Laying Down Smoke

 

A sister flies in from the Old Country, so whaddya do? Climb in the rig and strike out for the Metrosprawl. Once there, fire up the Weber Thesis, enjoy some of the right stuff and apply beer can chicken to the grill when the coals have done their thing.

It's not hard. Brush the chick with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Admire your handiwork as you insert a can of beer into the bird's crevice, maybe drink some beer while you're at it, and then place the thing on the grill over indirect heat. So important, indirect heat.

Then cover the grill and let heat do its magic for 1 hour, 15 minutes, turning the chick around at half point so that the breast faces the coals. Take it out. Let it rest. Then fall upon your scoff like a warrior, job well done.

But of course you know all this, beer can chicken, a go-to here in the States. In the UK? Maybe not so much. Speaking of which, this sister's in the process of relocating to Reading, not far from London, where house prices are nosebleed high. Well done her, but how do the Brits afford it? They can't, not really, at least not most of them, and the same thing's not far off here too. Solution?

Easy. Our Beloved Rulers at Black Rock et al own everything and rent it back to us, at extreme profit. And guess what, you won't be able to afford meat anymore, much less chicken, and half the country will vote for it because Climate Change. Then wonder why they're only allowed to eat bugs as they glory in their tiny 1500 USD pcm studio apartment. 

I won't bang on, 

LSP

You Chicken

People often ask me, they say, "What's country life actually like, in Texas?" And I tell them, "It's like a game of chicken." No fooling, the birds are everywhere.

Blue Eschaton loves this. For him, there's nothing better than running full tilt at a terrified, squawking chicken, cornering it and then killing it. He doesn't eat them, he just stands there attempting to look innocent, with feathers in his mouth.

He tried it the other day and I managed to save the bird, much to the dog's annoyance and a bit of running around on my part.

Sometimes you'll see the poultry roaming around the center of town and I'm surprised resourceful live off the land, DIY, off-grid preppers don't eat them. I've done that myself, after Blue Marauder's done his work.

"Dad, how did you learn to do that?" asked my sons as I breasted an unfortunate fowl with a handy razor sharp folder, "It just happened, kids."

All this flashed through my mind this morning outside the town's food bank, where I'd gone to fly the flag, make a bereavement visit and do my bit for the needy. There it was, a random chicken by the dumpster. And I thought this.

We're devolving into something third world because the globalist NWO, transnational, Illuminati elite and their bi-coastal puppets have sold us down the river to make themselves even more stratospherically wealthy than they already are. Hence Mexico moves to Tejas, along with all their chickens.

After a moment of bitterness I consoled myself. When the center cannot hold, imploding perhaps under burgeoning debt, the rural parts of this country which have been gutted by our MillSoc (Millionaire Socialist) overlords will be OK. 

We'll have eggs and meat and feathers. And guns, lots of them, and horses. Expect a lot of irregular cavalry units.

God bless,

LSP

PS. Beer Can Chicken is simple and tasty. Heap coals to side of grill, rub butter/olive oil over bird, salt and pepper then put small beer can (with beer) up the chicken. Don't think Freddy Mercury. Place on indirect heat, drip pan underneath for gravy. Cover and cook for an hour and fifteen minutes, turning half way through. It'll be moist and delicious.

Texas Beats South Ken

Pit Stop

Back in the olden days, I used to enjoy lounging about in South Ken with the Fact Compiler. He'd say, "But LSP, America is so provincial!" That's absurd. We have "Mojo's".

Cold Air?

We have "Valley Mills",

Dirt Road

the road to Waco,

JB

horses

tasty

and Beer Can Chicken.

+ we can own pistols without being thrown into jail.


I like all those things. A lot. The moral of the story? Texas beats South Ken.


Every blessing for Trinitytide,


LSP

Happy Thanksgiving!

JB

Braved ferocious traffic on I 35 last night to get to LSP HQ Dallas in time for Thanksgiving. My contribution to the thing is Beer Can Chicken - turkey was voted out for some reason, but BCC is fine and I enjoy the grilling.

Regardless, I thank God for the opportunity to be with family and friends, for horses, guns and the privilege of being in Jack Iker's diocese, as opposed to serving somewhere on the lunatic fringe that seems to constitute most of Western Anglicanism.

So, have a blessed day!

LSP

PS. if you're looking for something to read you might enjoy this, from pajamas media.