It's All Going On In The Country I Tell You

 

One of the things that happens here is I let some of the neighbors park their rigs and vehicles in the grassy pasture that is the Compound's parking lot. They mow the grass and all of that in return. But this beneficent arrangement seemed to come to a crashing end today.

There I was on the back deck, scanning Zerohedge, when up come two men in polo shirts with Glocks on their hips, "Sir, can we have a word?" Of course they could and were welcomed into the rural fastness with a sunny hello, "What's up, guys?"

A Typical Kitchen Glock

Turns out they were from Code Enforcement, yes, we have such a thing, and someone had the literal brazen temerity to make a formal complaint about the vehicles parked up on the grass. It broke the code and couldn't be tolerated because, you see, the area's zoned residential and enormous lifted trucks and everything else have to be parked on "improved ground," such as gravel.

Huh. I assured the officer that it'd be sorted out before tickets had to be issued or any other equivalent nonsense. So that was good, but what about guns. "How are you finding that Glock?" I asked, glancing down at the fella's two-tone 9mm variant.

Behold, Legally Parked on Gravel. FFS

"I like it a lot and shoot pretty good with it and you know, it was weird, when I went to the Police Academy, they asked 'how many of you have shot pistols?' and I was the only one in the class who didn't raise his hand because we never had pistols where I was, just shotguns for quail, pheasant and dove. You know what, I ended the course shooting a lot better than some of those country boys because I was taught right, from the start."

Good call. So we talked Glocks and pistols and became friends and off they went into the pastoral hinterland. Flash forward several hours to me getting back from Walmart and there's D, remonstrating in the car park, not a happy man. Code Enforcement had not been kind to him and he was ticked, having put out for local LE & Co a lot over the years. Someone had made a complaint.

Note, why is his finger on the trigger? Maybe because he's an actor

We speculated on the identity of this malefactor and he asked me if it was OK to spread some gravel and "improve" the parking zone. "Remember I asked you if I could black-top and you said 'no, I don't want that (well said, LSP, Ed.), get gravel, but I need to get the church's permission.' Do I still need to get that?"

I looked at D, who wasn't very happy, and he looked at me, "You have the church's permission, knock yourself out on that gravel. I'll help you spread it, even." But that wasn't needed, "I've got a tractor at the shop and I'll bring it in tomorrow morning with the gravel. Thanks, man." Thanks indeed, "'preciate you, brother. Come to church, it's about time." He agreed and off we went, friends.

I call this installation Casa Blanca, keen-eyed readers will understand

So there you have it. Problem, solution, right here in sunny Texas' North Central Exclusion Zone.

Texit,

LSP

New Year's Eve 2024

 

Mexican music fills the air, Eduardo's exotic ducks are sleeping on the roof of his house across the yard and all seems well with this small rural haven in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone. Later there'll be fireworks and maybe some celebratory gunfire. Just remember, kids, what goes up must come down.

Detroit, not far from the riverbank (2006)

Speaking of News Year's Eve gunfire, I remember looking across the river at Detroit from Canada at around midnight in the late '90s. Man, it sounded like a firefight was going on over there and I guess it was. Apparently some jolly revelers had opened up on each other with MAC-10s somewhere downtown. I know this because it was reported in the press, which is always honest, loyal and true.

So be careful out there and have a great New Year. Here's a prayer by way of resolution:

Almighty God, who hast poured upon us the new light of thine incarnate Word: Grant that the same light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

 

God bless you all,

LSP

Well Shoot

 

"Dad, let's go for a shoot." I thought about this, "What kind of shoot?" The once and maybe future Cadet replied, "A pistol shoot, my pal's never shot one because Canada and needs to get on it." I reflected on this, "D'ye know what .45 ACP costs, son?" and long story short, loaded up some guns in the rig and headed for the range.

First up, a no name Italian O/U 12 and a CZ 20 SxS, would the skeet survive the flak barrage? At first they did but we warmed up, smoking those clays like orange Focke Wulf's going down over France. Nice, good work, if remedial for me.

Then we moved on to .45 and I was genuinely impressed by the kids, really good shooting. Well done boys, and especially Canadian pal, right on in there without any prior experience, a natural. Hey, shoot on, and so we did, finishing up with a Ruger American .22 against random clays, shotgun shells, and assorted steel at 50 and 100 yards. Big fun.

Mission accomplished, we headed back to base and ordered pizza, cleaned weapons and all was well. What a great afternoon in the field.

#2A,

LSP

A New Dog

 

The operation got on the road to Burleson on Monday to take care of business. And so, to pass I35W time, I crunched the numbers and discovered that I was, bizarrely, 58 on that very same day. Here's the complex math: 2023-1965 = x. Tricky, isn't it, and hint, 59 ≠ x.

I know, that's pretty racist but there you have it, mathematics. Bottom line accountancy satisfied, business concluded to mutual benefit, Thai curry consumed, yum, and it was back on the road to the Compound where...

There was a dog on the porch and a grinning soldier. "Happy birthday, dad. We interviewed a number of dogs and figured this one was best. Look, he's part Ridgeback, and you love Rhodesia. He doesn't even bark."

Moving, eh? The kid had gone off to the pound and found a dog for his dad, with attention to breed(s) and demeanor. Well, there it is, the Compound has a new rescue dog and he's a good boy, part Ridgeback, part Heeler, part something else, maybe Lab and/or Pyrenees?

Regardless, what shall we call him? The  pound called him "Chester," which obviously won't do. Perhaps Rhodie? But hey, all suggestions welcome.

Hope you're having big fun today as we celebrate our freedom.

Green Leader,

LSP

Storm Front

 

Evening Prayer was no sooner said than clouds rolled in from the West, the temperature dropped, and it began to rain. What a blessed relief and as I type this letter from the trenches of the War on Weather, lightning flickers across the sky and thunder rumbles like a lazy barrage on Ost Front.

Meanwhile, Eduardo's exotic ducks sit nonchalantly on the tim roof of a shed across from the Compound's perimeter, they enjoy the rain, they're ducks and like water. Lately they've taken to rebelliously flying over LSP airspace to the front yard of a local petty drug dealer. There they sit, doing duck stuff, until Eduardo chases them back home.

In related avian news, green parakeets have arrived in this part of the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone) and I've seen several. They're attractive birds and lend a tropical flavor to the place, perhaps they spread from Dallas where they're well established.

Birds aside, the storm rolls on with a kind of elemental fury and the landline's rung, yes, we still have one. It announces "Code Red." I take this to mean some kind of CorpCom Rainbow Maoist offensive's been launched against our commonwealth and the great state of Texas.

As always, we stand firm, resolute.

Never surrender,

LSP

Just Knocking About

 

The first part of the day was all about lawyers guns and money and that was OK. Here in this bucolic sector of the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone (NCTEZ) you can pretty much walk everywhere to do your business. 

And what do you see as you stroll along the leafy boulevards of Old Tejas? All the debris of our increasingly barbarous modern age. Weaves, dime bags, broken toys, and Bud Light cans hurled away in disgust to lie abandoned in the gutter.

This town used to be 20,000 people strong back when cotton was king and now it's around 7,000, a growing majority of which are Hispanic. This will certainly increase and what does it mean? Any number of things, not least: I need to learn Spanish, like no kidding.

Being able to celebrate the Mass in Spanish, albeit not very well, is a good first step but obviously not a final solution. Honing up the "habla" and getting a bilingual deacon from the diocese would take things to a different level, let's get on that.

But looking over the horizon, what's caused us to commit demographic suicide, and we're doing exactly that. Keen-eyed readers will note Rome, with all its grandeur, had a similar problem. They stopped having children and imported barbarians to fill the gap.

Here that means Catholics, who are by no means friends of the Rainbow. In Europe, at least the UK, it mostly means Mohammedans, and they hate the Rainbow too. How this works out is anyone's guess but I'll wager the monkey on conflict, and thank God we're dealing with a Catholic instead of Moslem replacement. 

Tempted to bang on but won't, you'll note this little town has machine shops. America's known for that, and riflemen, kudos.

Hold The Line,

LSP

Dallas After Midnight

 

En lieu of anything remotely resembling serious posting, here's another old hippy, Ray Wylie Hubbard. Remember him? All very dance at the pyramids with the Dead.

Nice, but for goodness sake, Oak Cliff Ray, time for a shower and haircut, eh? Reeking hippies aside, maybe Ray tells it like it is. Your call.

Be careful out there Kids,

LSP

What A Beautiful Day

 

What a beautiful day, birds sing, dogs sleep, flags wave and the sun shines down from a clear blue sky as a drug dealing ice cream van rounds the corner. It's like Spring, and I've got the front door open to air out the Manse.

Blow out those cobwebs, LSP, and take full advantage of our ancient enemy, the Weather, being in some kind of armistice mode. Enjoy every second of this fresh, clean, country day before our old adversary the Climate decides to Change and go full superheated blast furnace eschaton on the tenacious citizens of North Central Texas.

You know what it's like, it gets so hot you think the air itself is going to ignite, one careless spark and all that dust goes thermobaric. Terrifying, but for now all is good, the sacrifice of the Mass was offered at the Missions, a pot of improv Thai curry's on the stove and all is well with this part of the world.

Who knows, maybe a shoot's in order for Monday, but let's see what tomorrow brings.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Lent Begins

 

Sometimes Lent comes on with a vengeance, it has this year. I'd no sooner returned to the rural idyll that is this small Texan farming community than texts, calls and emails began to flood the ether. Why? Because of several unexpected deaths at Mission #1.

So LSPland's been all about Requiem Masses, which is perhaps fitting. "Remember O man that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return," says the priest as he imposes ashen crosses on the foreheads of penitents on Ash Wednesday. 

A stark reminder of our mortality for sure but also a badge of victory, in Christ crucified life triumphs over death. And with that, may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace and rise in glory.

With every blessing from the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone) for a holy Lent,

LSP

Small Change Charity

 

The Pick 'n Steal hasn't changed much over the years and I should know, I walk there pretty much every day for coffee after Morning Prayer. A bit samey perhaps, so I've decided to change things up.

Now, instead of leaving the P 'n S, 20 oz tumbler of coffee in hand and walking with urgency back to the Compound, I stop and put some change on a metal box fixed to the side of the shop.

Day 2, there's lots more now, untouched so far

It's a kind of experiment. How much change will accumulate before someone takes it? So far no one has and what does this mean? That our small farming community's rich and doesn't need the money? Hardly. That P 'n S customers aren't thieving scoundrels? If only that were true.

Let's see how this exciting exercise in small change charity unfolds. Hey, every penny counts and get 'em quick before our benevolent rulers ban cash. Speaking of charity, I put in some time at the food bank the other day, helping to unload a truck-full of food for the needy.

What a lot of food! Turkeys, chicken, ham, canned goods, delicious fish and on, not least boxes of farm fresh produce. Great result and it was good to help out for a good cause. We don't want to encourage scrounging malfeasance but neither do we want to see people going hungry.

Just a random small business shut down. Thanks, asset-strippers

They say clergy should spend time outside their churches doing good in the community. I'd agree with that and must do more. It was, you recall, the way of the early church.

Cheers,

LSP

Vicarious Venice

 

An old musical pal texted in from Venice, "As a guest of the Biennale I get a chauffeured boat. My driver runs his boat FAST and listens to Italian METAL."

I thought about this for maybe a second and fired back, "Where's my BOAT? Dammit." He replied with another photo.

"Venice. 23:37. Quiet." It's quiet here too in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone, and a gentle rain falls upon this small farming community. We call it "Skywater." 

But back to Venice, wasn't the place supposed to be underwater by now? Someone's obviously been paying their weather tax. That in mind, more on this Venetian exploit as the story unfolds.

Vicariously,

LSP