Cadet Update

Far-sighted readers of this inconsequential mind-blog might recall that my eldest boy walked away from a life of Canadian basements and Scandanavian Death Metal to a life in the US Army and, presumably, yet more Death Metal. Good call, kid, and he's in Basic right now at Fort Benning. How's it going?

Well, it seems. The kid's in White Phase, which is all about weapons and fitness, and he shot "expert." The Cadet wrote, "I can shoot an M4, apparently." 

And so you should. No excuses, only results, not that there's any, ahem, parental pressure. He can also run, he tells me, which is important in the Infantry and a miracle given sheer laziness leading up to his ordeal in Georgia. But hey, 19 years old and ready to go, well done.

Some kids, he writes, are so unfit they have to be recycled through BCT again, how did they get past the recruiters? Quotas, I'd imagine. Regardless, the boy's doing well and respect, he's made a good turn 'round. I do not say that lightly.

Signals

Next step? Blue Phase and Graduation, I'll be driving over to the Army in Georgia for the occasion. Of course he's fixing to go jump school... easy tiger.

God bless,

LSP

Ferocious Fishing

The sun shone down on the mighty Brazos like the hand of God and we had the Lake Whitney dam spillway pretty much to ourselves. An auspicious start, fortified by a first light men's prayer breakfast with the cowboys at ORCC. Would starting the day right make for good fishing?

It sure did. We cast off into the pool with frozen shad and it was pretty much a strike with every cast. I say strike but don't be fooled, these were gar strikes and that's a different kind of thing altogether. Gar, ferocious prehistoric ambush predators that they are, are also weirdly shy.

They'll take the bait, hold it, sensing for threat, and then run with it. Sometimes they'll just take and run, but whatever the case, the temptation's strong to set the hook like you would for a bass or some kind of normal fish. 

As the Good Book says, resist that temptation. Seriously, because chances are if you try and set the hook too soon or even have too much resistance in the form of drag, the fierce but strangely scarified gar will drop your bait and swim off. And don't forget the added issue of a successful hookset in the gar's bony beak. Not easy.

That said, the Cadet sent out delicious if slimy shad into the water and played the game, letting the pleistocene monsters take the bait, meditate on it, run with it, stop for a solemn collect, run again and  then boom! Pull back and set that hook.

Rod double, big fish, leaping, monster, thrashing action. Then try and bring the beast in, which isn't easy because they'll bite through your line (use a steel/heavy duty leader) or pull your hook off into the depths in 4+' prehistoric fury.

The kid got three gar to my one, well done. However, I did manage to pull out a catfish, which evened things out a bit.

I tell you, what a lot of fun. Gar can be great gamefish, though they take a lot of patience and a bit of thought. And here's the thing, other people turned up with long-distance casting setups, they were fishing for striper, and mostly caught nothing. We caught far more and had way more action.

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

In The Caring Hands Of USGOV

The phone rang, it was a call from Calgary, "Hey dad, it's John, I want to go to Texas and join the Army." I thought about this for a second, "That's great, son, but I thought you wanted to be in a Scandinavian Death Metal band?" No, apparently that laudable ambition had palled.

Just Say No To Death Metal, Or Not, Your Call

The Cadet duly got in touch with a recruiter in Dallas, explaining that he was fed up with being what he called "a hippy" and two months later, last Wednesday, flew through thunder and lightning into the Metrosprawl. 

Boy Needs A Day On The Lake

I drove him over to the recruiters the next day, strike while the iron's hot sort of thing, and all went well. The various Sergeants were pleased to work with a kid who had a high ASVAB score, and sorted out dates for a D-Lab test (linguistic aptitude) and MEPS.

A Typical Church BBQ

So, after a whirlwind weekend of church BBQs and Mass in the rural haven of Hill County, I delivered an apprehensive Cadet into the tender hands of USGOV. Let the selection process begin! 

States Rights

We'll know by Tuesday if MI's the immediate way forward or, failing that, Signals. Then, all things being equal, he should be sworn in Wednesday afternoon and have a date to report for Basic. It's a big step for the young 'un and I respect it, LL even composed a moving poem in the style of a haiku to mark the occasion:

Concentrated mist.

A clear jewel on a leaf.

Drip!

The river begins.

Let's see. In the meanwhile, well done John, 10 out 10 for good effort in the right direction. Stay tuned for the next installment.

God bless,

LSP

RAIN

There was a big funeral here today and you know what they say, if  you put all the pick ups end to end in this town's parade, it'd circle the earth three times over. Like the True Cross, but not as effective against the Moslem horde, Hattin excepted.

Hattin

After the funeral, one of the Missions laid on lunch, fajitas and all of that. And I tell you, it was a good result. The Cadet helped out too, after a football practice, and that was good. After three helpings of fajitas he hit the rack. Children have no stamina.

Rain!

Then, after the team surfaced from a needed re-org, it began to rain. Like silver falling from the clouds and those of you who don't know Texas in August will have to take it on trust.

OK. Military Academy

Of course the weather experts said there'd be no rain but then again, the same fools said polar bears would be drowning inside the Beltway and Donald Trump wouldn't be President.

A Bin Full Of Unicorns

The weather, you see, is a settled science and pop star legend Madonna? Children's author or Devil Witch?

Yours,

LSP

Real News

By way of celebrating President Trump's SCOTUS semi-victory, I figured I'd cook up some curry. Look, don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean the Compound's getting weak on Islamic terror or that we're about to observe Ramadan in the Missions. It's just a curry, a chicken curry, that's all it is.

A month or so ago I couldn't have managed it because the medico had removed the gnashers. Gone, like the Clinton candidacy itself, and it was reassuring to visit the dentist today and discover that everything was healing as it should. 

You see, what they've done is screw two screws into the lower jaw. These will become "implants." Sounds nasty, doesn't it, and I have to say, keep your teeth if you can. Still, a good result; such is the miracle of modern dentistry. 

In other news, I decided to hone my skills as a journalist by interviewing the Cadet. You can watch this incredible footage here. And note this, unlike CNN and the networks, it's not fake news.

Shoot, Fish, Ride,

LSP