Out & About

 

Went over to the lake after church to see what was up. The water was certainly up because all it does in Texas is rain, every day, and this fills the lake which was once a river and before that, a vast prehistoric inland sea. But were there any fish?

I saw a couple of predators break water around noon, not untypical at Soldiers Bluff, but the couple of stalwarts manning the banks weren't getting any business, oh well. That'll surely change as the season moves on, but for now? 

Don't waste time, instead head home and marvel at the fact of a small fayre concert on the Square, what's that about? Who knows, but I checked it out later in the day and the thing seemed like fun, all kinds of food trucks, kids and some sort of pop band. 

Nice. That in mind, it seemed right to take refuge in this town's improbable cigar bar, yes there is one, and smoke a cigar, which is something I hardly ever do. It was fun, in its way, under tumultuous Texan clouds. And what will tomorrow bring?

The holy sacrifice of the Mass, 

LSP

Just Strolling In The Rain

Most Anglican priests in North America typically stay in their parish or mission for about five years before moving on to moar cash greater and higher things. At least that's what the stats said a few years ago, and I reflected on that as I strolled through the sylvan boulevards of Olde Texas in the gentle rain. How can you possibly, as a clergyman, get to know the people and place of your cure in just five years?

Well you can't, not to any great extent, and there's a virtue in staying in one place for a length of time. Of course it helps if the place in question is congenial and involves riding, shooting, fishing and, today, gentle, soothing rain. Enjoy it while you can, fellow citizens of this bucolic rural haven in North Central Texas.

Weather reverie over, I strolled past a sign for the impending eclipse and into the food bank, which does a brisk business because no one can afford to buy food at the supermarkets, and talked to their leaderene who has to be pushing 90 but doesn't look a day younger or older than she did 15 years ago.

What a good woman and tough as nails, I used to shoot pistols with her husband, RIP, back in the day using pictures of Episcopal Church bishop figures as targets. Fun. Then it was a short saunter over to the Square, complete with its Confederate war memorial. No, no-one's even thought of taking that down, and from there to a shop I've never been in.

To be fair, it's changed hands a few times since I've been here and now advertises "alterations." Interesting, and I went inside to investigate. Sure enough, it's definitely an alterations shop and I visited with the owner who was inundated with work. Yes, she could create a suit, but didn't have the time. You see, what happens is that people, typically women, buy stuff online which doesn't fit them and then take it to be fixed. So she has a roaring trade and fair play to her, I'll go there in the future instead of driving to Dallas.

Speaking of which, Janey Tailor on the corner of Greenville and Mockingbird did a stand-up job fixing not one but four old but nice suits, DB, 3B, 2B. "You are wizards!" I exclaimed to the excellent Korean sewing crew at Janey Tailor, and they are, but now I want to shop local. I like the vibe of this shop. Next stop?

Gold Nugget Pawn. I bought my first Lee Enfield there back in the far-off mists of time and used to bring great containers of Holy Water for the staff. They said they needed it, which they doubtless did. Then the owner Miss Dale died, I buried her, and Cindy took over the operation only to sell the shop off. Now it's under new management who are staunch #2A, so we get on well. I'll offer to bless the place, maybe an exorcism'd be in order.

On the way back to the Compound, I passed by the Pick 'n Steal, still going strong after all these years, though I miss the Nepalese who used to run it, and swung 'round the corner past what used to be the Meth Shack. That's no more and's being fixed up by Jose who, is, I think, from El Salvador. A good man and maybe he'll go to Mission #1's new Spanish Mass.

Regardless, back at the front porch of the Compound I looked out on the rain of a Texan morning and thanked God for bringing me here. So much better than, say, Baltimore, Philly or the suburban ghetto Maryland suburbs of DC. 

You see, gentle readers, I've pretty much been a slum priest for much of my time, so this is most congenial, in a semi-abandoned railway town kinda way. You'll note, in passing, that priests tend to stay two years in this position before moving on, and I've stayed over fifteen, this is a record. No inclination to move either, and there you have it, and Devil take the hindmost.

In other news, my eldest texted me yesterday as I was collecting clothes from the Dallas Koreans, "Dad, they've promoted me to Sergeant." And so they had, right there in the field. I texted back, "WELL DONE. GOOD WORK." We must take our victories as we find 'em.

Stand Strong,

LSP

Stardust

 

I've always loved Mr. Nelson's Stardust, how could you not? For me, it brings back memories of grown-ups slow dancing in Denton in the '70's. Beautiful and I guess the album was new then, a far and magical cry from foggy, wet, Oxford. Behold:

Of course Willie's a local man and this little slice of rural paradise has produced a mural, don't call it a "muriel," that'd be rude. BTW, the older women of the church remember Willie and thought he didn't smell too good, "Needed a shower," was the consensus. Dam hippie.

Nice Muriel

Stardust,

LSP

Almost Christmas

 

The great Feast of the Nativity is almost upon us and lights went on at the Compound after a traditional trip to Walmart for last minute Christmas essentials. 

Now look here, punters, some traditions are good and we love them, they add depth, meaning and continuity to our fleeting lives. But other traditions are bad, like going to Walmart right before Christmas.

I tell you, and I'm no snob, don't laugh, it's true, that it was rough in there tonight and this is a country Walmart. Parse that as you will, while recalling that the rule of law is comparatively new here.

Speaking of which, could someone please make a law banning people from wearing pajamas in public, at the supermarket? But I won't neck-tattoo-bang-on, you get the picture. That in mind, let's recall the opening words of the governing Prayer (Collect) for what's left of this season.

Cast away the works of darkness and put upon us the armour of light. Needed, eh?

Stand Fast Against Leviathan,

LSP

Cocktail Party - Yes, They still Exist

 

Do people even have cocktail parties anymore? Apparently they do, not least here in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone, and what fun it was.

"Crazier than a sh*house rat!" said one punter and I paused, "What do you mean?" He explained and we looked out on the town's Heritage League. 

Behold, diamonds shine brightly. And you'll be sure I thanked relevant people for relevant favors; I do not say that lightly. Also spent a good portion of the evening talking to our LEO bodyguards. Good men.

You know what? I feel a chaplaincy role coming on.

Spem in Alium,

LSP

Is This The Way?

 

Maybe it is. Keep it simple, right? That in mind, I powered this wreath with green LED lights and a battery pack. What a compact solution, and green too.  Speaking of which, do you remember Climate Change?

You know, the biggest disaster in the history of disasters which would raise the sea level so high it'd flood out the coasts, kill all the polar bears and... and... destroy the planet? The God King Messiah Barak Obama was a big booster, maybe that's why he bought a seafront mansion in Martha's Vineyard, because what a green socialist. What a colossal scam.

Ma LSP's Ready For Christmas

And now we've got COVID. Better vax up and wear your mask, even though neither protect you from getting and spreading a disease which 99.7+% won't kill you. Leap to it, serfs, and guess what. If you don't, you won't be allowed to enter a shop, much less leave your country. So you'd better OBEY.

Is that the way? Sure, the way of slavery, perdition and corrupt deceit. We walk a different path at the Compound. And lest we forget, remember Pearl Harbor, a day of infamy.

Your Crypto 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

Taking Care Of Business

 

A busy morning. Get up, feed the Blue, make hot tea, enjoy that tea on the back porch while scanning the news, say Morning Prayer, you might say "Mattins," walk to the Pick 'n Steal, observe a new iteration of the Meth Shack, get back to the Compound, answer emails and then... drive over to Tom's Tire to get your rig inspected.

You have to do it every year, the State demands it, and we must obey. But it's no big deal, just 7 bucks and an excuse to go to Montes for a delicious brisket burrito. Tasty and then some. Next stop? 

A dinosaur museum, conveniently next to the diner. It used to be a filling station and then something else, followed by something else, and something else again, amounting to yet another vacant, asset stripped country lot. But now it's a dinosaur museum. 

I ambled over, pleasantly aglow with brisket and homemade tortilla's, only to be ambushed by a fit young fella with a dinosaur T and a Ho Chi Minh, obviously a paleontologist. "What's up, man!" he asked. I looked him straight in his expensively rimless glasses and asked, right on the nail, "Is this museum open?" To be fair, it rarely is, and he said yes, step straight on in, which I did.

What a great little museum! Big fossils of the ferocious beasts that used to roam North Central Texas, and small fossils too, to say nothing of aboriginal artifacts. These, if you know where to look, which I mostly don't, can be found by the boxfull here in Hill and Bosque counties. How old are they? Good question.

Museum over, collect the rig, get it registered, go to the 1st Inconvenience Bank and then to the lake. I won't lie, it was quite chilly, only about 100*. Is it too hot to fish when your eyelids start dropping sweat on the inside of your cunningly polarized glasses? Hardly, all the more incentive to carry on regardless.

4 Blue Gill later it was time to head home, in yet another episode of being glad to be in Texas.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Walkabout

You know what it's like. There you are in the midst of a pandemic threatening to shut down Western Civ, what's left of it anyway, so whaddya do? 

Go for an armed stroll 'round town at 11 pm to see what's up. Load up and off you go, born to have adventure, sort of thing.

But what was up? Not very much. Flags were flying but the streets were empty. Had a neutron bomb gone off? Would you hit anyone if you fired a canon down the middle of the street? No.

So I strolled about and went to the downtown filling station for Marlboro Lights, then stood in the middle of the road and took photos. There wasn't any traffic, it's all shut down because of China, you see. Not that it's especially very busy ever.

Heading home, First Methodee was all lit up but no one was home and the Meth Shack was getting it on with a "domestic." I sensibly ignored the furor and strolled by, round in the chamber. And that was that, mission accomplished.

Message? If you're going walkabout, take a gun.

Best,

LSP

Walking The Eschaton

It was like a midsummer day in Borth on the Welsh Riviera. Overcast, a drizzling rain, not too cold, not too hot but no, this was North Central Texas and time to take Blue Eschaton for a walk.

The streets were empty, because of the Chinese Virus or because they always are? A mystery, and so was our old friend the Meth Shack. The Shack's under new management, who've been busy gutting the place with a view, presumably, to newer and better renters. Good luck with that worthy project.

Mourning the passing of an age, we advanced to the Pick 'n Steal. It still stands, essential business in the midst of lockdown. I tethered the Eschaton to an empty newspaper vending machine and went inside for a coffee "refill" in an invincible Yeti mug. 

The store's Owl Idol looked down with unflinching eyes on its supplicants, the usual crew of pajama wearin', slipper shufflin', lottery playin', blunt buyin' punters. There they were and there it was. Reassured that some things never change, I walked the furry apocalypse back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And then a curious thing happened.

Within a space of minutes, clouds rolled in from the north and with them a fierce wind. The temperature dropped like a stone in seconds, taking us from Borth in August to Borth in April. Fearing a Polar Vortex, I showed the Eschaton inside to warmth and safety.

Poor dog. You can imagine, centuries later, explorers discovering an elderly Heeler encased in ice, the remains of a fried cherry pie in his mouth, frozen where he stood on the awful day the Climate Changed.

That aside, I hope you've all managed to recover your firearms from the lakes and rivers and sensibly saved on SCUBA by use of powerful magnets and sturdy ropes.

God bless,

LSP

Strolling The Deluge

Darkness, thunder, rain. No, this wasn't downtown Aberystwyth in July, it was Texas in February. Climate change experts tell us that if you collect the rainfall here you'll have enough water to last the year, and I believe it. Undaunted by the deluge I left the Compound for a morning stroll.

Stairway To Heaven

Only to see that the Meth Shackers have cleverly built a stairway to heaven; there it is, a ladder to paradise. What happens when you get to the top of the ladder, I asked myself as I gazed at the floral tributes in front of the shack. Who knows, perhaps you ascend, higher.

Meth Shack, Note Beautiful Floral Tributes (stop using "filters." Ed.)

The Pick 'n Steal was open for business but eerily empty apart from an elderly POC playing a slot machine. He's a Nam vet and plays that machine every day; I like him, though we've never really talked. Need to change that.

Pick 'n Steal

One large coffee later I was back on the flooded streets of the bucolic Texan farming community I've called home for the last decade or more, and you know what, I'm not complaining. For me, it beats living in the 'sprawl that is the DFW megacity connurb. You may think differently and that's fine, there's no "rule."

Storm Debris

Back at the Compound, Blue Dog-Faced Pony Soldier curled up on a Moslem rug while I said the Office. He's not buying the "religion of peace" thing. 

"It's obviously not a religion of peace," he tells me, "It was started by a warlord in search of loot, rape and plunder." I accuse him of racism but he just snores. Typical. Next thing you know he'll be banging on about "replacement strategy," asymmetrical warfare, the Kalergi Plan and trying to make me read Mark Steyn. But what does he know? He's just a dog. 

Dog-Faced Pony Soldier On A Moslem Rug

In other news, Juicy Smollet's been indicted, 4 prosecutors have fled the Stone case, 45 held a massive rally in New Hampshire, and Biden's campaigning in Iowa again, or something like that. And Britain's deported a load of Jamaicans for being thugs, much to the disgust of the self-loathing white left and their POC friends.

All About The Hat

So there it is. Rain continues to fall and the clay ground of the Compound is pretty much flooded. Blue Deluge is sleeping, God is in his heaven and the Democrats flounder like beached fish after a storm. Is 45 anointed, by God?

Stand firm against evil,

LSP

Texas Street Walker

The climate changed, yet again, from a balmy Springlike 70 something to freezing wind and rain. It was like being in Aberystwyth instead of Texas, but you know what they say, adopt, adapt, survive. 

That in mind, I pulled on a pair of sturdy G.H. Bass brogues, an Arctic Hardware fleece and a Barbour jacket, maybe label shock alone would scare our enemy the weather into submission, and ventured forth.

I walked past the Methshack, which is suffering because half of the shackers have been evicted. There it was, sitting in the rain behind a semi-urban field which no one's inclined to buy. Who knows, maybe they're waiting for the shack to be cleared before purchasing land to build on and sell.

The Yellow House wasn't looking too good either. It's famous for something, was reinvented as a bed and breakfast, which didn't work, then re-inhabited by crackheads. A friend tried to buy it last year but the deal went south because of craziness. I always ask myself, why would you paint your house yellow? 

Then it was a short patrol through welfare, several shacks, a pleasantly unpaved vista and on to Montes for a late breakfast. Montes is alright and's upped its game lately, with new menus, suspiciously attentive waitresses and an extra dollar on every meal.

I ordered Huevos Rancheros, which was delicious and filling, and pondered their choice of music. Relaxed New Country as opposed to Mexican House/Techno. Curious, they're obviously trying to appeal to someone and sure enough, there were a couple of cowboys getting into the spirit of the thing.

New Country aside, the Fossil Museum was worth a look in and they seem to be getting actual, literal fossils to display to the public. Well done. It used to be a place where someone from the Metrosprawl kept his collection of vintage Cadillacs, and before that the HQ of a filling station chain which stretched to Europe, forgotten now.

Around the corner lies Franklin, broad and wide to accommodate the cotton traffic which was stolen by greed-filled globalists, and home stretch on to the Compound. A short walk, for sure, but the longest I've made since I was catapulted off the back of a mad Arab back in July.

And I tell you, it's good to get moving again, even if on a short patrol around this small Texan country haven.

God bless,

LSP