So, I get that you need the leverage, but the point of the Winchester 1873 lever arm cocking lever was that you didn't need to take it off your shoulder to cock it...that's a firearm and that short a throw would never work for a crossbow...but...why bother with a magazine?

My two favourite FBI agents - Sam and Dean Winchester.

After reading a bit more, it's clear what is going on. This is a striker fire mechanism; the firing pin is not driven by a hammer, but by a spring, in-line with the cartridge. This mechanism is used in many weapons, but it does have a couple possible failure points.

If the spring is missing or is the incorrect tension, the striker may ride forward into the breech where the cartridge is at and when a round is loaded, may cause a slam-fire. This is mostly seen in semi-auto rifles or military ones.

The second failure point, and the one that seems to be the most likely here, is a faulty trigger disconnect. This feature is supposed to disconnect the trigger action from the striker assembly to prevent this exact thing from happening. I would gather that it's not working correctly.

Funny side note, up to 1975 some Winchester pump shotguns were designed this way on purpose. Called Trench or Riot guns, they were intended to be used this way to clear areas of hostiles rapidly by simply holding the trigger down and pumping the action as fast as possible. In fact, the model 1897 Trench gun was so feared by the German soldiers in WW1 that Germany threatened severe punishments to any American soldier captured with a shotgun.

Yeah, probably. I would guess that's more likely a manufacturing defect with that particular shotgun. It's too wrong. Of course, that doesn't excuse Winchester's obviously inadequate quality control.

Ever heard of Strasburg VA? (Near front royal, winchester), thats where a bunch of my relatives live.

Hi, I'm Ed Winchester.

Charges have been dropped. The mailman refused to press charges.... I guess Erika Winchester was right about one thing: his IQ is not that high. At this point it's too late to press charges considering this incident occurred last year.

Erika Winchester has also said some very silly things in the past, including suggesting that she mow down anyone who has ever done her wrong with a machine gun and telling an officer that she was going to cut his balls off. So, she is crazy, a nutbag, but doesn't seem to be any crazier or backwards than... QM is. :>

Her contact info is all over the internet. That same mailman is going to have to deliver all those boxes of poop that get sent her way.

Survival of the Fittest?
An Interview with Benny Morris

By ARI SHAVIT

http://www.counterpunch.org/shavit01162004.html

"But in an astonishing recent Ha'aretz interview, after summarizing his new research, Morris proceeds to argue for the necessity of ethnic cleansing in 1948. He faults David Ben-Gurion for failing to expel all Arab Israelis, and hints that it may be necessary to finish the job in the future. Though he calls himself a left-wing Zionist, he invokes and praises the fascist Vladimir Jabotinsky in calling for an "iron wall" solution to the current crisis. Referring to Sharon's Security Wall, he says, "Something like a cage has to be built for them. I know that sounds terrible. It is really cruel. But there is no choice. There is a wild animal there that has to be locked up in one way or another." He calls the conflict between Israelis and Arabs a struggle between civilization and barbarism, and suggests an analogy frequently drawn by Palestinians, though from the other side of the Winchester: "Even the great American democracy could not have been created without the annihilation of the Indians."

See also:
Diagnosing Benny Morris
The Mind of A European Settler
http://dissidentvoice.org/Jan04/Ash0126.htm

You know you're a good egg, right? And you're a smart egg too, because you know I've been drinking. Again.

But you're still one of the best chicks out there. Not just in cyberspace, but the whole fucking universe. And when I wake up sober (and hung over) tomorrow morning, I'll write it again.

If nothing else, take the compliment. Why not? Do you think you don't deserve it? I may be inebriated right now, but just like Forrest Gump, I know what love is.

Stun.

(No silly asterisk. I also know what the real world is.)

You don't need to respond in kind. I'm not looking for reciprocity. Not an itinerary confirmation number from Expedia. Not a commitment of any kind. Just honesty.

Sorry if I've embarrassed you already, but that's how I roll. Words first, recriminations later. Thankfully I subscribe to Word of the Day. And that I've met you.

John

In reply to this comment by alien_concept:
God, I fucking love it when you get drunk

In reply to this comment by kronosposeidon:
LOL! You just figured that out!?

Okay, okay; I'm done laughing at you. You are one of my favorite chicks. Period. Not just online, but offline too. Not just in Britain, but the whole fucking planet. I love your direct, honest style. You don't pull any punches; you just tell it like it is. (Quite surprising for someone of British ancestry. Most Brits rely on sarcasm and dry humor to effetely express their opinions, but not you. In other words, you're a Brit with a dick. (Wait, that's not good for a chick, is it?))

Okay, if you've had enough of my American wiseass, I'll understand. Lord knows my ex-wife and numerous ex-girlfriends already have. But if you can read between the lines then you should already know that I think you're someone special. If I were ever to purchase a plane ticket to fly across the pond, it would be solely to meet you. Fuck the tour of Winchester Cathedral; fuck Buckingham Palace. I wouldn't care if you lived in a refrigerator box in the London Underground. Just give me the stop, because I'd be there.

Hopefully this unabashed declaration of love will be the new talk of the town, therefore drowning out all the negativity from the recent banishments. The internet is big, but VideoSift is a Peyton Place.

Like I said, you're the bees knees. And bees are the shit.

In reply to this comment by alien_concept:
*afterthought* ...I'm the only British chick

God, I fucking love it when you get drunk

In reply to this comment by kronosposeidon:
LOL! You just figured that out!?

Okay, okay; I'm done laughing at you. You are one of my favorite chicks. Period. Not just online, but offline too. Not just in Britain, but the whole fucking planet. I love your direct, honest style. You don't pull any punches; you just tell it like it is. (Quite surprising for someone of British ancestry. Most Brits rely on sarcasm and dry humor to effetely express their opinions, but not you. In other words, you're a Brit with a dick. (Wait, that's not good for a chick, is it?))

Okay, if you've had enough of my American wiseass, I'll understand. Lord knows my ex-wife and numerous ex-girlfriends already have. But if you can read between the lines then you should already know that I think you're someone special. If I were ever to purchase a plane ticket to fly across the pond, it would be solely to meet you. Fuck the tour of Winchester Cathedral; fuck Buckingham Palace. I wouldn't care if you lived in a refrigerator box in the London Underground. Just give me the stop, because I'd be there.

Hopefully this unabashed declaration of love will be the new talk of the town, therefore drowning out all the negativity from the recent banishments. The internet is big, but VideoSift is a Peyton Place.

Like I said, you're the bees knees. And bees are the shit.

In reply to this comment by alien_concept:
*afterthought* ...I'm the only British chick

Me, Rowley Birkin QC - the fourth Earl of Winchester - in an all female showers? Then again, I was very, very drunk... Classic Fast Show!

I realize this is long, but here is the Sports illustrated article on these guys...................

Strongest Dad in the World [From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay fortheir text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck. Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was
strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. "He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an institution.''

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. "No way,'' Dick says he was told. "There's nothing going on in his brain.'' "Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that.''

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker'' who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks.''

That day changed Rick's life. "Dad,'' he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!'' And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon. "No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston
Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it,'' Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the Century.'' And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago.''

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life. Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day. That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''

Hi James,

MidniteBob here (a Newbie at videosift) ... I'm one of the ones who was directed here by another website & I joined to 'Vote for Jake'...And then I spent the last 14 hours induldging myself in everything...& eventually, I noticed your 'Posting' on Jake's thread, & so I clicked on the 'star thingy' just so that I could drop you a quick note that I've become an addict....And I ended up 'here' watching Katrina from 'Da Beau'.....I spent a month there working as a contractor before Katrina hit,,,parked in that same garage....&#^%*^&#^%$#$%!!! I don't wanna take up any more space here, but if you get a chance, please drop me an e-mail re: Katrina to know_jack@yahoo.com Me & my co-workers have a lot of fond memories of Da Beau & a Jesse Winchester song called 'Biloxi' to remember her by...I would really like to hear from you how it looked the next day...And to also find out..What the heck were you doing filming that#$%@$^% when you should have been bunkered down somewhere you crazy ass %%$%$^&^You!!!

Thanks

MidniteBob