Boots On The Ground

 

A rambunctious young soldier walked through the door, "Hi Dad, what's up?" I took a pause from selling AI inventory (What?? Yes, it's true) and said, "Here, look at this," and showed off the new CZ 20, "Let's go for a shoot." Smiles all 'round. But first things first, clean up those dusty old boots.

That's right, a pair of Ariat Heritage which have been  all over the shop, from Africa to Canada and in between. Good boots, but here's the thing, if you don't look after 'em they fall apart, not unlike guns, when you think about it. So I gave the things a good going over with mink oil. This helps waterproof the leather and keeps it supple. It's not even hard to do, just put some mink oil magic on your mink oil brush and give the boots a sturdy scrub.

Well done, boots ready to go, you're ready to go, pre-mission objective accomplished, but then disaster struck. That's right, the climate changed. It does that, you see, and it did it again today, with thunder starting to rumble like opening salvos in the battle of Kursk, followed by rain which spat against the wooden walls of this old house.

We watched the storm from the shelter of the front porch, "I guess we're not going shooting, eh?" No, we weren't, so we talked Army.

Now, all the world knows that the US Army has a grievous recruitment problem, to the tune of a 40k+ shortfall. Not good, especially when our beloved rulers are baying for moar war. Solution? My eldest told me, "What they're doing is getting all these new E5s to become recruiters. Doesn't matter if they're unfit or whatever, make Sergeant and off you go. That's what I was told."

"Huh," I replied, staring out at a tumultuous Texan sky, "That's no good," and the kid agreed. "Did you know recruiters have the highest suicide level rate in the Army?" I didn't, and he continued, "But here's the thing, if I turn down Recruiter I can put in a Drill Packet."

"Now that, old chap, makes a lot of sense in your case, you'd be good at it," and he would, his face fits. Not only that, it's a two year thing and he'd have time to finish off a degree and then move on to OCS. That's his plan, and it's a good plan. But back to the recruitment crisis.

"You know, Dad, I was talking with our First Sergeant and he told me, 'How are we going to fix recruitment, by taking on a lot of recruiters or by paying our soldiers more than three bucks an hour?' Yeah, and I said hey, you're preaching to the converted."

Like really. Maybe, just maybe, we'd get more recruits if we actually paid our soldiers more than junior burger flippers, to say nothing of all the risible rainbow garbage and the fact that patriots, young men and women who want to serve their country, aren't too keen on signing up to fight for the Demented Old Crook and associates. The very people who actively hate them and everything they stand for.

We talked about all this, there on the porch as the rain crashed down, and have rescheduled our shoot till after the boy gets back from a mission in California. I look forward to that. Semper.

Your Old Friend,

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

SNOW

 

It's freezing here, literally freezing. Biting wind cuts through the icy boulevards of this once prosperous Texan farming community. Yes, once prosperous, but someone forgot to pay their Weather Tax and now our Old Enemy is exacting its revenge.

Lake Whitney

Snow, ice, bitter wind and glowering, leaden grey skies. Very little moves, how could it, it's frozen, and worse is yet to come. Weather Seers are predicting an ice storm will hit this erstwhile cotton town later tonight.

A typical Compound room scene

We'll see who and what survives the latest attack by General Winter, who knows. But one thing is certain, we stand firm, resolute, unbroken before our ancient adversary, no, we will not pay the tax. Speaking of which, some of you may have noticed the curious twists and turns of Lib Logic.

This is what happens to your library and writing room when you don't pay the dam tax

As in, it's colder now because it's hotter, which is why you have to pay us moar money so you'll be trans DEI richer.

See you on the other side,

LSP

Fire

 

Remember the old line, "It's so hot the air might ignite, like a thermobaric munition"? Maybe you think that's hyperbole, think again punters. 

A friend's place caught fire yesterday afternoon while they were baling and it stopped, thank God, within 100 yards of their barn and house. In the meanwhile, some 300 acres burned; all it takes is a spark and massive failure to pay the Weather Tax. So be careful out there kids. 

On topic, learned people from the UK keep sending me Lit suggestions, books to read, and that's a very fine thing except for the fact it's hard to read here as paper tends to ignite.

Cheers,

LSP

Storm Front

 

Evening Prayer was no sooner said than clouds rolled in from the West, the temperature dropped, and it began to rain. What a blessed relief and as I type this letter from the trenches of the War on Weather, lightning flickers across the sky and thunder rumbles like a lazy barrage on Ost Front.

Meanwhile, Eduardo's exotic ducks sit nonchalantly on the tim roof of a shed across from the Compound's perimeter, they enjoy the rain, they're ducks and like water. Lately they've taken to rebelliously flying over LSP airspace to the front yard of a local petty drug dealer. There they sit, doing duck stuff, until Eduardo chases them back home.

In related avian news, green parakeets have arrived in this part of the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone) and I've seen several. They're attractive birds and lend a tropical flavor to the place, perhaps they spread from Dallas where they're well established.

Birds aside, the storm rolls on with a kind of elemental fury and the landline's rung, yes, we still have one. It announces "Code Red." I take this to mean some kind of CorpCom Rainbow Maoist offensive's been launched against our commonwealth and the great state of Texas.

As always, we stand firm, resolute.

Never surrender,

LSP

Mashed Potato Monet

 

Two Germans from climate activist group Letzte Generation (Last Generation) threw mashed potatoes at a Monet painting, Les Meules, on Sunday at a museum in Potsdam. The weather vandals then glued their hands to the gallery wall while yelling at onlookers.

“People are starving, people are freezing, people are dying. We are in a climate catastrophe,” shouted potato protester Mirjam Herrmann, “Science says we won’t be able to feed our families by 2050. This painting will be worth nothing if we have to fight over food.”

Quite, an art critic pal from Detroit shot me a text by way of commentary:

What worries me is that these things spark trends (miscreants love trends -- I don't think I have to elaborate) which escalate as they gather momentum. It would be very easy to smash the Michaelangelo Pieta with a concealed sledgehammer. Unlike the Monet potato this is something that could never be repaired. Next thing you know galleries are on lockdown and the world's current slide towards dystopia deepens.

 

Well said. In the meanwhile, Germany and the rest of Europe are heading into a difficult winter as the cost of energy, food and everything else continues to skyrocket. That in mind, Science says feed your family or heat your home and maybe neither as Europe deindustrializes. 

Go on, glue yourselves to the wall, potato heads

All very green, which brings us back to Monet masher Mirjam. Fighting over food by 2050? I fear that sounds more than a little optimistic, Fraulein Herrmann. 

On topic, the War on Weather continues here in Texas with a full, solid, day of rain. We call it Skywater.

Gotta get back to the garden,

LSP

Under Glowering Skies

No foreign sky protected me,

no stranger's wing shielded my face.

I stand as witness to the common lot,

survivor of that time, that place. 

(Anna Akhmatova)

What remained after the flood? For us, we few survivors? A glowering sky for sure, that much is constant.

And shacks, somehow these too remain.

As does the Dojo. Kick 'em out, kids, before you too are washed away in the flood.

But trees still stand. What happens here is that roots destroy the sidewalk which no one walks on, so the Town in its wisdom cuts down the trees. Idiots.

So back again to the Compound, unscathed, frosty, our enemy the Weather threatening. But questions remain.

Have we paid too much Climate Tax, too little, or is this an issue caused by prayer? Pray for rain, God agrees, cause and effect. Problem, solution. But note how abundantly our Creator provides this. 

Do you detect judgment?

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

ICE ICE Baby

It seems Texas has a new anthem. Thanks 'Horse. (RHSM)

As you were,

LSP

The Cooling Hand Of God

Keen-eyed readers of this family oriented mind blog will know that Russian agents masquerading as climate activists hacked the Compound's HVAC, just when the Weather climbed to triple digit intensity. Disaster? Yes.

Getting Hot at The Compound

"LSP, if that's your real name, which I'm beginning to doubt," stated one expiring art philosopher, "Sort. It. Out." Fully aware of the gravity of the situation, I got on the 'phone to a church elder.

"The AC's down and the mission's looking shaky."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pray, pray hard that the unit returns to life."

"I'm on it."

Blue HVAC

Within 30 minutes the prayer was answered, malware removed and cool, refreshing air circulating through the house. Thank God.

A Typical Buenos Aires Club Scene

In other religious news, evidence has emerged that Pope Francis worked as a Buenos Aires bouncer. Whether Archbishop Justsin Welby, leader of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC) was "on the list" is presently undetermined.

Stay tuned,

LSP

News From The Front Of The War, On Weather

The dull rumble of thunder fills the air like the opening salvos of artillery on the Qatari front, and rain crashes down in sheets as lightning flashes across the sky. Harbingers of the Eschaton that has been unleashed by our ancient enemy, the Weather.

Cyborg Musk

You see, what has happened here is that the climate has changed and Texas, which failed so miserably to pay its weather tax, has been struck and struck hard. New York City, under the brave, resolute, socialist leadership of Mayor Bill de Blasio, net worth $1.5 million, are safe. 

Submission Merkel

The Weather won't attack Manhattan, San Francisco or Austin; they're sanctuary cities where everyone is safe because they obey their green globalist overlords. But in Texas, as opposed to Austin, that's not the case. This means sacrifice.

Snigger. Trudeau

There's no shooting because the range is a swamp. No fishing; who wants to get struck by lightning? And no riding; it's not fun to slosh around in a bog and get paralyzed when the horse falls over in the mud and snaps your neck. Does that mean we're defeated?

Di Caprio

No, it doesn't. We refuse to kow-tow to Macron, Trudeau, Merkel and their transnational elitocrat puppetmasters. We won't submit to millionaire green socialists like Di Caprio, Bloomberg and Elon "I'm Not A Cyborg" Musk. 

No sir. Come hell or high water, we stand for freedom and Texas.

Weather, bring it on.

LSP

Super Spook

A lot of people are saying that the Team's gone off-mission. They think that the primary objective of fighting the War on Weather, building an ARK (Advanced Rescue Kraft) and fishing has been forgotten. Forgotten and replaced by theological reflection. I understand, it's a concern, but you can do both. 

Look What The Weather's Done

To prove that, I went Lake Whitney and deployed a Super Spook. No, not a well known member of the Intelligence Community, but a topwater lure. To be honest, I didn't think I'd catch anything, as the lake was choppy and well above its normal water level, all thanks to our enemy, the Weather.

Spook Caught a Fish

Still, I figured the Spook might be large and noisy enough to attract any Bass that were lurking under the waves. So I cast off, and bang, a Hybrid hit the lure like it was going out of style, then another slammed into it. Well done, Spook, you work. 

Those in Peril on The Sea

But so too does our enemy and its not been idle, sending torrential rain down onto the Lone Star State in an apocalyptic display of power. You could see that today on lake Whitney, which resembled a turbulent inland sea.

A Typical Texas Streetscape

Smart Texans are moving to high ground, building ARKs and improving their fishing skills.

Fish on,

LSP

Go to The Drill Hall

Calgary's Mewata Drill Hall, or Armoury, is home to several units, including the Calgary Highlanders and the King's Own Calgary Regiment.  

It was good to meet some of the team and I imagined the soldiers that had passed through Mewata over the course of the last century. A sobering thought.

Constructed during WWI, the Armoury at one time featured an underground 30 meter range and a bowling alley. I was told these were off limits due to structural damage; too bad, it would've been fun to blast away.

There's a Sherman tank outside the Armoury, standing there, resolute, against the enemy. These days, that would be the Weather. Go on, tank, shoot the snow!

Train hard, think positive, fight easy.

LSP

Calgary Hippy Discovers Rhodesia

After a grueling flight, which was delayed by 3 hours because the plane was broken, I arrived in Calgary. It was good to be back in the land of the ice and snow and I checked in to the Hyatt, downtown.

A Typical Calgary Bar

Good stuff, I like the Calgary Hyatt and it's fun to walk out of the hotel and into the blinding snow, to look at the shops on Stephen Avenue. I was doing just that when a tall hippy came up to me, complete with long hair and beard. He was wearing a pink vest over his coat, and I noticed the pink outfit had a curious logo. "Because I'm A Girl," it said. Hunh, I thought, incisively.

Stephen Avenue Attacked by the Weather

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" said the hippy. "Sure," I replied, "but only for a moment." Heartened by my friendly man-in-the-snow demeanor, the hippy asked where I came from, then launched into his pitch. 

"I'm with Because I'm A Girl."
"Oh, you are?"
"Yeah, we're the oldest community development organisation in the thir... developing countries."
"You nearly said 'third world,' didn't you."
"Uhh, yeah, I guess I kind of did."

The Because I'm A Girl Hippy looked pretty sheepish and started to make a pink-vested excuse for his thought crime. I interrupted.

"Look, I really don't care. I still call it Rhodesia."
"Rhodesia? What's that?"
"Zimbabwe, mate."

Realization dawned on the face of my new friend, and Because I'm A Girl gaped, like a bearded Bass; then he began to laugh. I headed off to look for snow boots.

Make of this what you will.

LSP