Just Strolling In The Rain

Most Anglican priests in North America typically stay in their parish or mission for about five years before moving on to moar cash greater and higher things. At least that's what the stats said a few years ago, and I reflected on that as I strolled through the sylvan boulevards of Olde Texas in the gentle rain. How can you possibly, as a clergyman, get to know the people and place of your cure in just five years?

Well you can't, not to any great extent, and there's a virtue in staying in one place for a length of time. Of course it helps if the place in question is congenial and involves riding, shooting, fishing and, today, gentle, soothing rain. Enjoy it while you can, fellow citizens of this bucolic rural haven in North Central Texas.

Weather reverie over, I strolled past a sign for the impending eclipse and into the food bank, which does a brisk business because no one can afford to buy food at the supermarkets, and talked to their leaderene who has to be pushing 90 but doesn't look a day younger or older than she did 15 years ago.

What a good woman and tough as nails, I used to shoot pistols with her husband, RIP, back in the day using pictures of Episcopal Church bishop figures as targets. Fun. Then it was a short saunter over to the Square, complete with its Confederate war memorial. No, no-one's even thought of taking that down, and from there to a shop I've never been in.

To be fair, it's changed hands a few times since I've been here and now advertises "alterations." Interesting, and I went inside to investigate. Sure enough, it's definitely an alterations shop and I visited with the owner who was inundated with work. Yes, she could create a suit, but didn't have the time. You see, what happens is that people, typically women, buy stuff online which doesn't fit them and then take it to be fixed. So she has a roaring trade and fair play to her, I'll go there in the future instead of driving to Dallas.

Speaking of which, Janey Tailor on the corner of Greenville and Mockingbird did a stand-up job fixing not one but four old but nice suits, DB, 3B, 2B. "You are wizards!" I exclaimed to the excellent Korean sewing crew at Janey Tailor, and they are, but now I want to shop local. I like the vibe of this shop. Next stop?

Gold Nugget Pawn. I bought my first Lee Enfield there back in the far-off mists of time and used to bring great containers of Holy Water for the staff. They said they needed it, which they doubtless did. Then the owner Miss Dale died, I buried her, and Cindy took over the operation only to sell the shop off. Now it's under new management who are staunch #2A, so we get on well. I'll offer to bless the place, maybe an exorcism'd be in order.

On the way back to the Compound, I passed by the Pick 'n Steal, still going strong after all these years, though I miss the Nepalese who used to run it, and swung 'round the corner past what used to be the Meth Shack. That's no more and's being fixed up by Jose who, is, I think, from El Salvador. A good man and maybe he'll go to Mission #1's new Spanish Mass.

Regardless, back at the front porch of the Compound I looked out on the rain of a Texan morning and thanked God for bringing me here. So much better than, say, Baltimore, Philly or the suburban ghetto Maryland suburbs of DC. 

You see, gentle readers, I've pretty much been a slum priest for much of my time, so this is most congenial, in a semi-abandoned railway town kinda way. You'll note, in passing, that priests tend to stay two years in this position before moving on, and I've stayed over fifteen, this is a record. No inclination to move either, and there you have it, and Devil take the hindmost.

In other news, my eldest texted me yesterday as I was collecting clothes from the Dallas Koreans, "Dad, they've promoted me to Sergeant." And so they had, right there in the field. I texted back, "WELL DONE. GOOD WORK." We must take our victories as we find 'em.

Stand Strong,

LSP

ICE STATION ESCHATON

 

Look how the roads are cracking in the cold

You'll laugh and snort into your claret at the Ranchmen's Club or the Eagles' Nest eyrie of your mountain redoubt, but Texas isn't prepared for subzero weather, for ice and snow. No, things pretty much shut down apart from essential services, a bit like the scamdemic when you think about it. And do we cower in servile, serflike fear before our old enemy, the Weather?

No, we do not. On the contrary, we go out on recce patrol into the frozen tundra of this once bustling farming community. What was it like? The roads were deserted, predictably, and I let the dog off the leash to prowl and explore.

OK, time for you to go off-leash

He found the new Ice Age exciting and so did I, it was like being in Calgary but in Texas and without any traffic, though there were a few cars at First Baptist. Perhaps their riders got trapped there after worship on Sunday when the snow came in. Who knows, maybe they're burning cheap editions of Calvin's Institutes to keep warm. Good luck.

The Pick 'n Steal was open though and so was Brookshires. You see, essential services  are up and running here thanks to the dogged determination that is Texan spirit. Well done people, never surrender, never, ever give up in the face of adversity.

Do not ever, ever give up

Back at the Compound a soldier stated, "I went outside for a smoke. Damn it's cold, feels colder than Calgary. How'd you do that walk?" Rhodie bounded through the door, pleased to be home, and I replied, "Yes, son, it is quite chilly."

More from this new front in the War on Weather as it unfolds. Pray God we survive.

Your Frozen Friend,

LSP

Changes

 

typical Texas street scene

Changes, I won't link to the Bowie song, but that's what this small aspect of rural North Central Texas is all about. Yep, changes. For example, the hideous yellow Queen Anne house is no longer yellow, its siding's been ripped off and new and remarkably ugly plastic windows face the public from its historic visage. 

why is this even called "Queen Anne"?

Hey, maybe this is better than the crack house it's been for the last 15 years, likewise our old favorite, the Meth Shack. Alas, the Meth Shack's no longer home to tack-heads in their underwear, wife beaters and pajama bottoms lolling around onna porch with lotto tickets and heads fulla meth.

Meth Shack

No, it's been bought by Jose, who's fixing the place up, well done. But who will buy the Disciples of Christ? Good question, ask the realtor; I liked that little congregation and it's sad to see it go down. But what can we say, so many little conventicles within a several block radius, all of them in competition.

for sale, alas

I tell you, if this town had been set up by Christians its central monument and focus would have been a collegiate church, surrounded by cafes, restaurants, fountains, gun shops, bakers, Confederate monuments and everything civilized. But no, we put up a courthouse.  There, in the very center of town lies a monument to secularism. Reflect, drill down on such wickedness.

pick 'n steal

Too harsh? Perhaps, but even so, it speaks to the hierarchy of Law and Faith in our country. The former clearly pulls rank on the latter. Westphalia aside, look at the result, Faith is trampled on by secular Law.

the Compound

But not at the Compound, and some things don't change. The Pick 'n Steal stands steady in the ferocious crosswinds of our present culture war and so does the Manse. Yes, accidents may very well change but substance remains the same.

It's raining now, a storm's blown in, we thank God for that.

Your Friend,

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

Sol Invictus

 

The sun rises over Texas, incandescent, unrelenting, invictus, unconquered. Do we back down and hide, skulking like so many knaves in our air conditioned dens? No, we stride out to meet the challenge, all the way to the nearest Pick 'n Steal.

Sure enough, there's modern age debris strewn across the way. A rubberized glove, some ear defenders, but no weaves, dime bags (right price, Ed?), needles, losing lottery tickets and beat up VIP passes to Taylor Swift gigs. Such is life in this blighted second decade of the Great Reset.

No matter Green New Deal, whoever said life'd be easy? Here's our 81 million vote beloved ruler, Old Joe, whom everyone loves:

Your Very Best Pal,

LSP

Taking Care Of Business

 

Ye Olde Meth Shack

Life at the Compound follows a rhythm, a pattern, and it all starts with a measured stroll to the Pick 'n Steal (PNS) via the Meth Shack. The shack's fallen on hard times, sadly, as you can see from the photo. Gone are the halcyon days of shirtless tweakers in filthy pajama bottoms decorating the porch. They're gone, along with much of the porch itself. Who knows, maybe the crew of Mexicans who've been, ahem, fixing the place up will achieve their goal.

We can but hope. In the meanwhile, a lone picker shuffled in the Shack's pecan grove, searching for nature's bounty. Good luck to him, may your harvest be plentiful. Ag exemption in mind I moved on to the Steal where, lo and behold, gas is only 3.59 a gallon. Get it while you can, kids.

Picka

One PNS coffee refill later and a pack of Marlboro Lights I was back at the patrol base and saying Morning Prayer. 1928 BCP version, thank you very much and you can get it online here. Then, no sooner was the Divine Office finished than a barrage of emails from lawyers and realtors came flooding in.

Upshot? Go to a notary, affidavit in hand. But the notary's shut because... who knows, it just is. Drive over to Land & Title, "How you doing!" what a cheery receptionist, "Good! How about you?" "I'm good, what can we do for ya?" Well, they couldn't notarize a document but they sure wanted to and were helpful as they could be. I thanked God for putting me in a Texan country town and headed over to Don Tutor's Bail Bonds.

Good People

"Hi, I recognize you from Bible Study at El Con! (an unreconstructed TexMex restaurant) What can we do for you?" So helpful, just notarize this document, please, and she did, free of charge. "What part of England you from?" I replied "London" and learned she wanted to go to Manchester, where she has an email friend. "Watch out," I admonished, "They call it Gunchester," and then felt bad, "Don't worry, you'll be alright." Good for her, so excited to visit England.

UK readers of this important mind blog, if there are any, take note: Many, many Americans hold the Sceptered Isle in very high regard, they really do. So don't scorn your brothers and sisters across the Atlantic, it's an unpleasant, snobbish and beastly trait. Just saying.

Bonds aside, go back to the Compound to regroup, eat a slice of bread because fasting and get blitzed by lawyers and realtors over the information superhighway. Think Russian Shock Army moving on the Karkov Front. We withstood the offensive, nice work team, and then Canada called, "Can you send some... :("  I resisted the urge to ignore this threat in the hope it'd somehow go away and instead replied, "Hold fire, I'm trying to sell a ranch. Offers coming in, good offers."

Walmart

And so they were, result. Realtor O Group over, head to Walmart and this town's send money to the world desk (please, Canada, work this out online). The young woman who handled the transaction was friendly as you like but aghast at gas prices, "Just seen 4 bucks a gallon, 81 million people voted for that, what's gonna happen when it's $5 a gallon or 8?" I thought about that and looked her in the eye, which was hard because of all the piercings, "Maybe smart people have ammo, right?" She gave a dyed blonde grin and agreed, yet another friendly country person.

Then back to the Compound for Vespers. Question, is it just me or is the tenor of daily life becoming increasingly off-hook?

Stand Steady,

LSP

ICE ESCHATON

 

Ice blew like shrapnel against the ancient timbers of the Compound, whipped up and blown in by a fierce Northern wind. Hurtful metaphors of the War aside, this wasn't a dream, no, it was a winter storm, an Ice Age Eschaton right here in North Central Texas.

No kidding. The new day dawned and off I went into the icy void, and it was a void. You could stand in the street, fire a canon and hit no one. They were all "sheltering in place" like Justine Trudeau. Not me. No, I went out for a short walk in the ice particle storm.

The Meth shack was was empty and frozen, the Pick 'n Steal? Closed. Go figure, but Alanon was open, right there in the center of town. "What's that, a refill and a pack of Marlboro Lights?" Right on, then back into the bracing wind.

Your Old Pal

I texted a pal in the Old Country, "Look, ESCHATON." He replied, "PALE HORSE."

Stay warm and safe,

LSP

I Saw The Queen Today

 

I'd no sooner recovered from the complexity of the power of words, than I strolled over to the Pick 'n Steal for a hot cup of coffee, and there she was. Queen Elizabeth the Second, right there in the car park of 1st Baptist. Like, what?!? But yes, there she was. Let's zoom in to prove it.

As a loyal son of the crown and Space Monarchist, the whole encounter brought luster to the day. Behold, Emp. Ind. (we still have that? Ed.), Fid. Def. giving a royal wave to her loyal Texans. Great result, and imagine its alternative, the face of creepy Joe or cackling Harris leering at you from behind tinted windows.

But seriously, is there a better head of state, even as figurehead? What comes next is another matter entirely.

Regnat,

LSP

Just Strolling About in The Plague Year

Blue picked up a Shadow Wolf on the way to the Pick 'n Steal this morning. A ferocious beast and I'm glad he's an ally.

And I wasn't complaining about the trees either, takes the edge right off the heat.

Not that it matters at First Methodist because they're shut, for fear the Bat Bug will kill them all. Which it hasn't, fortunately.

Blue enjoys his spot at the PNS, where he sits tethered to the always empty Star Telegram box. Why is it empty? Because no one wanted to buy the rubbish newspaper so the order wasn't kept up, but the box remains, a dusty, dystopic warning to the "press."

Behold the misbegotten debris of the modern age!

And needless to say, First Baptist decided to make war on their ancient enemy, the trees. And now a once leafy boulevard sits baking under a harsh Texan sun. Good work, guys. Get rid of all the shade.

We detoured around the Meth Shack to visit Genius Patrol. GP are two dogs who live in someone's back yard and bark insanely at anything which goes by. Sometimes I talk to them, they bark back.

Then it was back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And that, fellow boulevardiers, is the story of that.

God bless,

LSP

Walking The Eschaton

It was like a midsummer day in Borth on the Welsh Riviera. Overcast, a drizzling rain, not too cold, not too hot but no, this was North Central Texas and time to take Blue Eschaton for a walk.

The streets were empty, because of the Chinese Virus or because they always are? A mystery, and so was our old friend the Meth Shack. The Shack's under new management, who've been busy gutting the place with a view, presumably, to newer and better renters. Good luck with that worthy project.

Mourning the passing of an age, we advanced to the Pick 'n Steal. It still stands, essential business in the midst of lockdown. I tethered the Eschaton to an empty newspaper vending machine and went inside for a coffee "refill" in an invincible Yeti mug. 

The store's Owl Idol looked down with unflinching eyes on its supplicants, the usual crew of pajama wearin', slipper shufflin', lottery playin', blunt buyin' punters. There they were and there it was. Reassured that some things never change, I walked the furry apocalypse back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And then a curious thing happened.

Within a space of minutes, clouds rolled in from the north and with them a fierce wind. The temperature dropped like a stone in seconds, taking us from Borth in August to Borth in April. Fearing a Polar Vortex, I showed the Eschaton inside to warmth and safety.

Poor dog. You can imagine, centuries later, explorers discovering an elderly Heeler encased in ice, the remains of a fried cherry pie in his mouth, frozen where he stood on the awful day the Climate Changed.

That aside, I hope you've all managed to recover your firearms from the lakes and rivers and sensibly saved on SCUBA by use of powerful magnets and sturdy ropes.

God bless,

LSP

This is Crazy

A call, urgent, "This is crazy. They're buying all the toilet paper, you would say 'loo roll' or 'Andrex' but it's the same, and the shelves are empty. Send money. They're goddam tasering people."

"Hey, use backyard snow, it's safer. Who knows where that stuff was even made. Stand by for transfer."

All Means All

Thirty minutes later, cold, hard cash was on its way to loo roll stricken Calgary via ones and zeros, Walmart to World digital. Business over, I checked out the store. 

A Doomed Fool is Saved. By a Hero?

Plenty of bathroom tissue on the shelves, and I bought some, now there's less. But what about rice? Lots left, boil it first. 

Plenty of Loo Roll, in Texas

Over at the Pick 'n Steal the radio was on and playing a warning, "Wash your hands, we have this well contained. Do not panic." Maria was rattled, nervous, "I'm trying to sell these things and listen to, you know, this. They're shutting down schools and everything."

You Can Indict a Ham Sandwich

Maybe we should've shut the border with Communist, Godless China long ago. Maybe we should never have opened that border in the first place, and allowed the Bolsheviks to stew and ferment in their own version of hell masquerading as heaven. But no, smart people had to make money.

As ye reap, friends, so shall ye sow. Hope you're all prepped up and ready to bug-in before the shelves empty.

Cheers,

LSP