Ready To Rumble

The phone rang. "Hello?" Short silence, then, "We're marching on the state capital, had enough of this BS. Sonofabitch, time to break the law."

Hey, right on, but I urged caution, to be honest. As in, "Sure, maybe this thing's being leveraged by the Party of Satan to bring down 45 but still, don't get sick, right?" That aside, militias might want to think twice about even thinking of going up against the Guard. 

The Monkey, and I tell you, he's a fearsome beast, ain't layin' odds on the outcome, what? So gentlemen, fight smart. Maybe wait 'til the Guard is you. Maybe that way win the firefight if it gets that far which it better not. Just a thought and Devil take the hindmost.

Loading mags and cleaning weapons,

LSP

Storm Front

Maybe it's because we don't pay enough carbon tax and don't have a ban on hi-cap magazines, but for whatever reason, it seemed like we were losing the War on Weather this morning. 

The sky began to turn green and the air became still in the Ozlike light. Very much the calm before the tornado which didn't come, although the rain did. Like a deluge. That meant I didn't go visiting this morning because I had to make the compound's sturdy tornado bunker (basement) available to the public.

Then the storm passed over and I made my rounds, visiting the sick, the dying and the bereaved. There's no shortage of these, unfortunately. But still, it meant stopping by a fine restaurant.

It also meant gauging the exponential growth of a chicken operation, and running cattle, to say nothing of pondering the militia presence in the local Walmart car park. 

It's all going on in the countryside, I tell you.

And the the storm is by no means over.

LSP