Cant paste more than about 50 words

Keith Bolog · Post by **Keith Bolog** » 11 Jul 2013 4:56 am

Then the preview comes up blank. I composed it offline, can cut in a few sentences once I reach about 50 -75 words, the preview goes blank. Ive tried restart, re-log, turned off HTML, change to text doc before cutting, used all my tricks. Any idears?

Wiz Feinberg · Post by **Wiz Feinberg** » 11 Jul 2013 7:29 am

Reboot the computer. Check for and apply all available updates for your operating system, your browsers and their plug-ins/add-ons, Adobe Flash and Reader, Oracle Java, Apple Quicktime, and your anti-virus and anti-malware programs. Reboot again and see if this improves things.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 9:48 am

I get the same thing, around 120 words. They disappear when I hit Preview. Mac, Chrome.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 10:11 am

Looks like it might be a limitation of the Forum software.

Wiz Feinberg · Post by **Wiz Feinberg** » 11 Jul 2013 12:08 pm

I just pasted these 255 words; 1585 characters and submitted successfully.

Cowboy industrial sewing machines are built as tough as tanks and are capable of sewing thick leather, cloth, webbing, bioplastic and other materials, with heavy thread.

The Cowboy CB4500 leather stitcher, pictured here (click here for close-up of machine head), is capable of sewing up to 7/8" of saddle leather, with up to #415 bonded nylon or polyester thread.

It has a cylinder arm of 16.5 inches in length; ideal for sewing horse saddles. The feed is performed by a compound, triple feed walking foot, which ensures that all layers will move together. The pressor feet, known as Harness Feet, are made of stainless steel, as are the throat cover plates. A blanket foot set, with teeth on the bottom, is available, instead of, or in addition to the harness feet, for those sewing cloth items and horse blankets, rather than only leather. See more photos of our optional pressor feet and throat plates for the CB3500, 4500 and 5500 models.

Every new CB4500 purchase comes complete with a motor and table, choice of regular or harness pressor feet, one standard throat plate and feed dog to match feet, and a swing-away roller edge guide. Also included are four bobbins and one pack of 10 needles (to match your preferred thread size). We offer an accessories package for an additional price, containing our raised and slotted throat plates, additional pressor feet and extra needles and thread.

Uses for this machine include saddlery, leather and bioplastic harnesses and bridles, gun holsters, ammo pouches, gun belts, weight belts, nylon webbing tow ropes, animal collars and leashes.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 1:26 pm

728 words(not counting these) (or these) (or...)
It was a warm Saturday evening in July in Pinetop a year and a half after Urval Barnett's death. The sun was just disappearing in the pink sky behind the hills, and the night sounds -- crickets, locusts, frogs -- were beginning. Two men in overalls and tattered straw hats, farmers, sat comfortably on stumps under the trees in the darkening behind Morgan's store chewing tobacco and making music, one with a guitar and the other with a banjo. Their old gnarled and scarred fingers caressed the metal strings softly, delicately, coaxing happy music out of their ancient instruments, a song they had played a thousand times and would play a thousand more, if they lived that long.
Presently Hubert Morgan joined them with his fiddle. He'd closed the store and he was eager to play. He tuned up, and with a grin that split his wrinkled and weather-beaten face, started an old reel. The guitar and the banjo fell effortlessly into it with him and the soft spicy pine-scented evening breeze carried the plinking and the strumming and the sawing across the holler behind the store, over the copse of pine trees encircling the pond and around the twilit countryside, and people heard and smiled and tapped their feet and their fingers. Soon a small crowd began straggling in behind Morgan's' store. Whittlers, story-tellers, boisterous children, amorous young men who had been working all week and who were ready for a weekend frolic, a few shy young maidens under watchful eye of parent or brother. An old grandma, barefoot, hoisted her ankle-length gingham skirt to mid-calf and danced a hillbilly two-step. The old men smiled and nodded, the young men watched the girls, who blushed coyly with averted eyes, and after a while a jug was passed around. Another fiddle player showed up and joined in, playing harmony to Hubert's sonorous lines. They gathered here like this most Saturdays when the weather was nice. Some of the women brought food and there was always plenty of whiskey, for those so inclined, and the musicians would play old mountain songs and some of the newer tunes by Hank Snow or Ernest Tubb that they heard on WSM's Grand Ole Opry.
Rebecca Barnett came over with her brother Ossie and his wife and Hank. Rebecca had never been happier, since Urval's demise. She was free to lavish Hank with all the love and attention of her wild, primal heart, and she watched over him with the jealousy of a lioness protecting her cub. She continued to let Hank into her bed, but she was very careful about it now that Ossie and his family had came to live with them. Hank knew that it was their private secret and it made him feel warm and special.
It was the first time Hank had been to the wing-ding at Morgan's store and he was mesmerized by the music. He'd never seen live music like this before. He'd seen only an occasional guitar picker or fiddle player fooling around solo, and some Gospel singing at the Baptist church, and to see a group of musicians playing together was wonderful. The way the various instruments blended together fascinated him, and he listened carefully to each player when it was his turn to shine. Hank was 13 now, but he hadn't grown much, and he was skinny and short with thick black hair and dark eyes that watched the goings-on attentively.
After it was good and dark with a moon casting its shimmering white light over the landscape another guitar player carrying a D18 Martin in a dirty white cotton sack came into view, trudging down the dusty road that led out of the shadows of the hills to Morgan's store. Folks nudged each other and whispered as they noticed him approaching out of the sultry Georgia night. It was Calvis Taylor, the slim, dark-haired mill worker. Calvis was famous around these parts - he had been to Nashville and worked the road with Lester Flatt and had played on the Grand Ole Opry. But he'd come back home and gone to work in the cotton mill. Didn't go in much for city life, he said when he had something to say, which wasn't often. Didn't like those long overnight auto trips to play some schoolhouse or county fair 300 miles away, either.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 1:27 pm

Above with Win, Chrome.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 1:30 pm

766, Win, IE
There was no house band at Freddy's club tonight; the Hank Barnett show was the only attraction. There would be a dance set at nine, then Barnett would come on and do his first big show of the night at ten. After a big autograph party the band would play another dance set, and then Barnett would come on again for a second show sometime after midnight. At least, that was the plan.
The first half of the night went smoothly. The club was three quarters full, Freddy had a cooler full of beer in the dressing room for the band, Austin wasn't too stoned or distracted by girls in the front row to play on the right frets, and Barnett remembered all the words to his songs. Souvenir sales afterward were brisk. Always nice for the band, who sold the stuff while Barnett signed, and divvied up 20 per cent of the gross. Everyone was happy. Freddy was beaming, posing for pictures with Barnett and introducing him to all his friends.
But the second show didn't go quite as well. Austin had warned Freddy, suggesting that he not serve any drinks to Barnett, or at least short-shot him. Freddy was supposed to have warned the bartenders, but Freddy just couldn't believe that a great guy like Hank Barnett could really get out of hand as bad as Austin said, and when Hank asked for a double Crown and water he couldn't very well turn him down, could he? Shoot, he'd been a Hank Barnett fan for thirty years, had a bunch of his records, had his old cowboy movies on video tape, watched him when he was on TNN. They had really hit it off, and Hank wouldn't pull anything with him, they were buddies.
Freddy had felt like a wheel at the country club playing golf with a Nashville star, introducing him around to his pals. There had been that embarrassing moment, though, when he had introduced him to Abe Goldman, a bald headed investment counselor, and Hank had told him that some of his best friends were Jews; that in fact, he lived between two of them in Nashville and felt like a Gentile sandwich. Abe had just given him a strange look and walked away, but Freddy just figured it was some kind of show business in-joke.
Freddy's mother had even come out for the show, and she hated nightclubs -- the smoke and the noise and all. She had seen Barnett in 1964 on a show with Ray Price and Ernest Tubb at Panther Hall in Fort Worth and had been a Barnett fan ever since. One of Freddy's partners in a real estate deal was here, too, with his wife, and they hated country music, but Freddy had talked him into coming out. Freddy's oldest son was here, too. He was home for the summer from UT in Austin. He liked heavy metal music and thought his dad was the biggest square this side of Geometry 101, booking acts like Hank Barnett into his club, but he had come out with some of his long-haired friends to drink some beer and see what a Hank Barnett was.
Freddy brought in acts from Nashville three or four times a year. Jimmy Dickens, Stonewall Jackson, Del Reeves, a few others. He had Texas acts in there on a regular basis. Johnny Bush, from right here in San Antonio, and Darrell McCall, formerly from San Antonio. Alvin Crow and the Pleasant Valley Boys from Austin. Frenchy Burke from Houston. But nobody who had had as many hits as Barnett. And nobody whom he admired as much as Barnett. This was a big deal. Bigger'n Dallas.
* * * *
Barnett mounted the stage at 12:37 AM for the second show with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other hand, and a wild look in his eye.
He got through the first song OK, but the booze hit him when the second song started. Half way through it, he went over to play with Osgood's hair while he was taking a solo and tripped over Jackie's guitar cord and pulled his amp over. It tumbled to the floor on its face with a deafening crash of reverb that must have been heard in Houston, throwing Dax and Austin out of time and scaring the hell out of the first three rows of spectators. Jackie stepped back to save his guitar from injury and Will put his bar down, ready to grab his steel guitar and move it out of harm's way.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 1:45 pm

505 words disappear in Mac/Safari. I wonder what OS/browser the OP is using?

Wiz Feinberg · Post by **Wiz Feinberg** » 11 Jul 2013 4:41 pm

I used Windows 7, with Firefox 22, to paste my meager 255 words. I guess there might be a memory or other problem with your Mac computers, or Safari browsers. Since I don't have a Mac, I can't duplicate this problem.

Cal Sharp · Post by **Cal Sharp** » 11 Jul 2013 5:05 pm

Success with Mac/FF22
I'm rich and famous and an incorrigible, though amiable, reprobate and I got this way playing loud three chord rock'n'roll. According to my accountant, I blow a hundred grand a year on girls and cars and parties and friends, but I don't care; it just keeps rolling in. A couple times a year I go into a studio in New York or LA or Jamaica with my band and we cut a new album and then go out on a tour for a month or two. Last year a car rental company used one of my old songs in a national commercial and the money I made from that was ridiculous. I've been doing this for over thirty years and everybody's been waiting for me to slow down, but I ain't tired yet.
Don't get the idea that this has all been a day at the beach, though. I've been married and divorced twice, had a heroin habit for a couple of years, and sat naked in the sand on Catalina Island at 4:00 am toying with a Smith & Wesson .38 Special loaded with hollow point bullets and wondering how much longer I really wanted to live. (Until I was 60? 50? Until 4:30?) My musical brother, a guitar player with whom I'd written half a dozen top ten songs, died when his girl friend slit his throat when she caught him in bed with one of my ex wives. Five years ago I came within a few farthings of going broke when I started my own record label and my partners ran off with all the assets and our accountants kept the money that we thought was going toward taxes. As they say in the music business, the best way to be assured of being able to retire with a million dollars is to start off with ten million. The reason I'm still playing rock'n'roll is because I know there's nothing else I could do that would make me any money. Besides, when it's good, it's real good, and I gotta have it.
When I'm not working I hang out in New York or at my ranch in Montana, philosophize about life and death with existentialist artists and writers, ravish gorgeous decadent women, play be bop jazz, and collect cars. The cars serve as a tenuous connection to normal life, and I've got twenty five or thirty of them in a fire proof humidity controlled garage on the grounds of my palatial hut in the Hollywood Hills. Cadillacs, Thunderbirds, MG's, an Aston Martin like James Bond drove in Goldfinger. But my favorites are my Chevies, and I've got about a dozen of them at any given time completely restored. It's been my goal to have one for each year from 1955 to 1972, but I buy and sell and trade them so often that I've never really got close. Well, maybe someday. I do a lot of the work on them myself and I've got a '61 Impala under reconstruction right now that I hope to finish before I have to go out on the next tour. Super Chevy magazine comes around every year or so to check out what I've got and I take some of my cars to shows. A lot of them have been in movies.

Clete Ritta · Post by **Clete Ritta** » 11 Jul 2013 10:28 pm

Im using Mac/Safari and have the same problem of vanishing preview. This was mentioned in a post by Stuart Legg recently but his thread in Feedback was closed.
Doubt its a memory problem, its worked fine in the past.