Showing posts with label Bonnie Blue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bonnie Blue. Show all posts

Monday, July 20, 2020

Decisions, Decisions

Sure, you can sit in front of a screen in slack-jawed consternation as churches burn, statues of Christ and saints are vandalized, and a corporate-sponsored Marxist putsch plays out in Democrat run  cities, or you can go fishing. Such is free will, it entails choice. I chose to go fishing.

For Every Lure You Buy You Have to Get Rid of Three

Nothing fancy, just a marina on Lake Whitney, and it's not even hard. All you need's a rig, Texas, a couple of rods, some bait and a day pack full of lures, hooks, weights, knives, descalers, water, bobbers and all of that. I tell you, if you're not careful that "day pack" will turn into a full-scale bergen (ruck) as if it were some kind of bloated government agency. Choose to avoid that fate.

A Bird

That in mind, I strolled down the pier to the cleaning station, admiring the big hot sky, the surround-sound of cicadas, and the exciting prospect of fish. Would they choose to bite, would the small cooler full of frozen shad, perch and fresh worms entice them onto the hook? Only time would tell.

Beat The Black Drum

And it did, in the triple digit noonday sun. Long story short, the fish had heatstroke and were cooling off in deeper waters, so the going was slow. Still, I reeled in a couple of 'gills and a decent little drum, enough catching, just, to vindicate the expedition and then something tugged on the line; a soupy, lazy, sluggish tug, as if the fish was half-asleep. 

What's This? A Snag, Annoyingly

Huh. Quick experimental hookset and... KABOOM. Rod double, line out, diving, pulling, running action. What is this? A monster bass, a mega cat, a shark? No, none of those things. Some five minutes later it was a huge Buffalo (carp but not a carp), a huge fish on a light rod, big fun.

When the enormous beast finally tired of fighting the ancient mariner and came to the surface, I marveled at the prehistoric set of the thing. Large, jurassic, glistening scales and the sheer immensity of the watery beast, perhaps the largest fish I've ever caught. Then, just as I was hauling it onto the dock for a photo op, the line broke above the hook and Leviathan returned to the depths.

Well done fish, well done fisherman. And with that it was time to head back to the Compound. 

Choose wisely, my friends.

Fish on,


Thursday, May 7, 2020

What A Beautiful Day

What, you're in a good mood, dubiously named "LSP," something positive to say? We won't say Hell just froze over. That's right, readers of this inconsequential kebab stand on the information superhighway, today is a good day, a great day because charges against General Flynn were dropped.


Because this is an uplifting post I won't go into the way an American hero, patriot and gentleman was framed by corrupt cops, forced into making a false confession, bankrupted, his family threatened with prosecution and all the rest. 

A Typical Badger

I can hardly contain my disgust, my revulsion at the corrupt bureaucrats who set about to ruin this good man. So I won't get into it.

Can You Excuse This Thing's Tie? No, Neither Can I, And That's The Least of It.

No, I won't detail the brazen, shameless, treasonous, makes-Watergate-look-innocent malfeasance committed by Brennan, Comey, McCabe, Rosenstein, Strozk, Page, the  Mueller gang et al. So where does the buck stop? How about Hillary, Biden and the Magic 0; let's see some justice. In the meanwhile, sit back and enjoy the moment, but that's not all.

Comin' At You

The House Intel Committee's finally released transcripts from the Mueller coup investigation and bug-eyed Schiff's thrashing, twisting and lying in enraged fear. Let's see the what? Three, four year Trump's a Russian Agent! scam exposed for what it was, a phoney, faked up, criminal fraud. And, remarkably, the good news continues.


Shelley, remember her, the Dallas hairdresser who was imprisoned and fined by an Obama judge figure? Yes, that's the one. She was freed today because Texas' Supreme Court ordered it. Good work, Texan Justices. I mean to say, go figure, let's release all these criminals from jail so we can fill their cages with business owners trying to make a living. Not in the Lone Star State, nossir.

So there it is, what a day. Now let's see some justice applied to the coup conspirators and while we're at it, maybe Biden needs to take a Tara Reade polygraph and Roger Stone exonerated along with General Flynn. You know, just to make our joy complete.

Your Buddy,


Friday, November 22, 2019

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,


Monday, September 2, 2019

Happy Labor Day Comrades

The Compound

You stand to at first light, waiting for cadres of fanatical Frankfort School revolutionaries to infiltrate the compound's perimeter in the predawn mist. Such is Labor Day in these dark and troubled times. But guess what, we got a pass. 

The trip flares didn't go off, none of the Claymores exploded, no one had to throw a grenade, there weren't any shadowy figures being deadly in the hedge, and all was good. Huge sigh of relief. Now what?

Texas Dawn

Drive to the 'Spawl or stay in the bucolic bliss of this unreconstructed Texan farming community? Easy call, stay, and what a good choice. Everyone here's happy, smiling, laughing, helping each other out, full of the joy of the day. 

Perhaps they're elated that Labor Day 2019 didn't usher in a demented, satanic Bolshevik revolution. Then again, maybe they're simply happy at the prospect of good times with family and friends, free of the Communist menace.

A Typical Texan Vista

Who knows and I'm not complaining. So fire up the grill, have the best time with your people, and enjoy a great Labor Day. You know what they say, workers of the world unite.

Your Friend,


Saturday, June 22, 2019


Yes, the Summer Solstice was yesterday, an important date by anyone's reckoning. How did you celebrate? 

At the Stones?

Perhaps the Tor.

Here at the Compound we cleaned guns, like this handy CZ Bobwhite 20.

And flew the flag.

Witch way, mysticke sister?

One flag to rule them all. 

Dixie forever,


Saturday, April 27, 2019


The day dawned clear, bright and full of hope. This was Saturday within the Octave of the Resurrection and invincibility came with it.

After Mattins a cowboy pastor swung by and we visited on the porch. "What's that new flag," he asked. "That'd be the Bonnie Blue," I replied. He liked it and we fixed a date to ride.

Business over, it was time to fish so I drove into the wilderness in search of the piscine adversary. Lake Whitney dam spillway was like Piccadilly Circus, maybe the Marina would be better. No, it was flooded by our ancient enemy, Global Warming.

Undaunted, I headed back to the dam and tried my luck, pulling out a couple of drum in the process while everyone else focused on catfish. They did well, too. All kinds of families will feast on catfish for the next year or two.

But not me. I left the scrum after the first couple of catches and headed for home, thanking God for Texas and the opportunity to fish.



Friday, April 26, 2019

Fly The Flag

It seemed right to upgrade the flags at the compound and that's exactly what happened, prompting one noted nature theologian to comment:

#porch #MAGA
Like, make America great again... by giving back to the STATES their rightful SOVEREIGNTY.
I'm looking at you, "Biden" and Bootyjugjug.

Sounds like a Cause, eh?

States Rights,


Sunday, March 13, 2016

Sweet Home

A lot of our team are off at a Peter Frampton concert, but here at the Compound we're listening to Skynyrd.

Like it or leave it. We like it. And sorry, "Neil," if that's your real name, which we doubt.

All for The Cause.


Monday, September 28, 2015

Church Membership

I was pleased to see some new faces at one of the Missions yesterday, after all, the Church must grow and the more the merrier. Following the Mass, one of the newcomers asked me if I'd like to go out to his lease for some hunting.

"Come on out for a few days," he said, "there's deer and pigs. Just get back to me with a few dates, whatever's best for you!"

I accepted, of course, and thanked him for his kindness, saying that I had a 30-06 that needed some exercise. Then he asked how to become a member of the church. 

"Inviting the pastor on a hunting trip is a very good start."

For some reason there's no ban on Confederate flags here. But that's a different story.



Thursday, July 3, 2014

A Typical Day in Texas

It was just the normal kind of thing, get up, say Morning Prayer, check ZeroHedge, Drudge, Virtueonline, Stand Firm and head off to the front office porch to conduct the business of the day. Sure enough, before you can say Boycott Burger King, half the Mission turns up on the porch to "get the job done," whatever the various "jobs" might happen to be. I like that and think it's right for clergy to live in parish housing; it puts you in the action.

The Butts

Then I figured it was time for a shoot, so I drove off to the range where I cleverly shot Marlboro Light boxes off of sticks at around 50 yards with a venerable J.C. Higgins .22. Then I moved to a more dangerous paper adversary, the green silhouette. 

Lush Verdant Range Thanks to Climate Change

A Biretta PX4 Storm .45 beat that down and I was pleased to see a decent group. A little left of the X but hey, not too bad.

Go On. Get in the X Ring.

Fun over, I drove back to the compound, met with several church people, said Evening Prayer and drove off to one of the Missions to say Mass. When I got back, a maniacal chicken rushed my truck. Like an assassin. Then it swerved off into the side of HQ to peck at the wall of my house; the bird was mad, obviously, and I walked over to speak to Pedro, its owner.

Must Say Mass in Spanish

Pedro was afraid I'd report his chickens to the "city" and I told him no, I liked his chickens and would be sad if they left. I also hinted that Pedro and Maria might wake up on Sunday morning and come to Mass. He thought that was a good idea.

Back in the Front Office

The day ended back in the front office, where I cleaned a pistol and talked with church people. 

So now you know what it's like, in Texas. On a good day.

God bless,