A Yellow Rose In Texas

 

And there you have it.

Stand Straight,

LSP

Out And About

 

One of the things people like to do after Mass at Mission #2 is go out for lunch and I joined in today. We went to Shooky's, which is a congenial little setup overlooking Lake Whitney at Parson's Marina. I hadn't there been before, strangely, and liked it a lot.

The food was good, I can recommend their pepperoni pizza, the view over the lake tranquil and I liked the fishing lodge, marina ambiance of the place. Just a really pleasant way to spend an hour or so after church and with great company to boot.

What good people! Representing several walks of life, law enforcement, banking, engineering, ranching, and all united in the Faith. Were there any libs at the table? No, there were not. Was anyone armed? Woe betide the fool who attempted to rob Shooky's on a Sunday afternoon.

Seriously, I feel blessed by such a good hearted congregation and am amazed at its range. It's easily the most intellectual church I've served but at the same time totally down to earth. From people who write books like I'd like to shoot dove to rodeo stars and all else in between, and right there in Bosque County, Texas.

Who'd have thought it, yet there it is. Go to Shooky's if you get the chance, I think you'll have fun.

God bless,

LSP

I Love The Country

If you'd said, twenty years ago or so, "LSP, you'll be living in a small asset-stripped town in North Central Texas," I'd have laughed. But the joke would've been on me, just think of the benefits.

Clean air, friendliness, people wave to you on the back roads; a sense, even now, of community. And guess what, most are Christian, they worship God as opposed to Moloch. OK, I'd like to see a few mass conversions from the Methodees, but you get the point.

All this to say nothing of the freedom to walk the fields and brush, gun in hand, under the free sky of Texas. Even better when you can ride it, which I haven't done in a few years because of a mad Arab and a busted hip. But still, it's there.

And guess what. No one, hardly, feels the need to wear weird masks and go full panic, follow the, ahem, science, obey your rulers autism, unlike in the cities. Why? Because no one's actually dying any more than they usually do. There's a degree of common sense running around in the country and people sense a lying, powerplay Democrat snake. They say no to it. Will they crush its heel?

Possibly, and the Left hates this and fears the country. Quite right too, how will their cities feed themselves if the hateful two gender extremists stop hauling food? Just a thought.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Smoke That Skeet

 

Someone once said, famously, Speed is fine. Accuracy is final, and skeet shooting's a bit of both, not that I'm any kind of expert. The orange bird zips out fast and you have to be on to get it. A typically quick, accurate, snap shot.

And how good when you connect and smoke the clay challenger. There's something especially satisfying about hitting that small moving target and watching it dust off. Big fun, but here's the thing, readers.

You may think, because shotgun, that pointing in the general direction and letting loose is going to work, street sweeper style. Think again. It helps to aim. Seriously. Don't forget, in the shotgunnery excitement of all, to aim.  Put that bead on the bottom edge of the clay, "popsicle" it, and squeeze the trigger. A fast movement for sure, but an accurate one.

But what am I saying. All you competition shooters out there have forgotten more about the sport than I will ever know. Regardless, the misnomered White Flyers took a right beating today, not least from the kid. Great result.

Then, after a headshot plinkathon against small steel at 150 yards, .22 WMR, we headed back to base. And what a good day out in the country with guns, just sheer enjoyment. Thanks, CR, for the invite. And now?

Pork chops, Yorkshire Pudding(!), roast potatoes and all the rest. A delicious end to a great day's shoot. It's raining too, another plus. Thank you, Climate Change.

Your Pal,

LSP

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,

LSP

Striper!

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,

LSP

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,

LSP

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.

MAGA,

LSP

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...

LSP

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,

LSP 

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.

#MAGA

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

#TrumpsAmerica

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.

Regroup

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,

LSP

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,

LSP

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,

LSP

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.

LSP