You Miserable Offender

 

I could see the miserable offender from the Compound's upstairs windows. There it was, a mutinous AC exhaust spewing water onto the roof, doing its level best to destroy this humble Texan home.

You see, the genius patrol who got rid of the sleeping porch in the 1980s and turned it into a meeting room didn't grade the roof correctly, the pitch is too shallow. This means water collects on the structure's oddly impermanent asphalt shingles, degrading the rubbish decking beneath and before you know it the whole thing's a soggy, rotten mess. Then it collapses. Disaster. 

To play my part in fixing this threat to hearth and home I clambered up on the roof like a mountaineer and, after enjoying the view, advanced to contact. "Look at you, traitor," I thought, looking down at offending PVC article, and then fixed it with a snake, this being a untwisted coat hanger. Take that. And so it did. Now water doesn't flow from miscreant to roof, mission accomplished.

On the way back down to earth I opened up a window which had been painted shut. This will make climbing easier.

Overwatch,

LSP

Masked Fool

 

Behold the face of brave, fearless, visionary, speaking truth to power Anglicanism today. There it is, mask up, serfs, from Archbishop on down, otherwise you too might live free from fear of a deadly virus which kills maybe 0.27% of the people it infects.

"Man," I told C the HVAC guy this morning, "It's like we've been driven collectively insane. By Satan." He pondered this as we looked out at the Compound's perimeter (Abbott St.). 

"You know, I was at a funeral a few months back, at the Methodist church, 1st Methodist, and the pastor wouldn't even shake my sister's hand, even give her a hug. 'I'm sorry, CDC guidelines, I cannot come any closer to you.' I told that worthless POS if he even spoke to her again there'd be hell to pay."

 

I thought about this, "You mean the skinny little Methodee? I know him."

"Yeah, that's him. Red haired streak of..."

"He's lib, they believe this garbage. They really do. The Church should provide leadership, fearless leadership."

"Right on, brother. Shot some black powder yesterday, felt good."

 

C fixed me with camo-rimmed glasses and Realtree shirt, that much of him was invisible, and we grinned. "Black powder, stick it to the Man. And while we're at it, come on in and help out at the Missions, we don't wear masks."

Unlike Welby, whose pathetic ASA (average Sunday Attendance) is plummeting. Is this Providence in action?

#2A,

LSP

Well, Well, What Have We Here

Typical Texan HVAC Scene

 

Busted HVAC. Good thing Craig turned up before Morning Prayer to sort it out. And there we were, looking at the malfeasant unit. "Cuts off when the cover goes on. Why? Faulty board, pressure?" I didn't know but stood back while HVAC friend took a call from Waco.

"I need duct for... and some foots... and..." he turned to me me, call ended, "Where are we living, Babylon?" Ain't that the truth, and we discussed the current insanity of the way we live now. Then it was time to head to Itasca.

Karen's Authentic Mexican Food (it is)

Itasca's an interesting little town, mainly because of its Amish(?) deli and Karen's Authentic Mexican Food. I like both but prefer Karen's, where you can get an awesome homemade bean brisket burrito. That in hand, off to the compound to meet a hauler. His job? Take out a '50's Chevy Panel van and an '82 'vette, which is exactly what he did. 

It felt good, I tell you, being under the big sky and open air of Texas as opposed to some ersatz, strip mall facsimile. Not that I pour scorn any which way. Go on, knock yourself out at Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, Taco Bell, subWay, Panda Express or whatever, or enjoy Karen's. Your call. No rule.

Creepy Van

In other news, an old pal's setting up some kind of pop concert at Chanel's HQ in Paris. In homage to Coco, or just for bucks? Maybe both. Whatever, if you want to get on the VIP list send an email, we can only say no, or YES.

Whatev. I'm not joining the Parisian party because I can't fly. No DevilVax you see.

Truly,

LSP

Roofy

 

The Compound doesn't have a tower, sadly, but it does have several roofs, and with roofs comes, ahem, responsibility. You have to keep them in order, or else an historic Texan house becomes an historic Texan ruin. To prevent that, I climbed up on the roof.

Trees needed cutting back, gutters had to be cleaned, and a malfeasant air conditioning exhaust somehow fixed. The evil beast was leaking water all over the roof and that had to be stopped before it caused catastrophic damage. 

miserable offender

Fortunately, it was a simple blockage and easily cleared, thanks to a couple of holes cleverly cut into the PVC for just that purpose. Well done, far-sighted HVAC tech of yesteryear.

Plumbing job over, I surveyed what's fast becoming a sort of double canopy (?) forest of Pecan, Crepe Myrtle and more besides. This is good, it provides shade, and that's no small thing when our Old Enemy the Weather does its level best to imitate a blast furnace.

sylvan groves of Olde Texas

Sylvan reverie over, I cut into the invading jungle with a vengeance, clearing the green invader from the very roof it was threatening to destroy. Take that.

infographic

Next step? Clean out the gutters. This is a nasty job, especially when you haven't bothered to do it in over a year. And you should, because if you don't, the backed up gutters will send water up under the roof, into the fascia, onto the soffit, and before you know it the whole leading edge of the thing is rotted out. And that's a nightmare.

typical Texan roof scene -- sort out the downspouts, LSP

Even more of a nightmare than the job itself, which got done, mostly. And that, punters, is the story of that. It was good to get up on the top of the world and survey the wonder of sylvan Texas. 

Good, too, to get some preventative maintenance done. It beat, let me tell you, reading about the ongoing, wicked clownshow that is the governance of what used to be Christendom.

I file this, vaguely, under country life in Texas and more specifically, under "roof."

Do good every day,

LSP

Yet More Vicious Racism - Warning Graphic

Sure, it looks normal, just another HVAC van come to fix a broken unit, nothing, you know, sytemically racist about that is there. So you think. I went to get a closer look.

Do you see the problem? I did. There it was, in all its shameless, white colonialist, brazen, literal racism, right there on the ladder. Knowing that silence is complicity, let's zoom in.

WOW.  It's maybe not even conscious but that makes it worse, part of your psyche, in your head. Kick the black man off the ladder! So who's at fault? Here, have a look.

Smiling all the way to his white male supremacy privilege award. Sorry, so-called "Lennox," we've got your number. Which, as a matter of fact we do, because Sims actually does good work at a fair price, and they even turn up when they say they'll do. Imagine that.

Readers, if anyone does actually read this shallow mind-blog, do not give an inch to the new Maoism. It's the same as the old Maoism but even worse, because it comes like a rainbow.

Your Friend,

LSP

TEXANS REJOICE!

Texans rejoiced today. Why? Because clouds rolled in from the West and brought a cold front. Yes, you heard that right, a cold front, it even rained a bit. So? You ask from shivering Calgary or rain-soaked Aberystwyth. So a lot, my friends, a break from unrelenting 100* weather.

That probably sounds nice to you if you're in, say, Nottingham and looking at the repellent Anna Soubry as rain falls upon her traitorous visage. But no, it's not nice, it's like living in an oven, a kind of purgatory. That in mind, our Old Enemy the Weather broke last night, and in blew cool air. Like HVAC but free and better.

I set up on Ma LSP's back deck in Dallas, in the beautiful cool of an Edenlike morning, and finished an overdue "Leader." It's easier to type when your opposition, the Climate, isn't trying to kill you. Unlike an Attack Squirrel who ferociously challenged me from the Pecans.

And there you have it, Texans rejoice as the heat dies down. In other news, Operation Boomerang's in full swing inside the Beltway and pundits are betting on a Hillary v. Michelle 2020 Primary Face-Off. Terrifying prospect.

Your Pal,

LSP

The Cooling Hand Of God

Keen-eyed readers of this family oriented mind blog will know that Russian agents masquerading as climate activists hacked the Compound's HVAC, just when the Weather climbed to triple digit intensity. Disaster? Yes.

Getting Hot at The Compound

"LSP, if that's your real name, which I'm beginning to doubt," stated one expiring art philosopher, "Sort. It. Out." Fully aware of the gravity of the situation, I got on the 'phone to a church elder.

"The AC's down and the mission's looking shaky."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pray, pray hard that the unit returns to life."

"I'm on it."

Blue HVAC

Within 30 minutes the prayer was answered, malware removed and cool, refreshing air circulating through the house. Thank God.

A Typical Buenos Aires Club Scene

In other religious news, evidence has emerged that Pope Francis worked as a Buenos Aires bouncer. Whether Archbishop Justsin Welby, leader of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC) was "on the list" is presently undetermined.

Stay tuned,

LSP

Miserable Offenders

It sounds simple and it should be simple. As the heat climbs ever higher, turn on the AC and enjoy the cooling blast of chilled air. 

That's the myth. The reality is you turn on the air and all you get is a groan and a hiss as the temperature in the house approaches ovenlike intensity. 

Broken Rubbish

What do you do when that happens? Get out the fans, open the large screened windows and start to melt while you call the HVAC tech. But hey, whoever said the War on Weather'd be easy?

El Nino Will Build The Wall

Speaking of which, Senator Ted Cruz has sensibly suggested that we use El Nino's confiscated millions to build the much-needed border wall. Good call.

Your Old Pal,

LSP