Strolling The Deluge

Darkness, thunder, rain. No, this wasn't downtown Aberystwyth in July, it was Texas in February. Climate change experts tell us that if you collect the rainfall here you'll have enough water to last the year, and I believe it. Undaunted by the deluge I left the Compound for a morning stroll.

Stairway To Heaven

Only to see that the Meth Shackers have cleverly built a stairway to heaven; there it is, a ladder to paradise. What happens when you get to the top of the ladder, I asked myself as I gazed at the floral tributes in front of the shack. Who knows, perhaps you ascend, higher.

Meth Shack, Note Beautiful Floral Tributes (stop using "filters." Ed.)

The Pick 'n Steal was open for business but eerily empty apart from an elderly POC playing a slot machine. He's a Nam vet and plays that machine every day; I like him, though we've never really talked. Need to change that.

Pick 'n Steal

One large coffee later I was back on the flooded streets of the bucolic Texan farming community I've called home for the last decade or more, and you know what, I'm not complaining. For me, it beats living in the 'sprawl that is the DFW megacity connurb. You may think differently and that's fine, there's no "rule."

Storm Debris

Back at the Compound, Blue Dog-Faced Pony Soldier curled up on a Moslem rug while I said the Office. He's not buying the "religion of peace" thing. 

"It's obviously not a religion of peace," he tells me, "It was started by a warlord in search of loot, rape and plunder." I accuse him of racism but he just snores. Typical. Next thing you know he'll be banging on about "replacement strategy," asymmetrical warfare, the Kalergi Plan and trying to make me read Mark Steyn. But what does he know? He's just a dog. 

Dog-Faced Pony Soldier On A Moslem Rug

In other news, Juicy Smollet's been indicted, 4 prosecutors have fled the Stone case, 45 held a massive rally in New Hampshire, and Biden's campaigning in Iowa again, or something like that. And Britain's deported a load of Jamaicans for being thugs, much to the disgust of the self-loathing white left and their POC friends.

All About The Hat

So there it is. Rain continues to fall and the clay ground of the Compound is pretty much flooded. Blue Deluge is sleeping, God is in his heaven and the Democrats flounder like beached fish after a storm. Is 45 anointed, by God?

Stand firm against evil,

LSP

Wash Out!

My youngest son, who's visiting from Canada, wanted to go for a shoot today and who can blame him. It sounded good to me too and the plan was to load up on clays, shotgun ammo, some .45 and head out into the wilderness for fun and adventure. Then it started to rain and didn't stop, it was like Wales, maybe Aberystwyth.

But the living room was dry, fortunately, and we looked out of its windows at the watery apocalypse. "Son, this isn't shooting weather." He agreed and I nodded grimly as the varied detritus of modern life flowed past the Compound, "That's an excellent point. Let's go to Karen's and get some food."

So we hydroplaned to Karen's Authentic Mexican Food in Itasca and bought a bag of bean and brisket burritos. Then we hydroplaned back and ate those bad boys like they were going out of fashion, which they're not because they're so tasty. Good work, Karen, you did it again.

The guns got a look-in too. Sure, maybe you don't want to shoot in the deluge but you can always clean the little blasters, which is what I did. Meanwhile, boy and dog amused themselves while the rain poured down.

They say, interestingly, that enough rain falls in Texas to keep the average house in water for a year. Of course this figure might be skewed by the population boom in the Lone Star Sate as people flee Illinois, California and associated workers' paradises for our sunny southern weather.

Gun rights,

LSP

Thank God For Rain

It rained yesterday evening. Seriously, no kidding, it rained. Clouds rolled in, lightning flashed, thunder rolled and water fell from the sky.

It was like a gift from heaven. No, it was a gift from heaven and I stood on the porch enjoying the sheer, cooling, clarifying beauty of the thing.

Perhaps you think that's some kind of exaggeration. So what, you mutter darkly from the bay window of a water soaked pub on Aberystwyth Pier, it rained, like we're supposed to care.

Not so fast. When the ground's cracking and every day's a triple digit furnace, rain means a lot. No fooling and you have to ask how people managed back before air conditioning. The answer is, they mostly didn't. Texan towns only got big after the advent of HVAC.

Still, those that pioneered the state were tough, no doubt about it. Right out there on the frontier in the relentless heat and the sleeping porch. Respect.

With all of this in mind I stood firm, like Ahab, as the rain crashed down and thanked the Almighty for His mercy.

Trust the plan,

LSP

Fiend From The Pit

It's common knowledge that exorcisms are on the rise and no wonder, what with the popularity of satanism and associated occultist skulduggery. How many of our ruling elite, like the Podestas, are involved? Some? Many?

Whatever the case, I thought I'd have to cast out an evil spirit at 6.30 am this morning, when Blue Malefactor began to bark like a fiend from the Pit. I wasn't too happy about that.

It rained later, just in time for the trip down I35 to the country compound. Great sheets of water fell from the sky, turning the highway into a kind of storm tossed canal for cars. Then, somewhere near Waxahachie, the rain stopped and the sun broke through the clouds. Beautiful.

They say that if you collect water in cisterns during the rainy part of the year, in Texas, you'll have water for the entire year. I could believe that, given the ferocity of the rain when it does fall and, given the stability of civilization, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to invest in a secure water supply.

Prep On,

LSP

Take a Bath, Hippie

At least that's what the horses say, and who can blame them? I rode out on Tres this morning after a week's break, caused by torrential rains and the horses being let loose to pasture in Texas' idyllic Mesquite Groves.

There was a little bit of rodeo (bucking) but nothing too radical. That was worked out by galloping up and down a hill and making our way through trails in the woods.

It was beautiful to ride in the clean, crisp, air and I went back to HQ refreshed and uplifted. Blue Destroyer, in the meanwhile, had chewed up an issue of American Rifleman. And some butter.

I wasn't too happy about that.

LSP