Fish

Fish On

I wouldn't want anyone to think I was some kind of stereotype, or something, so I eagerly took up a friend's offer to go Kayak Fishing on the Brazos, on the outskirts of Waco, off I35.

We stopped at Walmart to pick up some spinners and lures and I seized the opportunity to spray my legs with insect repellent, or sunscreen, which I found open at the sporting goods counter. I got into a fight about that with a Walmart person. but don't worry, it wasn't a real fight, just a verbal.

some guy facing off a bear with a hatchet

Fleeing Walmart we stopped at a Starbucks because I wanted a Latte, and spied a senior philosophy prof (?) from Baylor. I resisted the urge to hurl unkind taunts about "old bald head" and reminded my friend about Elijah and the bears.

fish

Then a whole lot of fun kayaking along the river -- the fish (Bass) were jumping and I was catching nothing until we pulled into some shallows and cast from there. Caught a baby Bass and a Drum(?) and as always felt inordinately pleased at the catch. Put the fish back and progressed upstream to home.

Fish Rising

Great fun. Message? Fish more often, get a boat.

Fish on,

LSP

Shoot the Lee, for God's Sake!

Add caption

You may have thought that I'd forgotten about firearms, being so busy with the Mission Field and all. But no, despite a grievous lack of readily available ammo -- please, someone, sort it out -- I've managed to get to my friend's range a couple of times.

Upgrade the glass, yo.

I was especially pleased with my "project Lee," an old 1917 SMLE that'd been sporterized once, badly, then re-sporterized by me in an amateur attempt to own a make-believe Lee Speed. Not being a stereotype, I want to own something approximating to the hunting rifle of the British Empire.

Sand, Plane, Rasp, Blue

Whatever, the mock Speed shot pretty well, putting rounds in a Dime with a used Burris(!) scope. Not bad for a WWI rifle that's gone through several porch project gunsmith hours. 

There's a Rifle on the Table1

Some people have motorcycles in their front room, or "lounge." Others go for Lees on the Mahogany. Same strategy, different tactic? 

Fruity!

In other news, the oddly named Gavin SameSex Welby has come out vastly in favor of wimmin bishops and rather cautiously in favor of gay sex. Go on, Gavin, bite the bullet!

Snack

Yours unstereotypically,

LSP

The Bishop's Father

Gavin Welby, born Bernard Weiler

According to some newspaper(s), the new Archbishop of Canterbury's father was a Jewish feather merchant from Ruislip, which is a kind of London suburb, who emigrated to New York during World War I. He reinvented himself as a liquor salesman while hinting at a fictitious aristocratic pedigree. Then, during the evil days of Prohibition, he prospered as a kind of bootlegger and made his way back to England where he had several adventures, including marriage to Winston Churchill's secretary. He was sued by a Baronet, apparently, and died pretty much alone in an apartment in Kensington. 

grey space creature

His Archepiscopal son thinks his father was "alcohol dependent" and claims to be shocked at the revelation of his "secret life."

anglican bishop

Well look, Welby's Guv'nor was a rogue but at least he wasn't possessed by the spirit of a Grey Alien space creature. And he was interesting. And he managed to send his kid to Eton.

Eton was a seminary of sorts, before the protestants got their mitts on it.

I'm off for a ride now. Carry on.

LSP