You Chicken

People often ask me, they say, "What's country life actually like, in Texas?" And I tell them, "It's like a game of chicken." No fooling, the birds are everywhere.

Blue Eschaton loves this. For him, there's nothing better than running full tilt at a terrified, squawking chicken, cornering it and then killing it. He doesn't eat them, he just stands there attempting to look innocent, with feathers in his mouth.

He tried it the other day and I managed to save the bird, much to the dog's annoyance and a bit of running around on my part.

Sometimes you'll see the poultry roaming around the center of town and I'm surprised resourceful live off the land, DIY, off-grid preppers don't eat them. I've done that myself, after Blue Marauder's done his work.

"Dad, how did you learn to do that?" asked my sons as I breasted an unfortunate fowl with a handy razor sharp folder, "It just happened, kids."

All this flashed through my mind this morning outside the town's food bank, where I'd gone to fly the flag, make a bereavement visit and do my bit for the needy. There it was, a random chicken by the dumpster. And I thought this.

We're devolving into something third world because the globalist NWO, transnational, Illuminati elite and their bi-coastal puppets have sold us down the river to make themselves even more stratospherically wealthy than they already are. Hence Mexico moves to Tejas, along with all their chickens.

After a moment of bitterness I consoled myself. When the center cannot hold, imploding perhaps under burgeoning debt, the rural parts of this country which have been gutted by our MillSoc (Millionaire Socialist) overlords will be OK. 

We'll have eggs and meat and feathers. And guns, lots of them, and horses. Expect a lot of irregular cavalry units.

God bless,

LSP

PS. Beer Can Chicken is simple and tasty. Heap coals to side of grill, rub butter/olive oil over bird, salt and pepper then put small beer can (with beer) up the chicken. Don't think Freddy Mercury. Place on indirect heat, drip pan underneath for gravy. Cover and cook for an hour and fifteen minutes, turning half way through. It'll be moist and delicious.

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