Just Hanging Out

 

Just hanging out in Dallas, Lao Tze style, enjoying the porch

Good thing there's a handy leaf blade knife, right?

Blue agrees, he's up for a treat scrap

In other news, the appalling Salman Rushdie's been stabbed by some outta control Jihadist. Rushdie wrote the aggressively annoying Satanic Verses and incurred a Fatwah. Well, looks like it caught up with him. Bad luck, Rushdie.

I met the bizarrely annoying Rushdie back in the '90s at some place in London. He was with the even more annoying Malcolm McLaren, who distinguished itself by wearing fancy shirts without cuff-links. Whoa, what a radical.

The intenselt irritating McLaren died in 2010, Rushdie still lives.

All best,

LSP

CAT

 

You might remember the story of The Specialist And The Cat, in which a lowly enlisted man befriends a tiny, abandoned, defenseless kitten and takes the helpless creature home to the old family Compound, for healing, and a new start in life.

It's a moving tale of cat, soldiery, animal rescue and country life in Texas, but how's it going, how is the kitty? I was worried at first, because the kitten ran foolishly from the safety of the Compound. "The golden little cat?" offered one neighbor, "He's probably been eaten." Such is nature, red in tooth and claw.

But not to worry, the next day at around Noon, a woman was singing over her laundry, what a sweet sound, and up bounded the cat, who galloped across the road in search of food and water. He found it and played ridiculously.

Since then, the cat spends his time between several local porches, visiting the Compound's in early morning and late evening, typically. I like that. Fierce little creature and an asset.

Felix,

LSP

Labor Day

 

Labor Day started off well, on the porch and armed with a strong survivalist 20 oz. tumbler of coffee. Well, you can't be too prepared for the apocalypse. Bacon and eggs followed because workers have to eat and eat well, which we did before heading out to Killeen and the home of Phantom Lethal!

I won't lie, it was a nasty drive, especially through Waco where the road becomes a bumper to bumper, Armageddon car Hell. "Can't you hitch a ride on a passing Blackhawk, kid? Heck, they're giving 'em away. Or what about an autogyro or a Fiesler Storch, it'd be easier than this." He didn't think it'd be possible, annoyingly.

But speaking of Hell, have you noticed how the satanists are furiously in favor of killing more Texan babies? The same applies to Democrats at large, who've made abortion a kind of anti-sacrament, an outward and visible sign of Promethean, demonic, lethal pride hiding under the pretense of compassion. See LL's foray into the leftist mind.

In related news, the despicable Fauci's worried about a "Mu Variant." You can imagine the fabled lost continent rising from Pacific depths to afflict us with its wickedness. And why not, surely anything's possible at this point, from arming the Taliban to one of our political party's being in open alliance with satanists.

Workers of the world unite against our evil, elite, transnational, rainbow oligarch overlords.

Your Pal,

LSP

Just Strolling

There was a stillness in the air as the sun rose above this small redoubt on the Texan Front. That's because everyone was sensibly in bed before braving the Thanksgiving Day Supermarket Maelstrom. I gazed at the frost, had a cup of hot tea, said Morning Prayer and took Blue Eschaton for a walk.

We went by a small but patriotic compound which seems to be in a constant state of yard sale. You know the thing, broken records, a bent bicycle wheel, soggy clothes in a wet cardboard box, a few old rusty spoons, a doorless fridge, whatever. A bit like the Tramp Market under the London's Westway in the early 1990s.

"Must get this crew into church," I thought to myself as I passed Jose's new house. Jose's bought some wooden fencing to mark the boundary between his compound and the yard sale scrappers' but he hasn't put it up yet.

The Pick 'n Steal was empty, apart from the Owl idol, and I poured some coffee into a Yeti 20 Ounce Tumbler, guaranteed to keep your drink hot or cold, no matter what kind of beating you give it. I'm inclined to doubt Yeti's marketing but haven't put it to the test, stay tuned.

Coffee poured into the purportedly indestructible Yeti, I strolled across the way to the Disciples Christian Church, at least I think that's what it is but it's hard to remember. They're a small crew but friendly, good luck to 'em.

We stopped up behind the temple and Blue got to nose about while I took a few sips of Yeti insulated coffee. Yes, thanks to Yeti's special system the coffee was still hot even though the Tumbler hadn't taken a beating, well done. 

I looked around while Blue Appalling did unmentionable things and took in the quiet Texan street scene. This part's well put together and a few young families make the effort to make it nice, in pleasant contrast to the crackheads, fools and wastrels that live down the block.

We moved on, patrolling beneath the locust trees, keeping an eye out for malfeasant skulduggery from the ne'er-do-well rent shacks on the left. But they were fast asleep and Blue Attack missed his chance at glory.

And there it was, the Compound, flags waving, chairs gleaming and all was well. The day moved on from there, much of it on the porch, but that's a different story. 

So there it is, another morning's worth of country life in Texas.

Quas Primas,

LSP

Thank God For Rain

It rained yesterday evening. Seriously, no kidding, it rained. Clouds rolled in, lightning flashed, thunder rolled and water fell from the sky.

It was like a gift from heaven. No, it was a gift from heaven and I stood on the porch enjoying the sheer, cooling, clarifying beauty of the thing.

Perhaps you think that's some kind of exaggeration. So what, you mutter darkly from the bay window of a water soaked pub on Aberystwyth Pier, it rained, like we're supposed to care.

Not so fast. When the ground's cracking and every day's a triple digit furnace, rain means a lot. No fooling and you have to ask how people managed back before air conditioning. The answer is, they mostly didn't. Texan towns only got big after the advent of HVAC.

Still, those that pioneered the state were tough, no doubt about it. Right out there on the frontier in the relentless heat and the sleeping porch. Respect.

With all of this in mind I stood firm, like Ahab, as the rain crashed down and thanked the Almighty for His mercy.

Trust the plan,

LSP

Fixing Up The Compound

I won't deny it, having a Compound's awesome but here's the thing, if it's made of painted wood it has to be maintained. Otherwise, let implacable logic show, the paint peels off, the wood rots and the whole mighty edifice of the thing falls down.

A Typical Detroit Street Scene

Sure, ruins are nostalgic, melancholy tributes to past greatness and have their value, no doubt about it but you can't live in them. Unless it's Detroit, which is different.

Rig & Porch

With that in mind, we got the place repainted and the job's almost done but there's a glitch. A load bearing beam under the front porch has been eaten away by ants or termites and must be replaced. It's a problem here in Texas.

Nearly There

And it'll take a while because of our crew's work schedule. Well, the beast won't fall down in the next month or so and there it is. An historic Texan home saved from becoming an historic Texas ruin.

Speaking of ruin, there's a lot of yard signs everywhere announcing "Beto." What the devil's a "Beto", some kind of sandwich?

Looking forward to Opening Day,

LSP

Apocalyptic Storm

I had barely settled in for a relaxing evening after the Sunday Masses and visiting the sick and dying, when a worried churchperson called, "There's a big storm blowing in. The weather people are saying there'll be hailstones the size of golf balls!" Undaunted, I stepped onto the porch to see the action.

Sure enough, lightning was flashing across the sky, filling the still sky with its sudden glare, as yet noiseless, but promising greater things. A good cue to get an umbrella and go on patrol. Half way to the town square it began to rain, slowly at first then in great, pounding sheets. Thunder ripped and crashed from the heavens, like the wrath of God itself.

I took shelter at the Shamrock Pick 'N Steal and watched the rain before wading through flooded streets to the safety of the Compound and its porch. Would the town survive?

It did, but only just and by the grace of God. You can watch an exciting video of this exciting tempest here.

Weather the storm,

LSP