Ollin Magnetic Digiscoping System

I remember when:

I knew ghetto ease...I cannot understand anyone singing.
Me either! Remember when lyrics were part of the music. Some were poetry, some stories, some expressions of love, some just sillyness, but you could discern the lyrics. Language was a part of the music. 'Don't know what the utterances are now!
Yeah, you hipsters, before your flatbrim gets bent outta shape ... I am a dino, likely older than the first electric guitar! :LOL:
 
When it was Saturday morning and the bugs bunny road runner show was on at 6 am. After that you were kicked in the rear (7 yrs old and above) and outside to entertain yourself and told to be home for dinner at 6 (pm). And you had your dog to run along with you as a body guard. And then when you messed up and your mom would take a hair brush to rear end until you were old enough to laugh at her and her response was go to your room and wait for father to come home from work. Riding around in gangs with homemade bmx bikes without helmets. Making camps in the woods and having bb guns wars. (literally sitting behind a tree and doing you morning business and your best friend is on the opposing team planting a bb in your butt cheeck dieing of laughter). Loving the freedom of being an x kid (basically feral). Lucky enough to be kid and getting broken bones and scrape knees without social services interfering. I can go on.......
 
thought of a few more. When you were skiing with dad (this was at beaver creek the first year when there were bubbles for restuarants) and your eight and your dad sends you to the bar to get a few more beers for him and his buddies and you return with the beers for him and his buddies). When your dad and his brother (my uncle) decide they are done packing elk because that is what you are for (one time after packing three elk out, three different staging areas over three days through over a foot of snow on the last trip running into an outfitters packstring and my dad explaining to him that he had his mules, me and my cousin). When you could (in colorado) draw your tag and then purchase two left over tags. You were allowed to ski by yourself at eight years old and you had to have boot to binding straps (even with stops) and straps to keep your gloves attached to you. Meeting your dad and his friends at the pub after (copper bar on bridge street) your youth sporting activity. Getting a brand new single shot twenty gauge at 11 years old after passing hunter education. Being point on dove hunts in SE Colorado through thick sun flower seeds and being told to hold my shotgun down in front of me so the rattlesnakes will aim in on the hot barrel first. Jumping on a trampoline with no safety fence or adult supervision. Having a crush on an eight grader when your in fifth grade and one her friends dares her to be your first kiss (I still remember her name and the tast of wrigleys spearmint). playing dodgeball with volleyballs. I guess overall being allowed to be a boy and learning to be independent.
 
The Cowboys actually won playoff games.
Jordan was in his prime.
Y2K was a big scare.
Mom’s wooden spoon was a normal form of punishment.
Drinking out of a water hose, which had been attached to the outdoor faucet for years, was normal.
Swimming in the irrigation canal.
Pitchforking carp out of the same canal.
The line, “wait ‘til your Dad gets home,” would invoke all sorts of fear.
Boob tube was the name for the TV.
Thongs were a type of shoe.
 
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When it was Saturday morning and the bugs bunny road runner show was on at 6 am. After that you were kicked in the rear (7 yrs old and above) and outside to entertain yourself and told to be home for dinner at 6 (pm). And you had your dog to run along with you as a body guard. And then when you messed up and your mom would take a hair brush to rear end until you were old enough to laugh at her and her response was go to your room and wait for father to come home from work. Riding around in gangs with homemade bmx bikes without helmets. Making camps in the woods and having bb guns wars. (literally sitting behind a tree and doing you morning business and your best friend is on the opposing team planting a bb in your butt cheeck dieing of laughter). Loving the freedom of being an x kid (basically feral). Lucky enough to be kid and getting broken bones and scrape knees without social services interfering. I can go on.......

Also sunday mornings had the rocky and bullwinkle show.
 
Sunday drive with mom & dad,the sibs...6. Dad took us to a ranch near Tule Lake and we saw a herd of elk,Tule elk.
The last ones. Maybe 100. All over CA again now,even where they never were.

1975 MT and a NR elk tag cost $25 with lic.

1963 NM, the Gila and there were very few elk. Friend drew one of the 1st tags in 1978 and shot a 395 bull.
 

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