Epiphany

 

What a beautiful Epiphany morning, crisp and clear with the sun rising over the common behind the Compound. I say "common" but I don't think any of us have grazing rights on this bit of vacant land owned by the Civic Power. Regardless, I wasn't there to recce out a site for a new parade square or even admire the scenery, no, I was there to work.

Don't laugh, I was, and spent the morning hanging drywall for a new Habitat For Humanity house.  What a good cause and led, in this instance, by a neat guy who got me into the swing of things. He's retired now and spends his time putting up these houses for the good of the community, but had been a soldier for 20 years.

A Mexican immigrant, he joined up in 1969 and fought in Vietnam where he was wounded, "What's that, 49 inches? Sometimes my memory's not so good, I stepped on a mine." Mines aside, D stayed in and retired in 1989 as, I think, a  Command Sergeant Major with III Corps. "Phantom Warriors," I offered, resisting the urge to ask how an armored corps could somehow classify as "phantom." He grinned, impact wrench in hand, "That's right, III Corps."

What a good guy and he liked the fact that my eldest, the erstwhile and maybe future cadet, was stationed at Fort Hood, "It'll always be Fort Hood, man. Have you been down Tank Destroyer Boulevard?" I replied that I had. "There's a lot of power there," he said in a quiet tone and I agreed that there was.

Ahem, Civic Power, Roads

Then we were finished for the day and I tell you, I really enjoyed the work, the company and the chance to put faith into practice. All you biblical scholars out there will recall Christ was rather insistent on people helping out those less fortunate than ourselves. That in mind, I'll be back on the project, big fun to boot.

An Epiphany? Yes indeed, on several levels. Not least, tear yourself away from the appalling news cycle and do something good and constructive. Exercise your faith, put "tract into act" and all of that, and who knows who you'll meet along the way. But I won't preach.

Cheers,

LSP

This - That & Cooking With LSP

 

So what's it like in LSPland? all three of you ask with bated breath. Well I'll tell you. It used to be all about horses, guns and fishing but now it's mostly about driving between the Compound and Fort Hood Cavasos on account of an indigent soldier's broken truck.

This, bizarrely, ended up  in a guerrilla shop in between Millford and Italy where cash was king. And, to be fair, they did the work for a good price and the kid's Chevy is back on the road. Right on. Millford, readers, used to look like this:

Now it looks like this:

Well done, asset strippers, you've created a wasteland where we should have flourishing small country towns. Still, there's a Tesla Tower nearby so who knows what tomorrow brings. Good question, for us today's brought venison sausage pasta.

It's an incredibly complex recipe. Shoot a deer or get someone to shoot it for you. Turn the meat into sausage. Slice the sausages up into 1" chunks, brown them with onion, garlic and olive oil. Add diced tomato, I use Roma because cheap. Behold your culinary expertise and have a glass of cold wine, it's hot as Hades and you deserve it.

Then season your cheerfully simmering sauce with ground black pepper, iodized salt, basil, chili powder and a couple of bay leaves. I use Mex come-in-a-plastic-bag variety because, again, cheap and just as good. No rule, feel free to pay more for your bay leaves, your call.

Then, after an hour or so, when the hearty sauce has simmered down and its oil's begun to separate, fire up a large pan of salted water and cook up a pack of spaghetti. Serve the venison over the pasta with freshly grated parmesan and fall upon your scoff...

Like Warriors,

LSP

STAND STEADY

 

Well done, boy, go for that commission. Keep your eye on the ball.

Just sayn'.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

You Miserable Offender

 

Here's how it went down. 0600 and the phone rings, "What?" slightly terse perhaps. "Hey dad, I'm at the 7-11 next to Walmart and the car won't shift out of park." Huh, I thought grimly, "So you need a ride to Fort Hood?" Sure enough, that's exactly what was needed and off I drove.

It was a good drive as the sun rose over the expanse of Texas, though I35 was crazy as usual. Then there we were at Hood or Fort Carvasio, or whatever it's called now. Seriously, how many People of Color (POC) benefited in any way, at all, from the name change?  Like wow, just look how the indigent POCs in Killeen have prospered since.

That's the thing with virtue signalling mountebanks, they come on fast with good if fatuous slogans, like Black Lives Matter. Nice, of course they do, but who actually profits? Why, the virtue signalers themselves. You'll note BLM's founders are living in mansions now, poor POCs? Not so much, they haven't received a penny. The Biblical term for this is hypocrite.

Regardless, it was good to be back at Fort Hood and the soldiery seemed well presented if preposterously young. And the malfeasant vehicle's been towed to the Compound where it sits, awaiting the attention of a mobile mechanic or, more likely, a tow to a shop on Monday. Its issue? A broken linkage cable.

Easy fix, apparently, but I'm not about to try. In the meanwhile, what can we say?

Vivat,

LSP

Well Done Boy

We love it when our children do well and, of course, it grieves us when they don't. So well done boy on passing your promotion board this morning, by unanimous consent. This means he's off to Sergeant School in July.

front row, second from left

It's been a bit of a journey, both before and after he marched off the field at Benning, but he's risen to the challenge. Good work, keep it coming, and thanks again to LL for solid mentorship.

Happily,

LSP

Meet The New Rig Almost The Same As The Old Rig

 

Finally bit the bullet and got a new rig, which meant reaching over to the monkey, yes, a floor safe, extracting necessary bullion from the snarling simian and driving to Dallas and a cash only dealership. Run by Iraqis, no less.

There it was, a fleet 2018 F150 4x4, low miles, realistically way under dealership price, and it drove well, the truck I was after. So I bought the V8 beast, cash on the nail, and drove it back to the Compound, where it sat looking powerful next to the old rig. But not for long.

After Mass at Mission #1, a young soldier came downstairs; no, not to go to Mass at Mission #2, "Dad, there's a Battalion recall, I've got to get back in an hour." I pondered this for about a second, "Good thing there's an extra truck. Take it, don't crash, insurance docs in the glove compartment." And off he went back to the Hood where, apparently, someone had scored a DUI causing the Battalion to parade. Huh. 

In the meanwhile, the new rig's a definite upgrade, with a spacious cab, icy AC, a computer which tells you things, 4x4, and these massive great off road tires. Awesome. But... and I can't grumble given the price/miles, it has an IWE vacuum issue, maybe a faulty check valve, certainly a cracked hose. Easy fixes for cheap, rubbish, built to fail plastic/rubber parts. So, I'll get the rig checked out tomorrow.

Ride On,

LSP

A Good Sunday

 

After spirited, uplifting Sunday worship we ended up at Fort Hood's training grounds. Well, one of the entrances to the thing, and there it was, big Texas under a big sky and enough space for big Army III Corps to do its not inconsiderable thing, and then some.

The kid's proud to be part of that and fair play to him, I would be too, "Look, dad, this is where we ruck, and check out the 15 yard sight-in ranges, dead on at 300." Several motor pool drive-bys and a pit stop for food later we landed at the home of 57th Expeditionary Signals BN  (Enhanced) and that was that, "Train hard, think positive, fight easy," I offered by way of UKLF inspirational cozy farewell, and was met with a grin.

What a good result and what a good Sunday. The Sacred Mysteries offered, ite missa est, a son fast becoming a man under the watchful and doubtless patient eyes of good Command, thank you NCOs and Officers, and Fort Hood itself. Great result.

Next time I'll visit some of the post's museums, stay tuned.

God bless,

LSP

Fish You Fool

 

Boy With Fish

Elements of USARMY were asking, tragically, plaintively, "What shall we do?" Quick as a flash Command issued orders, "Go fishing." And so they did, putting rods and tackle into a Chevy Z71 which headed for the lake in search of fish.

Boy With Fish

Were they successful? Sure they were, fishing with light rods, circle hooks, frozen Shad and catching Gar, Flathead, young Striper and Black Drum. Well done, boys. 

Your Old Pal

Senior officers, on the other hand, stayed home, sorting out the admin of this irregular unit. Yes, this must change, we pride ourselves on leading from the front.

Fish On,

LSP

Back in the Hood

Today's mission was elegant in its simplicity. Get haircuts, for myself and the signalman, eat lunch and then drive in triumph to Fort Hood via I35 to drop the kid back at his post. You're probably thinking, "Great plan, so-called LSP, what went wrong?" 

Here's the thing, nothing. The mission executed flawlessly, the traffic even flowed through Waco at a steady 65/70. Miraculous, and we arrived at the objective in record time, an hour and half door to door. But as with so much in life this fast-paced forward movement came at great cost, $80 in gas.

Some Evil Subversive Sticker

Eighty bucks to drive from the Compound to Killeen and back. What? That's outrageous and before you can whistle most popular President in the history of history we'll be looking at $5 a gallon, in Texas. Wow. Thanks, Joe.

So it's a good thing our beloved ruler's invoked special war power emergency authority to relieve pain at the pump by building... what? More oil wells, pipelines from Canada, new refineries? No, of course not, solar panels. Let them eat sunshine and be glad of it. What a risible, corrupt, mendacious, lying, arrogant, out of touch clownshow. 

Speaking of which, here's a question for all the economic savants who read this inconsequential mind blog: How did prewar Germany end stagflation and is there a lesson to be learned. Discuss.

Regardless, the kid got off safe and sound at Thunderbird HQ and was happy to be back. After taking his ruck (ridic heavy) to his billet he returned to the rig for a final smoke and goodbye, "Dad, my roommate has a frog." I pondered this, "A frog?" Mind like a steel trap, you see. "Yes," the soldier replied, "It's a sweet frog, I like it. He has three tarantulas too, but they're young."

Farewells over, it was back on the highway for a bizarrely easy if expensive ride home, and I felt blessed in having a son who's made great strides in the last three years. Well done, young man.

And there it is,

LSP

A Bit Of This A Bit Of That

"So how's the Army treating you today, son?" I asked insouciantly, "It's been a good day dad, an easy day, except for the 5 mile run." I thought about that, "Whaddya mean, that's not too far." Ahem, let's see you do it, so-called LSP. Well, that was back in the day, so. "Right, not that far but half the platoon dropped out. I didn't."

I thought about it for an instant, "They're all getting back from leave, right?" and got a warning answer in the affirmative, "I know, we're Signals but still, if it ever gets real there'll be a great culling." A great culling. Let's pray that doesn't happen, and I mean it. Speaking of which, perhaps you remember our latest recruitment drive. Here's a snapshot:

In other news, our troops don't have to wear kabuki theater masks anymore and rejoice in their newfound freedom, or so I'm told. Perhaps war in Europe is focusing the minds of our rainbow elite General Staff.  

You can imagine. A Russian battle group, full of lessons from Ukraine, rolls over the rainbow border into Poland. Who will stop them? The Poles? Maybe, for a little while. The Germans? Hahahahahaha. The Dutch and the French? Snerk. No. What about England? Good call, but the Sceptered Isle doesn't even have an army, much less a navy. And on.

I say again, our elite rainbow oligarchy have been gambling on never, ever, having to fight a war again. Look how that's coming home to roost. Better cut your carbon footprint to net zero and open a trans bathroom. Pathetic.

Typical Chechens

Your Pal,

LSP

Heigh Ho Off We Go

 

Well, not me, just the eldest, and I have to say that plate rig's pretty heavy so I gave him a hand as he packed up to return to the Fort. He's all geared up for deployment in a month or so but ticked off about the state of his battalion's Humvees.

"Dad, they go back to the '90s, a lot of 'em are gonna end up as parts vehicles when we get there." I thought about this, "So you'll be useless as a mechanized force?" No, they'll use the working kit of the units they're embedded with and the broken become supply.

In the midst of this knotty supply and logistics issue an experienced solutions provider phoned in and I explained the problem. He thought for a moment, "We had the same thing in Gulf War I. We were running WWII Jeeps, seriously, Jeeps, because the Navy was cheap. I like Jeeps, but nothing has changed."

I passed that on to kid and he felt better. Soldiers like tradition.

Your Pal,

LSP

Soldier Gets A Ride

 

Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.

The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.

A White Car

Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.

Park Up

Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God. 

Random DLC Spoon

So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.

Parentally,

LSP

Columbus Day

 

The same people who love obedience masks, enforced vaccines which don't vaccinate you, trans bathrooms, labeling parents who care about their kids' education "domestic terrorists" and on, also hate Christopher Columbus, as they hate all our cultural heroes. This makes me want to love him.

He was, after all, a great explorer and navigator who boldly went where no man, pretty much, had been before. Piri Reis and Maps of the Ancient Sea Kings aside, Columbus was breaking new ground when he set sail. Not unlike, when you think of it, space exploration today. No small thing to sail an uncharted Atlantic. Bold stuff.

So here at the Compound we celebrated with lunch at Montes Mexican diner. The Specialist ordered a hearty plate of Pinta Brisket Gorditas and I stuck with traditional Santa Maria Huevos Rancheros. Tasty as you like and then some, all washed down with strong Nina Covfefe. 

Then it was time to drive to Fort Hood and back again, a bold, courageous exercise in navigating I35 and the personally uncharted territories of Waco. A journey of exploration if you like, and not bad for it.

But seriously, put yourself in the place of Columbus, sailing off into the unknown. Driven by ambition and the hope of gain, yes; after all, who doesn't want to be Governor of, ahem, Cuba. But also by adventure, perhaps the sheer life and death risk of the thing. And for him, at least, faith in the Savior he served, albeit imperfectly. 

That in mind, it's a good day to celebrate and if our trending tofu Maoists don't like it, too bad. They can speak to the monkey.

Cheers,

LSP

Shattered

 

What! I looked at the phone and it looked at me, broken and shattered like a mute parable of the state of our nation. Seriously, what isn't broken right about now. Our governance, borders, elections, finance, and all that it is to come together as a country; who we are as a nation?

Shattered glass aside, I went into the T Mobile shop to get a fix for the phone I'd foolishly dropped the night before, "I need a new phone, this one's glass is shattered like the state of Union itself."

Bonnie Blue

Of course they could have got right on it but here's the thing, I was invisible to their system, off grid. No kidding, no IMEI, no social, no name, no nothing, the manager wasn't even allowed, by the system, to access my account. "What do you actually do?" he asked, "That," I replied, "is a very good question."

We looked at each other in a moment of understanding. "Look, man, all I want to do is sell you a phone, at the right price." I thought for a moment, "Yes, that's what I want too, we think as one." And we did.

Sure, it took a while, but in that time we talked of late antiquity, the ruins of Rome in the 6th century, Detroit, architecture as a reflection of the soul of a nation and how we're sadly wanting in that regard, and so much more besides.

Probyn

As time went interminably call-center on I amused myself by marching about the store and saluting, Brit style, various icons, images of phones. "Eyes Left!" Quite the drill movement, to say nothing of about turn on the march and let me tell you, all were impressed. As in open order, right dress! Ahem.

Militarist gymnastics over I checked out with a brand new nicely discounted phone, and learned that the manager of the shop's cousin(?) was a Captain and that his store associate had just left Ft. Hood after 4 years of service. 

She told me, "I cried when I left." She loved Ft. Hood and the Army and has serious disabilities to contend with. "I will pray for you," I offered, and meant it wholeheartedly. 

What a good store. I love these people and wish them well. By the left.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

The Plan

 

Typical Cadets

The kid has a plan, and it's this. Complete two years of a remote/online computer science degree and then go "green to gold" for the final two years at Texas A&M's ROTC, the Corps of Cadets. Then, riding boots burnished to a reflective glow, get a commission and go from there.

Good plan, eh? And  it starts this week as classes commence. So let's see if the onetime cadet will become the genuine article, a real Cadet. But first things first. Our conversation went like this as we were about to take the Bernie Beck gate exit to the home of III Corps.

Swords Are Key 

"Let's get you fixed up for a vehicle." He paused and went lateral, "One private bought an old fire truck." I slowed down as the old rig made it's way to the Great Place, "What?" Quick as a flash the boy replied, "A firetruck. The CO got mad and made him get rid of it." 

What a wasted opportunity, I thought to myself, and then out loud. "That's pretty shortsighted. I'd have made him give it to Brigade and made it the THUNDERBIRDS truck. You know, paint up the Thunderbirds logo and drive around base playing the brigade song. From speakers, loud, very loud. It'd boost morale. You do have a brigade song, right?"

The once and maybe future Cadet pondered this and promised to find the rousing song, "There has to be one, dad." And surely there is.

In other news, our new Afghan friends are sexually attacking US servicewomen at various bases around the country. How totally unpredictable. Good work, Team Biden.

Cheers,

LSP

Jungle Warrior

 

Today's warfighter has to deliver mission critical, cutting edge solutions in a fast-paced, high threat environment. That's why I sent the Specialist on the Compound's justly famous Jungle Warfare Training School (JWTS). 

Some people go to Belize, others to SE Asia, but here in Texas we do it in house. "Take this cutting edge to the enemy, son," I announced with typical paternal affection, "And knock down the green menace. Chop, chop. That hedge won't cut itself." Quite.

Arboreal,

LSP