Climate Change!

 

Our old enemy, the Weather, is at it again, changing from triple digit furnace to pounding rain, and all in the space of an  hour. I tell you, our adversary can turn on  a dime. So it wan't easy driving home from the 'sprawl, pretty much zero vis.

Still, we made it, by the grace of God. In other news, the Taliban's about to seize control of Afghanistan and we have to ask, why did one single American life die there? To fight the scourge of Jihad? For democracy, wimmyns' rights, rare earth minerals?

Yes, Putin is awesome

The people that used our fighting force as de facto mercenaries, for their own wealth, power and political leverage deserve an accounting. Imagine, your young soldier comes home minus legs, and all for what. So that a gang of millionaires can make themselves even richer and more powerful.

at the trough

Don't get me wrong, defeat the Jihad, and by all means use extreme force, but playing some kind of game with peoples' lives, enemy or friendly, is beyond outrageous. 

There's a special place in Hell for those that do. I say this as a religious professional. Of course you all know far more about this than I do. Just saying, I've got a kid in the fight.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Rain Bomb!

The Masses were said, the Sacrifice offered and it seemed right to cook up some macaroni cheese in a heavy metal pot. I wasn't sure which was best, Thin Lizzy's version of Whiskey in the Jar or Metallica's but I did know that we needed milk and cheese. Then it happened.

Rain, gentle at first then crashing down like the wrath of God on the roof of the porch, and everywhere else. Yes, a rain bomb, blitzing from the sky with indiscriminate fury. I pulled on a wax jacket and ran to the rig.

A chinking thud. It was hail, the size of a large marble bouncing off the truck and before you could say shrapnel, the sky was full of hurtling chunks of ice and rain, torrential, wind-lashed, driving rain. There was only one choice; don't give up, keep moving, reach the objective, complete the mission.

Perseverance allied with sheer dogged determination paid off, and I left Brookshire's with milk and cheese safely in hand, noting that our Old Enemy, the Weather, had changed yet again. The rain and hail was gone, leaving a rainbow in its wake.  This parting shot from the opposition curiously snuck up behind First Baptist.

How First Baptist dealt with the multi-hued aggressor is another matter again but I'll tell you this, the heavy metal macaroni cheese was delicious and all the better for being a hard fought prize.

Don't fear the reaper,

LSP

Deluge

Thunder and lightning cracked the sky, shaking the house while  sleet whipped against its weathered wooden walls. That's right, thundersleet, the opening salvo of a Scandanavian death metal band and all at zero dark thirty.

I had to shout at Alexa, Alexa Jones, "ALEXA, TURN OFF WHITE RABBIT." What was the point; you couldn't hear Grace Slick anyway, over the fury of the elements.

One cup of hot tea later, the team was in the rig and advancing to contact through the flooded streets of this once tranquil rural Texan haven. Good thing we had a truck. Then, at an obligatory stop for coffee at the Shamrock Pick 'n Steal, the thundersleet crashed down.

BOOM. It was like a sledgehammer or the Russian guns on the Oder front. But the barrage subsided after an earsplitting frenzy. I reassured the cowering Pick 'n Stealers, stand steady! all the while calmly sipping coffee from a Yeti mug. You can't show fear, it spreads panic.

Then it was back to the Compound through the flood. Armed? Better believe it.

Stormbringer,

LSP