Pastoralia

By 11.30 am I'd driven 100 miles to visit two people, and that's the way it is in a country that's decided to be a road. Still, I'm not complaining, the drive through the Texan countryside was alright, I35 less so, but whatever. 

More importantly, the person I saw in hospital had complained the week before of being "whupped like a dog." She was a whole lot better today and I said, "Your spirit has returned," and so it had. Praise God for that.

Giles Fraser

Back at the Compound I reflected on pastoralia in the missions and what I'd been trained for in England, before the hideous onslaught of womyn priests, trans naming ceremonies and the craven capitulation of Cursitor Doom and associated comshill leftist clergypersons to Islamism. 

Back then it was about walking around the parish, flying the flag and visiting shut-ins who just remembered the last Boer War, well, WWI anyway. "It was all horses and guns, Father," they'd say, cheerily. May they rest in peace and Rule Britannia.

These days it's about climbing into the rig and putting miles on the clock and you know what, it's not time wasted.

God bless,

LSP

Fish On, Hillary For Jail

Rather than talk about the urgent necessity of appointing a Special Counsel to bring Hillary to justice, I'll just post about fishing. That's one of the many benefits of LSPland, you can visit the flock and fish, all at the same time.

There were all kinds of panfish in the water at my friend's slip and for a while it was pretty much a fish with every cast. Some ferocious Bluegill fighters, too, and a couple of Bass for good measure. Huge fun and I should've brought a cooler.

I left as the sun was setting over the lake and the air smelled like Texas, sage, mesquite, cedar and cooling limestone. I love that.

Hillary For Jail,

LSP

It's a Wrap

Driving to the metrosprawl down the kamikaze Corridor of Fame, I35, is never fun but sometimes you have to do it. For example, perhaps you have to get presents for people, the kind of gifts you can't get at Walmart or the pawns.

NICE

So I took life in my hands, climbed in the rig and drove to Dallas on a quest for gifts. That meant a bookshop.

NOT NICE

North Park mall, insane traffic, a return to HQ and placing the carefully chosen items under the tree. I thought it looked good, Christmas style.

NICE

There also seemed to be a lot of presents this year, far more than usual. Why is that? The answer's obvious, there's a new sheriff in town. More gifts for everyone in...

#TrumpsAmerica

LSP

Deep in The Heart of Texas

Well, deep in Texas, anyway, trying to break the summer Bass code. To help us in this, we launched an old V-Hull into the Big Pond, the objective being to get into the center of the lake and fish in deeper, colder waters.

At first all went well. The trolling motor worked, the wind was was at our backs and the going was easy. Shad, like miniature dolphins, schooled and leaped all around us. Good news, where the Shad leap, there bite the Bass. So goes fishing wisdom.

Then disaster struck. The battery wound down and the relentless current, driven by a fierce Texan wind, swept us to the far bank. Nothing for it but to row back, as opposed to actually fishing.

What was learned? There is a spot, in the middle of the pond, where there's a superabundance of Shad. Get there and fish appropriately and chances are you'll catch Leviathan Bass. Also, get a working battery and an anchor. Proper preparation prevents...

Then it was time to head back to the Compound, in the golden light of a setting sun. And there's nothing wrong with that, at all.

TEXIT,

LSP

The Sun Sets on The Rule of Law

I'm no expert, but people say that the Law can be pretty opaque at times. For example, how do you work out the Law of Bass (LOB) on the Big Pond when the temperature climbs into triple digits? Team LSP's been putting some effort into that lately and we haven't cracked the Codex yet, but we will, it's not over yet. Then there's the FBI and Hillary. Here's what our East Coast Legal Expert (ECLE) has to say:

The aspect of this whole mess that really gets my goat is that every first year law student is taught about mens rea (intent) for criminal law and the difference in laws between crimes requiring a specific mens rea (intentional murder, rape), lower mens rea (manslaughter - only needs reckless actions) and those that don't (strict liability crimes (ex. statutory rape, speeding, etc.). The statute in this debacle specifically calls for a "gross negligence" standard in order for the statute to be broken. Her extreme carelessness definitely qualifies to meet this standard. Comey's assertion that she didn't have intent and therefore he wasn't recommending charges is completely at odds with the law. Again, any first year law student who was given this question on an exam and didn't prosecute would fail. This is Law 101. Either Comey was bought off or he didn't want to end up like Vince Foster. Or it's just one more nail in the legal/judicial coffin that we've experienced under Obama (Supreme Court decisions uphold Obamacare, gay marriage, etc.).

Thanks, ECLE, perhaps it's a case of all of that. 

Have we reached the point where a rich, corrupt, ruling elite are now operating without even basic regard for the laws everyone else has to follow and feel free to blatantly disregard them? It seems that we have.

Not dissimilar, when you think about it, to predatory Bass, would be tyrants of the Big Pond. 

Fish on,

LSP

Crazy Mental Insane Fishing

There I was at Lake Whitney, casting away without a whole lot of success, and my luck was mirrored by the multi-ethnic band of anglers that make up modern America's fishing community. Good people, no doubt about it, but no one was catching any fish.

Then Shad started schooling in the channel, about 30 yards off of the bank. You could see them flicking out of the water and swirling in ever increasing numbers. I waded out along a submerged ledge to get in the action and send my lure into the Shad in the hope of picking up feeding Bass. 

Random Widemouth

Not much was happening, just more and more of the jolly little Shad messing about in the water. Then it happened. A surging, leaping, exploding wall of Bass broke the water about 30 feet off to the left, blitzing the Shad.

Staring in wonderment at the Bassnado, I cast into the thickest part of the surge and down went the lure. No twitching, no scientific retrieve, just boom. Fish on. Two fish were on in fact, one on each treble, and that became apparent as I reeled them in to the ledge. I held them up for my wading wary Latino pals to see, "Ha! Topwater!" they thought that was pretty cool, "You're on them, man."

No sooner were the Hybrids back in the water to live to fight another day, than another wave of marauding Bass exploded up. Cast! And another catch. This went on for about 30 minutes, as Bass tsunami after tsunami burst on the merry little band of Shad. 

I tell you, it was crazy, mental, insane, fast fishing. Watching the ferocity of the Bass erupting out of the water was excitement enough. Catching them only added.

Then the sun was setting and it was over; time to head back to the compound.

God bless,

LSP

Ride the Horse, Obama Gets Spanked

You  can stare in numb amazement as Putin spanks Care Barry and US Middle Eastern foreign policy unravels like a rotten rope, or you can go for a ride. I chose the latter.

Care Barry

Some horses are hard to catch and you're exhausted before you've even tacked up. This one was easy, gentle, well mannered, no problem at all. But she wasn't used to riding out on her own, away from the herd and the safety of the barn. 

Tack Up

So what to expect. Mutiny? Outright rebellion? Spooky hi-jinx?

Russian Girls Laugh at Care Barry Getting Spanked

I needn't have worried. She moved out well enough and didn't pull any freakish stunts, beyond being a bit herd/barn sour. We ended up in a big field and opened up -- gallop! I had to hold on to my hat. Great fun.

Ride The Horse

Then we rode back as the sun was setting. Beautiful. I tell you, there's a lot worse things to do than ride in Texas.

Get ready to go as fast as you can

Your Friend,

LSP

I Drove to Dallas

I drove to Dallas yesterday to visit a sick man in hospital. After that I fell back to to the DFW HQ with a view to meeting up with some friends at one of the local restaurants. Nothing fancy, just a pizza (they call them "flatbreads"...) and convivial company. But no. That was apparently too much for the team, one of whom "had to go hunting" early the next day. Interesting excuse.

DFW HQ

So I stayed in, creating a powerful marketing strategy for a restaurant/food blog called Cheapskates. The byline being, "We Want Great Scoff at a Great Price."  Stay tuned.

Home Again. Note Kyptek

Then, today, it was time to get back on the road for the country. No complaints there and tomorrow's plan is simple. Say the Mass(es), chair a meeting, go for a horse ride, maybe followed by a shoot.

Golden Void

Speaking of which, I suggested that the Diocese screen potential clergy on their ability to ride and shoot. "If you can't ride, and you can't shoot, you can'get in," I told our bishop, disarmingly. He didn't say no.

I take that as a promising sign.

God bless,

LSP

Just Get Out and Hunt Dove!

I finished Evening Prayer,1928 BCP, thank you very much, and glanced over at a shotgun. Nothing special, just a 12 gauge Mossberg pump. That was enough. "I know," I thought to myself, "I'll go out dove hunting." And that's what I did.

Where's the Dove?

But I didn't go to the usual spot because I didn't want to shoot out the field, so I checked out another place and went  in search of birds.

Spirit of the Moon

An hour or so later I'd flushed a few from the brush, taken a couple of shots, and missed. So I hunkered down in a treeline and waited for the dove to fly. Nothing doing. Buzzards? Yes. If I'd been on a buzzard hunt I'd have reached my bag limit in minutes, which would doubtless be a fine thing, but no dove.

Texas is Alright

Still, it was simply good to be out in the field, senses heightened by the hunt and alive to the sounds, sight and smell of the Texan country. And that's alright.

Dove, listen up. This isn't over.

LSP