Bomb Cyclone Winter Eschaton

 

Many of you will laugh and shake your heads in scorn, but it's cold in Texas. Like no kidding, there's ice and even some snow. "Look," I announced in awe to a young soldier, "Snow, see it?" It took a while but he did, "Oh yeah, literal snow, wow." A few wind-driven icy flakes of it anyway.

So layer up, pull on an Arcteryx fleece, dust off the Carhart and face the new Ice Age. Such, my friends, is global warming. You see, the hotter it gets, thanks to people not paying carbon taxes, the colder it becomes.

I was struck by this, driving into a golden sunset across Lake Whitney dam to say Mass as clouds of mist steamed up from the water. Climate change can be dramatic, no doubt about it. Let's zoom in:

The Sacrament confected and the Sacrifice offered, ite missa est, it was time to drive back to the Compound, wary of black ice and grateful for the privilege of being able to celebrate the Eucharist. Where angels fear to tread, eh?

Domine non sum dignus,

LSP

Don't Fear The Reaper

It's easy to say "Don't Fear The Reaper" as you sit back in the comfort of your happy plastic sided home. But what happens when the mist comes down and the debt's called in?

And you wake up to ghost trees, only to find that the US Dollar is equally illusory and all the ATMs don't work.

Perhaps that will never happen, like the fall of Rome or censorship of the internet. Don't fear the Reaper.

God bless,

LSP

Don't be a Loser, Get on The Boat

You're thinking, I know, if only I had a boat I'd catch a lot of fish. On the lake. And I don't blame you, it makes sense. With that in mind I climbed aboard a friend's boat, rod in hand and ready for action.

We zoomed across Lake Whitney to Steele Creek, then trolled upstream just after first light, with mist rising off the water. There weren't any banjos, but there should've been. There was, however, a great chorus of turkeys from along the banks. But not a lot of fish.

In fact, we caught one, a medium size Sand Bass. Undaunted, we fished several coves, channels and creeks, but nothing. Not a bite, and we weren't the only ones, no one seemed to be catching anything on the lake that morning.

The next day, my boat pal's 8 year old Grandson caught 7 Stripers in one of the coves we fished, using exactly the same lure, a silver shad of some sort, that'd been so unsuccessful the day before. There's a moral in that, somewhere.

In other news, I saw a wild turkey strutting through the streets of downtown Whitney this morning. It was a hen.

Fish on,

LSP