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Overdue for a sequel:

Are we really that surprised that EJ's bitching about not getting some sausage?

i worry about you people.

Texas Football Fan's Diary A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: 6:00 AM - Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast 6:20 AM - Get in car, drive to New Braunfels 7:30 AM - Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning) 8:50 AM - Turn 9 (crack open first beer) 8:53 AM - Crack open second beer 8:58 AM - Crack open...(you get the idea) 10:30 AM - Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95 10:35 AM - Headed for San Antonio 10:50 AM - Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities 11:10 AM - We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam 11:50 AM - Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees. 11:55 AM - I decide that we're going to kick the shit out of Nebraska. 11:56 AM - I tell my first Nebraska fan to go fuck himself. 12:15 PM - The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We’re on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wild men. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT. 12:25 PM - In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska. 1:00 PM - The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wild men. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. *Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska. 1:30 PM - I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants. 1:47 PM - I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the shit out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he’s so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable, non-transferable sons-of-bitches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom. 2:34 PM - Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy. 2:45 PM - I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas. 3:01 PM - The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking shit. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler. 3:36 PM - Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety. 3:56 PM - Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler. 4:11 PM - While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice cock." He is not amused. 4:21 PM - I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants.. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pussies. 4:51 PM - No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants. 5:18 PM - Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field. 5:27 PM - I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferable." 5:37 PM - I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the fuck didn't you announce last call over the fucking PA system??!!" 5:49 PM - Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take a gargantuan shit all over the letters "S", "K", and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty. 6:16 PM - Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship. 6:30 PM - Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care. 7:12 PM - We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer fridge. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the fridge. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the fridge. 7:17 PM - There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care. 8:01 PM - We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I could just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to fuck off and restart "Neon Moon." 8:30 PM - We arrive at the Erwin Center. My buddy, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a fucking tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly. 8:47 PM - I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the shit out of Arizona. 9:11 PM - Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice cock." No one is amused but me. 9:41 PM - I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center, much less Bud Light out of a can. An usher stops me: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no shit): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic foot balls. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light. 9:52 PM - I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing. 10:09 PM - Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I’m OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to fuck off. 10:15 PM - After the fourth consecutive "worst fucking call I have EVER seen," I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, "I'm taking this a bit seriously." 10:22 PM - I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I;m so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops. 10:43 PM - Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good Samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving. 10:59 PM - With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs. . . promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs. . . find the truck .. . . and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving . . . I take a nap. 11:17 PM - I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat.. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid cocksucker." 11:31 PM - I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "stupid cocksucker." 11:38 PM - I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "stupid cocksucker." 11:47 PM - I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "stupid cocksucker." 11:58 PM - I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around and pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon." 12:11AM - We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle. 12:26 AM - We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. . . . . We are all going to die tonight. 12:59 AM - We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full-length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's. 1:17 AM - The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker motherfuckers than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder. 1:44 AM - We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that fuckin' hard. Day don't fuckin' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab....fuck it, that stadium we was at today..." We order 6 shots of tequila and three beers. 2:15 AM - Back on the street. We need food. We hail a cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Katz's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it. 2:17 AM - There is a 20-minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately. 2:25 AM - We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Rueben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings. 2:39 AM - The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every fucking bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a fuck. The tab is $112 with tip. 2:46 AM - I'm sleepy. 9:12 AM - I wake up next to a strange woman. She is the bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty.

The last living starter of the 1947 and 1948 Texas Longhorn football teams is gone. Lew Holder (“Coach” to us, his grandkids) was a 3 year letterman at Texas and roomed with his DKE fraternity brother, Tom Landry, for whom he’d later serve as best man at his wedding. Here he is pictured left with Landry. Lew was named to the Press 1948 All-Southwest Football Team It’s kinda funny because three of those guys had grandsons that played on the 2001-2002 HP Scot Football Teams (Doak Walker, Lew Holder, and Lindy Berry). Coach was about as bad-assed as they came. There’s also the old story about him in the game against TCU in 1947. In the era before facemasks, Lew was charged to rush the punter against the Frogs. He blocked the living hell out of it…with his face, which caused him to lose multiple teeth. He ran to the sideline, spit out his four front teeth into a metal bucket, and returned to the field to play some more. Lew’s finest hour as a Longhorn occurred on January 1, 1948, in Tulane Stadium in New Orleans. With 7 minutes to play in the 4th quarter, Texas led favored Alabama, 13-7. Alabama had the ball at its own 10 yard line when Lew intercepted a pass and returned it 18 yards for a touchdown and a 20-7 lead for Texas. After the ensuing kick-off, Lew sacked the QB on 1st down and then on 3rd down stripped the ball from the quarterback’s hands and recovered on the Alabama 5 yard line. A few plays later Bobby Lane punched in a quarterback sneak sealing a 27-7 victory and Texas’ first and only Sugar Bowl title. If you’d like to view Lew’s heroics in this game, watch the period of time from the 32:00 minute mark to the 35:00 minute mark on the video at the bottom of this article: https://allstatesugarbowl.org/classic/1948-game-recap/ Coach then tried his luck at pro ball with the AAFC’s Los Angeles Dons: But, if I remember correctly, he hated living in California and this was obviously well before big money contracts allowed a pro football player to be set for life in just 6-10 years, so he headed back to Texas and left his athletics career in LA. My grandmother was married to my grandfather in that approximate time period, but my grandfather passed away at the age of 30 in 1962. As luck would have it, my widowed grandmother living with her 3 young children, would later meet and ultimately marry this fine man and would remain so, through thick and thin, until this past Thursday morning as he passed peacefully in his sleep. I know the normal protocol is to offer condolences for a “loss,” but the truth is that his peaceful passing was a relief to all of us, most of all to himself. He had recently battled multiple strokes over the past few years and had several severe falls that basically rendered him bedridden for the last couple years of his life. That was no way for one of life’s giants to live. You have to understand, from the age of 7 when I was first exposed to it until the age of 21 when I could finally take it (or he could no longer dish it out), I hated shaking his hand because he had a grip that would crush the neck of a grizzly bear. In fact I was just told this morning that it was recently discovered that he had a hairline fracture in either his back or hip that could very well have occurred in his playing days at UT, but no one would ever have known it in watching him. We will be holding a memorial service for him next weekend, but make no mistake, this will be no funeral. This will be the celebration of the life of one of the finest men I have ever known. We love him dearly, and we know he’s finally at peace. Hook 'Em Horns, Coach.

We are animals, and animals are best motivated by fear, hunger, and sex. I’ll leave the hunger and sex to other boards. This post is about FEAR. We fear death. But interestingly, our greatest fear is not about the things that are most LIKELY to kill us – cancer, heart disease, a car accident, etc. I think that’s because in SOME way, we can control those – we can take steps to limit our risk of heart disease and cancer, we can drive carefully, etc. (and yes, I understand that often those things are an illusion – bad genetics can mean heart disease or cancer are gonna git ya no matter what, and you can only control your car on the road, not the idiot who runs a blind red light and t-bones you). The point is that we buy the illusion, and as a result, we don’t fear those things as much. So what causes us the greatest fear? The risk of RANDOM death, that we do not control. And even worse, random death brought about by an EVIL act. Your plane or train gets blown up by a terrorist bomb. Your kid gets blown away in a school shooting, trying to hide in her algebra class. I suspect that our level of fear about these things is tied to our complete lack of control. There’s nothing I can do to control whether someone parks a truck bomb outside my building. My daughter can’t control whether someone shows up and shoots up her class. That scares the shit out of us. These things don’t just cause us fear, they motivate POLICY. Patriot Act! Muslim ban! Ban assault rifles! My take: I don’t have a problem with fear motivating policy, BUT, any policy response should be proportional to risk and should (as any policy should) balance rights. So, I do NOT agree with some of the flying-off-the-handle anti-terrorism measures we’ve taken (sorry, the “Muslim ban” is just stupid…and a good bit of the Patriot Act, particularly how it has completely opened up unconstitutional domestic surveillance, is as well). My chances of being blown up by a terrorist bomb are really, really small. I don’t want that to happen. I do want us to have a robust intelligence and law enforcement effort to try to reduce that risk – just because the risk isn’t high doesn’t mean that you don’t take reasonable measures. When it comes to the other “random act” that motivates fear these days, school shootings, I feel generally the same. The risk is low, but I still want us to take reasonable measures. I think that we need to re-evaluate our entire mental health system, I think we need to create measures (with appropriate due process) that make it easier to prohibit gun ownership or possession by an unstable person, etc. And, yes, I believe that we need to make the NCIS system more robust, we should look at increasing the minimum age for purchases, and we should look into ways that we could implement a limitation on high-capacity magazines. And no, not every measure will work or will pass muster. I also find it interesting that folks argue the counterpoint to policy action (“the risk is so small, why are we doing all this stuff?”) with respect to one such issue (say, gun control), but not the other (terrorism), and vice-versa. So, perhaps the sub-point here is that when the fear plays into something you naturally have a cultural aversion to (lots of Americans, often from white-bread rural or suburban communities, fear “scary foreigners;” likewise, lots of Americans, often from urban environments with little exposure to firearms other than as instruments of crime, fear “scary guns”), those groups are tailor-made to be motivated to fear random violence involving their pre-existing discomfort. But the TLDR point is this: we have a disproportionate sense of fear about random causes of death. While such matters may merit response and changes in policy, they should not drive disproportionate responses, which is a very real risk we have seen come true time and time again.

The fallacy is in equating "race" with "distinct subpopulations." Oh, and I read the whole article. All "black people" are not the same subpopulation. Same with all "asians" or "white people." For example, the white subpopulation that has developed in Norway since the Vikings settled down may indeed have some genetic strength with respect to standard IQ testing. The white subpopulation that has developed in, for example, Alabama, has not. Chuck the concept of "race." It's an outmoded, stupid, intellectually limited and lazy way of looking at genetics. The fact that this idea is championed loudest by people like Tahoe even further discredits it. Yes, it does. Kind of like how I laughed on the West Mall when I walked by the "legalize hemp" table. These guys were great at explaining how it was totally NOT about legalizing marijuana as a drug, and hemp is awesome, you can make rope, and clothes, and it will be great for farmers. Great....but, ummm....if it's totally NOT about legalizing weed, then why were those guys ALWAYS total stoners? If it's totally NOT about race....than why is it always old white guys from Alabama pushing this shit? Because they want to reinforce their own lazy thinking. If you'd have said "genetics and genetically distinct subpopulations," you might have a smidgen more credibility here. There are folks who do genetic research that ties to subpopulations. There are others who want to revive the thinking of Samuel Morton. You know which group you fall into. it's lazy jackasses like you who are actually the greatest impediment to such in-depth genetic research, because you wait ravenously in the wings, drooling at the prospect of extracting each and every data point that validates your pre-existing prejudices.

Has to be Mowry, oh well. Nice Katy Taylor Package Deal for Aggy. Mowry rushes the passer and Max Wright rushes SAE.

I haven't figured out how to comment on "likes" (don't think we can, yet) so I'll just say here that this thread picked up right where the other left off. Nice work, y'all! Easter lamb, roasted in BGE:

In late October 2014 Hornfans announced they would be shutting down and that news was posted on this thread: http://www.shaggytexas.com/board/showthread.php/122498-Serious-question-Why-is-Hornfans-com-still-up-and-running/page8. A couple days later I created the Katy Agnor sock with the intention of doing some quality trolling but I’m lazy and never got around to it, then forgot about the account completely. When I heard the bad news about Shaggy last week I remembered the account and there was only one option for my first and only post with it.

To be fair, 94 hasn't said that Card is going to be a QB worthy of a Texas offer. He's simply said that Card is obviously the best athlete of this, or any, generation.

Perfect for when he steps into the starting role at Texas in 2020 /longhorn94

I'd calm down on the Wilson to tOSU stuff. It's not coming from Wilson's camp.

TV comedy- TV drama- Movie comedy- Movie drama-

You nailed it, and as has been said "Never let a crisis go to waste..." Combine the above fear you describe with politicians (and their constituencies) demanding that they "DO SOMETHING!" And you get shit laws. There's a bias towards action versus inaction in people's minds; "doing something" e.g. passing a new law, banning a gun, banning brown people, etc is "meaningful" - even if it doesn't actually change anything. Here's the problem: nothing will change. It would require laws on the order of 100x the scale of what we're conceiving (probably unconstitutional) to move the needle. The raw truth that the population can't handle is this: People (including kids) dying in shootings is the price of the freedom embodied in the 2nd amendment. Terrorists blowing buildings up is the cost of our free and open society. These things will continue so long as we remain a free and open society - and even turning into a dictatorship can't stop it (see: terrorists still attack Russia ala the theater attack). It's called reality - many have trouble dealing with that.

I'm sorry, but all the reasons you list as being a republican? Yeah, that's not really a "thing" anymore

For me-

Anybody that dislikes Raftery needs a boot to the onions.

Pom's Masters adventure. Got to go to a practice round as a guest in 1997 then ten of us applied for 1998 practice round tickets. I was the only one selected and four of us got to go. Went again in 1999 for the actual tournament as a guest. Received a letter from the club advising that they we reopening the waiting list for the first time since 1978 and would i like to enter my name in another lottery for admission to the list, duhh. A few months pass then I receive another letter announcing that I have been selected to be added to the waiting list and can anticipate having the opportunity to purchase Masters badges in the foreseeable future. I've had my own tickets since the 2000 Masters. All the letters are framed.

Suck that dick, guy who hates Marwin

"Is Texas doing something we aren't that is helping their recruiting" They are being Texas and you're being A&M?

Wrong on both. This is the preeminent M*A*S*H character of all time:

The extra fast twitch fibers in Tahoe's leg muscles allow him to be superior at doughnut selection.

Fast and Fabulous 9.

The Dude

Fixed. This is the perfect shitty Tahoe thread. Vague, outraged, full of strawmen, only-slightly-hidden racial resentment. I did the thing I highly doubt Tahoe did: I read all of the pieces involved in the story. The original David Reich piece in the NYT has seemingly nothing to do with Andrew Sullivan's. Sullivan cites Ezra Klein's "encyclical" as an example of LIBERALS freaking out. (Klein blasts Sam Harris, justifiably because Harris (like Sullivan) is an idiot.) Here's what Ezra Klein had to say about Reich's article: So the liberal menace in all this, Ezra Klein, was fine with Reich's piece. But the white Right is so eager to feel victimized that they pretend that Klein was freaking out even though Klein was shrugging his shoulders. The reality is that there is nothing at all forbidden about studying genetics and race. Reich has done it for years unmolested. Many other genetic scientists do it without a herd of ANTIFA lesbians overturning their bunsen burners and smashing their beakers. The only thing "forbidden" is trying to use narrow scientific discoveries to create grand sweeping statements about racial difference.

But, but, I've already pulled the trigger if I'm close enough to see their eyes

Looks like folks are 0/2 on this page in identifying water moccasins. Rattlers, coral snakes, and copperheads are easy. Water moccasins, on the other hand, are frequently misidentified because there are several large dark snakes (lulz) that look similar and will sometimes flatten their heads to look "triangular" when threatened. If they are in the water, moccasins are very easy to identify given the way the swim. Their bodies will float, even if they are barely moving, and they will often hold their head up out of the water, like this: If they are on land, look at their heads. Moccasins have a very distinct, "blocky" or angular head. Don't look for a triangular shape when viewed from above. Lots of snakes can do that, even if they are not vipers. Look how the ridges make their heads almost look rectangular or block-like in shape: You can also look at their length. Moccasins are short, fat snakes, and their tails taper off fairly quickly. If you see a big, long snake, like this on a branch, it's not a moccasin: Also, not a moccasin despite the triangular head: You can of course also tell by looking at their eyes (slit=bad, round=ok) if you can get close enough. Hope this helps someone.

My name is Kevin Morgan, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

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This is from 300 to 500 yards on "My side" of the plate. Zero misses. We had a nice 5 mph tail wind. Shoot twice and cool down. Moved back to 1125 yards and I was 1 for 3. My misses were slightly low on the backstop plywood so adjusted on the 3rd and hit the target. Hornady Precision Hunter Ammunition 7mm Remington Magnum 162 Grain ELD-X

is anybody else having a twitter formatting issue where quoted tweets spill out of the quote box and cover part of the text?

Is he mad because she is texting Vic her nudes?

Since I have nothing worthy of my own, I'm using @brown water‘s latest masterpiece...a fitting tribute to start this thing.

Gbenda might be feeling some pressure to commit. Texas has legitimate alternatives out of state.

Trump dresses like he just found the Zoltar machine and wished to be a boy again.

It's probably not in your garage anymore. They mostly go in to garages to mate. Most of their feeding/living time is spent in the attached dwelling.