I'm not even going to say what I can do. I have good days and bad days, and a lot of really fun days. I've made a few shots I'll remember forever, and have my share of paper plates at home that I thought were worth bring home for my wife to see.
I do want to mention a guy in my club. He was a down-east Maine native. He never learned to read, and I saw him polish off more beer than targets in the years that I knew him. Sometimes he'd sit around in the clubhouse bragging about deer he shot at incredible distance, or what he could do with a pistol, especially with the Chief Special he carried.
Well one day Don was spouting his usual BS, when another club member, tired with his bragging, called his bluff, and bet him $10 he couldn't hit ANYTHING at 50 yards with his Chief Special. Not the burning barrel, not the railroad ties, maybe not even the berm.
Don said the bet was on, and didn't say another word.He reached into the trash and plucked out an empty beer can, and walked down to the pistol range. He set the beer can on the railroad tie at the berm at 50 yards, and walked back to the firing line.
He cleared his throat, snorted a bit, and drew his snubby. From his waist his first shot center holed the beer can. He put his gun back in his holster, put his hand out for the ten bucks, and walked back to the clubhouse while those of us watching with mouths open didn't say a word.
I don't know about the rest of the guys, but sometimes, when I think I'm hearing some BS...I remember Don.