Hail Our Rulers! Warning Graphic

 

Look, peasants, while two of our millionaire socialist ruling elite stroll down the beach in the toney Hamptons. Do you see them, Hillary and Bill, walking onna beach? Here, let's zoom in.

Do you sense the obese corruption? Has the sheer weight of all those suicides started to tell on the body of twice failed presidential candidate Hillary? Then again, maybe the blood of US citizens and allies betrayed in yet again another failed adventure in US forpol is starting to weigh on the woman who once wooed Yoko.

Imagine, but try not to throw up in your mouth.

Cheers,

LSP

Rocky Paths

 

Same Old Rock

Some of you enjoy idyllic trout streams and rivers full of salmon or walleye, others again spend their time sea fishing off the coasts of fabled islands. Me? It's mostly all about Lake Whitney and, to be fair, the mighty Brazos, which is where I went this morning in a desperate bid to escape the crazy.

"Maybe getting out in the clean air of Texas will do you good," I thought grimly to myself as I loaded a couple of rods into the bed of the rig, "As opposed to staring in slack-jawed Francoist consternation at the end of the world."

Witch way mysticke sister?

And yes, it was good to get to the lake and cast off into the depths, and there were plenty of fish, no doubt about it, I could see them gliding by the bank and jumping with fierce predatory aggression. But did I catch any?

No. I did not. It was like our wars, Enemy 1, Home Team 0, but what am I saying. Every moment spent under the free sky of Texas is a moment worth living, a victory in itself. Just you try it and see. 

Ye Olde LSP

In the meanwhile, the Specialist called in and's settling down well into his his new unit, 57th ESB (expeditionary tactical signals). He has, predictably, asked to be sent to Central Asia, but fortunately that's off bounds for now. Not a good deployment, eh?

That aside, there is an equestrian club at Ft. Hood which practices boot-to-boot cav charges, swords out, run! I told him, "Well you can ride, so join in. Just don't fall off and skewer yourself with your wretched sabre." Always paternal, you see.

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Look At That Striper!

 

Don't get me wrong, catching perch is fun but catching striper is awesome. There we were after Mass, pitting wits and worms against junior bluegill when the water erupted about 30 yards off the bank. I figured it was sand bass blitzing on minnows and tied on a topwater lure.

Out it went, wait, then a zig-zag retrieve back to shore. About two thirds of the way back the water surged under the lure and a fish hit it like a steam train, taking the silvery, rattling, plastic prey down into the depths. Behold rod double action as the fish dived and tried to run, this was surely more than a regular sandy or hybrid. And sure enough it was, out came a striper.

I love topwater fishing. There's something about the explosive impact of the fish striking the lure, amped up, full of ferocious, predatory drive; it's going to get the prey before its competition. Then the fight's on. And with that, have a blessed Feast of the Transfiguration.

Tight lines,

LSP

Thousand Yard Shot(s)

"Hey, LSP, why not come over and join us for a shoot on Friday at 8 am on the 1000 yard line." I thought about it for a moment, a thousand yards, would I make a complete fool of myself in the face of these expert, experienced and scientific shooters? Probably. "Sure, I'm in, see you there and thanks a lot."

So I rolled up to J's 1000 yard setup and looked down the lane towards the targets, a series of metal plates, gongs and a silhouette named Jihad. Did I see the targets? No, I did not, far too far away. But that changed when we got up on the stand with Nightforce optics and a spotting scope, I forget the brand. Then the targets came in loud and crystal clear. It was time to shoot.

J went first, to see if the guns were on, an M40 and a custom 300 Win Mag. They were, and N followed with some hits on steel. Well look at that, you can, actually, shoot that far. Exciting, eh? But of course J was guiding the show as a spotter and he knows his stuff. 

Then it was my turn. Huh. By way of full disclosure, I'm not a particularly good shooter and hadn't shot out to 600 yards, even, for years. So I wasn't expecting to get on steel at this range but hey, money on the monkey and devil take the hindmost.

Line up the crosshairs of the beautifully clear Nightforce glass on the plate. Observe the mirage roiling at the base of the sight picture. The wind is moving at what, 5-8 mph? J calls "hold fire..." the wind dies down, "Hold center." You breathe, shoot. A massive winmag explosion ensues, mitigated by the awesomeness of the rig.

And lo and behold, you're on steel. "Hit!" I was amazed, this thing works. And so it did for the next few shots. The gun was on, along with the spotter and, amazingly, the shooter himself. We moved onto the Jihad and scored convincingly.

The M40 was more tricky, with a lesser scope and its round more prey to the wind. Still, the beast got on target to good effect. And then it was over, all too soon. 

Wow. Shooting at 1000 yards and lots of sub moa to boot. What a lot of fun. Of course, for me, none of this would have been possible without a guide getting me onto the target. Big thanks go out to J for making it happen, at every level. And now look what you've done.

Looking at ballistic charts, equations and far more math than's sensible. And optics and guns and spotting scopes and... Hmmmm, I feel an obsession brewing.

And what a great morning.

Shoot straight,

LSP