Random

 

Cars and strip malls. You can smell it when you park up in front of the credit union, Margeritas To Go, Chipotle, Sonic, Taco Bell and on. There they are, spewing out fast food exhaust as you park in front of the bank. Hey, I'm not judging but it was weird to venture into suburban DFW metrosprawl today.

This, I thought to myself, is how most people live here. Good, bad, indifferent? I don't know, but what I do know is that all it'd take would be one big tornado to strip it all to the ground. Great would be the faux adobe of its fall. But the wind didn't rise, much, and I35 back to the Compound was mercifully clear, result.

Now, food for thought. When everything gets nasty and money, water and food don't work, how are you going to get out of the cities? Will FEMA or the Army help you? Perhaps the apocalypse elves will spring into action and save everyone. Or not.

Here in this rural haven we're cleaning weapons, throwing last year's furniture in the fire, banking crypto and loading mags.

Your Pal,

LSP

Stormfront

It was just another day in Texas until the clouds rolled in, the air turned green, and thunder broke out like the guns of Kursk.

Rare Paved Road, Still Holding

Deluge followed, overwhelming this town's barely functional drainage system, turning potholed, half-paved streets into torrents of churning, muddy water. 

Typical Pre-Storm House.

Homes have been washed away, leaving their occupants to wander, dazed, through the trash-strewn wake of the flood, as looters pick their way through ripped Walmart bags and broken children's toys. 

Emergency Vehicle Park

The church still stands, a testament to the power of brick. So does the Compound.

We will survive this storm, as always, by the grace of God.

LSP