Choktaw Bingo

 

Per Wild, "It's a stone-cold miracle that Ray Wylie Hubbard has lived as long as he has." Good call, Mr. Wild. Me? Go, RWH, even if you are a nasty old hippie and a Dallas boy to boot. So how, like RWH, did Waylon get to live? Mirabile dictu or in other words, I dunno know, miracle.

Still, serious question; many of my pals didn't make it and they were fractions of all the above. Maybe they simply lacked the strength. Whatever, rest in peace kids, and may the blessed Ever Virgin Mary intercede for you, ad aeternum.

Then there's Oklahoma.

Salve,

LSP

Dallas Reflections

 

When you think of Dallas do you think of the ancient TV show featuring JR Ewing? Perhaps, but regardless, one of the things you get to do in LSPland is drive there, down the murder expressway called I35. I did so today, bumper to bumper tailgating crazy at 85/90 mph. Whatev, same old.

Before long you get to the outer reaches of the massive DFW connurb, but keep on, foot on the pedal, and then there it is, rising like a gunmetal OZ, Dallas' skyline. No small thing and especially emerald impressive at night.

Don't be fooled, though. Get in amongst those gleaming glass and steel towers, which rise Babel to the sky, and what do you find? Beggars, indigents, homeless encampments and associated ne'er do wells chancing it in triple digit climate change. We've moved, you see, into SUMMER. It's like this ineluctable climatic progression.

That in mind, take the Illinois exit, head south on Zang past old and new ghetto housing and ride on 'til you hit Davies and Bishops Arts. Marvel at the throngs hanging out at various bars and eateries, wonder at multiple apartment blocks which have sprung up in the last couple of years, and mourn the tragic passing of Ten Bells and Hattie's, two BA stalwarts which went under post COVID.

Oh well. Hang a right opposite the appalling PHD Pourhouse sports bar and into this neat wine shop. Buy a bot and get into a convo with the staff. Like this: 

"Hey, man, I saw you went into here by the door." You pause and reply, "Yeah, that's what I did."

"But why did you do it that way, was there, like, a METHOD?"

"Say again?"

"A method?"

"Sure there was. I walked in the door and spotted some kind of white zin on offer and wanted to look further, that's why I ended up by your fridge and this great bottle of Malbec."

"Wow, man, you sound like Elon Musk!"

"Is that a good thing, brother?"

"Yeah it it is, all good, man."

 

I looked at my tattooed counterparts, what were they, extras for Pirates of the Caribbean?, and gave both boys a sunny hello goodbye. Yeah, they'll be laughing when they're extradited to England. Good luck with that, stoneheads.

Vinter's done, fall back to Ma LSP, who's watching a neat show called, "Why Does Everyone Hate Meghan Markle?" What a good show. Surely not because she's a D-List, simpering, fraudulent, delta minus semi moron, social climber, gold digging Hollywood fool. Surely not, and a witch who ensorcelled Harry with her witch power. He, of course, is obviously an idiot.

Your Old Pal,

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

Patrolling

 

The day dawned bright, with the sun torching its way through the hazy air of a Texan July; time to go on patrol. So much better than lying and moaning on a post-op sickbed and after all, movement, we're told, is a sign of life.

The alley cats were out in force. They were on patrol as well, though much of this seemed to be about an ad hoc all round defense. Well, they are irregulars.

The Fuel Stop was up and running too. They've had bullet proof(?) perspex forever, way before the Covid craze brought sheets of see through plastic to our stores. Does the plastic defend against bullets? Perhaps. Does it stop a virus? Maybe as much as the vaccines themselves.

Then it was time to stroll by Cursed House. According to legend, Cursed House used to be a dental office and home to untold horrors, and for a fact it's seen a stream of unfortunate tenants over the last few decades. 

These leave, shrieking, and are mostly never heard from again. It's under new management these days, let's see if the renovation cleanses the place from its wicked spirits. And there you have it. A good morning, well spent.

Cheers,

LSP

Relaxin' In The 'Sprawl

As Jules points out on her engaging literary site, there's a background sound to Texas. It's mostly cicadas,  their static rising and falling in time to the waves of heat that roll in like air from a hot oven. Not unlike an insectoid alien early warning signal, when you think of it. 

Add in the squawking of ferocious birds defending their territory from barking, predatory squirrels, and the same squirrels hurling half-eaten pecans down on you like nutty shrapnel. You get the picture, a Texan morning in late August, and I enjoyed it, sipping coffee while the sprinkler watered Ma LSP's ferns.

Note Texas Theater in Background

You can say, with justice, that there's many things wrong with the 'Sprawl but her garden isn't one of them, and it's been good to set up here for a few days while she's in England celebrating the Brexit movement. Tranquil, despite the barrage of pecan nuts raining down like shells on the Chancellery of the doomed Reich.

To escape the barrage I drove to my favorite ghetto barber, which used to be called Senor Ramone's, they call him "Ramen" for some reason, and now goes by a different name altogether. 

A few years back someone went in for a haircut, had the cut, left, returned, and shot a barber stone cold dead. The shooter then fled the scene of the crime only to be gunned down (or was he  just arrested?) by Dallas PD in the alley behind the shop. None of the staff seemed particularly phased. I know, I asked them at the time.

Haircuttery over, return to base and stand in awe as a brisk wind kicks in, clouds roll over and it begins to rain. What is this, Skywater? And why did I water everything in the smothering heat of the morning? Must get more and better Weather Shamans.

Back to the country tomorrow. Blue #4 is nesting in front of the sink, curiously.

Be good,

LSP

Put Some Lights on The House

"So what do you do, when you go to the big city, so-called 'LSP'?" I hear you asking, with an edge in your voice. Good question, and I'll tell you.

These days, I mostly put up Christmas lights. That means clambering about on the porch roof to get the wreath in position.

Ground level is easier. Just put the lights on the hedge. Simple, and I think they look good. But that's just me.

Have fun getting your place ready for Christmas.

God bless,

LSP

Advent Lights

We've done Hanukkah and it was awesome, but now it's time for some Advent lights. Well, I guess they're the same as Christmas lights that somehow turn on early. But I'm not complaining.

I like to stroll down to the Courthouse, which is all lit up.

Some of the other strollers might be lit up, too.

I take a pistol, just in case. The lights in Dallas are greater, but so is the threat level.

Is that Justin Welby, cruising the pawns?

So there you have it, Advent greetings.

From Texas.

LSP

Walk Against Jihad

Everyone has to play their part in the war against global Jihad, and I did mine, by taking Blue EOD for a walk through the autumnal boulevards of ye olde Dallas this morning.

My K9 ordnance expert  wasted no time sniffing for potential IEDs and keeping a keen nose out for any random sleeper cells that were thinking of cooking-off for Allah.

He launched at a bus that roared by the 7/11, it wisely didn't stop, and at a Salvation Army truck. Come to think about it, I'll have to work on his threat recognition software...

Then, after a mile or so, the patrol was over and we found ourselves back at HQ. Unscathed. I thank God for that.

Mind how you go,

LSP

Moving House

There I was, in Dallas, quietly standing outside a restaurant, reflecting on the state of the world and a magazine deadline when all of a sudden a house went by - on a flatbed. There it was, moving down a side street in Oak Cliff. You don't get that in England. Amazing country, Texas.

Anyway, a pleasant couple captured the thing on their smart I Phones and emailed me the shot. They were from Holland, I think, and wanted to know who I was and where I was from. So I rambled on about guns and England - much consternation in the Dutch camp.

Cheers,

LSP