Into The Sprawl Like A Hero

 

So what's up? You sip strong covefe on the back porch of your compound and watch the sun rise through pecan trees, casting golden light on dewy grass. Such is rural Texas at the end of September, not bad at all. Next?

Thank God for the beauty of it all, say Morning Prayer (1928 BCP) and steel yourself for the day ahead. Why steel, that sounds extreme and somehow absurd. Not so fast, punters, steel's the word because the mission ahead meant driving into the DFW Metrosprawl to a lawyer's office in a place called "Arlington." And let's make no mistake, driving into the 'sprawl from the country takes nerve.

I took the scenic route. I35 E towards Dallas, exit 287 to Midlothian, which has nothing to do with Gladstone, veer onto 360 Toll, exit I30 West to Fort Worth, hook a left on Collins, marveling at the sheer sprawl of the thing, and reach your target. Collect your box of documents from the law dog and drive back from whence you came.

Like wow. South Fort Worth is exploding with new apartment blocks, condos and mega churches. They look mighty flimsy, and I30 is insanely spaghetti junction. OK, all hail prosperity and Texas, but is this the best we can do? As in, "Why live in a city when we can live on a road." You''ll note, dear readers, that the latter turns us into a kind of hobo.

Anyway, made it back from the different planet that is Mega City DFW, it's the size of Connecticut btw, to the relative tranquility of the Compound. Mission accomplished. But hey, have to tell you, really pleased I'm back in the country; the 'sprawl connurb is a whole different thing.

Speaking of which, someone's turned up to mow the acre of so of compound/church yard, in the dark. Huh. Guess I'd better check on that mowop.

Cheers,

LSP

Laying Down Smoke

 

A sister flies in from the Old Country, so whaddya do? Climb in the rig and strike out for the Metrosprawl. Once there, fire up the Weber Thesis, enjoy some of the right stuff and apply beer can chicken to the grill when the coals have done their thing.

It's not hard. Brush the chick with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Admire your handiwork as you insert a can of beer into the bird's crevice, maybe drink some beer while you're at it, and then place the thing on the grill over indirect heat. So important, indirect heat.

Then cover the grill and let heat do its magic for 1 hour, 15 minutes, turning the chick around at half point so that the breast faces the coals. Take it out. Let it rest. Then fall upon your scoff like a warrior, job well done.

But of course you know all this, beer can chicken, a go-to here in the States. In the UK? Maybe not so much. Speaking of which, this sister's in the process of relocating to Reading, not far from London, where house prices are nosebleed high. Well done her, but how do the Brits afford it? They can't, not really, at least not most of them, and the same thing's not far off here too. Solution?

Easy. Our Beloved Rulers at Black Rock et al own everything and rent it back to us, at extreme profit. And guess what, you won't be able to afford meat anymore, much less chicken, and half the country will vote for it because Climate Change. Then wonder why they're only allowed to eat bugs as they glory in their tiny 1500 USD pcm studio apartment. 

I won't bang on, 

LSP

Back in Dallas

 

Why? To take down Christmas at Ma LSP's. All those glass ornaments, many like old friends. Down they go, to retrain for next year.

While we're at it, you may remember the Baptism of Christ in the Jordan. Surely it should've been the other way around and the Baptizer says as much, "I should be baptized by you." Jesus was, notoriously, without sin. So how are we to make sense of this fulfillment of "all righteousness." Perhaps this helps.

Our Lord, true God and true Man, like in every way as we are yet without sin, took the sins of humanity on his sinless shoulders upon the Cross in obedience to the Father's will. Here we find an analogue to Christ's baptism, and he says as much, referring to his Passion and Crucifixion later on in the Gospel account, "Are you able to be baptized with the baptism I am to be baptized with?"

Jordan River,

God bless,

LSP

Incendiary

 

Western districts of #Bakhmut under fire.
Heavy fighting continues for the outskirts of the city, the Ukraine troops holds no more than 2.5 square kilometers of territory. pic.twitter.com/MqA3yUIUH7

— Middle East Update (@islamicworldupd) May 6, 2023

Now imagine that was the Metroplex. Of course such a thing could never, ever, ever, ever happen here. So go on, load up the .50s and count yourself a lucky fella.

Imagine Russia and China would pay Nazis to topple the democratically elected Govt in Mexico with the goal to make it part of their military alliance and to build a military base with nuclear capable missiles in Mexico.

Then imagine Mexico attacking the White House with a drone.

— Kim Dotcom (@KimDotcom) May 4, 2023

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Ma LSP Update

 

I drove to Dallas after the Sacred Mysteries to check in on what Mr. Wodehouse liked to call "the aged P," aka Ma LSP. And there she was, sitting up in bed at Methodist hospital, recovering from surgery on a herniated diaphragm.

The op was a success, thank God, and while quite weak she was in good spirits, if annoyed to be in hospital. Being sick or infirm ain't her style at all, let the reader understand. 

So I left and returned in the early evening to find her rallied, which was reassuring. It's no small thing for a person pushing 80 to go through pretty major surgery.

She thanks you for your prayers, as do I. Please continue to pray for a strong recovery.

Pax et Bonum,

LSP

SSC

 

What a busy couple of days, driving from the safe haven of the North Central Exclusion Zone into the brawling streetfight that is the DFW Metrosprawl connurb, a Mega City larger than Connecticut itself, wherever that is. Why?

To go to the SSC provincial Synod, which is an assembly of priests dedicated to asserting Catholic Faith for our part of God's holy Church. We met in Southlake for worship, teaching and fellowship and it's been a great thing to meet up with brothers in the Faith.

Originally, the SSC began in England as a priestly society bound together by a common rule of life, to promote the Faith in its fullness, what did this look like? Glorious liturgy, yes, but with that the founders of the society were renowned, seriously, for their work amongst the poor of East London. Not least in the cholera epidemic of 1865.

That spirit's alive today. What does it mean to be an Anglican? we ask, and the answer's, "A Catholic Christian." With that goes the admonition, "I was hungry and you fed me," and, "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon."

So there you have it. Ma LSP returned from Wales today and was pleased to find her house burnished, clean and water on. We must take our victories, gentlemen and women, as we find them.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Catastrophe Averted

 

It started off well, very well, totally according to plan. Roll into Dallas, check on Ma LSP's property while she's on vacation in the Old Country and make sure everything's sound for her arrival. Simple, elegant, achievable. What a great plan. Then everything fell to pieces.

First off, where's my laptop? Not in the overnight duffle, not in the rig.  No, it was sitting safe and sound in the kitchen of the Compound and useless, even with modern tech, to me in the 'Sprawl. Fail. Attention to detail, LSP, and what about personal admin? Double fail.

You Little Gusher

But no big deal, work from your cell phone, such is progress. Fine, until the next day when it was time to mow the overgrown lawn. "What's this?" I thought over the hum of Ma's nifty electric mower, "Why is the ground so wet, rain?"

Wet as in fixing to become marshland. Hunh. Then lo and behold, not rain but a mini gusher by the pecan tree. I stared at it, Bloody Mary in hand, "It's only a small gusher, maybe we can leave it alone." No. Error. Little gusher became big gusher and the yard began to flood. So I poured a stiff one, got the water turned off to house and got on the line to plumbers.

Problem

They/he came out yesterday and got the job done, fixing a split water line with Sharkbite fittings and capping off a redundant sprinkler system in the process. Good work Tribeca, prompt, personable and at a reasonable cost. Give 'em a shot if you need emergency plumbing in DFW.

Solution

Net result? Water restored to the house and catastrophe averted. Thank God for that, Ma LSP can return home to a place that isn't flooded and has running water. Result. My carefully constructed plan? Shot to hell but you know what they say, improvise, adapt, overcome. Problem? Solution.

Cheers,

LSP

Climate Change Eschaton

 

This small farming community in North central Texas faced down ferocious storms on Monday, but it was nothing compared to Dallas. Our Old Adversary, the Weather, changed with a vengeance and flooded the Metrosprawl.

Like no kidding. Torrential rain turned suburban streets into raging torrents and shut down the Mix Master, an insane highway complex in the center of town which is a nightmare at the best of times. A woman died in Mesquite, caught in her car as it was carried under by the current. May she rest in peace.

Even the world famous Margaret Hunt bridge was threatened with disaster as the waters rose with primal, apocalyptic fury. Yes, the levees hold, for now. And it's a here and now issue because, apparently, that's not some kind of God-given thing. Work it out, Dallas.

In the meanwhile, Ma LSP's house rests on high ground and I'll be sure to swing by and make sure all's well, safe from marauding hordes of waterborne looters. On that note, smart people are investing in BOATS.

Row Jimmy row,

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

Under The Knife

 

0430. Get up. Feed the Blue, hop into a waiting Uber and head North  to Dallas' famed Preston Plaza. But why do such a thing at such an ungodly hour? Because I had to get an inguinal hernia fixed at the Plaza's surgery center and was first on the list.

We got there early, which gave me time to scope out the renowned plaza. "Not so much a plaza as a car park," I thought grimly to myself, staring at empty lots overlooked by medium rise, black glass offices, one being the surgery center.

0600. March promptly into the medicos, sign some papers, put on a made in China mask, because Science, and before you know it you're in a hospital bed waiting for anesthetic and surgery. I didn't have to wait long and enjoyed a short prayer with the surgeon, what a good man. Then next thing you know it's 0930, the procedure's done,  and it's time to go back to Ma LSP's. So quick. 

So there you have it, Tuesday morning under the knife and now a few days off in Dallas. Thanks Doctor, and associated team.

God bless,

LSP

In The Metrosprawl

 

Sometimes you have to leave the rural haven of bucolic old Texas and venture forth into the metrosprawl, the DFW connurb. And that's what I did, climbed into the rig and headed for Dallas. Why? To sort out a hernia issue with the medicos.

First step, pull into Ma LSP's place, which was fun, as always. Well done, parental LSPs for buying into the 'sprawl where you did, when you did. Result. 

The next day was all about an "initial consultation." The surgeon, a very pleasant chap, asked me, "So, mission priest, what's your day job?" I looked the medical sacerdos straight in the eye and said, "That's it, and I edit a magazine, no money you see." He sized this up, "Right, self-pay." Exactly.

The next day I drove down Central Distressway to Northstar Diagnostic for a CT scan. Northstar's in a medical complex/hospital which looks like a boutique hotel, though far more pricey and much less fun. That done?

Drive to the beautifully named Lovers Lane for bloodwork. You see, all this must be accomplished before scalpel meets femoral hernia. Thanks, horse. But whatever, you do what you gotta do, and it was neat to motor tour around Dallas.

Iconic

In other news, the eldest returns from Eastern Europe tomorrow, mission accomplished, and I'll get him at the airport. Surprised by that, you'd think they'd fly the troops back to Ft. Hood directly.

Cheers,

LSP

You Miserable Offender

It started off well, no doubt about it. Morning Prayer on the porch, a stroll to the Pick 'n Steal for coffee, get back on the porch, scan the news, answer emails and then? Stride purposefully to the rig with a view to taking care of business. Turn that key in the ignition and... disaster. The wretched beast wouldn't turn over. Useless.

I knew why, a badly eroded battery terminal connector which I'd been too lazy distracted to replace. So up goes the hood, jig that thing around, turn the key and hope for the best. Fail. Next step. Stare malevolently at the offender, maybe I could scare it into function.

Just then a neighbor pulled up in his daughter's Chevy 1500 Z71, "Need a jump?" No, "Here's the problem." He looked at the malefactor, "You need a new one, I'll drive to Autozone, get the part and hook you up." Which he did, for free, because "you let me park here, least I can do, man."

Good call. He gets to park his monster lifted rigs in the church lot, which is fine by me but offensive to D, another neighbor, who shouts at me from his car, "That dude's panhandln! God will strike him down! Come Lord Jesus and hurry up."

Rural Eschaton aside, I'd say there's a virtue in neighborliness, peace on earth good will towards men, sort of thing. And you never know, they might turn up and fix your truck. Would that happen in the Metrosprawl? 

Not so much,

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

Dallas - The Way of The Ninja

 

A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.

It's Easter Week and you're in Dallas, so what do you do? Grill, go to Hunky's for delicious burgers, help out with yard work, and then ride into the great Metrosprawl. Which is what I did, arriving at the Preston Center in an unmarked white F150. Comms are important, so I texted GWB in Georgia.

"Sometimes what I do is I go to the Orvis store then stop at Half Price Books before strolling over to REI."

"What?!? The way of the Ninja."

"Exactly. I'm outside the Rolex store right now."

"I wouldn't mind a stainless sport Rolex."

"Same. It'll go with the Lambo."

A typical dog scene in the Preston Center Orvis

 

But this wasn't about buying watches, it was about getting a tin of Barbour's "Wax Thornproof Dressing" to refinish a coat. That meant going into Orvis via the car park entrance, because Covid. You see, you're a lot less likely to catch the plague if you go into the hideously expensive country sports store from the rear entrance.

Waxy mission accomplished, I drove down Northwest Highway to Half price Books, a great barn of a place, full of books and empty of people. A kindly old gentleman told me to put a mask on as I entered the warehouse of cut price books, and I did, not wanting to cause a scene, "Oh, thank you! I forgot!" Whatever, no one was there because Covid, and I walked unseen, ninja style, to the scyfy shelves and bought some books. Result.

Next stop REI, which is conveniently next to HPB. There was a special Covid decontamination unit in front the great outdoors industry co-op, and I ignored that because a. it's stupid and b. ninjas don't do that. Speaking of Lao Tse, I bought an REI shirt, which is white and made in Thailand. Yes, it was expensive, but shaolin doesn't come cheap.

Then back to Dallas HQ and the important task of re-waxing my wax coat. It's not hard, just rub the wax into the cloth and let the beast bake in the sun for a few hours. You can and probably should make your own wax mixture, which I've done, but I bought convenience. Ma LSP looked at the refurbed coat and remarked, "That's pretty old timey," And so it is, I like that.

Back in the country now, and I like that too.

God bless,

LSP

Science

 

Well here we are, in the land of science, or as someone famously said, "A blasphemous parody of a woman." And, apparently unironically, something to do with the nation's health. Try not to throw up in your made in China mask.

Speaking of health, I risked life and limb to drive into the Metrosprawl conurb this afternoon. And I tell you, it wasn't easy because cars were smashing up like Me 163s coming in to land. Komets aside, the Society of the Holy Cross (SSC) meets in the Fort Worth conurb tomorrow, where we'll install a new Provincial Master.

There's a story in that, because the venerable and awesome SSC is now a game of two halves in North America. On the one hand, there's the Anglo-Catholic clergy who side with the transgender Episcopal Church. And on the other, those who don't.

You can guess which side I'm on, but don't get me wrong, the TEC SSC is attempting an orthodox, catholic witness in their part of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC). Good luck, guys. But more on this fascinating facet of ecclesiana later.

In the meanwhile, hail to the Chief, and who would that be, right about now?

Your Pal,

LSP

Don't Fear The Reaper

OK, here it is. Thanks to a commie bioweapons lab in China the entire world's at risk from a weird airborne HIV Kung-Flu. The good news is this.

Don't Fear The Reaper, the virus isn't bubonic plague lethal, but be smart and get in food and water if you haven't already.

Cheers,

LSP

On The Road

Whoever said life'd be easy? No one, and with that in mind I left the sylvan groves of old Texas for the concrete metrosprawl of the DFW megacity, not once but twice. Why? Because I had meetings in the 'sprawl and duty called.

The first part of the drive on I35W isn't bad, a fairly empty 4 lane highway through rolling farmland, passing by Itasca and Grandview. Then you get to Alvaredo and the pace picks up as you drop into the Fort Worth lowlands.

Metroplex at Night. Yellow Line = Connecticut

There you are in the Metroplex, on a multilane racetrack dreamed up in bowels of Hell. It goes on for miles, 9,286 square miles to be precise, about two thirds the size of Holland and larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island combined. It's growing, too, like a monster.

Well you can't blame people for moving here from socialist hellhole states, but I'd argue you can blame the so-called urban planners who decided that city and 20 lane highway were synonyms. You'd think, after several thousand years of Western civic culture, that we could come up with something better than the 'sprawl. Thank God I live in a road, said no one ever.

It Was Going to be This

Great, readers, will be the fall of it. I know, that'll never happen because the way we live now will go on forever and ever, per saecula saeculorum, but imagine the grid went down, which of course it never will because the grid's immortal, but say for example it did. And you're living in the 'spawl with no water, electricity and before long, food. How would you get out?

But Ended up This

Dirt bikes, on foot? Apocalypse aside, the meetings were good, though it seemed strange to be in the city. Back in the country, Mexican music's in the air and with it the delicious aroma of slow cooked carnitas. 

This makes fasting difficult and speaking of roads, Jack Kerouac was a catholic.

Drive safe,

LSP

So I Went For A Stroll, Dixie

It's not easy having to look at the face of Lyin' Self-Promotin' Comey, leering out at you from myriad screens. Sometimes you have to escape, and that's what I did, strolling through the spacious boulevards of asset stripped rural Texas.

Albanians Run This Place

The cotton's gone now, mostly, but a lot of the bricks and mortar remain of former wealth, albeit re-purposed, and I like that, it gives a sparseness to things and a feel of the frontier. 

Chip & Joanna?

The Spring air is crisp and clear too, unlike the smog you breathe in the plastic sided monstrosity of the Metrosprawl, and that's a benefit all to itself.

Dixie

You may be surprised to know that this town has no plans for removing its Confederate War memorial, unlike Dallas.

Go on, come and take it,

LSP