Utter Total Disaster

 

It all seemed so good, the stars aligned, seemingly, as the rig hummed down I35 to Dallas in the fast lane. Right on, then not so right on. The truck started shuddering and the engine light flashed. Huh, move over to the slow lane and exit the highway, shuddering.

That's exactly what I did, ending up at a sketchy Red Oak Motel 6 on the side of the road, and guess what? Once parked, the recalcitrant rig refused to start. No kidding. Right there on the outskirts of the Metrosprawl. Sure, it tried to start but failed, insisting on showing a red battery light icon.

Huh, good way to start Thanksgiving, LSP, I thought grimly to myself whilst phoning Texas Farm Bureau for "roadside assistance." This turned up in the end and roadside guy checked the battery. It was bad. He charged it and tried to start the vehicle. No joy. "I reckon it's a fuel pump issue," he offered, just "his opinion."

What a total disaster. What to do? Stay at the Motel 6 for Thanksgiving? Nasty, take my word for it. But no, Roadside Savior said, "Hey, where you heading?" I told him, and he said, "We're going there too, leave this truck here and climb in." Which is exactly what we did, dog and all.

Next step? Enjoy Thanksgiving at Ma LSP's setup on Dallas, get the wretched rig towed back to the Compound and sort that beast out. So, utter, total disaster met salvation, I made it to the RV. There's a moral, perhaps several, in this, if you care to draw it.

Ride On,

LSP

What A Good Day!

 

What a good day! An easy spin down I35 to Dallas followed by some serious standing rib, roast potato and Yorkshire pudding Christmas action with Ma LSP and two sisters. Just big fun, and now everyone's watching Black Adder's Christmas, amusing. But back to food.

What's your standing rib recipe? Mine's this: Preheat oven to 450*, season room temp beef with salt and pepper, put the beast on a vegetable trivot of roughly chopped carrot, onion, celery and a few whole cloves of garlic. Fire that beef into the oven and roast at 450 for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 and roast until the meat's at 120*, around 13 minutes per pound. Take it out, put the thing on some kind of platter and cover with tinfoil. Make gravy out of the veg and drippings in the roasting plan.

OK, no surprises there, but you may have a better solution, feel free to chime in. After all, there's nothing wrong with a team effort when it comes to the quest for roast beef perfection. More on this culinary adventure anon, back to Black Adder.

Hope you've all had the best of days.

Cheers,

LSP

What A Good Couple Of Days

 

It started as it often does, with a drive down I35 to the Metrosprawl, but this time in a V8 Beast, result. Objective? Set up at Dallas HQ then visit with the Bishop the next day and, the day after that go for a post-op checkup at a medico in Plano.

Two orders of business, several possible orders of outcome. So perhaps I was a little... pensive, how would it go? It went well. Had a great meeting with our outstanding new(ish) Bishop, which found financial security for Mission #1. No small thing, I live there.

And the Doc was helpful too, "You know, that was a pretty serious operation and you're healing way better than expected, I'm surprised." Result, and I drove back to base through the Tollway wasteland of North Dallas in good spirits.

Seriously, surgery's a deal. I know, we're all Warriors, but still, it's helpful to have the thing checked off by a doctor. He's Christian, to boot, and asked for permission to pray before the op, "Of course you can, I'm a priest." And there you have it, back to the sylvan boulevards of Old Hill County tomorrow.

Drive Safe,

LSP

Total Disaster

 

Saturday morning was great, the leafy glens of old Texas and all of that, no complaints whatsoever. Then disaster struck, like no kidding. The phone, that marvel of handheld computing power rings.

"Hey Dad, my car just exploded, literally exploded."

"Say again?"

"Car exploded."

"Where are you?"

"On I35 at Wintergreen. Firemen here and police."

"You OK?"

"I am, come get me, I'll text the address of the police station."

"On my way."

Off I went down I35 to the precinct at Camp Wisdom Rd. East to RV with the young soldier. He was excited because he was alive, thank God. "Hey kid, good to be picking you up from the right side of the station, eh?" He grinned and showed me photos and videos of his exploded Kia.

Dam. The thing was totaled and he was more than lucky to be alive, no kidding. Apparently he'd been driving down the nightmare expressway that is I35 when he smelled burning and then, boom, an explosive sound from the engine, the vehicle lost power and he managed to glide it onto the verge.

At that point the front of the car was on fire and after bailing out of the death trap the Signalsman retrieved his uniform, laptop and personal possessions from the flaming wreckage. Several minutes later the vehicle exploded.

Well done, boy, and I told him that the angels were most definitely working overtime. We can all imagine vastly worse scenarios. But here's the thing. He needs a new ride and has a liability insurance issue. Solution? 

I upgrade to a new/used fleet One Fiddy and the kid gets the old rig. In the meanwhile, looks like another person's adding their name to the great list of people looking at suing Kia for self-igniting kill cars. Photos to follow.

Moral of the story? Be prepared, this night thy soul may be required of you.  And, of course, don't buy cars which spontaneously ignite. In the meanwhile, the OctoPelosi WMD is threatening Asia. Please Lord, grant us some respite.

Your Pal,

LSP

Back in the Hood

Today's mission was elegant in its simplicity. Get haircuts, for myself and the signalman, eat lunch and then drive in triumph to Fort Hood via I35 to drop the kid back at his post. You're probably thinking, "Great plan, so-called LSP, what went wrong?" 

Here's the thing, nothing. The mission executed flawlessly, the traffic even flowed through Waco at a steady 65/70. Miraculous, and we arrived at the objective in record time, an hour and half door to door. But as with so much in life this fast-paced forward movement came at great cost, $80 in gas.

Some Evil Subversive Sticker

Eighty bucks to drive from the Compound to Killeen and back. What? That's outrageous and before you can whistle most popular President in the history of history we'll be looking at $5 a gallon, in Texas. Wow. Thanks, Joe.

So it's a good thing our beloved ruler's invoked special war power emergency authority to relieve pain at the pump by building... what? More oil wells, pipelines from Canada, new refineries? No, of course not, solar panels. Let them eat sunshine and be glad of it. What a risible, corrupt, mendacious, lying, arrogant, out of touch clownshow. 

Speaking of which, here's a question for all the economic savants who read this inconsequential mind blog: How did prewar Germany end stagflation and is there a lesson to be learned. Discuss.

Regardless, the kid got off safe and sound at Thunderbird HQ and was happy to be back. After taking his ruck (ridic heavy) to his billet he returned to the rig for a final smoke and goodbye, "Dad, my roommate has a frog." I pondered this, "A frog?" Mind like a steel trap, you see. "Yes," the soldier replied, "It's a sweet frog, I like it. He has three tarantulas too, but they're young."

Farewells over, it was back on the highway for a bizarrely easy if expensive ride home, and I felt blessed in having a son who's made great strides in the last three years. Well done, young man.

And there it is,

LSP

Just Out in The Field

 

Yes, this is Texas under a glowering sky. Note Cow Barn.

And tractor. I don't know why but Kubotas rule here.

A Shop.

I call this installation "Fence."

We recouped after a hard morning's work, "Wish you'd buy this place, brother, make for a heckuvva range. Put up a big berm by the tanks and off we go." My friend thought about this for perhaps a second as we took it easy on the side of his rig, "Dam! That's what I've been thinking about, berm and boom, shoot out to 450 yards." I agreed, "Right, put up a shooting tower back in the deal and have at it."

A moment of reflective silence and ES went ballistic, "Get going with a .50. But what if the round skips the berm and hits an 18 wheeler on I35?" I thought about it, a .50 BMG lofting out of the target area to power through an engine block on a highway a mile off.

Look, The Climate Changed!

"Utter disaster, my friend," and he agreed, "My wife told me I couldn't buy it, dammit. Dude, stop talking in case I do." And that was that, "Drive safe." I file this exciting story under guns and country life in Texas.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Traffic

 

Why is Texas so awesome? Perhaps because of its light and sky, which point to higher things, a vast frontier with all the freedom therein. That said, I35's a nightmare in the Waco chokehold. Get 'round that by exiting the highway and taking 84 through what's left of town to 6 and rejoining 35 from there. Presto, you've missed the hideous traffic jam.

In other news, the POC who shot up a school in metrosprawl Arlington has been released from jail on a 75k bond, as opposed to the Kenosha Kid who shot 3 skateboard revolutionaries in self-defense and spent months in prison and's on a $2 million bond.  Such systemic white privilege. Don't say whitewashed sepulchers of Pharisaical grift, corruption and malfeasance. 

Speaking of privilege, my eldest's been running around the local park, he's on an incredibly racist Columbus Day weekend pass, with something like 80 Lbs weight, maybe more. "Easy, tiger," I urged with paternal affection, "Don't hurt yourself." But what can I say, the youth of today.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

The West is Best

 

I like the town of West, population 2,860. It's the Czech capital of Texas and justifiably famous for its kolaches. Pull off I35 on the way to or from Waco and get some, worth the stop. But that's not all, there's plenty of bars, see LL's franchise, and restaurants, which gives the place a happy, small town country vibe.

Plenty of Hardware, no Bullets

But I wasn't there for that, I was after ammo at True Value, which is a hardware store that sells guns and ammunition. At least it did, and even in the days of the infamous Obama bullet shortage this store was always stocked with ammo at normal prices. Maybe history would repeat itself, I walked through the door to find out.

Looking West

No. A few rifles, mostly Henry levers, nice, but hardly any bullets and what there was wasn't affordable. A solitary 500 round "value pack" of .22 LR for $80? Sorry, guys, not gonna do it. The pleasant young Czechoslovakian woman behind the counter apologized, "I'm sorry, nothing is normal now." I agreed, and we looked each other in the eye, "Ain't that the truth." A meeting of minds, for sure, but no bullets.

West is Catholic And Has More Fun Than Other Towns

So I headed back down the speedway deathtrap that is I35, and in a few short minutes was back in the rural haven of the County Seat itself. At its Walmart, in fact. Maybe this evil Chinese incursion onto US sovereign land would have bullets.

A Typical West Street Scene

Sure enough, there they were! Boxes of 12 and 20 gauge, .22 LR, .22 Mini Mag, .22 WMR and .17 HMR, and all at normal price. Shocked and astounded, I bought three 50 round boxes of CCI .22 WMR to go through the Marlin I don't have, and looked at a Savage bull barrel .17. Nice looking gun for 212 bucks, then again, so were the levers at True Value. Hmmm.

Look at Those Bad Boys!

And that was that, a short excursion into ammoland in North Central Texas. Now it's time for Hamburgers, to celebrate the victory of it all.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Happy New Year

 

Pounding rain, roaring wind, floods, construction, almost zero visibility. An omen for the coming year? Not necessarily, just another trip down I35 to Dallas and our ongoing War Against The Weather. 

Who knows, perhaps we'll rejoin the Paris Climate Accord, and raise so much tax that our old enemy, the Weather, will finally be defeated and our paymaster, China, will rise victorious from the struggle.

That aside, have fun tonight if you're in the mood and, of course, a blessed and happy New Year. 

Cheers,

LSP

A Gentle Richmond Reflection

A lot of people, to put it mildly, were worried about the 2A demo in Richmond today, including me. 

Would a Deep State asset cook-off and provide the lying, pugnacious, venal, corrupt, hypocritical, elite Media with an excuse to launch a vicious anti-freedom campaign? Would there be some kind of false flag as thousands of heavily armed men and women descended on the Old Capitol of the Cause?

Governor Blackface Northam Father of Lies certainly thought, at least publicly, that there'd be trouble and declared a state of emergency. Maybe, ran leftist rhetoric and perhaps genuine comtard paranoia, gun people would storm the Capitol in a fit of white nationalist supremacism. But no, 25,000 armed patriots turned up, made their point, picked up their trash and went home.

Relieved but not utterly surprised by this happy outcome, I drove to Dallas with Blue Second Amendment. I35 was a beast because of ongoing and perennial roadwork but no one got hurt, not dissimilar to Richmond when you think about it.

Before you could say "an armed citizen's a free citizen" we'd arrived at Ma LSP's place, where a crew of Mexicans were replacing wood, sanding down paint and generally making themselves useful. Well done Mr. Gonzales, give the compound a respray. 

Congrats to the 2A crew today and right thinking Virginians in general. Shoot straight and run Ralph "Minstrel" Northam outta town on a rail, use votes if you must. And have you noticed?

Meghan Markle makes Wallace Simpson look good. No easy task, all hail Sabo.

Gun Rights,

LSP

So I Went To Waxahachie

Wake up, feed the dog, boil the kettle, say Morning Prayer. Shower, go to the Pick 'n Steal and get coffee, check the news. Note how Operation Boomerang is progressing nicely for Joe "Don't Call Me Quid Pro Quo" Biden. Play Groove is in the Heart by Deelite.

Then drive to Waxahachie. Yes readers, all seven of you, Waxahachie. Why? Because you've been invited to the Global Orthodox Anglican Church's clericus. And there you are , at this little Texas Gothic church in the midst of a pretty neat town. Note, Waxahachie's been gentrified, thank God.

I heard a talk from the OAC's Primus about the Eucharist. Simple stuff but alright with it. Then I lurked off to the church hall and talked horses with a ranching woman who was making pulled pork, even though it was Friday.

She was down to earth and used to cowboy because her Father didn't have any sons to look after the cattle. Respect. We talked Arabians and "hitting the ground like a sack of wet charcoal." Then it was time for Mid-Day Prayer.

The impressively bearded Primate of the OAC performed a quick change parade and walked over to the church in Rochet, Chimere and all the rest. I called out, "Bishop, you're looking terrifyingly Choir Dress," he chuckled at that, which I liked.

As we were entering the small but winsome church I told him, boldly, "Years ago I went to the King's School Canterbury and we used to have Summer assemblies in the Quire of the Cathedral. It was Sung Mattins, and after the first one I wrote home, "Dear Mother, I think I've been to a non-communicating Solemn High Mass. I was twelve at the time."

His Eminent Grace thought that "very good" and I replied "very ridiculous" and off we went to the Office. All well and good. And it was. So good to be with loyal, catholic Anglicans, people who actually believe in the Creed they stand up and proclaim Sunday by Sunday.

Waxahachie's neat too, nice little town.

God bless,

LSP

Turn Of The Screw

Turn of the screw, as in Epstein starts giving up Clinton state secrets and Comey sings under that good old Horowitz method? We wish, but no, it was all about driving to Waco to get staples out and x-rays on the hip to make sure everything was Trump Train according to plan.

Apparently it was, "Nothing crazy down there," observed an attractive radiologist before sending me upstairs to the staple shop. I grinned back, she was reassuring, and headed out to the next date with destiny.

A bored staple mechanic asked me to "stand over there," so I hopped over to a naugahyde examining couch and stood there, wondering what to do. "Look, I can't take them out if your shorts are in the way." I sorted that out, she set to with a handy pair of pliers and out they popped.

Then another medical professional swung by and gave me the run down. Nothing crazy down there, just three enormous screws holding my bone together. Start putting weight on the leg, exercise the muscles but listen to your body and sure, you can ride again if you're stupid. Do the screws go away? "No, you've bought them, they're yours."

I liked her for that and cleverly didn't say, "Yes, Ma'am, but aren't they a gift from Baylor to the Church?" And that was that. The Recruit wheeled me out of there and taxied us back to the Compound. 

And no, we didn't stop at Waco's fabled Silos. Why? Because they're overpriced rubbish. On a different and happier theme, the youngster ships out to Benning late August.

And that was troublesome to me, hurry up Army! But it's turned out for the best, as it goes. 

Stand firm against Satan's New World Order,

LSP

Aftermath

Friday dawned dark as Llandrindod Wells in June, with thunderheads glowering above. Then it started to rain like a Weston Super Mare Bank Holiday and that continued until we got on the road for Dallas. Such is the apocalyptic nightmare of climate change.

Weston Super Mare

By the time we got to Dallas we were half a million strong, thanks a lot, I35, but the air was crisp and clean and the sky clear and blue. Sorry, Chicago, I know it's not fair but that's just the way it is, you need to pay a steeper weather tax.

A Typical Etonian

We set up for Ma LSP's birthday party, which went famously and didn't stop until the next evening; good work, team, stay at it. And you may not know this, but champagne with a little orange juice is a traditional Cinco de Mayo drink. Some find it goes well with beer, others don't, there's no rule.

Party over, we headed back to the rural elysium of the Compound and got ready to worship on Sunday.

As I type this dispatch from the Southern Front of the War on Weather, Pedro and Maria are powering out Mexican music in the back yard, peacocks shriek, roosters crow, something Mexican's on the grill and God is in His heaven.

Fishing's most definitely on the schedule tomorrow, maybe a shoot too. Can you have too much of a good thing?

MAGA,

LSP

Don't be a Determinist Goon, Fish

Life, unless you're some kind of rubbish determinist, involves a series of free-will choices. For example, you can choose to attack the Islamist savages, ISIS. Or you can attack the regime that's fighting them by throwing missiles at their airfields. Your choice.

Likewise, you can sit staring at a computer in slack-jawed rightist consternation as our country slides closer and closer to war, or you can go fishing. I chose the latter option and loaded a couple of rods in the rig and headed to Soldier's Bluff.

The Texan wildflowers were out and I wondered if that was a good omen; Bluebonnets in flower, fish bite with power, sort of thing. But no, they didn't. The bites were sluggish and slurpy and I lost a lot of worms without closing the deal.

For the first time in months, no catch, and that was everyone else's experience there on the bluffs. Still, it was good to get out in the clean air by the lake, it always is. There's peace in it and, if the fish are behaving, excitement too.

Your Old Pal

There was another kind of excitement driving through a storm to Dallas later in the day. Lightning seared the horizon, like Tesla attempting to harness Satan, as rain crashed down onto I35. God's judgement on the metrosprawl.

Fish on,

LSP

Fiend From The Pit

It's common knowledge that exorcisms are on the rise and no wonder, what with the popularity of satanism and associated occultist skulduggery. How many of our ruling elite, like the Podestas, are involved? Some? Many?

Whatever the case, I thought I'd have to cast out an evil spirit at 6.30 am this morning, when Blue Malefactor began to bark like a fiend from the Pit. I wasn't too happy about that.

It rained later, just in time for the trip down I35 to the country compound. Great sheets of water fell from the sky, turning the highway into a kind of storm tossed canal for cars. Then, somewhere near Waxahachie, the rain stopped and the sun broke through the clouds. Beautiful.

They say that if you collect water in cisterns during the rainy part of the year, in Texas, you'll have water for the entire year. I could believe that, given the ferocity of the rain when it does fall and, given the stability of civilization, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to invest in a secure water supply.

Prep On,

LSP

On The Road

There's times when I feel Texas is a road, I35 in fact, because that's the way you pretty much have to travel if you're going to Dallas from the Compound. But it's not all bad, there's big Texan skies and the comfort of knowing your rig is a "safe space." But why drive to Dallas?

Safe Space

Because one of the LSP Sisters was in town with her family from England and I wanted to say goodbye before they flew off to the Old Country. That meant a celebratory meal, industrial quantities of red wine and getting woken up by Blue Alarm Nazi at 6 am. Thanks, dog.

Blue Alarm Nazi

As the house woke up I ate a tasty cinnabon in honor of Princess Leia before walking off into the wilderness to visit a dentist. Time to get your lower jaw working again, LSP, I thought grimly to myself. But the mouth torturers were shut so I took a stroll around the neighborhood.

Princess Leia

It's "popping," with real estate going through the roof. Everyone wants to live in an "arts and crafts" bungalow reclaimed from the ghetto. All yours, for 500k. Still, if you wander a couple of blocks south things get a bit more "bars on the windows barrio." Word to the wise, take a gun.

No Desertion, No Surrender

I liked this roadside shrine.

God bless,

LSP