the status and position of the sheriff and the other deputy, Elzy suddenly collapsed onto the ground. Dazed and confused, the outlaw was unable to move. Sheriff Stewart had grazed the side of Elsa`s head with a Winchester .44-60 rifle slug, rendering him unconscious once again. The lawmen lost no time in handcuffing the fugitive while he was down for the count. Further, the deputy found it necessary to tie the restrained outlaw to his horse for the ride back to town.

Brought before Chief Justice W. J. Mills, Elzy was arraigned and bound over for trial to be held on October 6th, 1899. Insisting his name was William H. McGinnis, he denied having any knowledge of a train robbery. The outlaw knew if he were convicted, he was facing either "the big jump" (hanging) or "the big pasture" (lifetime imprisonment). There was simply no reason to discuss any other allegation. As the trial commenced on the 6th, a venire facias of seventy-five men were examined before a jury was selected. Following three days of testimony, the jury deliberated merely three hours. On the 10th, Justice Mills sentenced William Ellsworth Lay to serve a life term inside the New Mexico State Penitentiary at Santa Fe - a sentence never fully served - but that`s another story.

The Robbery And Hangin'... Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction

Unaware of his brother's capture and death following the robbery of the Colorado and Southern Flyer, "Black Jack" Tom Ketchum rode alone to Twin Mountains near Folsom, New Mexico where he attempted to single-handedly rob the very same train scarcely a month later. Train conductor Frank Harrington was being held up for the third time and he decided it wouldn`t happen again. Seizing his 10-gauge shotgun, he leveled it at Black Jack and fired at the outlaw, nearly removing his right elbow. Tom fired back but missed the conductor as he fell from the train onto the ground. Ketchum later stated, "I tried a dozen times to mount my horse but was too weak and dizzy from the pain". Unable to act, the badly wounded train robber simply gave up, sat down in the dirt, and waited for the posse to arrive. Lawmen placed him back upon the train and immediately transported him to Trinidad, Colorado where his arm was amputated inside the San Rafael Hospital. When able to travel, Black Jack Ketchum was taken to Santa Fe for incarceration where the outlaw pled innocent to the charges brought against him. The judge, having "example-making" intentions, found Tom "Black Jack" Ketchum guilty, and sentenced him to hang upon the gallows!

As judicial delays took place, Black Jack - already a tall, large man - began to put on weight while spending time in Sheriff Garcia`s jail. As the weeks passed by, the hangman (Sheriff Garcia), failed to notice the prisoner letting his belt out a notch or two. Experienced neck-stretchers of the period knew hanging required careful calculation of the prisoner`s weight and a corresponding length of the rope. Not allowing for the correct rope size and drop distance could be catastrophic. In other gruesome words... the heavier the prisoner, the shorter the rope. You see pards, if a rope is too short for the convict`s weight, his neck will not be properly broken and the prisoner will strangle to death. If the rope is too long, the inmate will literally lose his head.

Black Jack`s hanging, the first conducted in Union County, was a major event as tickets were sold and businesses closed. Saloons thrived as a festival atmosphere developed. Souvenir photos were available for a nominal fee, and the county purchased a new $20.00 rope. Vendors sold food and drinks as the carnival - circus mood intensified and spectators gathered `round. The very proper ladies of the "Society Seeking Law And Order", paid top dollar for front row positions around the gallows. At last, they would see justice finally carried out when the scoundrel`s neck broke. The self-righteous "ladies" firmly believed they had a right to hear Tom Ketchum`s neck snap as they viewed the execution from merely a few feet away! And then...

As Black Jack`s time ran out, the drop fell at 1:21 P.M. and immediately, the outlaw was effectively decapitated! With bloody severed neck bones protruding above its collar, the headless trunk pitched forward toward the spectators. Gushing blood spurted upon the curious and callous nearest the scaffold. Amid the screams and gasps of the crowd, a few ol` crows of self-appointed "Society Seeking Law And Order" fainted... as Black Jack`s headless torso dropped to the ground, quivering and spewing blood everywhere. Following a few minutes of what can only be described as sheer confusion and terror, the local physician was astonishingly required to examine the headless torso and pronounce Tom "Black Jack" Ketchum deceased. :shock: Having his head sewn back upon its torso by the undertaker, ol` Black Jack was laid to rest inside the city cemetery at Clayton, New Mexico.

Best Wishes,
Chuckwagon
If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably needs more time on the grill! :D
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Post by Chuckwagon » Sat Oct 19, 2013 15:12

El DuckO Came To Town

As I was out ridin, gatherin' cows all together,
I saw a young horseman just burnin' the leather.
Just whom should I meet but Cactus Jack Slade,
A man of whom legends have always been made.

He'd mounted a cougar with a Bowie knife bit,
And spurred on that cat in a desperate fit.
Tucked under his arm, his braided whip bullwhacker,
And a grizzled ol' wildcat spittin' chewin' tabacker.

His mount bent his head down, while kickin' up dirt,
As Jack grabbed a` hold of his rattlesnake quirt.
The six-gun he carried, clutched tightly in hand,
Showed twenty-one notches, the most in the land.

Cursin' and cussin', the man rode on past,
I asked "what cha doin' a ridin' that fast?"
Atop that ol' cougar, Jack turned his head 'round,
"I'm gettin' out fast - El DuckO came to town!" :shock:
Last edited by Chuckwagon on Thu Mar 20, 2014 12:40, edited 1 time in total.
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Today I learned something that I didn't know before

Post by ssorllih » Sun Oct 20, 2013 18:38

Evil chickens lay deviled eggs.
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Hill Country Ice Storm

Post by el Ducko » Sun Feb 02, 2014 05:58

Hill Country Ice Storm

Out the window, there`s a flicker
As the storm starts getting thicker.
.....In the landing lights, it`s looking mighty grim.
It has rained, and now it`s snowing,
Getting thicker as we`re going
.....Down. End of the drought? The chances: slim.

Southwest Air. Midway, Chicago.
Back to Austin is where I go.
.....Center seat, between two hipsters, earphones glued.
Now a winter storm sets in.
Hotter, earlier, but then
.....Texas winter, always changing, Certitude.

Son-in-law retrieves my bags
As I shiver in thin rags
.....Of a summer-weight fleece coat, inadequate.
We head off into the sleet.
Where it`s sticking, `twill be deep
.....So I`d better drive before it gets too late.

Not bad, the highways, though.
Cars are stuck. Some need a tow.
.....The defroster is on full, but I still shiver.
Seeing`s bad, but not the worst.
Take it easy. Trip`s not cursed.
.....Until I slide while crossing Blanco River.

Up the steep Balcones Fault Line,
Rising up, Hill Country roads shine
.....With what looks like the beginnings of some ice.
Drop the speed on down to fifty.
Gentle rolling hills, but slippy.
.....Come the morning, things will not be very nice.

Devil`s Backbone is a ridge line,
Winding road of cheap design.
.....The macadam holds the water when it rains.
Then it freezes. Spin truck, catch it,
Spin the other way, to match it.
.....Slow to twenty. At the bottom, hydroplane.

`Round the turn, the driveway beckons.
Spin out once, but then, in seconds
.....The garage. Click the door, and you`ll be there.
But the batt`ry`s life is over.
Climb out, punch the pad, then hover
.....`Til the door goes up. Go in and dry your hair.

Check the propane. Should be plenty,
But instead, it`s nearly empty.
.....Had the furnace set on low, but winter`s hard.
So next morning, call the service.
Level`s five percent. I`m nervous,
.....`Cause the roads are iced as badly as the yard.

Wrapped in blankets, watched my breath.
Hoped I wouldn`t freeze to death
.....As I waited for the next day`s truck to come.
Nuked some sausages, ate bread,
Gave it up. Went back to bed.
.....But in Texas, cold won`t stay too very long.

In two days, the tank was filled,
At our house upon the hill,
.....And in two more, it was fifty, `stead of sleet.
So if Texas is your home
And in wintertime you roam,
.....Be sure to call a friend. Arrange for heat.
:mrgreen:
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Defend Your Sausage Kitchen

Post by sawhorseray » Fri Jul 25, 2014 17:24

We live about 60 yards away from where thousands of acres of cattle grazing land begins. Cows means cow poop, and cow poop means flys. There isn't much more irritating when making sausage than to have some fly that you know was recently crawling over a pile of poop swoop in and land on your freshly ground porkbutt. You certainly can't swat them so they disperse their disgusting inards all over your grind, and shooing them away will just lead to them coming back. I've taken to going on a hunt of the entire house right before grinding, as I did this morning. The Bugg-a-salt kills them with a blast of ordinary table salt when they are landed, range of about thirty inches, and leaves them whole. The battery powered electro-racket is great for getting them out of the air, also leave them whole, no fly guts to deal with. I now keep both units handy in the kitchen in case some intruder was overlooked or managed to sneak inside. RAY

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Post by Bob K » Fri Jul 25, 2014 23:26

I thought I had seen it all . :shock:

Does Boo retrieve them?
Last edited by Bob K on Fri Jul 25, 2014 23:28, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by cogboy » Fri Jul 25, 2014 23:26

I've got a bug swatter /zapper but never heard of a salt gun for flies . LMAO
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Post by sawhorseray » Fri Jul 25, 2014 23:55

Bob K wrote:I thought I had seen it all . :shock:
Does Boo retrieve them?
I try to keep the Boo away when I'm on the hunt inside the house, figuring she'd just gobble them up. She gets all excited when she see me with the bug-a-salt because she knows guns mean fun times for her. I wish they made a magnum model, I'm a big Weatherby fan and these things are just a little too light for wasps, have to pop them a couple of times. RAY
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