User Panel
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The way shits been going I'da been a hitching post, or a spitoon.
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Rapist.
I always say "rape" twice in my Old West job interviews, because I like rape. |
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Probably dead from some common disease that is easily treated today.
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Lawman. Of the Wyatt Earp or Bass Reeves variety. Successful, never got a scratch and we remember their names.
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Even though I was born sixty five years ago, I benefited from the latest medical technology and survived being premature with cerebral palsy. I would have been planted in the ground way before having a trade or profession to pursue in life. However being a mountain man does fit my Wild West fantasy.
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I would be the engineer on the Wanderer, driving Artemis Gordon and James West around.
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Seeing as how like 100% of my ancestors from that era . . . stayed in the East and were farmers, I’m guessing I would have done the same.
Some people are risk taking entrepreneurs, others stuck with what they know. Anyone going west in the 1800s was looking to start a new life or was a dreamer. |
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In fantasy I would of been a badass horseman, just like today. In reality, I would be a hardware store owner, just like today!
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Wealthy cattle baron married to Linda Evans. If you are going to dream, dream big.
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Colorful Frontier character, spouting authentic Frontier gibberish.
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Bartender.
Decent money, surrounded by whores and drunks so you’d probably be front a center at the biggest freak show in American history until Jerry Springer . I bet it would be fun. |
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the people who made the west were those who supplied the ranchers, the cowboys, built the towns, the railroads, and supplied those who worked on them.
Laramie City, Spring 1912 John’s saddle creaked as he slowly circled the dusty Model T parked in front of the Laramie Feed Grain Hardware and Ford Dealership. A stocky man in a straw skimmer pressed stained but clean apron watched from the establishment’s doorway. “Morning John. She’s a good buy. Asking five hundred.” said the store owner. “Will it make it to Chicago?” “Why not? Only a hundred miles on her. Owner died in a flood last spring.” “Sign says you’ll take anything in trade. What’ll you give me for my horse and tack?” “Seventy on the horse and twenty on the saddle.” “Hell, I paid you fifty for the saddle last summer.” Feigning chagrin he retorted, “OK. I’ll give you a hundred and ten for both. I’ll toss in the gasoline.” “Hard to start?” “Just a matter of getting the fuel mix right. I can show you. Far as handling it, if you can plow a straight row you’ll do OK.” “I’ll take it. Gotta get back.” “You in a hurry?” “Old man’s finally died, so I figured I’d go check on my mother. Besides, my brother says he’s got a job ready for me building those skyscraper things.” |
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I’d like to think I’d be a mountain man but then after my first encounter with Indians I’d end up being....
some alcoholic shlub laboring in a mill loading 75lb bags of grain on buckboards in the blazing heat in some God forsaken, prairie town. |
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Quoted: I'd say mountain man, but I'd probably end up like ol' Hatchet Jack here. https://www.newjerseyhunter.com/attachments/jj12-jpg.657/ I, Hatchet Jack, being of sound mind and broke legs, do hereby leaveth my bear rifle to whatever finds it, Lord hope it be a white man. It is a good rifle, and killt the bear that killt me. Anyway, I am dead. Yours truly, Hatchet Jack. View Quote but Hatchet Jack lived on in his rifle and a really neat story that Johnson could tell, so there's that. |
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Since I am deaf, probably a slave laborer... Not an actual slave but slaving as a laborer if that makes sense.
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Quoted: I’d like to think I’d be a mountain man but then after my first encounter with Indians I’d end up being.... some alcoholic shlub laboring in a mill loading 75lb bags of grain on buckboards in the blazing heat in some God forsaken, prairie town. View Quote Two entirely different decades, so it's possible |
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Outlaw/mountain man/town sheriff
I have quite a few outlaw tendencies, but then there's this troublesome sense of right and wrong and a burning desire to pound troublemakers Maybe mountain man fits better- I'm part Cherokee so I could have been a half-breed trapper/bounty hunter. |
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My grandfather was born in Leipzig, emigrated with his parents at the age of 5, his old man beat the shit out of him as a kid so he ran away at 14 to dig ditches out west, worked as a ranch hand in Wyoming, eventually traded in his horse and tack for a used Model T and moved to Chicago, joined Ironworker #1 local, raised a family of Ironworkers......the best thing about the West was that whatever you were back east, whatever you started out as you could remake yourself in the West. If you worked hard enough that is.
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Rancher.
That’s what I am now. Only downside is I dislike horses with a passion.........lol |
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Doctor, probably. I probably know more actual facts and abilities than they did at the time.
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Quoted: I'd say mountain man, but I'd probably end up like ol' Hatchet Jack here. https://www.newjerseyhunter.com/attachments/jj12-jpg.657/ I, Hatchet Jack, being of sound mind and broke legs, do hereby leaveth my bear rifle to whatever finds it, Lord hope it be a white man. It is a good rifle, and killt the bear that killt me. Anyway, I am dead. Yours truly, Hatchet Jack. View Quote |
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Judging by my past I'd say soldier and lawman. But I'd add outlaw as a possibility.
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