Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Texas. Show all posts

Sunday, February 4, 2024

Open Borders Begin At Home


 

Here at the Compound we believe in practicing what we preach.




That's why we call on Democrats to open their doors to show their personal commitment to an open border.



Anything else would be hypocritical Nazi Fascism, right?


Keen-eyed readers of this mind-blog will note Chicago and other, ahem, sanctuary cities aren't too keen on bus loads of illegals arriving in their progressive utopias, they can't afford it without massive taxpayer cash. But here's where you, the person who voted for this, can make a difference. Open. Your. Door.

OK, just an excuse to repost some awesome infographics. But seriously, what kind of hypocrisy, skulduggery and malfeasance are we facing here. Substantial, to say the least, and it can be parsed thus: Import millions of people into the country, give 'em amnesty and a vote and hey presto, one party Blue State per saecula saeculorum, por los siglos de los siglos, et nunc et semper. Amen. And guess what?




All the libs and their fellow travelers choke for this, gag for it and get all rainbow solemn about the Statue of Liberty. Unh hunh, open your doors and pay for it, you utter hypocrites. Speaking of which, you'll be pleased to know that Mission #1's sorted out accommodation for our new Mexican curate.

He's a good guy, a "tent maker" who likes El Senor Trump and the Latin Mass, as do I, you'll be totally surprised to know.

How pleasant it is when brethren dwell together in unity.

God Bless,

LSP


Monday, January 29, 2024

It's All Going On In The Country I Tell You

 



One of the things that happens here is I let some of the neighbors park their rigs and vehicles in the grassy pasture that is the Compound's parking lot. They mow the grass and all of that in return. But this beneficent arrangement seemed to come to a crashing end today.

There I was on the back deck, scanning Zerohedge, when up come two men in polo shirts with Glocks on their hips, "Sir, can we have a word?" Of course they could and were welcomed into the rural fastness with a sunny hello, "What's up, guys?"


A Typical Kitchen Glock

Turns out they were from Code Enforcement, yes, we have such a thing, and someone had the literal brazen temerity to make a formal complaint about the vehicles parked up on the grass. It broke the code and couldn't be tolerated because, you see, the area's zoned residential and enormous lifted trucks and everything else have to be parked on "improved ground," such as gravel.

Huh. I assured the officer that it'd be sorted out before tickets had to be issued or any other equivalent nonsense. So that was good, but what about guns. "How are you finding that Glock?" I asked, glancing down at the fella's two-tone 9mm variant.


Behold, Legally Parked on Gravel. FFS

"I like it a lot and shoot pretty good with it and you know, it was weird, when I went to the Police Academy, they asked 'how many of you have shot pistols?' and I was the only one in the class who didn't raise his hand because we never had pistols where I was, just shotguns for quail, pheasant and dove. You know what, I ended the course shooting a lot better than some of those country boys because I was taught right, from the start."

Good call. So we talked Glocks and pistols and became friends and off they went into the pastoral hinterland. Flash forward several hours to me getting back from Walmart and there's D, remonstrating in the car park, not a happy man. Code Enforcement had not been kind to him and he was ticked, having put out for local LE & Co a lot over the years. Someone had made a complaint.


Note, why is his finger on the trigger? Maybe because he's an actor

We speculated on the identity of this malefactor and he asked me if it was OK to spread some gravel and "improve" the parking zone. "Remember I asked you if I could black-top and you said 'no, I don't want that (well said, LSP, Ed.), get gravel, but I need to get the church's permission.' Do I still need to get that?"

I looked at D, who wasn't very happy, and he looked at me, "You have the church's permission, knock yourself out on that gravel. I'll help you spread it, even." But that wasn't needed, "I've got a tractor at the shop and I'll bring it in tomorrow morning with the gravel. Thanks, man." Thanks indeed, "'preciate you, brother. Come to church, it's about time." He agreed and off we went, friends.


I call this installation Casa Blanca, keen-eyed readers will understand

So there you have it. Problem, solution, right here in sunny Texas' North Central Exclusion Zone.

Texit,

LSP

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

Stardust

 


I've always loved Mr. Nelson's Stardust, how could you not? For me, it brings back memories of grown-ups slow dancing in Denton in the '70's. Beautiful and I guess the album was new then, a far and magical cry from foggy, wet, Oxford. Behold:



Of course Willie's a local man and this little slice of rural paradise has produced a mural, don't call it a "muriel," that'd be rude. BTW, the older women of the church remember Willie and thought he didn't smell too good, "Needed a shower," was the consensus. Dam hippie.


Nice Muriel


Stardust,

LSP

Saturday, January 6, 2024

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

Saturday, December 23, 2023

Almost Christmas

 



The great Feast of the Nativity is almost upon us and lights went on at the Compound after a traditional trip to Walmart for last minute Christmas essentials. 

Now look here, punters, some traditions are good and we love them, they add depth, meaning and continuity to our fleeting lives. But other traditions are bad, like going to Walmart right before Christmas.

I tell you, and I'm no snob, don't laugh, it's true, that it was rough in there tonight and this is a country Walmart. Parse that as you will, while recalling that the rule of law is comparatively new here.

Speaking of which, could someone please make a law banning people from wearing pajamas in public, at the supermarket? But I won't neck-tattoo-bang-on, you get the picture. That in mind, let's recall the opening words of the governing Prayer (Collect) for what's left of this season.

Cast away the works of darkness and put upon us the armour of light. Needed, eh?

Stand Fast Against Leviathan,

LSP

Monday, December 4, 2023

Back in Dallas

 



It's that time of year when you barrel down I35 to Dallas on a mission to set up Christmas at Ma LSP's place in North Oak Cliff, and it feels good to be back with all the houses lit up for the holiday, all very festive. Nice, but then you drive a few blocks over to the 7-11 to pick up a phone charger and everything changes.


The 7-11


There's a homeless guy slumped over by the doorway, a couple of fat little tackheads in dirty pajama bottoms getting loud over pizza slices, one's wearing a mask, why? and the whole place stinks of pot. Neck tattoo store clerk takes your cash with a snarl and you get the feeling this inconvenience store could go off-hook  at any moment, which it could. 


Typical Oak Cliff Street Scene


Like no kidding. Back in June a store worker was shot and killed in this 7-11 by some random POC who was after cash, I don't know if he was caught. So I was glad to get back to Christmasland HQ and tomorrow we'll venture forth in search of a tree. 

Stay tuned for more of this urban Texan story as it unfolds.

Texit,

LSP

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Monkey Business

 



There we were, in the dead heat of a dead hot summer and we prayed, when will this heat ever end? Maybe never, so there you are at your desk, sweat dripping down onto the Dell even though your AC's running full blast like a racehorse which just can't keep up.

No kidding, the very ground is cracking under the heat and there you are, idly chopping sweating mahogany with a razor sharp kukri, chop, chop, chop, in time with failing ChiCom ceiling fan dystopia.

A knock on the door. Rap, rap, rap. You look up through the heat haze, clearing a Glock .45, "Come in!" All very Master and Commander and enter the office, and he does, a complete 5.7' of hooded aggressor. Wow, 13% produces 50% of the crime. "Where's your money at?" demands our malfeasant POC friend, waving a blunt machete and a worse than useless garbage Hi-Point.




You look hoodrat in the eye and ask, "You want money? Yeah, we all want money, so take it, it's yours, it's up the monkey, just help yourself. Hey man, have at it, feel free, it's all yours."

100% eye contact. There you are in 110* waiting on the monkey rush, call it a stand-off. So what's it gonna be? Life and death. Rush the monkey to get the cash or... not. Your call, buddy, as a dystopian fan whirs overhead, and the heat does not lessen. No, it builds.

Hoodie looks at the munificent monkey, standing tall in your corner, full off cash, a veritable simian of a floor safe, and you can see the pull of greed versus personal safety playing out in Hoodie's mind. What's it to be, rush the monkey and get the cash and die rich, or retreat out of this hot, hot room, alive.




You watch, tapping your kukri impatiently against a scarred desk, "Maybe it's time for you to go, my friend. Or maybe you want to get all up in  the Rittenhouse. Your call, go ask the monkey. It's totally up to you."

Which way would you play this utterly unlikely scenario, punters?

Cheers,

LSP

Friday, October 27, 2023

APOCALYSPSE

 



There we were, on the back porch of the Compound about to say Evening Prayer when I looked up and lo and behold, hundreds of buzzards were flying overhead. Wow, there they were, gliding overhead into the West.



"Is this the Apocalypse," I texted a pal who's doing some kind of concert series in Europe, all very 41 musicians on stage with accompanying noise and smoke, Kyrie Eleison. Then I looked up and there was another wave of big birds, filling the air, like some kind of bomber wing.




"Is this," I thought in wonder, "the Eschaton?" No fooling, I've never seen such a thing here, and yet there they were. Harbingers of apocalyptic doom. Perhaps. That in mind, it's all going on everywhere and you can Gaza read about it on the Information Superhighway.


Typical Haruspex scene

Has this, dear readers, all eight of you, made us more or less informed. As we reflect on this, consider the omen witnessed in the expansive blue skies of the North Central Texan Free State this evening. Terrifying, eh? 

In totally different yet related news, can any of you recommend a luxury, old skool, sleeper train ride.




Seriously, a luxury, old skool train and sleeper to boot, preferably with an outdoor observation deck and windows must open, which I think counts out our appalling Amtrak. Totally open to suggestions.

Haruspex,

LSP

Monday, October 16, 2023

Gone Fishing

 


So, what'd you do today, so-called LSP, if that's your real name, which we doubt. Well, nothing complicated, a morning visit to the Pick 'n Steal and then off to the lake and its dam to try my luck against the piscine adversary. Would they bite?

No, they did not. Don't get me wrong, I tried, I really did, but the fish weren't having it. There they were, predatory gar lying in ambush downstream of the spillway pool, you could see them loud and clear through cleverly polarized glasses.



But no, they weren't having it, frozen shad didn't cut it today, so I tried my luck at Soldiers Bluff on the other side of the dam. There were fish there, yes, you could see them, but would they bite? No, they would not.

In fact, it was like fishing into a wind tunnel and who can blame the fish for keeping their heads down beneath the surging waves. So I packed up light Ugly Stick rods and headed for home, thankful for a morning under the big clear sky and clean air of Texas.



Don't worry, fish, your day will come. Draw the moral as you care to take it and that, dear readers, is the story of that.

Never Surrender,

LSP

Wednesday, October 4, 2023

Thunder Eshaton

 


Yeah, go right ahead and post on Thunderbirds and see where it mythically gets you. Good call, LSP, now you're right in the middle of a ferocious, apocalyptic thunder storm. No kidding, the heavens are crashing down with eschatalogical fury.




At first I thought it was shrapnel bouncing off the justified and ancient timbers of the house but no, it was hail. I know this because I went outside to look at the lightshow and an icy boulder clocked me in the eye. Dam painful, I can tell you.



Would the rig be alright along with the planet itself? Good questions, so go outside with a flashlight to find out. All OK, thank God, and the storm passed over with its massive and predatory birds. We live to fight again another day.

All Hail Texas,

LSP

Wednesday, September 20, 2023

Something Good

 



Don't you have anything good to say, so-called LSP? you ask, grimly. Well yes, yes I do. After Mass on Thursdays I stop off at a small country supermarket to pick up provisions, David's in Whitney. What a friendly crowd and after a while you get to know the mostly elderly cashiers.

One of them, a wiry tough old lady, asked me at the checkout, "Feeling alright?" and I replied, "Still standing, by the grace of God." She smiled and said, "So am I! I've just met a man and he has money in his account and I won't have to do this job. My last husband was a demon. He was on nuke subs and we were married thirty years and he was a demon, he'd beat me. Now I've found a man who loves me, praise God."

Praise God, she meant it too, and her eyes sparkled there at that checkout at David's in Whitney. I smiled and praised God with her, what a faithful and good old lady, "Bless you." But would newfound love and recompense stick?

A month later, yesterday, I was at our rural haven's shopping mall, Walmart, and there she was, happy as could be, and she introduced me to the man who wasn't a demon. "This is..." and we shook hands, "You'll excuse me for looking like an unemployed fisherman but I am, in fact, a priest." He grinned in a lined face, brown with the weather and still strong, a countryman, out here in Texas, and off we went. Both of them light with happiness and that light lifted me up too.

Cheers,

LSP

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Clean It Up

 



Here's the thing. It's great having a Compound, it really is, but they have this tendency to turn into Jungle Warfare Training Schools. Trees fall down, Trumpet Vine takes over, hedges go wild and before you know it the whole thing's a right mess. And that's a bad witness, so what to do?




Thank God a couple of good men from Mission #2 turn up with truck, trailer and industrial grade tools, not least a chainsaw. Slice that fallen pecan wood up, boys, and they did. So on we worked, clearing up the grounds.




One of the men founded Dallas SWAT and subsequently worked in local LE. His method? "Issue as few warrants as possible," ie, sort it out locally. What a good man and a great cop.

Thanks guys, the Compound's clean now,

LSP

Thursday, September 7, 2023

A Sign

 



Every Thursday evening I climb in the rig and drive to Lake Whitney and Mission #2 to say Mass. It's a good drive, taking you over the dam with the mighty Brazos on your left and the lake, sparkling in the sun, to your right. Overhead, the sun beams down from a vast, blue Texan sky.


everywhere a sign note fresh weld

Hot as Hades you mutter, pulling into the church car park, and there it is, a sign saying Priest. Huh, this is new, some kind church person has made this to remind me of who I am and to warn everyone of the same, don't take the priest's place, don't even think it. 

I tell you, they're good people at this church and good job sign maker. You'll note the Cross of St. George inspiring us all.

Slay the Dragon,

LSP

Monday, August 28, 2023

IT RAINED

 



We certainly live in an age of miracle and wonder, it rained yesterday evening. One minute a blazing hot sun in a clear blue sky and the next, dark clouds rolling in from the West. There they were, overhead, above the Compound, but would it actually rain or was this some kind of cruel joke.




No, it was not a joke. Slow, fat, drops began to fall from the sky as the temperature went right down and then more, faster. Not with the full fury of a Texan storm but not bad either, so I went out onto the front porch to behold the sheer bliss of the thing. Rain. Beautiful.


typical Texas street scene

Then, all too soon, the rain stopped, but I'm not complaining, everything cooled right down. Let's see more of this climate change.

Happily,

LSP

Friday, August 4, 2023

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

Thursday, July 13, 2023

Hot

 



So what's going on, LSP, apart from vaguely unhinged ranting on our evil transnational elite and Europe's schizophrenic war lust. You know, bay for war, clamor for combat, but don't produce any ammo or tanks or planes or ships or guns. Of course that's hard if you've offshored your industry to China and rely on cheap Russian gas. That aside, what's going on?

I'll tell you, heat, extreme heat. It's like a preheating oven out there and it's getting to the point where the very air itself might ignite, thermobaric style. Imagine driving under a scorching Texan sun, the fields around you bleached by its light and someone carelessly flicks a spent cigarette out of the rig's window. Boom, ignition as mesquite dust, pollen and chaff explode. Terrifying.


typical Texas hat

In the old days, I'd think nothing of getting out in the field in the midst of it all and ride, shoot, fish in the heat of the day. Now? Not so much, it doesn't seem so attractive to slowly boil under a 107* Heat Dome. That in mind, we have to wonder at the sheer toughness of the people who pioneered this place. Remember, they had Commanche as well as the heat to deal with, and most definitely no AC.

Speaking of which, the Compound had a wrap 'round sleeping porch up until the '80s when it was sadly destroyed to make way for an extension. Error. Maybe we need to fix that mistake, the upstairs AC's barely cutting it. But such is the War on Weather, no one ever said it'd be easy.

Don't melt,

LSP

Thursday, June 22, 2023

The After Mass

 



One of the things that happens here is that we meet at 5.30 pm on Thursdays to worship God in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and no, this doesn't mean we blasphemously attempt to repeat the one all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ but rather, by grace, unite ourselves to it. 

Magnum mysterium, to put it mildly, sacramental unity with our Lord's paschal offering of himself for our atonement on Calvary. And right there in supernatural power  in Bosque County, Texas, there on the Altar was Christ's Body and Blood given and shed for us for the forgiveness of sins and the reconciliation of Man to God.




Heaven, for a moment, breaks through to us and we to heaven, "peace be to this house." Then we're dismissed with a benediction and vale, "May almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, this night and forevermore. The Mass has ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

Reflect on this. If Christ is truly present in the Mass, if we meet him and enter into communion with him in the Eucharist, for the forgiveness of of our sins, if all this is true how could any faithful person not want, fervently, to meet our Lord at the Last Supper which is Holy Communion? Yes, judgement for sure, but also mercy and infinite compassion.




That in mind, I was heartened by the congregation this evening, our worship is growing, and waved goodbye to the guys, "See you Saturday (men's group), I'm going fishing." And there it was, Soldiers Bluff, resting under a hot Texan sun, just a minute or two away from the church.

It was beautiful to be out by the water as the sun began to set and fun to catch a scad of little perch who went back in to fight again another day.

God bless you all,

LSP

Thursday, April 27, 2023

The Sun Shines

 



Yesterday may have been Eschaton but today is Elysium. The sun shines, Mass has been said, sturdy venison sausage pasta is on the go and all is well in this focal plane of the great state of Texas. Elsewhere? Maybe not so hot, but it's alright here, today.

Speaking of elsewhere, I've heard that many people in this country don't cook at home, they have these trophy Viking ranges and kitchens full of status gadgetry, but it's all unused. Instead, they eat out every day or did before our wise and beloved Administration made this unaffordable for all but the socialist rich.

You know what they say, all animals are equal but some are more equal than others. That in mind, Doktor Swankenstein sent in this helpful infographic, here it is:




Diversity is our strength, eh?

Salve,

LSP

Tuesday, April 11, 2023

Happy Cooking With LSP - Yorkshire Pudding

 

how can anyone take you seriously?


Can you have too much of a good thing? No, but only if the thing in question is absolutely good. That in mind, this humble cookery blog's focusing on the X-Ring, yes, Yorkshire Pudding, so very tasty. But how do you make these "puddings"? Good question and here's my fix, backed up by experts.


nice

Get a mixing bowl, mine's made of pyrex, you maybe have some other kind and that's OK. Tip a cup of regular flour into the bowl. Add 4 eggs. Stir it all about until smooth, perhaps you use an Olde Wooden Forke to achieve this Ï„έλος, or a whisk, or whatever, your call.

Next up pour a cup of whole milk or 3/4 cup of whole milk and 1 1/12 tbs water into the mix. Add 1/2 tsp of salt. Stir until the consistency of cream. Well done, you've just made Yorkshire Pudding batter, no small thing. So now what?


next add milk/water, don't forget salt

Put the batter aside, expert YP science says it doesn't matter if it goes in the fridge or not, I use the fridge, and let it rest. Settled science says the longer the rest the better, up to overnight, makes for a better rise, because science. But if you're turning these beasts on a schedule/dime, 30+ minutes works too.


this batter's ready to go hot

Then clean some guns, or catapults, kitchen knives and sticks if you're in the UK, wash the kitchen floor, catch up on blogs and LL's excellent meditation on Faith and Substance while the batter's resting. Admire the rus in urbe aspect of your Compound's back yard while you're at it, all is good. Next?


hot tin

Preheat oven to 425* and pour beef dripping or olive oil into your pudding tin. I use olive oil and a sixfold muffin thing; you don't need much oil/fat, just cover the bottom of each indent or, if you're going hardcore heavy metal, 8" heavy metal skillets (x2).

Well done, you've got this far, sharpen a kukri while the oven heats. When it's ready, put the oiled tin into the oven, let it heat up for around 10 minutes if you're using a Sixer muffin tin. Tin hot, experts say it doesn't matter if it is, take it out and pour in the batter, around a 1/4 cup per ripping hot indent. It should sizzle. Word to the wise, don't take the hot tin out of the oven with your hands, sayn.


Command & Control from the, er, kitchen

Too much detail? Hey, no gain without pain; fire the superhot tin into the 425* (some techologists say 450*) oven and let it do its thing for around 20 minutes. Word to the wise, don't take it out too soon or the puddings will collapse, you want a crispy exterior which upholds the rise. They should look something like this.



Mission accomplished, behold the beauty of the thing and fall upon your scoff, yes, like a warrior.

Adveniat,

LSP