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Carbide tipped cutoff tool
- By jayman
- Ask The Cuemaker
- 21 Replies
If I were using it often enough I would throw far more time and effort at it. But I have seen the parting tool I showed in the picture a couple times in the past that had the carbide tipped end. That's really all I need or want. Next time I see one I'll grab it and post pictures. I'm surprised they are so hard to find.
I found this picture but the link doesn't get me there.
Bergman - now a carbon shaft - not usual kielwood?
- By Paul Bell
- Main Forum
- 10 Replies
The $500 Viking Siege carbon fiber is Viking's lower-priced CF shaft compared to their $600 Whyte Carbon Fiber Performance, the $675 Fedor Gorst Triple 60 FG57, or the $750 "full custom Whyte Carbon fiber shaft".
Bergman wrote on Facebook in June this year that [Viking had gone] “above and beyond, out of their way to help me get to play with something familiar” ... and that “until now I have never found a cue that hit as good as my Steve Lomax and Bob Danielson Kielwood shaft”.
Viking CF Siege beat out kielwood and Whyte Carbon.
No More Drunkards, Druggies, and Thieves
- By ShootingArts
- Main Forum
- 56 Replies
I was hoping somebody who actually knew Bruce Bullard would come on this thread. In fact, I think I actually posted that on this thread somewhere earlier.
Actually, I think this thread is very revealing about the American pool culture. I must say, though, I was pleasantly surprised to read the posts from members of this forum who found this phrase offensive. That gave me a little spark of sunshine!
If the author of the article did create that term "drunkards, druggies, and thieves," it speaks volumes about what this American media person thought of pool when he was interviewing Bruce Bullard. Can somebody say "STEREOTYPE"?
When I was younger, all of the pool rooms in my area never served alcohol. The only places that served alcohol were the bars, but the bars usually only had one or two pool tables, unlike the rest of the country.
When I went on the road in the '70s down South and entered the bars with 20 and 30 pool tables in them, I thought I had died and went to heaven. I loved it down South, and the pool action was plentiful.
The person I was on the road with who was THE pool player looking for action tended to never want to gamble in the bars. He wanted to stick with the pool rooms. He knew that gambling and alcohol didn't mix, and he was right. I soon found that out when I had a gun pulled on me in Dalton, Georgia, side-betting.
My last road trip came about because of an incident that happened in Rome, Georgia. We went into this joint, looking for action, and the bartender called in the local champ. This older man, maybe in his forties -- hey, forties was old to me back then-- came to play, with his stick in tow, and it was let the games begin, with the two players sparring, giving it their all.
When the dust settled, my friend won the cheese. As we were exiting the premises with our pockets full of the other man's cash, I saw that 40-ish man sitting outside on the ground by his car, weeping his eyes out. I never went on the road again hustling pool after that incident. To this day, I can't get that sight out of my mind of that man crying in the parking lot.
That's not to say I don't like action. I still enjoy a good game of high stakes, but I prefer it to be a fair contest. Okay, okay. I'll admit that I somewhat do like it better when my horse has the best of it.
Today in the year 2008, I have seen both sides of pool, the action genre and the tournament soldier era. Those are the two subcultures within American pool, and they each have their warts and shining stars.
JAM
I know I am posting into a thread that is old enough to vote but I enjoy reading the old threads and reading the posts of old friends no longer with us. I have posted what shut down my hustling/hard gambling days enough times I won't do it in detail again. Played a man an hour and a half or two hours in a bar, plucked him like a chicken. It was obvious that he was desperate before the end of the first hour but he wouldn't quit and we were playing for decent money by then.
I was treating anybody that would drop a hundred or more and not whine or get angry like a valued client at my day job so I stepped out the door with him as we spoke. He stopped near the door to burn a cigarette. It was a cold evening and there was a woman in his car. I walked over and saw it was a very pregnant woman with a small baby by her side. She had sat there in the cold with her baby while he dropped around a hundred and a half, a week's wages or more for most people back then.
I did a quick cut of the money in my pocket and gave her eighty. I had worked for my winnings and I wasn't inclined to give them all back. Too, I had taken the same risks he had. Had he been better he would have gladly taken my money. We were gambling and while I might have not let the ponies run at my best speed, I didn't do the standard hustle of raising the bet while stalling on the skill level.
This was the thing about the man in the parking lot in JAM's story. He lost and he was crying. Had he been able to bust Jennie's companion down to his socks he would have been gloating and telling the world about it!
Gamblers are eternal optimists and always think the next big win is around the corner. I always carried plenty of bait on me. Like the fish in the water, nobody had to jump at that bait.
Hu