Well, sometimes. An old friend's busy doing some sound magicke at London's famous RAK studios and sent me this:
Caption, "Look who lives on the wall here." Hey, let's hear it for Lemmy. Dam straight.
Your Pal,
LSP
Well, sometimes. An old friend's busy doing some sound magicke at London's famous RAK studios and sent me this:
Caption, "Look who lives on the wall here." Hey, let's hear it for Lemmy. Dam straight.
Your Pal,
LSP
Here's the thing. You drive over to the local Dallas Tom Overpriced Thumb in search of Boxing Day provisions, and what do you find? A lonely, less than half-price, New York Strip roast. Whoa, apparently no one wanted this bad boy before Christmas because it cost an absurd Bidenflation 70 bucks. So now it sits orphaned and unwanted on the slave block of fate at a mere 24 USD. So what do you do?
Buy it, of course, and thank the Gods of Roast Beef for their largesse. Good work, you've rescued this superior cut of beef from the scandal of back alley dumpsterism. Well done, but your work isn't over, you have to roast that beef and do it right. Yes, but how?
Here's how. Take the meat out of the fridge and let it rest till room temp, in the meanwhile preheat your oven to 450. It's not hard, listen to triumphant music while you're at it, maybe something by Handel or Hawkwind's Motorhead, your call.
Then brush the meat with olive oil, grind some black pepper onto the thing, add coarse salt, and place on a vegetable trivot of onion, carrot, garlic and celery. Let the beast sit while the oven heats up and make Yorkshire Pudding batter. It's not hard, I use Gordon Ramsey's recipe because it works. Put the batter in the fridge and the roast in the oven.
Sear at 450 for 15 minutes, then lower heat to 325 and roast for 45 minutes. Watch that thing like a hawk and check with a meat thermometer an hour in. It probably won't be ready and that's a good thing, you have leeway. If so, let it cook for another 15 minutes or so until the meat reaches 120. (4.5 pound timing) When it does, take it out and cover with tinfoil.
Let it rest and become perfect as you make Yorkshire Pudding, gravy and reheat Christmas Eve's roast potatoes; that'll take about thirty minutes. Then have at it, and slice that medium rare beef up. And fall upon your scoff.
Like a Warrior,
LSP
Many wymxn are against guns because so violent. Get rid of gunz, they argue, and no one will shoot anyone because no gunz. Hey, it's not a bad argument, and wymxn use it all the time.
Ban guns and there'll be less of them around, the wymxn say, and welcome to the new green rainbow gunless utopia! Unless, of course you're a criminal, in which case you've got a couple of Ukrainian AKs, an NLAW and far moar besides.
That in mind, flash back to Ludlow October '22, where my friend, what a good woman, was not only against firearms but lamented the lack of police in her tiny little hamlet. No cops for miles around, no budget for that, and thank Gaia, no guns either.
"But tell me," quizzed the Colonel of the Dallas Light Cavalry (Irreg.), "What happens when some roughs out of Birmingham turn up at your door stop with a baseball bat, will you call the cops who won't be there? Yet another argument for the Second Amendment." Quite.
She frowned, stoically, and didn't press the point, being a gentlewoman, and neither did I, but let's be honest, slaves can't defend themselves and free-men can. True, eh?
Ludlow observation aside, and what a lovely town it is, things could get right rough in the next few years, if you can bear to do the math and face reality however grim. That in mind, smart people are taking note and planning accordingly. Don't say ammo and precious metal, and DOGE$, obvs.
LSP
The phone rang, "Hey, gotta minute?" Yes, it was Canada and I replied, "Sure, but only a minute or two because I have to drive out to the lake and say Mass. That's if I don't melt first, the cab's maybe 120*."
My Northern cohort thought about this for a moment, "That's hideous. Turn on the engine and AC, have a smoke and let it cool down, try that." I did, and Alberta continued, "Here's what's happening, the kids are going to Shambhala, it's like Burning Man but maybe worse, so I'm babysitting."
The cab cooled and I replied, "You'd have to pay me a whole lotta cash to go to a place like that." Yes, of course, and now it's over to you, the reader.
Would you go to a pop festival and if so, how? Here at DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry) HQ we feel it'd have to involve a small fleet of flatbeds, a powerful sound system playing uplifting Imperial music, Curzon style, and several tents, to say nothing of staff.
But that's us. As ever, your call,
LSP
Things got outta hand, people got shot and some say undercover LE were part of the problem. Perhaps they were, but I wouldn't know. What I do know is this, that I shop at this effluence of latter day Americana, at Best Buy, World Market (they sell Brit food, like curry essentials, Digestives and Marmite) and the evil Cabelas.
I'd never have known, as I browsed overpriced electronics, bullets and Brit biscuits, that bikers were involved in a deadly power play a mere 200 yards away, or less. But they were. Here's some dashcam:
And here's Motorhead, Hawk version, because it's Epic. RIP, Lemmy, would you have been cancelled by today's glitter pony Maoists? Doubtless, and would he have cared? No. Whatev:
Genius |
Huma, it's not true! |
Yeah. |
Ahem. |
A Knight |
A Millionaire Socialist |
A Jackass |