On The Road

 

On the road to Dallas, and that's not a bad thing except they drive like maniacs on I35 and, right at the run-in to 'sprawl central there was a cataclysmic deluge of rain. Adventure, and surely a harbinger of apocalypse to come.

That in mind, a couple of people came up after Mass yesterday and said, "LSP, we went to get money out of the ATM in Whitney and not a single one was working, not one, and we tried all the banks." Huh, imagine that, you go to your bank to withdraw some cash and sorry buddy, you can't. What then.

you shoot an exotic goat with a 30-06

Nothing good and it reminds me of a prepper who said, wisely, "When you see lines around the block for the ATM it's time to get out." Good call and you don't have to be a druidic seer to picture the impossibility of getting out of our doomed cities when the SHTF. Kyrie, they're bad enough as is.

In related news, two violent extremist white supremacists, who identify as Mexican, killed some people in Allen and Brownsville, as all the world knows. But question, what's the issue? Were they Mexican Nazis, Cartel gang people, rando crazies or all of the above.

if you're not scared you should be

Terrifying any witch way, eh?

#2A,

LSP

Preppers! Preppers! Preppers!

 

Preppers, are you prepared? Widescreen and take note, my friends. Anyone for PT?

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Walmart Wipeout

Reports were coming in of raiders out of Austin moving north in search of food, so I launched a recce patrol at the local Walmart. What a wipeout, as if a horde of locusts had swept through devouring all in their path.

Meat? Beef, pork? No.

Bye-bye rice and pasta.

Alas poor bacon, we knew you well.

You want milk? Forget about it, and the same goes for eggs, bread, flour, tuna, spam, beans, water, dried noodle snacks, luncheon meat, orange juice and cheese. And don't even think of buying chicken nuggets, fish sticks, potatoes, loo roll (TP) and cleaning products.

Now picture handfuls of dazed, shell-shocked shoppers slowly pushing their carts through the deserted aisles, their carts as empty as their stunned eyes and the very shelves. Yes, like a scene from one of the virus series we're binge watching at the Compound.

Still, there was plenty of wine, tomato paste and Vienna sausages. I bought all three and left, mission accomplished. Moral of the story?

First, never forget things can turn on a dime and before you know it there's no more food, so be smart and stock up. That way you won't have to fight over the last pack of chicken nuggets with some chancer hippy out of Austin. Second, don't buy all the bacon, it's rude and stupid.

Be safe, 

LSP

Clear The Brush

It was a day much like any other day, the objective being to clear brush from the church. So I drove Sleeping Beauty and his pal, Funboy 2, to one of the missions after the usual exercise of Morning Prayer, walk the Shadow Wolf and all of that.

Work Harder!

The men of the mission were already hard at work, chainsaws in hand, and we stuck right in. Clear that brush! was the prime directive.

A Smoker

Then a political philosopher turned up with a smoker and the fun began as mesquite met heat and the delicious aroma of hot links and other delicacies spread over the work site. Next time it'll be Elk and Boar but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Typical Brush Pile

Several hours later the work was done and we'd gotten off light; imagine the settlers of the last century, clearing and working the land. Put yourself in Montana or Alberta during the winters of the 19th C or for that matter, Texas in the summer before air conditioning. 

They were tough, no doubt about it, and rainbow riding didn't loom large on their radar. Doubtless they had other things to think about.

Funboy 2

We will too, when everything comes crashing down under a mountain of irreparable debt and our money's exposed for the rotten fish head that it is. Good luck with that, all you who live in a city and just about anywhere else.

Eschaton

Speaking of which, smart people are building compounds and learning to ride, shoot, fish and hunt if they haven't already mastered these forward looking skills.

Yours truly,

LSP

You Chicken

People often ask me, they say, "What's country life actually like, in Texas?" And I tell them, "It's like a game of chicken." No fooling, the birds are everywhere.

Blue Eschaton loves this. For him, there's nothing better than running full tilt at a terrified, squawking chicken, cornering it and then killing it. He doesn't eat them, he just stands there attempting to look innocent, with feathers in his mouth.

He tried it the other day and I managed to save the bird, much to the dog's annoyance and a bit of running around on my part.

Sometimes you'll see the poultry roaming around the center of town and I'm surprised resourceful live off the land, DIY, off-grid preppers don't eat them. I've done that myself, after Blue Marauder's done his work.

"Dad, how did you learn to do that?" asked my sons as I breasted an unfortunate fowl with a handy razor sharp folder, "It just happened, kids."

All this flashed through my mind this morning outside the town's food bank, where I'd gone to fly the flag, make a bereavement visit and do my bit for the needy. There it was, a random chicken by the dumpster. And I thought this.

We're devolving into something third world because the globalist NWO, transnational, Illuminati elite and their bi-coastal puppets have sold us down the river to make themselves even more stratospherically wealthy than they already are. Hence Mexico moves to Tejas, along with all their chickens.

After a moment of bitterness I consoled myself. When the center cannot hold, imploding perhaps under burgeoning debt, the rural parts of this country which have been gutted by our MillSoc (Millionaire Socialist) overlords will be OK. 

We'll have eggs and meat and feathers. And guns, lots of them, and horses. Expect a lot of irregular cavalry units.

God bless,

LSP

PS. Beer Can Chicken is simple and tasty. Heap coals to side of grill, rub butter/olive oil over bird, salt and pepper then put small beer can (with beer) up the chicken. Don't think Freddy Mercury. Place on indirect heat, drip pan underneath for gravy. Cover and cook for an hour and fifteen minutes, turning half way through. It'll be moist and delicious.

Cooking With LSP, The Hard Way

"Cooking with LSP?" you ask with a wry smile, "That's kind of weird." Not so fast, readers, here's how it's done. The hard way.

Go to Walmart and pick up a couple of Threepers. No, not two members of a citizens militia! Two 3 packs of New York Strips; they shouldn't cost more that $30, all in all. Take your Threepers home, salt and pepper them and let those steaks come to room temperature in a place where the dog can't get them. He's hungry for steak.

Fire up the Weber using a large chimney, you'll want a lot of charcoal for a hot fire, then spread the coals when they're grey and put a grid over them. Scrape that grid down with a wire brush and admire the inferno as you sip an ice cold Stella. But look, there's no rule, it doesn't have to be Stella, that's just my choice. Do what you like, it's up to you.

Meditation over, get the steak and throw it on the grill. Watch it sizzle as the Threepers hit the hot grid; after about a minute, put the lid on the grill and observe the mystery of cooking for around 3 minutes, depending on the size of the steaks. Uncover, flip, repeat.

Grilling over, put the steaks on a tray and serve them up to the hungry team. Maybe throw in some baked potatoes and salad, perhaps some fried onions and mushrooms, whatever. 

You, not Big Government, are in charge of this operation. Then eat your steaks, like a Warrior. 

And that's cooking with,

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

Good OPSEC?

Well done. Now nobody knows who you are.

Carry on.

LSP

LL Flies to Texas

Some people don't have much to say and what they do say is depressing, negative, boring and stupid. None of these things apply to LL, and I know this because he broke free of California and visited Texas this week.

The conversation was varied, ranging from drones and kukris to Atlantis, soteriology, and everything else in between. Of course most of this is classified, but not all; here's a paraphrase, as we were taking a break at the range.

  "I say, old chap," I asked, adjusting the settings of my thermal visioning monocle, "What d'ye think of Preppers?"

  "Preppers?" Growled LL, channeling General Patton, "I've always been a prepper, because I've always been prepared, but some of these guys are too narrow. Their plan lacks perspective."

  "How's that?" I replied, cutting the head off a snake with a handy, razor sharp kukri.

  "Well, I turn up at their fort with a canon, a Civil War cannon, that has a range of not much less than a mile, and I start pounding that compound with hot shot. What then? Yeah, maybe they run out, perhaps they sally forth. I want that, I want them in my kill box."

  "A Civil War cannon?"

  "Right. A Civil War cannon. Maybe a trebuchet. I could make both of them, so could you."

   "So perhaps the redoubt should be underground?"

   "Exactly."

After some ranging about we drove south to meet friendly forces. Rumors of hedgehogs are entirely without foundation.

Texas, which is perfect, is nonetheless a poorer place without LL.

God bless,

LSP 

God Bless Guns

I drove out to see a parishioner yesterday and bless his guns. He's afraid that things will get bad and prepares accordingly. You might call him a "prepper." Part of that, for him, means a lot of custom AR15s and a couple of AR10s.

New York Times New World Order

Some people scoff at that in their New York Timesy condescension. "Look, what a stupid prepper," they sneer, "he probably thinks the government is too big and massively in debt. I bet he doesn't even believe in Global Warming. What an ignorant fool."

This Will Never Happen Here, in America

Well who'll be laughing when the grid goes down and you have to shoot to protect yourself and your family? Not my friend. He gave me a Primary Arms red dot in exchange for the blessing and promises to upgrade my AR.

Gabriel Possenti is the Patron Saint of shooters, in case you're interested.

LSP