Time for more coffee
THE Random Chat Thread - AKA "The RCT" - No shirt or shoes required - Open 24 / 7
- Thread starter ARC
- Start date
Mornin all.
Zero F. here.
Dogs not overly interested in being outside.
Walls closing in.
The woman is working on being disagreeable of course. Oh wait : it's me being disagreeable?
Zero F. here.
Dogs not overly interested in being outside.
Walls closing in.
The woman is working on being disagreeable of course. Oh wait : it's me being disagreeable?
He is slowly drifting off the chat it seems.
As have Bart, blossom,and whatcha me call it..you know... .ah... come on... that guy...you know....Um...um...
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My dogs did their business quick! Now back to more important things.
Up in these parts we know a term call cabin fever.
It inflicts thought of changing things in the cabin.
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Good morning TreasureNet Crew.
ATT had a new wireless tower they will try and sell you to use. My opinion is don’t bother cause you just don’t get good reception with it. My wife came home excited saying we were going to get a discount for using it. Darn thing doesn’t work half the time. Just say No!!!
Iceman-NYS
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Nothing like rising early in the morning, make a pot of coffee, head outside for a few pieces of fire wood to stoke up the wood stove and take a deep breath of the -3 sweet Adirondack air, to cold to ride sled today, so I guess I will hang out in my man cave today, yes nothing like retirement, oh coffee is on and a good morning to ya all.
DizzyDigger
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Wonder if that place is drafty?
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RC... this is an unusually great photo...
I have always found photos like this one a very interesting encapsulation of a moment in time...
I can stare at a photo like this one for several minutes... multiple times.
Last edited:
It was on Facebook.
Caption was kinda off.
Stated the guy was holding a fish pole.
No mention of his prosthetic leg. I suggest the fishpole is his cane.
Crosscut saw supported by an ax. Another ax is nearer the guy and doorway. That ax is ready to move. Off the ground by rule of preservation and locate ability but a wobbly passerby is at risk.
The sapling on the ground by prosthetic shows fresh cut. Perhaps about to be used for something or simply being cleared away when interrupted by photographer?
Leaving it to trip over; the one legged guy wasn't going to be doing. Says me.
I like the bark shown for siding. Perhaps the roofing too. Glare is preventing my squint from telling for sure. But edges seem frayed like a bark edge.
Bark was pressed flat for tanbark loads on wagons. Then to trains and still flat allowing greatest volume.
Lots of historic mentions of bark use for shelters but here is some good illustration.
Logs with bark can and have equaled beetles ect. Not always welcomed.
Stone is being used for drainage in the pic. Foreground bark resting on it shows good. Then along left side of cabin a bit.
But bark covered logs mean temporary shelter.
The lack of notching hints of haste as well. Yes more chinking can be substituted. And half logs fixed into/over gaps from inside the structure too.
N.E. U.S. Maine maybe.
Elementary school music teacher would wheel his piano into class now and then and we'd have music.
This is one of the songs we'd sing.
A sod shanty dweller livin the dream.
My name is Frank Bolar, an ol' bachelor I am,
I'm keeping ol' bach on an elegant plan;
You'll find me out West in the County of Lane
Starving to death on a government claim.
My house it is built of the natural soil,
The walls are erected according to Hoyle;
The roof has no pitch but is level and plain,
And I always get wet when it happens to rain.
CHORUS NO. I :
But hurrah for Lane County, the land of the free,
The home of the grasshopper, bedbug, and flea;
I'll sing loud her praises, and boast of her fame,
While starving to death on my government claim.
My clothes they are ragged, my language is rough,
My bread is case-hardened, both solid and tough;
The dough it is scattered all over the room,
And the floor would get scared at the sight of a broom.
My dishes are dirty and some in the bed,
Covered with sorghum and government bread;
But I have a good time, and live at my ease,
On common sap-sorghum, old bacon and grease.
CHORUS NO. 2:
But hurray for Lane County, the land of the West,
Where the farmers and laborers are always at rest;
Where you've nothing to do but sweetly remain,
And starve like a man on your government claim.
How happy am I when I crawl into bed
And a rattlesnake rattles his tail at my head;
And the gay little centipede, void of all fear,
Crawls over my pillow and into my ear;
And the nice little bedbug, so cheerful and bright,
Keeps me a-scratching full half of the night;
And the gay little flea with toes sharp as a tack,
Plays, "Why don't you catch me?" all over my back.
CHORUS NO. 3:
But hurrah for Lane County, where blizzards arise,
Where the winds never cease and the flea never dies;
Where the sun is so hot if in it you remain
'Twill burn you quite black on your government claim.
How happy am I on my government claim
Where I've nothing to lose and nothing to gain;
Nothing to eat, and nothing to wear,
Nothing from nothing is honest and square.
But here I am stuck, and here I must stay,
My money's all gone and I can't get away;
There's nothing will make a man hard and profane
Like starving to death on a government claim.
CHORUS NO. 4:
Then come to Lane County, there's room for you all,
Where the winds never cease and the rains never fall;
Come join in the chorus and boast of her fame,
While starving to death on your government claim.
Now don't get discouraged, you poor hungry men,
We're all here as free as a pig in a pen.
Just stick to your homestead and battle your fleas,
And look to your Maker to send you a breeze.
Now a word to claim-holders who are bound for to stay,
You may chew your hard-tack till you're toothless and gray;
But as for me, I'll no longer remain
And starve like a dog on my government claim.
CHORUS NO, 5:
Then farewell to Lane County, farewell to the West,
I'll travel back east to the girl I love best;
I'll stop in Missouri and get me a wife,
And live on corn dodgers the rest of my life.
This is one of the songs we'd sing.
A sod shanty dweller livin the dream.
My name is Frank Bolar, an ol' bachelor I am,
I'm keeping ol' bach on an elegant plan;
You'll find me out West in the County of Lane
Starving to death on a government claim.
My house it is built of the natural soil,
The walls are erected according to Hoyle;
The roof has no pitch but is level and plain,
And I always get wet when it happens to rain.
CHORUS NO. I :
But hurrah for Lane County, the land of the free,
The home of the grasshopper, bedbug, and flea;
I'll sing loud her praises, and boast of her fame,
While starving to death on my government claim.
My clothes they are ragged, my language is rough,
My bread is case-hardened, both solid and tough;
The dough it is scattered all over the room,
And the floor would get scared at the sight of a broom.
My dishes are dirty and some in the bed,
Covered with sorghum and government bread;
But I have a good time, and live at my ease,
On common sap-sorghum, old bacon and grease.
CHORUS NO. 2:
But hurray for Lane County, the land of the West,
Where the farmers and laborers are always at rest;
Where you've nothing to do but sweetly remain,
And starve like a man on your government claim.
How happy am I when I crawl into bed
And a rattlesnake rattles his tail at my head;
And the gay little centipede, void of all fear,
Crawls over my pillow and into my ear;
And the nice little bedbug, so cheerful and bright,
Keeps me a-scratching full half of the night;
And the gay little flea with toes sharp as a tack,
Plays, "Why don't you catch me?" all over my back.
CHORUS NO. 3:
But hurrah for Lane County, where blizzards arise,
Where the winds never cease and the flea never dies;
Where the sun is so hot if in it you remain
'Twill burn you quite black on your government claim.
How happy am I on my government claim
Where I've nothing to lose and nothing to gain;
Nothing to eat, and nothing to wear,
Nothing from nothing is honest and square.
But here I am stuck, and here I must stay,
My money's all gone and I can't get away;
There's nothing will make a man hard and profane
Like starving to death on a government claim.
CHORUS NO. 4:
Then come to Lane County, there's room for you all,
Where the winds never cease and the rains never fall;
Come join in the chorus and boast of her fame,
While starving to death on your government claim.
Now don't get discouraged, you poor hungry men,
We're all here as free as a pig in a pen.
Just stick to your homestead and battle your fleas,
And look to your Maker to send you a breeze.
Now a word to claim-holders who are bound for to stay,
You may chew your hard-tack till you're toothless and gray;
But as for me, I'll no longer remain
And starve like a dog on my government claim.
CHORUS NO, 5:
Then farewell to Lane County, farewell to the West,
I'll travel back east to the girl I love best;
I'll stop in Missouri and get me a wife,
And live on corn dodgers the rest of my life.
Evan in CA
Palladium Member
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Good morning everyone,
I couldn’t get on Tnet yesterday morning,
So good morning again to make up for it
I couldn’t get on Tnet yesterday morning,
So good morning again to make up for it
Mornin Evan!
Mornin Evan!
Cap'n left you a note before he staggered back to the rum room.
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