Storm Grill Army

Keen-eyed readers of this deep thinking mind blog will know that my eldest son, popularly known as "the Cadet", made the smart decision to join the US Army instead of a Scandinavian death metal band, in Canada. 

Don't get me wrong, both are good, but the Army probably makes more sense. So what's the score?

Typical Climate Change

Longish story short. The Cadet bravely ventured forth to a Dallas recruiter, got his packet made up, took a language aptitude test (D-Lab) at the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) downtown and... the Army discovered he had to complete some extra paperwork before he could do his physical. 

Annoying but not a huge deal, so we fell back to the Compound and enjoyed the countryside and its storms. Yes, hail storms and the kind of climate change that says tornado, take cover. We took the opportunity to stand on the porch and watch it come down. Exciting, in an Ahab brave the elements kind of way.

Metrosprawl Compound Grill Scene. Note Mary Shrine

Then, papers complete, headed to the Metrosprawl to grill, celebrate a nineteenth birthday, and launch the kid at MEPS again. I dropped him off at the recruiters' this afternoon and they drove him to his date with destiny, but not before we spent all of yesterday getting his ears cleaned. 

What?!? You say in that shocked tone of voice. Yes, ears cleaned, that's because the quacks at MEPS turn people away if they have too much wax in their ears. 

Have to see all of the ear drum, you see, and if they don't the unfortunately waxy child has to leave MEPS, see an an Army sanctioned ear shaman for a 5 minute ear scrape that could've been done at MEPS, and then return to MEPS, mission complete.

Does that reek to you of low-level, bit part skulduggery? It does to me, and imagine how much money someone's raking in from all those ear wax referrals. It'd soon mount up to a nifty shamanic faux mansion somewhere in Plano.

Regardless, the boy's now in the caring hands of Uncle Sam and, all things equal, should pass his physical tomorrow. If so, in a couple of weeks off to Basic, and I respect that. 

Good call, kid, and his plan's simple if not easy. Go Signals, get a degree, get a commission, get a sword, and then set up on some compound, grill, and play Scandinavian death metal.

Good luck with all of that, Cadet, and with MEPS tomorrow. Stay tuned. 

Oh what a carry on!

LSP

We Are Underwater Now

Roaring in the heavens, consternation and turbulence on the face of the waters and distress amongst men. It's a lot like the battle of Jutland, but no, this isn't a famous naval engagement, it's just Dallas in the ferocious grip of a Spring storm.

It started around 3.00 am with the crash of thunder and a mighty deluge of rain, shaking the wooden frame of Ma LSP's urban HQ, and it hasn't stopped. Tornadoes are likely, to say nothing of flood damage as God takes just vengeance on the Demoncrats of Winnetka Heights.

Undaunted, I drove to the nearest pick 'n steal for coffee and a scout 'round the neighborhood. Was there a kind of poetry in the sheer number of faux-mex Beto signs being washed away in the flood into the nearest storm drain? Sure there was, and it's gratifying to see the preposterous fake Mexican going the same way as Abortion Barbie. Remember her? No, neither do we.

Regardless, Blue Kriegsmarine isn't fazed by the storm and somehow manages to keep himself from savaging a large plush pug which rests on guard by the fridge in the kitchen. Strange but true.

In other exciting news, the Army cleverly presented the boy to MEPS with incomplete paperwork, so there's a slight delay. He's with a recruiter now, sorting it out.

Swim on,

LSP