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Mark A. Pickrell
2/24/2000
Thank you splicer! Your absolutely RIGHT again as "usual"....The Calan is/was a father of the meters! Oh, by the way, the Calan is HP gear!
Of Course I havn't been sweeping long.....LOL
cheese
2/24/2000
You hav'nt swept until you've carried a wavetek 1865a and a sam-I up a pole on hooks and the MSO mandated 5sec intervals OK it was only 400MHZ but it was 30 amp cascades.
KenM
2/24/2000
The good old days that weren't always so good. Like when a sweep picture really was a picture. You don't have to have experienced the old stuff to appreciate the quality of the new. It's come a long way.
SplicerLife 4me
2/24/2000
YES, IT IS HP GEAR, BUT THEY HAVE OTHERS I BELIEVE. I WAS JUST SPECIFYING. DIDNT MEAN THE 'HADNT SWEPT LONG' PART. THAT WAS THINKING OUTLOUD. LOL! AND YES, TECHNOLOGY HAS ADVANCED QUITE RAPIDLY AND THE VAST MAJORITY, WANT A STEALTH SWEPT SYSTEM...HAVING WORKED W/BOTH (MASTER OF NEITHER! LOL!) I CAN APPRECIATE THE SIMPLIFICATION THAT THE STEALTH PROVIDES COMPARED TO THE HUGE, HEAVY, AWKWARD, KA-LAN. HOWEVER, I COULD APPRECIATE A SWEEP METER THAT IS COMPATIBLE TO THE LEADING PROGRAMS ON THE MARKET. IT CERTAINLY, IN MY OPINION, WOULD BE WORTH CHECKING IT OUT. YA NEVER KNOW!
Joe Brown
2/24/2000
Whitfield,
where did you wind up? I still have 20 miles left to go,and I am entertaining taking some MASTEC work to keep the ball rolling.Call me soon.
Joe-Joe
Jobsup4Mastec
2/24/2000
HI, Joe...
Gerald Whitfield
2/24/2000
I am writing this poem that I recieved today,it will not be in the proper form that it was written as the wet cement does not print as you write,but by its own line.I will put a comma at the end of a verse and a period at the end of a stanza.Its titled ,THE COLD WITHIN
Six humans were trapped by happenstance,In the black and bitter cold,Each one possesed a stick of wood,Or so the storys told.
Their dying fire in need of logs,The first woman held hers back,For the the around the fire,She noticed one of them was black.
The next man looking cross the way,Saw one not of his church ,And couldn't bring himself to give,The first stick of birch.
The third one sat in tattered clothes,He gave his coat a hitch,Why should his log be put to use,To warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back and thought ,Of wealth he had in store,And how to keep what he had earned,From the lazy shiftless poor.
The black man's face bespoke revenge,As the fire passed from sight,For all he saw in his stick of wood,Was a chance to spite the white.
And the last man of this forlorn group,Did not execpt for gain,Giving only to those who gave, Was how he played the game.
The logs held tight in death's still hand,Was proof of human sin,They didn't die from cold without ,They died from cold within.
Gerald Whitfield
2/24/2000
Hope everyone enjoys this poem as much as I did. Hey Joe,just got back from Myrtle Beach I'll give you a call tommorrow.
Gerald Whitfield
2/24/2000
I owe an apology I made a mistake in the first stanza,it should read Their dying fire in need of logs,The first woman held hers back,For the faces around the fire,She noticed one of them was black. Again I,m sorry I was holding my baby after a long road trip,and I'm tired,but I enjoyed the poem so much I had to share it. Thank you for your time to read it.
WILL
2/24/2000
Re: Mark's Bible quotes. Judge not yet ye be judged.
