A Trip To Slap Out

 

Hubbard Texas used to be known as Slap Out on account of their general store typically being slap out of provisions. As of the 2010 census the town was 1,423 persons strong and I like it, well put together for the most part with a lively feed store and a couple of shops and decent country restaurants. Their war memorial's especially impressive, a Cobra gunship which saw service in Vietnam before decommissioning in 1994, when 1 Cav gave it to the town.

After a tasty lunch of cheese enchiladas at Polos Italian Pizza restaurant, I drove over to a churchman's ranch for a sick call. What a great old man, in his 90s, a proud vet, Airforce I think, and an excellent horseman in his day. Pillar of the church to boot. He's weak now but clear of cancer, praise God.

On the way back I stopped in Malone, population 269. It's famous for being German and having saloons or bars, Muleskinners, Pair-A-Dice and Whiskey River. I haven't been in any of these but feel I should.

Whiskey River seems the best and it's owned by a friend who obstinately doesn't come to Mass but cheerfully lets me shoot at his back(ish) country range. A neat guy, a wiry landowner with a piercing eye and a serious, shooting safari hunter. I wish he was Senior Warden of Mission #1 but as it is we're allies.

Malone's also famous for its motel. You see, not so long ago this part of the world was dry, you couldn't get a drink because that was so wicked and unchristian, even though wine features rather strongly in the Bible. As in the Miracle at Cana and the Last Supper. 

No, not Dr. Pepper and non-alcoholic grape juice in a dixie cup. That in mind, people would drive from as far away as Corsicana, population 23, 770, to live it up at Malone's saloons, and then they'd stay in the motel. Smart.

So now you know. I love this part of Texas.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Country Life In Texas

Country life in Texas is usually, for me, all about shooting, riding, fishing and a bit of hunting but this summer's been different.

It's been about getting a young 'un enrolled in High School, into the football team and its preseason workouts, getting his vaccinations up to date, finding employment for the fellow, you can't be hanging around here all day in bed and if you do you've got another think coming type of thing.

And generally readjusting to being a full-time parent again after many years. To say nothing of recovering from a rib injury, which puts a damper on the sporting life. 

So there's not been much getting out in the field, apart from walking Blue Aggressor through packs of stray dogs to the local pick 'n steal, but that's not to say the operation has ground to a halt, far from it. Also, one of the Missions was dealt a bad blow in the sudden loss of its Senior Warden, a fine Christian lady. May she rest in peace. 

And there you have it, a fascinating snapshot into the vagaries of LSPland and I tell you this. I'd rather be wrangling with all of it in the country than in one of our dismally failed, social experiment urban hellholes.

I file this exciting report under Country Life In Texas. 

God bless you and God bless Texas,

LSP

Aftermath

Here at the Compound we're drinking strong coffee, dusting off the Steuben and cleaning guns while, ahem, loyal staff polish the Mess silver.

A lot of this fast-paced, hi-stress action takes place on the porch, where Blue Eschaton has set up in vigilant defense.

Crazed

In related news, it seems that Hillary wasn't able to address her party faithful on election night because she'd fallen into a psychotic, drunken rage, clawing at long-suffering staffers while hurling inanimate objects at Mook and the well known Satanist, John Podesta.

A Typical Texan Tailgate

Hell hath no fury, eh? America, looks like you dodged a bullet.

God bless Texas,

LSP

Country Life

I file this picture, from the local Walmart, under "country life in Texas." The same goes for these venison sausages, Rifle to skillet and thank you very much. I think they go well with farm fresh eggs.

Heavy Metal

And you know what? I'm not complaining.

God bless Texas,

LSP 

In Search of Texas

There's a lot of noise in the media these days about Texas. Is it some kind of neo-fascist Platonic Ideal, instantiated, Aristotle-style, in a landmass that's as big or bigger than a lot of lesser countries?

Or is it a place where the frontier, with its God, guns, church and country life, looms large? A place where people don't look too kindly at latte swilling coastal elites telling them to get with the program and ride the rainbow. Whatever the case, I took my dog for a walk after Morning Prayer and went in search of Texas. 

Hey, Look at This.

The Nepalese woman at the pick 'n steal accepted my money for a coffee, while a crew of Park Department workers played scratch card lottery. Some were black, some were white, some were Latino. They were having fun, loudly, at losing the lottery and the coffee tasted pretty good. Have to hand it to the Nepalese, they make damn good fighting knives and excellent coffee. Was that Texas?

Texas

On the way home, I passed 4 churches in the space of 4 blocks. Blue Destroyer used the entrance of one as a "convenience," he's a cow dog. Maybe that's Texas? Then I found a snake skin on the side of the road.

Satisfied with finally finding Texas, I went back to the Compound.

That is all.

LSP

Ride & Shoot

One of the benefits of living in rural Texas is that you can marvel at the sheer greenness of the grass as you ride your horse through the Lone Star State's verdant water meadows. 

My philisophical pal, GWB, would say that Texas is locked into radical mimetic rivalry with the Emerald Isle. He's heavily influenced by some Frenchman called "Girard."

Then you get out in the open and pick up a gallop, wind in your face and Frenchmen forgotten as your horse's neck lengthens and she gets into her stride. Charge! No end of exhilaration.

Ride over, head off to the ranch's range and test out a rifle. Just you, the gun and the countryside in the setting sun. 

I like the muzzle flash as dusk closes in, not that I'm immature or anything. Come to think of it, tracers might be neat too...

God Bless Texas,

LSP

Texas Gold

We don't know where we'll end up, under the Divine Providence, in the grand lottery of life. Some find themselves in Detroit, others languish in Hipster Hackney, or Aberystwyth, which is a small crabbing community on the Welsh coast. Some, the lucky ones, land in Texas.

A Typical Texas Street Scene

And I'm not complaining; it has guns, horses, dogs and porches, it has Karen's Authentic Mexican Food, and the people are friendly too, mostly. It also has big skies and a sense of freedom, provided you don't mess up and live in Austin, but even that den of iniquity is better than Washington, Chicago, Philadelphia, or the so-called state of Delaware.

So count your blessings if you live in Texas, and thank God for His beneficent mercy. Rumors that the local Shamrock Pick 'n Steal filling station, in this agricultural haven that I'm writing from, sells watermelon flavored "blunts," may, or may not, be true.

God bless,

LSP