Buckle Up

Hope you're all prepped up and ready to "bug-in" or go "innawoods" because it's staring to get nasty, in a small way. 

People are getting robbed of their TP in parking lots in Washington state and the UK, so WA shoppers are going armed to the supermarket. UK people aren't because they're not allowed to defend themselves. Find the cost of freedom, eh?

Here in Hill County Texas, a big fight broke out at Walmart as pastoral people set to scrapping over frozen pizzas, bottled water and Ramen noodles. I missed the fight, annoyingly, but you could see the tension building before Noon.

Over in Aberystwyth the shelves were bare of pasta, "Andrex," and assorted everything else. Calgary, as of today, had run out of milk.

Message to market? Bring the supply chain home. Have a month's supply of food so you don't have to get into a fight at Walmart. Don't hoard loo-roll, the Bat Bug isn't dysentery. Don't hoard water, the Kung Flu isn't Cholera. And on. 

Above all, STAND STEADY. You're no use to man nor beast if you don't. Go armed to Walmart if you aren't already. And on a spiritual note, pray for our country tomorrow, it's a National Day of Prayer. Do not ever downplay the efficacy of that.

God bless,

LSP

A Sunday Meditation

Mass at Mission #1 was over insofar as the Mass is ever over, which it isn't, and we fell back to the church hall for coffee. 

Time, eternity and the Sacrifice aside, conversation was mostly about getting milk from your cows, these being Polled Herefords, chickens getting picked off by Buzzards, an issue, and the usual stories about coyotes and bobcats. Then things took a turn for the spiritual.

"Padre, can you say a prayer."

"I'd be glad to, what for?"

"Well, I bought tickets for the Rolling Stones as a Valentines Day gift for T."

"Yes?"

"Thing is, need you to pray they'll still be alive in time for the concert!"

Some argue Keef and Mick have no business remaining on this mortal coil, others say "let him that is without sin jail the first stone." And not before time, either.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

Strolling The Deluge

Darkness, thunder, rain. No, this wasn't downtown Aberystwyth in July, it was Texas in February. Climate change experts tell us that if you collect the rainfall here you'll have enough water to last the year, and I believe it. Undaunted by the deluge I left the Compound for a morning stroll.

Stairway To Heaven

Only to see that the Meth Shackers have cleverly built a stairway to heaven; there it is, a ladder to paradise. What happens when you get to the top of the ladder, I asked myself as I gazed at the floral tributes in front of the shack. Who knows, perhaps you ascend, higher.

Meth Shack, Note Beautiful Floral Tributes (stop using "filters." Ed.)

The Pick 'n Steal was open for business but eerily empty apart from an elderly POC playing a slot machine. He's a Nam vet and plays that machine every day; I like him, though we've never really talked. Need to change that.

Pick 'n Steal

One large coffee later I was back on the flooded streets of the bucolic Texan farming community I've called home for the last decade or more, and you know what, I'm not complaining. For me, it beats living in the 'sprawl that is the DFW megacity connurb. You may think differently and that's fine, there's no "rule."

Storm Debris

Back at the Compound, Blue Dog-Faced Pony Soldier curled up on a Moslem rug while I said the Office. He's not buying the "religion of peace" thing. 

"It's obviously not a religion of peace," he tells me, "It was started by a warlord in search of loot, rape and plunder." I accuse him of racism but he just snores. Typical. Next thing you know he'll be banging on about "replacement strategy," asymmetrical warfare, the Kalergi Plan and trying to make me read Mark Steyn. But what does he know? He's just a dog. 

Dog-Faced Pony Soldier On A Moslem Rug

In other news, Juicy Smollet's been indicted, 4 prosecutors have fled the Stone case, 45 held a massive rally in New Hampshire, and Biden's campaigning in Iowa again, or something like that. And Britain's deported a load of Jamaicans for being thugs, much to the disgust of the self-loathing white left and their POC friends.

All About The Hat

So there it is. Rain continues to fall and the clay ground of the Compound is pretty much flooded. Blue Deluge is sleeping, God is in his heaven and the Democrats flounder like beached fish after a storm. Is 45 anointed, by God?

Stand firm against evil,

LSP

Wake Of The Flood

Everyone's asking, did this pastoral Texan haven survive last night's sound and fury, did it survive the flood? Yes, by the grace of God it did. 

You could see the after effects of the storm this morning. Pecans and the broken debris of modern life lying in the gutter where they'd been swept by the floods. Want a weave or a styrofoam Whattaburger cup? Take your pick, there's plenty.

Regardless, POCs were scavenging the detritus as I walked Blue Eschaton to the Pick'n Steal. Good for them, big money in pecans. And that was that, we survived yet another raid by our Old Enemy, the Weather on the brave Republic of Texas.

I know, you're cautioning against false complacency. A battle won is not the same as a war won and that, all of you ten readers, is why we're prepared. 

Come and take it,

LSP

K9 Genius

Do you get the impression that the Persian business is a kind of political theater? Speaking of which, some idiot savant's declared that America would need a million troops to invade and conquer Iran.

Really? A million soldiers to take out Iran? I put the question to Blue Battlegroup, who replied by way of snatching up a tennis ball and savaging it with his fangs. A message to Tehran, perhaps, which has wisely stood down to the tune of President Trump's message of peace and love.

Some call it the shortest World War in history.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

Welcome Home!

The Private flew in from the Army in Georgia today, where he's doing AIT at Fort Gordon. He likes the Army a lot and finds it better than being a bassist in a Scandinavian Death Metal band, awesome as that is.

On the way from the airport to an RV with fast food, the youthful defender of the nation's freedom regaled me with tales of training and poured scorn on our country's enemies in Congress. Seems like the Army's for 45, unsurprisingly.

Then, multiple dollar menu items later we fell back to Ma LSP's redoubt and the kid took a well deserved sleep. The Blue guarded.

I tell you, I'm proud of my eldest son, he's come a very long way. We'll be flying to the land of the ice and snow, Canada, on Boxing Day.

Go Army,

LSP

Chow Thief

Note the Thieve's Claws

Yes, he may look innocent but this Blue's an inveterate chow thief. Ask LL, who witnessed Blue Voracious steal a delicious fried cherry pie from the Compound's dining room table. Ask Ma LSP, who saw the aftermath of a raid on a couple of fine New York Strips.

Not Innocent

Go right ahead and ask the neighbor's chickens, who mysteriously vanished without trace apart from a few small feathers which somehow, strangely, found their way onto the muzzle of Blue Eschaton. Yes, a chow thief.

What's The Difference Between Hillary And a Ham Sandwich? You Can Indict a Ham Sandwich

And that's why I hesitated to put a tasty ham sandwich on the kitchen counter. Sure enough, a ravenous, unprincipled someone was looking for targets of opportunity. Only to be thwarted by the watchful eye of his Commander-in-Chief. Still, he got a consolation prize in the form of Alpo Variety Snacks. Ahem, yum.

So Close Yet So Far

Speaking of chow thieves, why is LTC. Vindman still working at the White House? For that matter, why's US Navy Secretary Richard Spencer still employed? Or any of the other thieves, crooks, knaves and placeholders responsible for locking up soldiers for killing head-chopping savages.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

Texas Street Walker

The climate changed, yet again, from a balmy Springlike 70 something to freezing wind and rain. It was like being in Aberystwyth instead of Texas, but you know what they say, adopt, adapt, survive. 

That in mind, I pulled on a pair of sturdy G.H. Bass brogues, an Arctic Hardware fleece and a Barbour jacket, maybe label shock alone would scare our enemy the weather into submission, and ventured forth.

I walked past the Methshack, which is suffering because half of the shackers have been evicted. There it was, sitting in the rain behind a semi-urban field which no one's inclined to buy. Who knows, maybe they're waiting for the shack to be cleared before purchasing land to build on and sell.

The Yellow House wasn't looking too good either. It's famous for something, was reinvented as a bed and breakfast, which didn't work, then re-inhabited by crackheads. A friend tried to buy it last year but the deal went south because of craziness. I always ask myself, why would you paint your house yellow? 

Then it was a short patrol through welfare, several shacks, a pleasantly unpaved vista and on to Montes for a late breakfast. Montes is alright and's upped its game lately, with new menus, suspiciously attentive waitresses and an extra dollar on every meal.

I ordered Huevos Rancheros, which was delicious and filling, and pondered their choice of music. Relaxed New Country as opposed to Mexican House/Techno. Curious, they're obviously trying to appeal to someone and sure enough, there were a couple of cowboys getting into the spirit of the thing.

New Country aside, the Fossil Museum was worth a look in and they seem to be getting actual, literal fossils to display to the public. Well done. It used to be a place where someone from the Metrosprawl kept his collection of vintage Cadillacs, and before that the HQ of a filling station chain which stretched to Europe, forgotten now.

Around the corner lies Franklin, broad and wide to accommodate the cotton traffic which was stolen by greed-filled globalists, and home stretch on to the Compound. A short walk, for sure, but the longest I've made since I was catapulted off the back of a mad Arab back in July.

And I tell you, it's good to get moving again, even if on a short patrol around this small Texan country haven.

God bless,

LSP

War Dogs

War dogs. They were used in Antiquity to strike fear into the enemy and they're used today, witness the raid on Al Baghdadi's compound. Speaking of which, one of the few readers of this out of the way mind blog sent in a photo of his son's dog, see above. 

Pathetic President Figure Led By Poodle

They travel with their handlers muzzled in case they sense an enemy and attack, with ferocious result. For example, war dogs were always muzzled in the presence of  Barack Hussein Obama.

Shadow Wolf

Here at the Compound we're fortunate to have a war dog too, Blue Destroyer. He's a Blue Heeler rescue dog and getting on in years but he's fierce to the bone, especially in the face of UPS drivers, squirrels, and rural potheads. Seriously, he can't stand the latter and goes into growling fighting defense mode when they get through the perimeter.

Face-Off

I don't muzzle him but I do worry when I park him at the Pick 'n Steal on his morning walk as I get my coffee. Will someone be cornered, whimpering and screaming as I leave the filling station? Hasn't happened for a couple of years, thank God.

That's all for now, spare a thought and a prayer for our brave canine warriors and their fellow soldiers.

God bless,

LSP

Just Strollin'.

Some things you take for granted, like walking the dog to the nearest Pick 'n Steal, then boom, disaster falls, you've got three screws in your upper femur and you can't walk. All of a sudden you start to appreciate simple things, like putting one foot in front of the other. That in mind, I took Blue Eschaton for a walk today, the first since a crazy Arab kicked me off her back.

The Meth Shack

We strolled through the bucolic avenues of this rural Texan haven via the Meth Shack, and it's doing well with seasonal decorations and a fearsome clown dressed in a camo onesie. Not be trifled with.

Note Water Offering

I waved at a couple of Shackers, who seemed a little bit worse for wear after a hard night on the meth, then ambled over to the Shamrock. The Shamrock's an Irish filling station, owned by Nepalese and staffed by Mexicans, right here in North Central Texas. Benefits of multiculturalism aside, they have good coffee and I got a "refill" while Blue Guard sat outside, it's a ritual. Then we headed for home under an increasingly glowering Lone Star sky.

Mission Accomplished

Back at the Compound it was all well done, mission accomplished! and it felt good to do something so simple as go out with the Blue again. Result. In other exciting news, the Cadet's on his last stretch of Basic, Blue Phase, and he's done well so far. 

How Lovely

Still, he has to pass a final APFT (fitness test) and a field exercise to graduate on schedule. I don't anticipate a fail in either but hey, accidents and all else besides... so fingers crossed. 

Your Finally Walking Pal,

LSP

Magnum Mysterium!

I drove to Waco this morning to visit the sick in hospital and by some miracle didn't end up in hospital myself, given the driving on I35. All well and good, even though I wasn't able to visit the remarkable, awesome, amazing, Magnolia Moneyspinner Rip-Off Silos. 

People travel from all over America to visit the Silos. Why? It's a mystery, and when I got back to the Compound I found another. Here it is.

Who could possibly have done such a thing? Did some intruder, possibly a Ukrainian, break in and attempt a little quid pro quo, a little legal-pad-shredding malfeasance only to be chased off by a ferocious Blue Guard? Or was there another culprit?

Perhaps, readers, we need a closed door inquiry.

Transparently,

LSP

A Savage Twist

The ongoing War Against the Weather (WAW) took a sudden and savage twist last night. Yes, we'd been lulled into a false sense of security by warm sunny skies, and no rain, what was that, skywater? It was like being in California but without the weird gun laws, the needles, the freaks and the mosques, an Indian Summer we thought would never end. Then Boom.

Around 19:00 a fierce, chill wind kicked in from the east, thunder began to rumble and the first drops of rain fell on the Compound. The opening salvo, a foretaste of things to come, and followed all too soon by barrage after barrage of increasingly elemental fury 'til the house shook with the roar of it.

Blue Eschaton took it all in stride and laid down on a Moslem rug in the living room while I watched the celestial fireworks through the glass of the front door, listening to rain lash against the wooden walls of the house. 

It was like being in Aberystwyth, except this is Texas and accordingly larger, wilder, more ominous. Will the Compound survive, I wondered, idly gazing at a handy shotgun propped up next to a couple of obviously useful fishing rods.

Good question, so I went out on the front porch and stood there, resolute, Ahab against the storm. "Thank God I'm armed," I muttered grimly while lightning arced across the sky and flags whipped in the wind.

This continued well into morning, while our Old Enemy the Weather launched assault after assault on the freedom loving people of North Central Texas. Were we defeated? No, we were not, the Compound stands to fight again another day.

And this message is for you, Irish Bob, Beto O'Rourke. You will never be President and you and your millionaire socialist friends will not succeed in taking our guns and erasing our faith. Freedom to bear arms and freedom of religion is written into the DNA of this country, not least Texas. Mess with that and take your choice.

Aggressively yours,

LSP