Ranching

 

There it is, Texas, under a big blue sky. And I tell you, it was good to be out on my friend's ranch, which is pretty unreconstructed apart from the neat house he's built on the ancestral land. Yes, it has a tower, important for overwatch, and's built of stone as opposed to brick. I'll send photos next time I'm back, it's a substantial house.

In the meanwhile, we enjoyed a brunch send-off for a church woman who's leaving for Weatherford. What a good person! Worldwide champ barrel racer in the '80s and President of the WPRA, which would pretty much make her totus orbis Head of the Cowgirls. Like no kidding. She's also been Senior Warden of Mission #2 and I could not have wished for a better person in that role, to say nothing of a friend.

Ranch brunch over, I headed back to the Compound along the strip of rural wasteland that is HWY 22 and thanked God for His goodness. Beautiful country, outstanding people, no rainbow garbage and a great moon overhead.

God Bless,

LSP

S'Up?

 

What's up? Well I'll tell you. A recce mission to the lake to see if the Piscine Adversary was biting. No, it was not. I think they were stunned by the shock of massive heat after massive rain. Still, I tried my luck with topwater lures and it was good to get out in God's clean air by the water.

Waterworld, Thanks A Lot, NWO

Other people were fishing and not catching either, so I didn't feel so bad as I melted into the limestone of what was once an enormous paleolithic reef in an inland sea. A rogue rooster didn't seem to care one way or the other, he just strutted around. And I wondered.

Imagine This Bird Eight Or Nine Feet Tall

If that bird was paleo large, say 6-8' tall+, would it kill you? Dam straight it would, if only by reflex, and just think, our ancestors in the age of magafauna fought and survived against such fearsome beasts. But now they're shrunken and harmless, unless you're a member of our Godless Elite who want to erase all life from the planet apart from themselves.

Top Water No Bites

CS Lewis writes about this in That Hideous Strength and the Abolition of Man. Read 'em both if you haven't already, and if you have, read 'em again. By the way, the former's a novelization of the latter and, I'd say, all the better for that.

What You Gonna Do LSP, Shoot All The Fish?

Then there's fish. They were lying low today, like Democrats in defense of Hunter Biden's cracked up gun buying, but don't kid yourselves, aquatic predators, we'll be back. And then some.

Tight Lines,

LSP

Thunder Eshaton

 

Yeah, go right ahead and post on Thunderbirds and see where it mythically gets you. Good call, LSP, now you're right in the middle of a ferocious, apocalyptic thunder storm. No kidding, the heavens are crashing down with eschatalogical fury.

At first I thought it was shrapnel bouncing off the justified and ancient timbers of the house but no, it was hail. I know this because I went outside to look at the lightshow and an icy boulder clocked me in the eye. Dam painful, I can tell you.

Would the rig be alright along with the planet itself? Good questions, so go outside with a flashlight to find out. All OK, thank God, and the storm passed over with its massive and predatory birds. We live to fight again another day.

All Hail Texas,

LSP

Solar Still

 

My brother, over for a vacation. Make of it what you will.

Do watch to the end,

LSP

Recumbent Soldiery

 

The erstwhile Cadet passed NCO School yesterday and spun down I35 from Ft. Hood to visit, tell war stories and celebrate his victory. And celebrate we did, well done boy, you came out in the top 30% of the class of which, curiously, around 30% failed, some 100 people.

gull wing

"Why did they fail?" I asked, "Because they were fat and stupid." It's an issue, apparently. Regardless, we had fun and the dog had fun too, discovering a play towel and a plastic Walmart play bin. What fun. But what goes up must come down and the soldier successfully lay recumbent for much of today. 

Unh Hunh

Not me, off to a men's breakfast at Mission #2 by the lake this morning, what great guys, then Walmart, Tractor Supply Company, and afterwards installing a kindly donated toolbox on the rig in the heat of the blazing sun. 

I tell you, sweat was splashing down upon the bed of the truck like rain on the Sahara as I wrangled with the aluminium thing. Such is the coming Ice Age, sorry, Climate Change, that utterly settled science. Don't say Covid and experimental, mandated mRNA jabs.

typical boots on the ground scene

Regardless, there you have it. Good work on the NCO deal, kid.

Arduus Ad Solem,

LSP

Easter Monday Cooking With LSP

Birds sing, exotic ducks roost on top of Eduardo's roof and all's well in LSPland, in that balmy springlike way we so love. Alleluia, Christ has risen from the grave and death and Hell have no more dominion over us. 

That in mind, I fixed a G3 monocle on a boneless 6-7 rib roast lurking in the thievish corners of the fridge. Why not cook that beef up, after all, it's Easter Monday. And here's it is, brushed with olive oil and seasoned with pepper and salt, ready to go onto a vegetable trivet and into the oven.

Now, before you say how could you possibly afford that on your miserable stipend, so-called LSP? I'll tell you this little beast was bought at a 50% markdown firesale. Margin calls aside, great result, and here's the plan. 

Roast for 15 minutes at 500* then at 325*for 12 minutes per pound. Test with a meat thermometer at around 50/60 minutes, it should come in at 125-130* for medium rare awesomeness. Next up?

just a kid

Take the life giving beef out of the oven, celebrate your not inconsiderable victory with a glass of the right stuff, cover the meat in foil and let it rest for around 20 or 30 minutes, it'll continue to cook to tender, juicy perfection. 

As it does, fire some potatoes in the oven at 425* along with Yorkshire pudding batter in a preheated tin or skillet(s), boil up carrots or whatever, there's no "rule," and after 20 minutes or so remove from oven. In the meanwhile, and this is key, make gravy from the beef's drippings and remains of the veg trivet (which should include garlic cloves, onion and carrot, which you crush and strain, obvs).

hey now

Strife o'er, cut the beef. Serve the veg alongside. Place several Yorkshires on the plate. Stand askance at the sheer beauty of the thing and add gravy. Then fall upon your scoff like a warrior. Well, that's the projection and let's see how it goes, so far we're at the seasoned beef resting to room temp stage, with YP batter in the fridge, let that rest, important.

Stay Tuned,

LSP

Strapped Down

 

Here's the thing. My Dad, rest in peace, was no mean theologian and had a lot of books, a library of the beasts, to be honest. And I'd fondly imagined that this great collection of literary wisdom could remain stored at Dallas HQ. As a collection, if you like, but no.

The LSP sisterhood decided that the Library had to go, and so it has. I took the first and load of books to the Compound today and they'll be set up in the upstairs guest rooms. Good luck, guests, sleep meets 1st edition Anglo-Catholic genius.

Uncle at Eton

It's upsetting to take down this library, which represents one man's, my Father's, attempt at wisdom and to be fair he didn't hit far off the X Ring. We used to call it the "Rock Study," and so it was until now.

Rock On

Bibliophile,

LSP

Out And About

 

Seeing as how LSPland's full of surprises, I drove out to meet a photographer this morning. He shoots on land and in the air, with a drone. And what a good young guy; he left the Army after an IED messed up his back on his second tour in Afghanistan.

He rebounded well, others much less so. Were we right to go Big Army there and fight yet another war we weren't prepared to win? To put it another way, was my photographic friend's back worth it? I won't bang on but people who know far more about this kind of thing than I will ever do say no.

Mission accomplished, I drove to Waco. Movement, says the Philosopher is a sign of life. And what life it was, there on China Springs Road, complete with a strip mall and everything. Totally different than, say, where I live. All very stranger in a strange land. Don't get me wrong, not necessarily bad, just different, sitting there under the cerulean.

An old pal broke my strip mall reverie, texting in from LA where he's doing some kind of music thing, "Up early. Blast in hotel gym then mile run. I might be turning LA. If I start drinking wheatgrass smoothies I'll send an SOS. Stage an intervention."

Yes indeed, be careful out there, fella. But in the meanwhile, all's well in Texas and thank God for that.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

Truck Poetry

 

Here's some awesome truck poetry, via Wild Wild West:

For Whom the Truck Does Not Crank

(certainly not) by John Donne.

No battery cable is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the truck,

A part of the DMV registration records.

If a truck be washed away by the flooded low-water crossing,

Texas is the less.

As well as if a one-ton bro-dozer were.

As well as if a Kenworth of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each battery cable's failure diminishes me,

For I am involved in truck ownership.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the truck does not crank,

It does not crank for thee.

Texas is the less. I love that, but Each battery cable's failure diminishes me. Whoa, now we're talking.

Metaphysical poetry forever,

LSP

You Miserable Offender

It started off well, no doubt about it. Morning Prayer on the porch, a stroll to the Pick 'n Steal for coffee, get back on the porch, scan the news, answer emails and then? Stride purposefully to the rig with a view to taking care of business. Turn that key in the ignition and... disaster. The wretched beast wouldn't turn over. Useless.

I knew why, a badly eroded battery terminal connector which I'd been too lazy distracted to replace. So up goes the hood, jig that thing around, turn the key and hope for the best. Fail. Next step. Stare malevolently at the offender, maybe I could scare it into function.

Just then a neighbor pulled up in his daughter's Chevy 1500 Z71, "Need a jump?" No, "Here's the problem." He looked at the malefactor, "You need a new one, I'll drive to Autozone, get the part and hook you up." Which he did, for free, because "you let me park here, least I can do, man."

Good call. He gets to park his monster lifted rigs in the church lot, which is fine by me but offensive to D, another neighbor, who shouts at me from his car, "That dude's panhandln! God will strike him down! Come Lord Jesus and hurry up."

Rural Eschaton aside, I'd say there's a virtue in neighborliness, peace on earth good will towards men, sort of thing. And you never know, they might turn up and fix your truck. Would that happen in the Metrosprawl? 

Not so much,

LSP

I Love The Country

If you'd said, twenty years ago or so, "LSP, you'll be living in a small asset-stripped town in North Central Texas," I'd have laughed. But the joke would've been on me, just think of the benefits.

Clean air, friendliness, people wave to you on the back roads; a sense, even now, of community. And guess what, most are Christian, they worship God as opposed to Moloch. OK, I'd like to see a few mass conversions from the Methodees, but you get the point.

All this to say nothing of the freedom to walk the fields and brush, gun in hand, under the free sky of Texas. Even better when you can ride it, which I haven't done in a few years because of a mad Arab and a busted hip. But still, it's there.

And guess what. No one, hardly, feels the need to wear weird masks and go full panic, follow the, ahem, science, obey your rulers autism, unlike in the cities. Why? Because no one's actually dying any more than they usually do. There's a degree of common sense running around in the country and people sense a lying, powerplay Democrat snake. They say no to it. Will they crush its heel?

Possibly, and the Left hates this and fears the country. Quite right too, how will their cities feed themselves if the hateful two gender extremists stop hauling food? Just a thought.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Soldier Gets A Ride

 

Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.

The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.

A White Car

Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.

Park Up

Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God. 

Random DLC Spoon

So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.

Parentally,

LSP

You Miserable Offender

 

Look at this miserable offender. Yes, a burned out front indicator bulb, Sylvania #3157A, which gave up the ghost on the way to Made-in-China-Mart, right as the heavens released a relentless barrage of rain.

Park up, test the turning signal, listen to its ADHT fast click, watch the rain pound down, look up the part on your handheld computing device, and then wade through the flood to the store. Find a replacement bulb, look at empty ammo shelves - who knows, maybe they'll magically fill up if you stare hard enough - and head over to groceries for supplies. After all, a man's gotta eat.

That in mind, it's a very good thing that "man does not live by bread alone" because the price of food's skyrocketed, especially steak. It's around 30% more expensive than it was a year ago; just imagine the price if there was any inflation. Well done, prog-left, corp-sponsored oligarchy, everything's more affordable now because it's way more expensive. Awesome work, Socialists.

Back at the Compound, the downpour slowed to a gentle rain and then stopped, so I took advantage of the lull to swap out the busted bulb. It's not hard on an '08 F150. Pop the hood, reach behind the headlight housing, turn the bulb fixture counterclockwise, pull it out, replace the bulb and return the thing to its rightful place. If the recalcitrant anarchist mutinies, pull the headlight unit and teach the beast who's boss, which I ended up doing, annoyingly.

One working front turn signal light later, it seems only right to celebrate this small but important victory with hamburgers. Steak would be better, but that's too pricey. Thanks a lot, commies.

Cheers,

LSP

This And That

 

What's it like in Texas, apart from being like a preheating oven. Answer? It's good. Big sky, trucks, guns and all of that. Also, you get to free-range and shoot with friends on their land. It's just better than the other thing, especially when it's as well set up as JF's range.

That in mind, I drove down the road to the 200 yard line, a bit late to the party, and found young T shooting .17 HMR at a swinging gong in moderately gusting wind. The kid did well, typically scoring at 3 o'clock right at the edge of the bull. "Hold a bit further to your left at 9 '0 clock, young 'un." And he did. Boom. Dead on.

Typical Texan Truck Scene

So that was fun. I mostly spent the time spotting or going for head shots on "Jihad," a large steel silhouette, and blasting away at 25 yards with a Ruger .22 match pistol, complete with red dot. I tell you, watch that dot weave, duck and dive like a drunken man. Hmmmm. Maybe some remedial pistol practice is in order.

In other news, you'll note that America has two main enemies. Viz. The Weather, obviously, and White Supremacy. Such heinous threats, and you know what it's like. There you are, walking down the aisle of your local Walmart when Klansmen surround you. That's right, the Klan itself, and you gasp in dismay at the news of your beachfront home in Martha's Vineyard sinking beneath the waves of glacial meltdown.

Just a Couple of Millionaire Socialist Frauds

Such a threat. That's why the Klan set US cities alight last summer.  Remember Lafayette Square, Baltimore, Portland, Minneapolis, Baltimore, Chicago, New York and on. All that looting, burning and mayhem? Sure you do, and all of it caused by The Weather and extremely dangerous white supremacists.

A Typical Chimp-Out

Said no one ever, apart from our Millionaire Socialist overlords and their willing dupe-shill, NYT reading, Berkley educated, snerk, puppets. What will these clowns do when the revolution turns around and there they are, living on tofu, old New Yorker covers, wearing  a mask and not allowed to leave the country?

Oh, we're already there.

Your Pal,

LSP

Memorial Day Retrospective

 

Forgive this late post, it wasn't from any lack of respect, but I hope you had a blessed Memorial Day. It's right to celebrate with friends and family and at the same time to honor the fallen, see LL's excellent post. May they rest in peace and the wicked be held to account.

That said, we had fun in Dallas, even though the skies opened and it poured with rain. Of course it's sunny now, despite burgeoning inflation. Such is climate change and our Old Enemy, the Weather.

Some don't see Memorial Day like this. They regard it as a moment of white, patriarchal colonialist expansion and want to ban it, just as they'd ban gender itself.

Regardless, I hope you had a blessed Memorial Day and paused, as I know you did, to remember all who gave their lives.

God bless,

LSP

Notes From The Front Of The War On Weather

 

It's May, here in Texas, and you'd expect the kind of light and heat which promises blast furnace, frontier intensity in a month or two. But that was before we went to war against the Weather. Maybe you remember how it started, in the days of the Great 0. It was called Global Warming back then, remember?

Our planet was heating up, the ice caps were going to melt, adorable polar bears would all die and Venice, London, Martha's Vineyard, New York, Aberystwyth and Hull (What? Ed.) were going to sink beneath the waves. Unless we paid more tax, a lot moar tax.

So we went to war against the weather and paid for it too, after all, wars don't come cheap. Just ask the French who patriotically embraced daring green taxes on "Le Petrol." But that was then, this is now. Fast forward to today and the North Central Texan Front of the war.

I tell you, it's not easy, because the enemy's smart, unpredictable, the climate changes. On a dime. And it's cold in Texas today, thunder rumbles  relentlessly like the guns of Kursk and rain pours down, threatening the flimsy architecture of today's corporate sponsored, rainbow hued Marxist utopia with collapse.

Regardless, we press on, resolute in the Great Patriotic War against our Old Enemy, the Weather.

Stand Firm,

LSP

Dallas - The Way of The Ninja

 

A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.

It's Easter Week and you're in Dallas, so what do you do? Grill, go to Hunky's for delicious burgers, help out with yard work, and then ride into the great Metrosprawl. Which is what I did, arriving at the Preston Center in an unmarked white F150. Comms are important, so I texted GWB in Georgia.

"Sometimes what I do is I go to the Orvis store then stop at Half Price Books before strolling over to REI."

"What?!? The way of the Ninja."

"Exactly. I'm outside the Rolex store right now."

"I wouldn't mind a stainless sport Rolex."

"Same. It'll go with the Lambo."

A typical dog scene in the Preston Center Orvis

 

But this wasn't about buying watches, it was about getting a tin of Barbour's "Wax Thornproof Dressing" to refinish a coat. That meant going into Orvis via the car park entrance, because Covid. You see, you're a lot less likely to catch the plague if you go into the hideously expensive country sports store from the rear entrance.

Waxy mission accomplished, I drove down Northwest Highway to Half price Books, a great barn of a place, full of books and empty of people. A kindly old gentleman told me to put a mask on as I entered the warehouse of cut price books, and I did, not wanting to cause a scene, "Oh, thank you! I forgot!" Whatever, no one was there because Covid, and I walked unseen, ninja style, to the scyfy shelves and bought some books. Result.

Next stop REI, which is conveniently next to HPB. There was a special Covid decontamination unit in front the great outdoors industry co-op, and I ignored that because a. it's stupid and b. ninjas don't do that. Speaking of Lao Tse, I bought an REI shirt, which is white and made in Thailand. Yes, it was expensive, but shaolin doesn't come cheap.

Then back to Dallas HQ and the important task of re-waxing my wax coat. It's not hard, just rub the wax into the cloth and let the beast bake in the sun for a few hours. You can and probably should make your own wax mixture, which I've done, but I bought convenience. Ma LSP looked at the refurbed coat and remarked, "That's pretty old timey," And so it is, I like that.

Back in the country now, and I like that too.

God bless,

LSP