A Beautiful Spring Evening But Don't Forget Detroit

Here we are on a beautiful Spring evening in North Central Texas. Peacocks shriek, roosters crow, fierce robins face-off against marauding squirrels and Mexican music fills the air as Eduardo tends to the neighboring chicken operation. 

All good, nature obviously rejoices at the Kennedy Center's $25 million gift, which you can read about on Virtual Mirage, LL's gentle and tolerant news portal. But of course things aren't so good, Kennedy Center pork notwithstanding, as the Chinese Virus starts to lay hold of the DFW metrosprawl. Then there's Detroit.

A Typical Detroit Street Scene

Detroit, America's onetime thriving Motor City has the highest rate of contagion outside of New York and New Orleans. Who would've thought it? Spare a prayer for the hapless city and its declining population.

Pre-Virus Detroit. Now It's Shut

But enough doom and gloom, it should be dry enough to get out to the range tomorrow for some plinking, or maybe fishing. We must thank God for his many mercies.

This Old Gentleman is Resting

Train hard, think positive, fight easy,

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

Sunrise at the Compound

The sun rose over the Compound to the usual morning chorus of roosters, crazed peacocks and pyschotic dogs.  Blue MAGA didn't care, he was busy gnawing on a cast off steak bone. 

Like a lot of our international readership, Team LSP doesn't like to waste steak bones and after they've been gnawed clean they're turned into finely honed push daggers. Waste not, want not.

Crazed Millionaire Socialist

In other news, it looks like the bizarrely overpaid and traitorous Megynne Kelly is switching networks. For more millionaire socialist dollars, presumably. 

Shoot The Gun #TrumpsAmerica

Who is this "Megynne" anyway?

#DUMPKELLOGS

LSP

It's Dark and Stormy, on the Edge of Time

Driving on the Edge, on the Edge of Time

Lightning, rain, darkness. Just another typical day on the edge of time, except for thunder, which was weirdly missing. One cup of hot tea later and the power went down, which meant shaving by flashlight before climbing into a storm-tossed rig to the eerie cries of terrified peacocks and the forlorn howling of Blue Raskolnikov. 

The Wire

Thirty minutes of apocalyptic driving later I reached my objective, the Cowboy Church's men's prayer breakfast. And I was glad I went, because the cowboys are alright and you always, in my experience, get a good "message." This morning's was on forgiveness; don't hold bitterness, anger and resentment in your heart or it'll chew you up and spit you out. The Gospel's pretty emphatic on that theme.

A Typical Day in Wales

It was light by the time breakfast was over, and I looked out across the wire at rain-soaked Texas. It was like Wales, in August.

Be safe,

LSP

There's a Peacock by the Woodpile

This small farming community managed, somehow, to survive last night's storm, and so did the neighbor's peacocks.

Last Night's Sheet Lightning

One of them was over by the woodpile when I got back from some church work this morning. It's one of two and perhaps before too long there'll be a serious peacock operation here. Lord knows, the town could use a growth industry.

Hope 'n Change didn't seem to make that happen and the Government's wondering why people aren't too happy about that. 

I mean to say, what's wrong with you? You may not have any money and there's no real jobs to speak of, but you can get a gay marriage and a sex-change while shopping at Target. 

C'mon, everybody, lighten up,

LSP