- Joined
- Mar 20, 2013
- Messages
- 3,356
- Reaction score
- 478
That is getting super exciting... Good luck to every one... Especially to me...
That's just too cool. I've heard you say you envy people who can work with wood. I feel the same about metal. Nice work.
When is the cutoff date for buying chances? Is there one?
Great looking knife Dave.
Even if there wasn't a raffle I'd be willing to donate 'cause this thread has been most entertaining.
Trying to stay in the background so I can swoop in at the end to win......Jim
I am thinking of putting the winner's initials on the sheath.
If you decide to go full surname please note that “Memaquay” is not spelled the way it sounds, it’s a mispronunciation of the Highland Scot’s McCrea.
Jim Dodd;n38425 Boy I'd hate to see that knife leave Iowa ! [/QUOTE said:Yeah, what is it with Hawkeyes and craftsmanship? Maybe there’s something in the effluent of 20 million pigs that stimulates the creative side of the brain.
Yeah, what is it with Hawkeyes and craftsmanship? Maybe there’s something in the effluent of 20 million pigs that stimulates the creative side of the brain.
Dave
I'm amazed that you can match the bevels from side to side, by HAND ! I'd have to have a jig of some sort, or mine would be as uneven as a flint knife !
Jim
Memaquay and Ripster, a match made in heaven. Wish I had the Ripster for those Plaid Prancer days, but you know how the circle of life works, you meet special people at particular times of your life for certain reasons. The high quality Ripster would have been embarrassed back in those dark days, hanging off my sash, covering up the bits. Now it will hang proudly from my side, waiting with a happy smile to cut into moose flesh, ropes, branches, fish, perhaps even the occasional zombie if my apocalyptic dreams become reality. I haven't had this kind of anticipation since I was a 13 year old kid looking through the undergarmant section of the Sears catalogue!
As I lay here, withering away from some despicable disease (my wife says it's man cold, but my internet research has led me to believe that it is EBOLA), the slings and arrows of a million jealous Ripster wearing wanna-be's merely makes my dried up and cracked lips bleed as I smile with compassion, thinking about when the Ebola finally finishes me, and they are lowering me into the ground, the Ripster will be going with me, forever safe from the clutches of the clambering canoetripping crowd. Alas, me and Ripster for eternity!
There's not enough topsoil up there to bury you deep enough mem. We'll brine you first, then we'll just prop you up in the smokehouse till you're good and cured (so to speak). Then you'll be good to go. We'll dress you up any way you like. Plaid peekaboo teddybear and satin speedos, with wool work socks. And of course a knife in a dangler sheath dangling right where you liked it best. But I've taken a shine to this here knife you call Ripster. And although I don't mind loaning it to any friend of mine (after I've won it), I'm not sure I want it to dangle from your fancy frilly garter belt...I know, I know. You weren't a stripper, you were an "exotic dancer". Whatever. But a big keen knife would be over kill, and such a waste. Better off hanging a diddly little folder. Right? It'll do the job just fine.(So I've heard.)