My First!

 Oliva Connecticut will be the Cigar tonight. The Revolver is my Uberti 2nd Model Colt Dragoon. It was the first handgun I ever purchased. You see, in the infinite wisdom of our overlords in D.C., you can be drafted and sent to the other side of the world to kill and be killed at the ripe old age of 18 yrs, but to buy a handgun, drink a beer, or smoke a cigar, for that matter, you must attain the wizened, magic, age of 21. Fortunately, for me, the overlords, again in their infinite wisdom, do not consider the Dragoon a firearm.

I purchased this at Dixie Gun Works and it caused the demotion of my Bowie Knife to my right hip, while this took it's place on my strong side. And I practiced. Quick drawing a 4.5 lb. revolver takes practice. I did it. I eventually competed with this behemoth at the distances 25 and 50 yards, with one hand in a classic dueling stance, hence, all the ribbons. You see no powder measure in the photo. That's because I simply filled each chamber to the brim, and blew out enough powder to seat the .454 cal round ball in far enough to not hit the forcing cone, wiped some crisco over it and moved to the next. Even in competition, I fired nearly 60 grains of FFFg black powder with each trigger pull. That's four times what the other competitors shot and twice the charge most used in their .58 caliber muskets. I knew something that our enlightened politicians didn't. Until the introduction of the S&W Model 29 in .44 Remington Magnum in 1955. The Colt horse pistols, the Walker and the Dragoon were the most powerful, production revolvers made. Not bad for 1847, huh?

I graduated high school on May 17, 1981. This Tuesday, May 18, 2021, will make 40 years, to the day, I went to DGW and laid down two, crisp, one hundred dollar bills and bought this bad boy. Tonight's cigar will be enjoyed to the memory of Colonel Samuel Colt and Colonel Samuel Walker and to the Obion County Central Rebels, Class of 1981. God Bless them and you!

The Mule

 

The Mule That Turns the Mill

By Jamie Spaulding, 1/22/2021

The mule that turns the mill seems content to do his task.

Then none could ever know for sure, for none have cared to ask.

He has no opinion on weighty matters, that any would care to hear.

They only care their meal is ground, five days a week, month after month, year after year.

 

Some might say he has a good life, as they butter their daily bread.

For there are, oh so many mules, to turn the wheel that keeps them fed.

Consider not the mule, if he could speak, the things that he might say.

It’s enough that he has a little grain and his daily ration of hay.

 

He is blanketed on cold nights and receives his daily grain.

For which he must perform his toil, in Sunshine and in rain.

On weekends he can pasture, and act as many free beasts do.

As long as he stays within the fence and gives no thought to breaking through.

 

At the break of dawn on Monday, he’ll submit to the millers will.

Harnessed to the wheel that feeds the town, with the fruit of the miller’s mill.

When he grows too old to turn the mill, as all beasts are wont to do,

He’ll serve the town once and for all, for then he’ll serve as glue.

 

The mule that turns the mill seems content to do his task.

Then none could ever know for sure, for none have cared to ask.

He has no opinion on weighty matters, that any would care to hear.

They only care their meal is ground, five days a week, month after month, year after year.