Yes We Do Requests

 

Sure thing. Here at the Compound we're pretty much always ready to fire up the juke box and play requests. This one's from Wild, and what a one it is.

Good call. And Wild, I see your BST with BOC. Turn it up:

Oh yes indeed. 

So don't be shy, send in your tunes,

LSP 

I Love The Country

If you'd said, twenty years ago or so, "LSP, you'll be living in a small asset-stripped town in North Central Texas," I'd have laughed. But the joke would've been on me, just think of the benefits.

Clean air, friendliness, people wave to you on the back roads; a sense, even now, of community. And guess what, most are Christian, they worship God as opposed to Moloch. OK, I'd like to see a few mass conversions from the Methodees, but you get the point.

All this to say nothing of the freedom to walk the fields and brush, gun in hand, under the free sky of Texas. Even better when you can ride it, which I haven't done in a few years because of a mad Arab and a busted hip. But still, it's there.

And guess what. No one, hardly, feels the need to wear weird masks and go full panic, follow the, ahem, science, obey your rulers autism, unlike in the cities. Why? Because no one's actually dying any more than they usually do. There's a degree of common sense running around in the country and people sense a lying, powerplay Democrat snake. They say no to it. Will they crush its heel?

Possibly, and the Left hates this and fears the country. Quite right too, how will their cities feed themselves if the hateful two gender extremists stop hauling food? Just a thought.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Standard American?

Make of this what you will,

LSP

Outlaw

Fed up with Space Rock, which is awesome? Hey, no worries, here's Waylon. Check it out.

Your Pal,

LSP

Moving Day

"Can I ask you a favor?" said the man, standing on the porch in the brilliance of freshly restored metal chairs, gleaming like a Guards barracks ready for inspection. "Sure," I replied, quickly calculating cash flow, "What's the deal?"

The deal was this, to help my friend move from his bucolic rural retreat into the county seat grandeur of this thriving farming community. 

So, unlike the wicked priest in the parable of the Good Samaritan, I stepped up to the plate and off we went. "Just a bed, a refrigerator and a microwave, yessir," that's all it'd be. It wasn't, of course, but that was alright, we made the haul in two trips.

Move

During a lull in the firefight, I stepped off to inspect the treeline and stood still, listening. You know what it's like, first a kind of null then hearing sharpens, senses begin to live again and the countryside comes alive. Right at that point I heard a slight rustle through the brush and out padded a grey fox.

He didn't see me at first, just picked his way with a doggish grin along the game trail. The occasional shot echoed out in the distance and I wondered at the fox; gunfire didn't faze him. He stopped, as if on cue, while someone's rifle sounded off in search of deer.

A Typical Gray Fox

I looked at the fox and the fox looked at me with his comical face, his amazingly full tail gently brushing away. Then he trotted off in search of the next adventure and I finished off the move. 

Part of that meant bagging a weirdly large amount of lights that'd been strung around the small compound. I told the story of the fox and got a spirited reply, explaining the light show.

Cat!

"Yes! Seen grey fox and red fox, bobcat, coyote, all kinds. There's a black cougar, yes there is. These lights here see him off. Don't want that puppy, nossir! Bag that extension cord. Cost me 68 dollars. Not leavin' that behind for no black cougar."

We left, truck loaded down with half of a man's worldly possessions. Not much when you think of it, two short-bed, tailgate-down loads to account for a life. By worldly standards a failure but listen up.

Ford

"No luggage racks on the top of a hearse" and, in the Gospel, "It's harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle."

Comfort one another with these words.

LSP

Roving

"It's like Ibiza but, you know, country," I said, dialing up Magic Train of Remove Kebab to maximum volume. It was an Albanian bar in rural Texas and Remove Kebab just seemed right. Everyone agreed. 

"Like this song a lot, 'bout a train with guns. So where you from?"
"From England. I'm a pastor."
"Good to meetcha!"

It turns out we pretty much knew each other thanks to mutual friends and acquaintances, it's a small town; I like that, so much better than living in the plastic-sided splendor of the Metrosprawl. Then, after a quick blast of the perennial classic, Don't Fear The Reaper, I headed for home.

The streets were empty, apart from the occasional cat, slinking across the road and one or two wild dogs. They're a menace and you have to wonder at the genius of the people who abandoned them.

Back at the compound, I reflected on the town and the wisdom of the Baptists and Methodists who helped pioneer it. They cared for people and now their churches are large.

There's a lesson in that.

God bless,

LSP

Ice Creature (warning -- Muslims & Vegetarians won't like this)

A churchman kindly invited me to a hog hunt on his lease over the weekend, but I couldn't go because I had to say Mass on Sunday. I'm sure you understand, it goes with the territory.

Put it on Ice

However, I did get a pig as a consolation prize. The hog was gutted, iced, and fit neatly into a cooler in the back of the rig. 

Hang it up on The Porch Over a Tarp

Next step, take the cooler out of the bed of the truck, trying not to give yourself a hernia. Weightlifting over, lay out a tarp and hang the porker up on the front porch by its hind legs, out of the driving Texan rain.

Put on Some Gloves, Get a Knife

Put on some gloves and take up a sharp knife, I used a filet knife from Walmart ($2.00), and cut around the skin on the hoof end of the leg, then lengthwise down the front of the leg. Work the skin off and down the carcass until it hangs like a cape over the head of the pig.

Nearly There

Stop for a while and look at the pig that died so that you can live off its meat. Thanks for the sacrifice, creature of pork. 

Take The Meat Off The Back

You're now ready to get the meat; take out the tenderloins and the backstraps, then cut off the legs, slicing along the hips. You should be able to work your knife into the ball joints and pop them out, top and bottom.

Well Done, Now You've Got Some Pork

Two legs of ham later, it's time for the shoulders, cut as much meat off as you can. Clean up the mess, hose down your meat and put it in the freezer. Congratulate yourself on a job well done.

Meat in The Freezer

A friend or two threaten to visit for a feast, "honestly hunted meat is allowed during Lent," they tell me, "just not on Fridays." 

That has the ring of truth to it.

LSP