Just Chilling

 

Surely, LSP, which hardly sounds like a real name, you mean 'baking'" Well you have a point, it's ridiculously hot here in the great state of Texas because of climate change. That's right, we've moved from balmy July to oven-hot August. So what to do?

The same old thing, not unlike Wellington at Waterloo, when you think on it. Get up, drink strong coffee on the back deck, say Morning Prayer 1928 style, wash up and then take the dog for a constitutional. Sometimes that means a walk to the Pick 'n Steal, today it meant fallow ground behind the Compound.

What was this green space? Something to do with a hospital, I think, now it's a field. Why, we ask ourselves, is it not a communal pool? Good question. Green field dog run complete, amble over to Craig Street and enjoy the shade of some old oaks while you look at what was once a house. The place was demolished last year and lies empty, reclaimed by nature.

A parable for our declining civilization? Perhaps, but don't get too excited, people are moving here from Dallas, Alberta and California because property's still comparatively cheap, which means it won't be in a year or so. Still, reflect on this: Our town numbered some 20,000 souls well into the 1950s, it's around a third of that now. Sic transit, eh? Don't say ancient Rome.

EL SENOR

In other news, El Senor scored a major PR victory in his war against war; behold all those European, vassals leaders, sitting in the Office. Will it bring peace? Dunno, above my pay grade, but a reverse Kissinger alliance with Russia against China would be interesting, don't you think? And let's get back all those billions we've spent on Biden's war at taxpayer expense.

That in mind, sorry UK, better get in line and while you're at it, stop putting people in prison for Wrong Think, you Stasi mountebanks.

Cheers,

LSP

Coronation And Deadly Folly

What a scene, Napoleon, self-crowned and proclaimed leader of all the world crowns his Empress Josephine, resplendent in diamonds as the powers of the Church look on, scowling at the blasphemy of the thing. Triomphe! for the Corsican upstart and his Consort. Lesueur captures the moment, with pre-industrial grandeur:

Triumph indeed, but hubris met nemesis in the Iron Duke, Wellington, who put paid to Boney's scheme of a new world order with himself in charge, smashing the upstart at Waterloo. It's said that clubland in St. James was awakened to the fact of allied victory in 1815 by parades of jubilant people carrying captured French Eagles.

So much for Boney. Wellington stated, laconically, "They came on in the same old way and we beat them back, in the same old way." You can imagine the 50,000 casualties on the field of battle. Here's the Duke in older and seemingly kinder visage:

Josephine Bonaparte died in 1814, a year before her beloved husband met disaster at Waterloo.

Sic transit,

LSP

Sic Transit

 

You'll note Imperial Ladies aloft. Regardless, the Corsican Upstart ended his days on an island in the South Atlantic, his vaunted Grande  Armée smashed and defeated at Waterloo. So much for Boney.

His beautiful and gorgeous Empress Josephine died in 1814, a year before her philandering, adulterous Emperor was utterly and irrevocably defeated by the Iron Duke. Her last words, allegedly spoken through black and rotting teeth were, "Bonaparte … Elba … the King of Rome."

There is, if you care to draw it, a moral in this tale,

LSP