If you're a millionaire socialist, like Russell Brand, or Hillary Clinton, you might not be affected by the weather. Just climb into a private jet when things go wrong, and fly somewhere else.
I'm not so lucky, when a Tornado Warning flashes across the screen, there it is and there I am, in the midst of it.
That's what happened this evening. The sky turned grey, then green, then black, and big hail started rocketing down from heaven like so many icy meteors.
I took in a worried parishioner who thought it'd be safer in the Compound. Perhaps it was, as the ice rattled off the house like shrapnel at the battle of Verdun.
It was neat driving around the town in the storm. Good thing I had a truck; other drivers were less fortunate, stranded in the flooded streets. Maybe they're armed, maybe the're not. If not, they'll wish they were.
As I write this, rain falls down in sheets, lightning flashes across the sky and we stand here, resolute on the perimeter, magazines full and round in the chamber.
Go on, Libs, come and take it. Just you try.
Be safe,
LSP
2 comments:
Blue Rip Van Winkle will sleep through the Apocalypse.
The compound (which I have visited) is a very comfortable place. It's the sort of place where your flock will feel comfortable in times of trial or terror -- as it should be.
Big storm last night. Didn't worry the dog at all.
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