You too , It really screws a young man up
There is some truth to the poorer people growing up without a father being more prone to crime and doing stupid things .
Not planning for the future and going to college to better oneself.
The Original Old Farts Club
- Thread starter yooper420
- Start date
There is some truth to the poorer people growing up without a father being more prone to crime and doing stupid things .
Not planning for the future and going to college to better oneself.
I use to have to wear hand me downs from my sisters (pants)
LOL
My blue jeans were OK but some of the cuts are just made for girls.
LOL
My blue jeans were OK but some of the cuts are just made for girls.
Now I am done no more ammunition for the people who do not LOVE me anymore
Hummmm? Should I have another cup of coffee
Hey Hops
Are posting of coffee girls not allowed anymore?
Are posting of coffee girls not allowed anymore?
I heard that coffee girls were allowed
Post away brother. Big must be busy. Bring on the Coffee Girls. Sub wont post them for us. 
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2020
- Messages
- 21,041
- Reaction score
- 73,854
- Location
- Here, been banned everywhere else
Morning OFC.
good morning fellas
Classy coffee girls this am.
Okay Sub. Thats not exactly what we were talking about but you get an E for effort.
Hey I figured it was better than that coffee boy I almost posted. Y’all have fun I’m going out to playOkay Sub. Thats not exactly what we were talking about but you get an E for effort.
joeb631a
Well-Known Member
" Be still my beating heart " Sting
joeb631a
Well-Known Member
stunnng ....
Unca Walt
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2020
- Messages
- 6,156
- Reaction score
- 31,860
Alla this talk about our Dads. I wrote a magazine article about mine:
Now, don't get me wrong; if he's "Pop", "Father", "Dad", or the like, there's no problem, there's nothing wrong. It's just that the magic isn't there anymore. Remember: It used to be "Daddy", right?
In order for a Daddy to be magical, he must have a few special characteristics. He must know the answer to every question you could ever think of. And he must be able to show you and tell you and make things for you that nobody else in the world knows anything about.
Like spool tanks. One snowy day, when there was no way to go outdoors, Daddy built a spool tank for me. I was just a tweeny kid, bored silly. It, and its cousins fascinated me for hours.
A spool tank requires a spool from Mom's sewing kit (in our house, the spool had to be empty), a thumbtack, kitchen match, and a slice of an old candle with the wick bored out.
Oh, and a rubber band. You pushed the rubber band through the hole in the spool, slid a busted piece of kitchen match through the end loop of the rubber band, and used the thumbtack like a doorstop to make it so the kitchen match wouldn't spin.
Then, on the other end of the spool, you worked the rubber band through the disk of candle. As soon as you slipped the cannon (some people might call it the ink tube from a ballpoint pen) through the end loop sticking through the candle disk, you were ready to wind 'er up!
About twenty or thirty turns later, you placed the spool tank on the floor, and it would slowly trundle across the room, scaring the bejeebers out of the cat. Every now and then the cannon would tilt, simulating firing. Magical.
None of the other kids in the neighborhood had a spool tank until I showed them how to make one.
Daddy didn't stop there by any means. I would be walking along in the woods with him, idly watching him with his pocketknife and a small piece of wild cherry branch, and he suddenly would hand me a slip-whistle made from that branch.
Here's how he did it: It seems that wild cherry bark can be removed intact from its branch. So he'd loosen it, but before he removed it, he'd cut a "window" that resembled the shape of a steamboat whistle in the bark.
Then he'd take the tube of bark off, put it in his shirt pocket, and cut away some wood. When he slipped the tube back on and handed it to me, my magical Daddy would have produced a multi-toned whistle from nowhere!
He made pinwheel boomerangs from the yardsticks that hardware stores used to give away. Daddy would cut the yardstick at exactly the 18-inch line, and drill a small hole in the middle of the two remaining pieces. Then, holding the pieces tightly together, he'd use his grinder as a power-sander, and bevel one edge of each.
A small 5” long screw-and-nut combination through the holes, and the X-shaped boomerang would be ready for me to fling. It would come back and you could grab it out of the air by the screw “handle”. Magical.
Daddy taught me how to make whip-darts, slingshots, and ceiling walkers (talk about scaring the cat -- ceiling walkers made him disintegrate).
And he taught me how to catch a squirrel with just a boy's penknife. And how to "tickle" trout. (It was a monumental day when I caught a trout with my bare fingers while a guy with a jillion dollars worth of gear stood there watching -- and troutless!)
Needless to say, these and a bunch more things like them were passed on to my boys.
And, yes... although they are grown and gone, they still call me "Daddy".
Arcane Things My Daddy Taught Me
© Walt C. Snedeker
Daddies are magical. And here is one of the little measurements of life: If you still refer to him as your Daddy in your adultery, then he gets the prize. © Walt C. Snedeker
Now, don't get me wrong; if he's "Pop", "Father", "Dad", or the like, there's no problem, there's nothing wrong. It's just that the magic isn't there anymore. Remember: It used to be "Daddy", right?
In order for a Daddy to be magical, he must have a few special characteristics. He must know the answer to every question you could ever think of. And he must be able to show you and tell you and make things for you that nobody else in the world knows anything about.
Like spool tanks. One snowy day, when there was no way to go outdoors, Daddy built a spool tank for me. I was just a tweeny kid, bored silly. It, and its cousins fascinated me for hours.
A spool tank requires a spool from Mom's sewing kit (in our house, the spool had to be empty), a thumbtack, kitchen match, and a slice of an old candle with the wick bored out.
Oh, and a rubber band. You pushed the rubber band through the hole in the spool, slid a busted piece of kitchen match through the end loop of the rubber band, and used the thumbtack like a doorstop to make it so the kitchen match wouldn't spin.
Then, on the other end of the spool, you worked the rubber band through the disk of candle. As soon as you slipped the cannon (some people might call it the ink tube from a ballpoint pen) through the end loop sticking through the candle disk, you were ready to wind 'er up!
About twenty or thirty turns later, you placed the spool tank on the floor, and it would slowly trundle across the room, scaring the bejeebers out of the cat. Every now and then the cannon would tilt, simulating firing. Magical.
None of the other kids in the neighborhood had a spool tank until I showed them how to make one.
Daddy didn't stop there by any means. I would be walking along in the woods with him, idly watching him with his pocketknife and a small piece of wild cherry branch, and he suddenly would hand me a slip-whistle made from that branch.
Here's how he did it: It seems that wild cherry bark can be removed intact from its branch. So he'd loosen it, but before he removed it, he'd cut a "window" that resembled the shape of a steamboat whistle in the bark.
Then he'd take the tube of bark off, put it in his shirt pocket, and cut away some wood. When he slipped the tube back on and handed it to me, my magical Daddy would have produced a multi-toned whistle from nowhere!
He made pinwheel boomerangs from the yardsticks that hardware stores used to give away. Daddy would cut the yardstick at exactly the 18-inch line, and drill a small hole in the middle of the two remaining pieces. Then, holding the pieces tightly together, he'd use his grinder as a power-sander, and bevel one edge of each.
A small 5” long screw-and-nut combination through the holes, and the X-shaped boomerang would be ready for me to fling. It would come back and you could grab it out of the air by the screw “handle”. Magical.
Daddy taught me how to make whip-darts, slingshots, and ceiling walkers (talk about scaring the cat -- ceiling walkers made him disintegrate).
And he taught me how to catch a squirrel with just a boy's penknife. And how to "tickle" trout. (It was a monumental day when I caught a trout with my bare fingers while a guy with a jillion dollars worth of gear stood there watching -- and troutless!)
Needless to say, these and a bunch more things like them were passed on to my boys.
And, yes... although they are grown and gone, they still call me "Daddy".
Count your Blessings everyday Walt
You are one of the lucky few .
One for Big.
Post away
Is that a dude?
- Joined
- Jan 18, 2020
- Messages
- 21,041
- Reaction score
- 73,854
- Location
- Here, been banned everywhere else
Damn it, I wanted to start trimi today....still not ready. Will wait until tomorrow. That just Fk'ed my day up. What to do now.....
