Ranching

 

There it is, Texas, under a big blue sky. And I tell you, it was good to be out on my friend's ranch, which is pretty unreconstructed apart from the neat house he's built on the ancestral land. Yes, it has a tower, important for overwatch, and's built of stone as opposed to brick. I'll send photos next time I'm back, it's a substantial house.

In the meanwhile, we enjoyed a brunch send-off for a church woman who's leaving for Weatherford. What a good person! Worldwide champ barrel racer in the '80s and President of the WPRA, which would pretty much make her totus orbis Head of the Cowgirls. Like no kidding. She's also been Senior Warden of Mission #2 and I could not have wished for a better person in that role, to say nothing of a friend.

Ranch brunch over, I headed back to the Compound along the strip of rural wasteland that is HWY 22 and thanked God for His goodness. Beautiful country, outstanding people, no rainbow garbage and a great moon overhead.

God Bless,

LSP

The Army Arrived

 

Well at least a part of it, and left all its kit in the Anteroom; got to go somewhere, in fairness, and why not lay down on a Moslem rug? That in mind, what do young soldiers do to pass the time? Many things, not least playing computer games with their pals around the world, in which they slay digital enemies.

So that's all good and, speaking of which, have we just witnessed the shortest ever civil war in Russian history? A 24 hour, ahem, coup, in which Prigozhin  gets a dacha in Belarus, WAGNER PMC folds into the Russian Army and 5th columnists and traitors get rounded up and killed while Putin consolidates his power base as rubbish generals are fired?

Possibly, but who knows. perhaps Prigozhin got ferociously drunk, drove most of the way to Moscow with his crew, sobered up, apologized, and made friends. Now he must go to Belarus, because that's so obviously not a potential second front.

I tell you, what a strange 24 hour evolution it's been. Regardless, our plan is this. Worship God in the morning at the Masses and then grill steak. Yes, steak, we can still afford meat here, if only just.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Tabled

 

It's all about loading shop tables onto trailers here and yes, a tractor helps. In this case, and typically, a friend's Kubota. The heavy metal's easier to move if it's on wheels. No fooling, roll 'em out, lift 'em up and place those beasts on the trailer.

Which is exactly what happened, well done Team. Speaking of teams, elements of the LSP went to the Alberta/Montana border on the weekend, Coutts, but RCMP road blocks diverted them from the objective. They ended up closer to home at a spirited protest of a few hundred horsemen, well done.

And the plan's to head out for Coutts again this weekend. Good luck to them, break through the blockade, kids; maybe the Amish and Hutterites will help, who knows. As it is, more border crossings are closing as we search the airwaves.

Inquiring minds want to know. Is this a a strategy? Launch a big PR spectacle in Ottawa, hope Justine caves in and when he doubles and triples down shut off the Canadian border. 

As in General Strike. Weird how today's Left HATES that. Since when and why did the Left start hating the working class?

Discuss,

LSP

Just Out in The Field

 

Yes, this is Texas under a glowering sky. Note Cow Barn.

And tractor. I don't know why but Kubotas rule here.

A Shop.

I call this installation "Fence."

We recouped after a hard morning's work, "Wish you'd buy this place, brother, make for a heckuvva range. Put up a big berm by the tanks and off we go." My friend thought about this for perhaps a second as we took it easy on the side of his rig, "Dam! That's what I've been thinking about, berm and boom, shoot out to 450 yards." I agreed, "Right, put up a shooting tower back in the deal and have at it."

A moment of reflective silence and ES went ballistic, "Get going with a .50. But what if the round skips the berm and hits an 18 wheeler on I35?" I thought about it, a .50 BMG lofting out of the target area to power through an engine block on a highway a mile off.

Look, The Climate Changed!

"Utter disaster, my friend," and he agreed, "My wife told me I couldn't buy it, dammit. Dude, stop talking in case I do." And that was that, "Drive safe." I file this exciting story under guns and country life in Texas.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Time Travel!

It's Regency London, the Westminster Pit, some five years after the Corsican upstart met his nemesis at Waterloo. Candlelit faces gleam with anticipation, and it's on, "Gennellmen, place your bets!" 

A monkey emerges from shadow into the ring, club high, fangs barred, simian snarling. Yes, this is Jacco and he's not alone, a dog growls, ferocious, it is Puss, the favourite. Fight.

A flash of gold in the wings, of real money, "Wager a guinea on the monkey, eh? Devil take the hindmost." Hat, stock, cane and guinea purse agree, "Hindmost? Twice up and double on the ape, damme." And the monkey wins against the odds. Triumph. A short clip back to St. James, White's and...

It's North Central Texas, Anno Domini 2021, with a hot sun blazing from a blue sky. "How much you want for this pipe?" Silence is golden, "You tell me," and business concluded. Not as racy perhaps as the Pit, but no less good for all that. 

If you look hard enough, there's a frontier, country, equivalency between the two.

Time travel's weird like that.

LSP

In The Heat of The Day

 

What is it they say, only mad dogs, Englishmen, and members of tactical signals brigades go out in the noonday sun. Or something like that, and it's what we did, the mission being to catch some fish even if it was 100 degrees in the shade.

Sure enough they were on and before you could say Das Kapital, perch were snapping and tugging at the lines like the voracious predators they are. I pulled out a couple of fierce little beasts, looked over at the kid and boom, something slammed into his hook and it was rod double, drag out action. No fooling.

What was this monster, a cat, a bass, an enormous drum? No, it was a dinner plate sized blue gill, perhaps a Zeta Variant, and easily the best fish of the day. What a great result. Then, after another hour or so of catching we started to melt and headed for home, a good afternoon at the water well spent.

In other news, the Pope's attacking the Latin Mass. There are two classes of being which hate Latin, schoolboys and Satan.

Fish on,

LSP