Showing posts with label no libs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no libs. Show all posts

Monday, August 3, 2020

This And That

A cool breeze is blowing in from the north, and gentle rain turned gold by the evening sun falls on parched grass, hot concrete and spent brass. The smell of rain in a Texan August. Beautiful and rare.

Poetry aside, my eldest boy called this morning to say he'd been promoted to Specialist ahead of schedule. Well done, kid, keep it up. He's currently attached to the 2nd Armored Division and "on mission," which means he has to sit in a comms truck on weekends instead of enjoying Korean nightlife. His Platoon Sergeant's clearly wise.

In other news, Blue Eschaton's slowing down a bit and takes life philosophically, unless steaks or fried pies are on the table. Then everything's different.

Mind how you go,


Saturday, July 7, 2018


The sun loomed large and fiery in the rear view mirror and with it the promise of fish, the mighty Striper; and thanks to a friend's generosity we had a guide to put us there. Great result and a morning full of promise. Would it deliver?

It did, though it took a while, perhaps because the thunder, lightning and torrential rain of the night before had stunned the fish. After all, they're not used to Texas paying its weather tax.

Still, within a short blast across the lake we were getting results. Watch that rod go double and double again, as the ferocious predators tore into live shad. Big fun and a taste of things to come.

After an hour of scudding across the water from spot to spot, worth it for the ride alone, we ran into a school of Striper. There we were, waiting, when all of a sudden the bite switched on. 

Brisk action, as rod after rod twitched and was pulled down into the water; it was fish on and make no mistake, right on the stroke of 11 am.

We limited out shortly and headed back to the marina after a friendly chat with a game warden, who floated over to say hi. 

He has his hands full, dealing with lake riff-raff, clowns on speed boats and ne'er do wells up to aquatic skulduggery. Good guy. Then it was time to leave the lake, mission accomplished.

Big thanks to Pat and S.O. for a great day out on the water and a freezer full of Striper.

Fish on,


Friday, December 29, 2017

Fire It Up

There's the fender, the "dogs" and the ancient fire tools from the time your ancestors conquered this land, or bought them in a street market in Brussels or Oklahoma City or wherever; doesn't matter, dammit. Where's the fire?!?

I've argued this for years, "Clean out the flu, light the fire; it'll be better, warmer." But no, a feeble gaslight rules.

Now that we've had a year of MAGA this should and must change. Real fires, please.

America First,


Saturday, December 23, 2017

Let It Snow

One of the best things about getting ready for Christmas is the Presidential Snow Globe, featuring Donald Trump in winning regalia. Shake the globe and let it snow.

It works well in the Kitchen

Next to a chunk of Steuben

On the dining room table

The top of a prayer book

Or Garden & Gun.

So let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.



Thursday, September 7, 2017

Cooking With LSP -- Bringing Home The Bacon

"What?!? You cook with LSP?" you snort indignantly, "That''s the stupidest thing I've ever heard and quite possibly dangerous." Not so fast, punters. Sure, cooking with LSP can be dangerous but nothing ventured, nothing gained. To prove that, I brought home the bacon.

That's right, bacon, and jalapeno peppers and Philadelphia cream cheese. Don't settle for less kids and note, this is a bare minimum, you're supposed to have dove breasts from the birds you've shot that very day.

Well, I didn't have any dove because I've been babysitting an aspiring Cadet, but whoever said life'd be easy? No one. So make do and get those poppers going. 

It's not hard, slice the peppers in half, scoop out the seeds, fill with cream cheese, wrap with bacon and skewer with a toothpick. Perhaps your toothpicks are anodized titanium, very tactical. Or maybe they're wood, whatever, your call.

Then throw those bad boys in the oven for around 20 minutes until the bacon is right. You'll know by the aroma and the sight of the rashers reaching sizzling perfection. Don't overcook, don't undercook. You'll know when it's right.

Next step? Pull those perfect poppers out of the oven and behold the awesomness of bacon wrapped around the cream cheese filled morsels and count yourself a lucky man. And then?

Eat your scoff like a warrior. And that's cooking with...


Thursday, June 22, 2017

The Saint Michael's Conference, 2017

Normally I'd be on the staff of the St. Michael's Conference for young people right now, overseeing the liturgical dance, teaching a couple of classes and leading discussion groups on UFOs, Cryptids and Why You Shouldn't Be A Thieving Hippy. But this year I took a break and sent a cadet instead. "I don't want to cramp your style," I told my son.

Still, I miss the event. It's an outstanding, immersive course in traditional catholicism as seen through an Anglican lens. Something like an Anglo-Catholic boot camp perhaps, and a lot of fun for the kids who don't seem to miss guitar playing nuns, wymin priests and all the other skulduggery of unpopular modern worship and watered down belief.  

At the Conference the staff don't peddle that, they do worship and teach according to the Faith which has been handed down to us by Christ through the Apostles. 

There is great, Spirit-filled converting power in this and in the end, when the ersatz versions of Christianity have run their course, it's this Faith which will be left standing against the gates of Hell.

Those, says Christ, won't prevail.

God bless,


Monday, December 12, 2016

So waddya do, so-called 'LSP', when you're not hanging with Putin on Snapchat, Lavrov on Instagram and Mad Dog Mattis on Twitter. Cleaning Glocks, ARs? Yeah, sure, all of that, but mostly I'm about tree Wrangling.


That means going to Home Depot, in the evil metrospawl, picking out a tree, putting the beast in the rig and driving it home.


Then put it in the stand, have a glass of sherry and ponder the iniquity of the world. Next step, get some lights on the tree and consider the popular grassroots campaign to take Hagia Sophia back from the Turk.

Win The Firefight

Moment of glory over, hang some decs on the tree; clip-on birds are important. Stand back and look for fake news, cover the holes in the story with ornaments and consider it a job well done.


In between the action, put lights up outside. And that, readers, is the story of that. 

Clip-on Birds Are key

Make America Great Again.

God bless,


Friday, November 25, 2016

Black Friday Grillout

Did you survive Thanksgiving? We did, just, and fought through to the next Objective, Black Friday. What did Black Friday mean, here at Dallas HQ?

Operation GRILLOUT. And let me tell you, it was perfect.

In other news, Welby's been spotted brawling over flatscreens at malls in flyover country. But that's a different homily.

God bless,


Monday, August 1, 2016

Stand Up

Wake up! Make your weapons ready, climb into the Ranger and head off for action. That meant driving through the predawn brush to several deer stands and waiting for pigs to come in to corn, molasses and delicious grape Kool Aid powder at around 100 yards.

It was beautiful to be out in the field in the first light and exciting in the stand. That sounds strange, why would waiting around in a small room, some 50 feet in the air, be exciting? Consider the anticipation; would the porcuswine menace take the bait or not, will you get that shot? I tell you, it gets the adrenaline up and we knew the swine were there, no doubt about it; plenty of fresh sign and evidence of rooting. So we waited, in the still Texan dawn.

A Typical Texan Sunrise

And saw lots of deer, more deer than you could shake a Leupold scope at, which was good. It proved the bait was working and there's a satisfaction in getting your cross hairs lined up for a perfect shoulder shot, even if you don't take it.

There were turkeys, too. One minute you're glassing a deer and the next there's something gray in your peripheral vision, on the ground by the corn. Pigs! Or was it? Closer inspection revealed a tribe of turkeys, strutting and pecking at the delicious Kool Aid corn. But no pigs.

Come on, Pigs

Then it was back to the compound on the Ranger for breakfast, weapons hot and ready for random swine, who cleverly stayed out of our way. Still, it pays to be on the look out because you never know when the tusked furies will appear on their snorting path of destruction. Scope covers off, gentlemen.

On The Road

So that was the pattern for four mornings, and while we didn't see any pigs it was all a first for the kids and big adventure in itself. But that's not all.

Stay tuned,


Wednesday, April 6, 2016

LL Comes to Texas

Like a lot of Californians, LL's come to Texas, and decided to visit the Compound. So I fired up the grill and made burgers.

Now, I'm not saying that a Colt Python makes for a better hamburger, or that a stainless Smith & Wesson .460 Magnum adds to the flavor, but I'm not saying they don't, either. But do grilled burgers make you a better shot?

We're off to the range with these wheel guns to test the theory and find out.

More on this exciting story as it develops.


Saturday, December 19, 2015

Anglo-Catholics, This One's For You. A Confession

I know it's terribly confusing, but there's a movement, or a shadow of a movement, within Anglicanism that asserts catholicity for our part of the church. Scripture, creeds, sacraments, apostolic tradition, piety, liturgy, salvation, the nature of the church herself, all these and more are viewed and believed in through a catholic lens.

Now, as a part of this movement, such as it is today, I have a confession to make -- and yes, make yours before Christmas, if you can -- there was a time, not so long ago in the greater scheme of things, when I felt that if I didn't have this:

St. Nicholas du Chardonnet

I wasn't somehow cutting it. But I got this:

Rural missions in Texas. Not shrines in Boston, New York, Philly, Chicago, or even Texas, for that matter. And you know what, I don't feel shortchanged for a moment.

Don't get me wrong, I love a Solemn High Mass as much as I loathe, scorn and despise liturgical dance, or the monstrous regiment of priestesses, women bishop figures and associated clowns. But here's the thing -- don't let yourself become that most ridiculous and pathetic of creatures, a church snob. God will surprise you. In my case, that's been for the good.

Don't Teacup, Fool

In related news, I've reminded the bishop that it'd make a lot of sense to put a new rule in place regarding postulants for ordination. Viz. If you can't ride and you don't shoot, you can't get in.

That is all.

Your Old Pal,


Sunday, October 11, 2015

Ecumenical Dialogue

Several of us were invited on a trail ride by one of the local Baptist churches, and off we went, after Mass.

The cavalry lined up for a photo while I was waiting for a trailer and a horse. Then we said a pre-ride prayer, hats off, and rode out.

A lot of the ride was through woods and the horses kicked up a storm of dust, which I found adventurous, in a Riders of Dune kind of way. But once out of the woods there was plenty of room and I went up and down the line of "follow my leader" riders. Sometimes at a gallop, sometimes not.


Bad form? I don't think so, but you don't want to get too carried away and run out and start a stampede. Fun for some, not for others.

Then, after a couple of hours, the ecumenical ride was over and we loaded the horses back into the trailers.

Don't be a Pathetic Lib Dupe Stooge of the NWO

I enjoyed everything about this experience, and it'll come in handy when civilization comes crashing down and you can't use your car anymore. Then the horse will rule.

God bless,