Showing posts with label chicken operation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chicken operation. Show all posts

Thursday, March 26, 2020

A Beautiful Spring Evening But Don't Forget Detroit



Here we are on a beautiful Spring evening in North Central Texas. Peacocks shriek, roosters crow, fierce robins face-off against marauding squirrels and Mexican music fills the air as Eduardo tends to the neighboring chicken operation. 

All good, nature obviously rejoices at the Kennedy Center's $25 million gift, which you can read about on Virtual Mirage, LL's gentle and tolerant news portal. But of course things aren't so good, Kennedy Center pork notwithstanding, as the Chinese Virus starts to lay hold of the DFW metrosprawl. Then there's Detroit.


A Typical Detroit Street Scene

Detroit, America's onetime thriving Motor City has the highest rate of contagion outside of New York and New Orleans. Who would've thought it? Spare a prayer for the hapless city and its declining population.


Pre-Virus Detroit. Now It's Shut

But enough doom and gloom, it should be dry enough to get out to the range tomorrow for some plinking, or maybe fishing. We must thank God for his many mercies.


This Old Gentleman is Resting

Train hard, think positive, fight easy,

LSP

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Chicken Operation



Being a rural priest, I get out on the farms. Some of them have chicken operations.

And people say to me, they say, LSP, are these eggs any better than the other eggs, the little Rubios, or the Hillarys? And I tell them that Hillarys and Rubios are pigs and don't lay eggs. Well they do, but it's a different kind of egg, an egg that's no good. I'm being polite. But these are beautiful eggs, they're gold, they have golden yolks, everybody loves them, they're uniters. They're great eggs, unlike the Hillarys and the Rubios, who are terrible, just terrible. Nobody wants them, they're so bad.




The Rubios are tiny, they're tiny little eggs, you look at them and they're gone. The Hillarys are big, they're huge but they're old, big and old, maybe they wear a pantsuit, like a demon. Nobody wants them, who can blame them? I don't blame them, they want my eggs because they're great. Beautiful great eggs that aren't little, they're not old, and they're great because they're full of flavor and they're behind a wall. A wall that lets them lay in peace. These birds are safe from the Hillarys and the Rubios, that's why they lay great eggs. It's a movement, a beautiful movement, like a family.




Right, enough of that nonsense. People do really ask me if farm fresh eggs are better than their cousins in the supermarket and I have to say yes, they are. They have more flavor, a more golden yolk and, to put it simply, taste better. They really do.




If the SHTF, which it might, we're sorted for eggs. And beef, and chicken, lamb, water, guns and veg. Oh, and ammo and horses.

Prep on.

LSP