The LT Dave's Getting Married in 24 Hours Thread

JTM45

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I don’t think he’s come up for air for a week now
 

Marshall & Moonshine

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The chimney is the least of your worries. There’s like 9 threads open right now equating a certain political party to giraffes, religion to tomatoes, gay animals to trans women biking campions and a few others that i don’t even know how to describe.
I reported them to V&P, but they both laughed and said something to the effect of “Let Dave deal with this shit.”
I think they were really drunk, possibly together.
Seems really unprofessional, if you ask me.
 

LtDave32

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Best wishes.

I liked marriage so much I did it twice. :D



Cool. Which division?

That would be battalion, not division. Of the 75th Ranger Rgt.

But kindly requested, I'd rather not turn this thread into a discussion of that..
 
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LtDave32

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Man, we had quite the journey. Up and wheels rolling at 0300 Saturday, we first went across the lower tip of the San Joaquin valley on hwy 166, where it joins hwy 101. Then went through San Luis Obispo (had breakfast at the Madonna Inn), then continued to hwy 1, and took that along the coast to Monterey, then back to the 101 through San Francisco.

Over the Golden Gate in the mid-afternoon, then on to Willits to bed down for the night. Then in the morning, onward on the 101 through Crescent City, to hwy 199 and the Smith River. We had a place picked out to stay for a day or two called Patrick's Creek Lodge, where you can do it all right there; mountain lodge, bar, restaurant all in one in a mountain retreat. But the bastards were closed for vacation. We didn't bother to check or reserve, because nobody (guests) is there on a Monday. So we drove on to over the Oregon border to some small town and bedded down in some little Inn.

Then in the morning through Rogue River, Medford etc to the I-5, back into CA. Just over the border there's a small road, hwy 96. Travels the Kalamath river. Took that all day into late afternoon to a guest ranch, Marble Mountain ranch. Stayed there in a cottage, had dinner of fresh-caught steelhead with a group of six doctors, surgeons, etc. All retired and full of great stories. What a fabulous evening.

Then in the morning, further down hwy 96 to where it joins 299, through Weaverville, had a beer there, continuing on to Redding to stay at the deceptively-represented "Thunderbird Lodge".

That's where a little bit of poo rained on our parade.

Crap-ass motel in the very heart of Redding, which is a shit town full of transient types and "young bums". Got the car broken into and some of Anna's precious treasures she bought along the way. her honeymoon momentos, were stolen along with my current registration and insurance card.

Now I'm pissed.

If I was hard on "young bums", sign-holders and pleady-eyed beggars before that, you ought to see me now. Somehow, saying "no" isn't enough for me now.

Anyway, onward down the I-5 to Sacramento, then a left turn to hwy 50, stopped at Placerville. I used to live near Placerville. Used to be called "Hangtown" because that's where they hung people they saw fit to hang for various crimes and acts of dubious virtue.

..like breaking into vehicles.

Anyway, there was (I remembered) the "Hangtown Salooon", which featured the original hanging tree and the limb from which the unfortunate hung, right there in the bar.

They made it into an ice-cream parlor, and cut off the tree. Right below the floorboards. Nice girl who worked there said the tree is still there in the basement, and it's cut just below the floor.

Can you believe that? They cut off the very soul of the place. What a rotten thing to do.

Ice cream parlor. sheesh. A travesty.

So on we go to South Lake Tahoe. Stayed at the Lakeside Casino for 50 lousy bucks. Such a deal. Then from there, we drove home and arrived back here at Ft. Dave about 2100 last night.

All in all, we had a great time. Saw much of California, and there's so much more to see.
 
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Roberteaux

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Man, we had quite the journey. Up and wheels rolling at 0300 Saturday, we first went across the lower tip of the San Joaquin valley on hwy 166, where it joins hwy 101. Then went through San Luis Obispo (had breakfast at the Madonna Inn), then continued to hwy 1, and took that along the coast to Monterey, then back to the 101 through San Francisco.

Over the Golden Gate in the mid-afternoon, then on to Willits to bed down for the night. Then in the morning, onward on the 101 through Crescent City, to hwy 199 and the Smith River. We had a place picked out to stay for a day or two called Patrick's Creek Lodge, where you can do it all right there; mountain lodge, bar, restaurant all in one in a mountain retreat. But the bastards were closed for vacation. We didn't bother to check or reserve, because nobody (guests) is there on a Monday. So we drove on to over the Oregon border to some small town and bedded down in some little Inn.

Then in the morning through Rogue River, Medford etc to the I-5, back into CA. Just over the border there's a small road, hwy 96. Travels the Kalamath river. Took that all day into late afternoon to a guest ranch, Marble Mountain ranch. Stayed there in a cottage, had dinner of fresh-caught steelhead with a group of six doctors, surgeons, etc. All retired and full of great stories. What a fabulous evening.

Then in the morning, further down hwy 96 to where it joins 299, through Weaverville, had a beer there, continuing on to Redding to stay at the deceptively-represented "Thunderbird Lodge".

That's where a little bit of poo rained on our parade.

Crap-ass motel in the very heart of Redding, which is a shit town full of transient types and "young bums". Got the car broken into and some of Anna's precious treasures she bought along the way. her honeymoon momentos, were stolen along with my current registration and insurance card.

Now I'm pissed.

If I was hard on "young bums", sign-holders and pleady-eyed beggars before that, you ought to see me now. Somehow, saying "no" isn't enough for me now.

Anyway, onward down the I-5 to Sacramento, then a left turn to hwy 50, stopped at Placerville. I used to live near Placerville. Used to be called "Hangtown" because that's where they hung people they saw fit to hang for various crimes and acts of dubious virtue.

..like breaking into vehicles.

Anyway, there was (I remembered) the "Hangtown Salooon", which featured the original hanging tree and the limb from which the unfortunate hung, right there in the bar.

They made it into an ice-cream parlor, and cut off the tree. Right below the floorboards. Nice girl who worked there said the tree is still there in the basement, and it's cut just below the floor.

Can you believe that? They cut off the very soul of the place. What a rotten thing to do.

Ice cream parlor. sheesh. A travesty.

So on we go to South Lake Tahoe. Stayed at the Lakeside Casino for 50 lousy bucks. Such a deal. Then from there, we drove home and arrived back here at Ft. Dave about 2100 last night.

All in all, we had a great time. Saw much of California, and there's so much more to see.
:wave:

W/B Dave-- sounds like you had a fine honeymoon... except for the part where Anna's mementos were stolen, anyway.

Fuckin' thieves... :noway:

Too bad about the Hangin' Tree too... though I suppose that it would probably be treated as a despicable reminder of the days of patriarchy (and all that shit) if its presence were a more prominent kind of thing...

It's why I generally prefer the firing squad to all other forms of execution. Why bother with lethal injections when lead poisoning is so much more quickly effected? As a bonus, no moralizing drug company need be involved.

Guess we're lucky to live in these kinder, gentler times... :D

Again wishing you many years of happiness together. Also, nice to see you back on the board!

--Rob :thumb:
 

LtDave32

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Rob, the advantages to hanging is the miscreant can hang there as a reminder to all of what happens when there's fckery, and you're involved.

And just in case the people get used to the sight, there's the smell after the hung begin to "tenderize" as a lengthy reminder to watch one's ass.

:laugh2:
 

Roberteaux

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Rob, the advantages to hanging is the miscreant can hang there as a reminder to all of what happens when there's fckery, and you're involved.

And just in case the people get used to the sight, there's the smell after the hung begin to "tenderize" as a lengthy reminder to watch one's ass.

:laugh2:
Buzzard bait! :laugh2:

My paternal grandfather was born in the 19th Century and raised in Nebraska.

One day when I was about ten years old, he was reminiscing to me about what it was like to live in that state when he was about my age. Said he saw his first hanging when he was about nine.

"It was a horse thief they strung up that time," he said, grinning.

I was a bit surprised and wondered why they'd hang a man over a stolen horse. His response was that in those days, a man without a horse had a very hard time of getting things done-- especially if he used the horse as part of his profession. He pointed out that his family used a horse to pull the plow... and said that if somebody stole a farmer's horse, it meant some lean times (food wise) if the family was too poor to replace the horse immediately.

He added that they'd hang you for stealing a mule, or an ox, or even a pig... but that often enough, the thief wasn't even gonna get the rope and would get a farmer or rancher's bullet instead.

And nobody would complain about it, either, he said. People who stole livestock were universally hated.

"A family might starve, if they raised one head of cattle as food and somebody else stole it," he said, while attempting to explain the justice of hanging rustlers and other thieves of that sort. "You have to keep in mind what the impact on the victim of the theft would be. It's not like today, where they worry more about the perpetrator of a crime than the victims of that crime."

He added that one time when he was about thirteen, one man shot another man right on the street, maybe about twenty feet from where grandpa was sitting. He was out in front of a blacksmith shop as my great-grandpa did business inside.

I asked what they did with the shooter. He said that the other folks had the man take a seat nearby while somebody else went to fetch the town marshal.

The marshal came immediately, and he asked the man why he shot the other guy. Turns out that the other guy had referred to the shooter as a "son of a bitch". The shooter told the guy to apologize, and the man who uttered the epithet refused... and so ended up plugged.

I asked what the marshal did after that, and was mystified when grandpa laughed and said, "Why, they let him go on his way of course!" He added that he was one of a half-dozen witnesses on hand who actually heard the dead guy call the other guy a son of a bitch and told the marshal about it... and so it was a real open-and-shut case.

I was mystified as to how or why they'd overlook a shooting that happened with that as a reason. Grandpa winked and told me, "You didn't insult decent women in those days, except at the peril of your very life. A woman had to be all-out bad before people would cuss about her like that, and even then you'd be told to knock it off after a reasonable complaint against her had been made."

I still didn't get it, so he continued, telling me, "If you call a man a son of a bitch, you are insulting his mother... and it's very reasonable to expect to be shot for doing that. In fact, we would have branded the other man as a coward and a weakling if he didn't shoot the man who said such a thing!"

He said, "We didn't allow ourselves or anybody else to carry on against women beyond a certain point, but to drag a man's mother into some quarrel? Hell, if the guy who shot that man hadn't done it, somebody else on the street would have done it and it all would have ended the same."

He mentioned that just a short while before he was born, the famous Doc Holliday shot a man at a boarding house who loudly and obscenely complained about the cooking of the mistress who ran the place... and that it was one of those occasions during which Doc was beheld as a sort of hero instead of being denounced as a scoundrel, as was more usually the case with Holliday.

I was sitting there thinking about all this. So... you could shoot a man and maybe take a walk... but you were dead meat if you stole his horse or insulted his mother? :hmm:

"Well, yes-- but you couldn't just shoot a man for just nothin', 'cause they'd hang you as fast for that as for anything else if the shooting wasn't righteous and just."

I was still chewing on all that when the old man told me, "And that is why everyone tended to have better manners, and were more concerned with their reputations as individuals in those days. Let's say you shot some horse thief out in your barn... well, when the marshal came, if you were an honest man who worked hard all his life, was polite and not given to a lot of bad behavior, the marshal might just shrug and cart the dead man off to be chunked into a hole somewhere at town expense. But if you were a scoundrel who was known to be no good and your reputation was bad enough... they might just hang you for thinking you'd staged a murder and called it retaliation against a thief."

He grinned at the shocked look on my face and said, "And that is why people were far more reasonably well-behaved in general, and didn't run their mouths constantly. Being a really bad man in Nebraska was good for a very short life in those days, because there was always a rope or a bullet with your name on it if you were truly evil."

He paused and said, "Of course, things might work out differently in a city. There were some towns where there was no law at all, and of course that's where the bad men liked to go to hang their hats. Thing was: they usually ended up dead just as quick or quicker anyway-- just, this time it might just be another bad man who did 'em in, and not necessarily the law."

Times have certainly changed! :D

You know, I was held up at gunpoint in Daytona Beach back around 1981. The robber didn't harm me, but in his next job he shot and killed a young man who had just gotten out of USMC and was now clerking at a convenience store.

The shooter's name is Ted Herring. And he's still on Death Row in Florida, after having been sent up there in 1982... I've read his appeals over the years and found most of his complaints to have been ridiculous-- but they were good enough for attorneys to get a stay of execution, up to this very day.

But I guess that if Ted pulled that shit in Nebraska in 1892, he'd have been pushing up daisies just a couple of days after being caught-- if not sooner.

So he's been on the Row for 36 years now... but I'll leave it to the readers of this post to chew on that bit...

:D

Meanwhile, this one's for you and Anna... well, really it's more for you... :D


--R :thumb:
 
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LtDave32

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Great story Rob..

Funny you mentioned that Marty Robbins album.

One leg of the journey as we were going through the redwoods, we were listening to Sirus radio, and "Big Iron" came on. I pulled over to a clear spot because the redwood forest was causing the Sirius radio to go in and out. But I was going to hear "Big Iron" in its entirety, dammit.

"It was over in a moment and the crowd all gathered 'round

There before them lay the body of the outlaw on the ground

Oh, he might have went on livin' but he made one fatal slip

When he tried to match the ranger with the big iron on his hip"
 

ehb

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Welcome back.... Been so calm that you could have taken another week.... Yep, calm.....


Except maybe the tiny minute things I think M&M mentioned that I was totally unaware of....


:cool2:
 




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