Aftermath

Friday dawned dark as Llandrindod Wells in June, with thunderheads glowering above. Then it started to rain like a Weston Super Mare Bank Holiday and that continued until we got on the road for Dallas. Such is the apocalyptic nightmare of climate change.

Weston Super Mare

By the time we got to Dallas we were half a million strong, thanks a lot, I35, but the air was crisp and clean and the sky clear and blue. Sorry, Chicago, I know it's not fair but that's just the way it is, you need to pay a steeper weather tax.

A Typical Etonian

We set up for Ma LSP's birthday party, which went famously and didn't stop until the next evening; good work, team, stay at it. And you may not know this, but champagne with a little orange juice is a traditional Cinco de Mayo drink. Some find it goes well with beer, others don't, there's no rule.

Party over, we headed back to the rural elysium of the Compound and got ready to worship on Sunday.

As I type this dispatch from the Southern Front of the War on Weather, Pedro and Maria are powering out Mexican music in the back yard, peacocks shriek, roosters crow, something Mexican's on the grill and God is in His heaven.

Fishing's most definitely on the schedule tomorrow, maybe a shoot too. Can you have too much of a good thing?

MAGA,

LSP

Sunrise at the Compound

The sun rose over the Compound to the usual morning chorus of roosters, crazed peacocks and pyschotic dogs.  Blue MAGA didn't care, he was busy gnawing on a cast off steak bone. 

Like a lot of our international readership, Team LSP doesn't like to waste steak bones and after they've been gnawed clean they're turned into finely honed push daggers. Waste not, want not.

Crazed Millionaire Socialist

In other news, it looks like the bizarrely overpaid and traitorous Megynne Kelly is switching networks. For more millionaire socialist dollars, presumably. 

Shoot The Gun #TrumpsAmerica

Who is this "Megynne" anyway?

#DUMPKELLOGS

LSP

Chicken Operation

Being a rural priest, I get out on the farms. Some of them have chicken operations.

And people say to me, they say, LSP, are these eggs any better than the other eggs, the little Rubios, or the Hillarys? And I tell them that Hillarys and Rubios are pigs and don't lay eggs. Well they do, but it's a different kind of egg, an egg that's no good. I'm being polite. But these are beautiful eggs, they're gold, they have golden yolks, everybody loves them, they're uniters. They're great eggs, unlike the Hillarys and the Rubios, who are terrible, just terrible. Nobody wants them, they're so bad.

The Rubios are tiny, they're tiny little eggs, you look at them and they're gone. The Hillarys are big, they're huge but they're old, big and old, maybe they wear a pantsuit, like a demon. Nobody wants them, who can blame them? I don't blame them, they want my eggs because they're great. Beautiful great eggs that aren't little, they're not old, and they're great because they're full of flavor and they're behind a wall. A wall that lets them lay in peace. These birds are safe from the Hillarys and the Rubios, that's why they lay great eggs. It's a movement, a beautiful movement, like a family.

Right, enough of that nonsense. People do really ask me if farm fresh eggs are better than their cousins in the supermarket and I have to say yes, they are. They have more flavor, a more golden yolk and, to put it simply, taste better. They really do.

If the SHTF, which it might, we're sorted for eggs. And beef, and chicken, lamb, water, guns and veg. Oh, and ammo and horses.

Prep on.

LSP

Texas Winter Paradise

It's a beautiful sunny morning in rural Texas. Squirrels gambol, birds sing, roosters are crowing and crazed peacocks shriek and scream.

Blue Scallywag takes this as his cue to gallop, romp and play. I throw him a tennis ball, which causes great joy in the canine world. But, in this vale of tears, all good things must come to end, which means I have to leave this bucolic paradise and drive to Dallas.

To buy Christmas presents. And that's just the way it is on the front lines of the War.

On Weather.

LSP

Dawn Chorus

Perhaps you think it's quiet and peaceful in the country, and sometimes it is. At other times it's not, like when the sun is rising, the roosters are sounding off and the local pit bulls are busy having an insane barking competition. Then there's a peacock; that's fired itself up too.

Well, whoever said life'd be easy?

God bless,

LSP

Good Sunday

Woke up to a beautiful morning and birds all over the church car park. They were quiet because of intense pecking after food. Then pick-ups arrived...

and the Mass was sung. Managed to get horses and guns into into the sermon, which seemed to go down well. Then it was on to the next Mission, where everyone seemed pretty fervently into the service. Had an interesting conversation about red-dot optics with one of the Ushers - I've discovered that mounting my Aimpoint copy co-efficient with iron sights brings the dot more sharply into focus. He found that the same thing made him see double, which is confusing, but I have to admit I don't know the biology of the thing. The proof, I suppose, is in the shooting.

With that in mind, have a blessed Sunday.

LSP