Showing posts with label steak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label steak. Show all posts

Monday, August 3, 2020

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,


Friday, May 24, 2019

Proper Little Blast Off

It seemed right to go for a shoot today, so that's what we did. Loaded a 12 and a 20 into the rig along with a .22 plinker, and headed to the range via the Walmart ammo depot.

A Plinker

The kid hadn't shot in a year and wondered if he'd hit anything. My apothatic advice was, "Put the bead on the clay and shoot." Which he did and successfully smoked the clays like they were going out of fashion.

A Gun

Take that, misnomered "White Flyer." And again, the easy to shoot CZ SxS 20 was the gun of choice over the clunky 12. Still, pump action's fun enough, if only for being illegal in once great nations because criminals obey gun laws.

A Boy

A couple of value packs of 12 and 20 later and two boxes of clays sent to skeet heaven, we fell back to some plinking and shot plates, shotgun shells and assorted range debris 'til it was time to head home.

A Grill

And that was that, big shotgunnery fun. In other news, Theresa May's abdicated like the low-level, failed, Eurocrat, elite, NWO globalist she is, and Trump's pulled the Declass trigger. Let the dice fall.

Your Pal,


Thursday, January 17, 2019

You're Grounded!

Nancy Pelosi and assorted Democrats were all set to fly to Europe, Egypt and Afghanistan on the taxpayer dime today when President Trump pulled the plug on their junket and canceled the flight.

Picture the sound and the fury and the dismal letdown as disappointed Dems got off the bus into the dreary chill of winter DC. Not for these millionaire socialists the swinging hotspots of Brussels, Asia Minor and beyond. 

No, if they wanted to visit Afghanistan and the rest they could do so, but not at taxpayer expense, they'd have to "fly commercial." Trump said as much in his letter to Pelosi, here it is:

The letter and subsequent grounding follows Pelosi's childish refusal on Wednesday to invite the President to deliver the State of the Union Address to Congress, because "security."

Leaving aside the various options this gives Trump to address the nation on border security and the ongoing FISA/Coup malfeasance of the Democrats, this latest episode elevates Trump to the level of BOSS.

One day it's Big Macs stacked mile high in the White House, the next it's cancelling Nancy's flight. It's like 4Chan on a diet of steak in the Oval Office, epic trolling. And guess what, lib heads are exploding all 'round the planet.

Well done, Mr. President,


Saturday, August 11, 2018

Dalek Interlude

I've been in the land of the Houston Dalek, which is always awesome. 

There he is, the Dalek, beaming his beneficent light on the Maseratis, Porsches and McClarens of the Inner Loop. And motorcycles too, which like to race up and down Westheimer like ratcheting hornets. Stay on the bike, kids.

Normal programming to resume shortly.

God bless,


Wednesday, August 23, 2017

The Great Nazigasm Of 2017

It was a beautiful, stirring vision. America, by 2017, was going to be a rainbow-hued, sushi-eating transutopia, all under the beneficent gaze of the country's first ever woman President, Hillary herself. Like Sweden but better and bigger. Then disaster struck, the nation elected a man who put ketchup on his steak and lived in a golden tower.

Staring in thwarted infantile agony at their field of shattered dreams, libs everywhere fell into an irrational, hysterical frenzy. Someone or something, anything but themselves, had to be at fault and there it was, Russia! Putin hacked the election, putting a Kremlin spy into the White House but Russia frenzy could only last so long under the burden of no proof whatsoever. 

That sad little unicorn wasn't going to fly despite the best efforts of Blitzer, Maddow, Waters & Co; something else was needed. And lo and behold, boom! Nazism. It was Hitler's fault!

Hitler made Donald Trump a Nazi. And we know this because Trump doesn't think statues of Confederate generals should be smashed but does think that Nazi racists and Anarcho-Marxist revolutionaries are both wrong. That's pretty National Socialist, eh? And we've always known that General Lee was a time-travelling member of the Waffen SS. Columbus, Washington, Jefferson? The Constitution? All Nazi.

The police? Nazis. Gender binary bathrooms? Nazi. Freedom of speech? Nazi. Having a border? Very Nazi. Small government and lower taxes? Disgustingly Nazi. Saying no to Islamic terror? Yes, hideously Nazi.

Perhaps you don't think that makes much sense, that it's the kind of thing someone suffering from dropped-on-head-as-infant syndrome might believe. Well then, racist, you're a Nazi  and maybe you need to change your name to Martin Bormann and stop being such a Gauleiter.

In fact, everyone who isn't a Democrat and a member of Antifa is a Nazi. And that's just the way it is in the great Nazigasm of 2017.

Let's see how long this fit of infantile rage lasts.


Sunday, May 28, 2017

Russians Hack Memorial Weekend!

It's raining here in Texas because President Trump G6'd the G7 climate deal, allowing the Russians to hack the weather and ruin everyone's Memorial Day weekend.

Sources claim that a top-level White House insider spoke with Russian ambassador, Sergey Kislyak, opening up a special back passage which allowed the Kremlin to hack the weather, causing it to rain. The Kremlin hack, code named Soggy Bear, disrupted millions of Americans' cookouts.

President Trump unleashed a tweetstorm, accusing US media of promoting "fake news" in an attempt to get Hillary Clinton, but then went on to prove Russian collusion by addressing US troops in Italy, chanting "USA, USA!" 

Trump's display of traitorous sentiment at the close of his first foreign trip caused MSNBC's popular transsexual journalist, "Rachel" Maddow to call for the President's impeachment.

Here at the compound we're firing up the grill, despite our enemy, the Weather. Rumours of visiting Spetsnaz and Bear Cavalry officers are entirely without foundation.

God bless America.


Saturday, May 20, 2017

Trump Shakes, Like A Boss

When he's not busy being a Russian spy, President Trump's in Saudi Arabia with his glamorous wife, eating steak, cutting billion dollar deals and guess what?

Bowing Lackey

Not bowing. That's right, Trump doesn't bow to the House of Saud, like a craven poltroon or some kind of lackey. No, he shakes hands with the King like a Boss.

Like a Boss

Some say that's a refreshing change. In the meanwhile, pass the steak and let's have some ketchup, while we're at it.



Thursday, January 12, 2017

MAGA Shines Upon Texas

The MAGA Light shines brightly in Texas, perhaps because Rick "He May Be A Fool But He's Our Fool" Perry is the nation's new Energy Secretary. Well, there was plenty of energy spilling out of the heavens on the way to Mass this evening.

And there was steak, which is cheap and plentiful in Trump's America. I mean for goodness sake, you can buy a solid Threeper for $15 at the commissary.

MAGA At Every Level

I like Strips, seared in heavy metal, brought to heat in a 400* oven and served with whatever. Maybe vegetables, maybe not. Some, most, would call that winning. Unless they're Austin vegans who live off tofu, bark, nuts and other people's money.

Austin Hippies Goofing Off

They scorn the MAGA Light, like Soros, who lost a billion big ones after the election. Bad luck, George, you lose, Trump wins.

Hangin' At The Tower

In other news, Le Pen was seen in the Golden Tower. Who knows, maybe France will become great again, too.

Ban the Burqa,


Wednesday, November 30, 2016

It's Bushcraft Wednesday!

Bushcraft is about survival, yes, survival in the wild. It's about going it alone without the convenience of supermarkets and all the so-called benefits of cubicle culture in the metrosprawl. 

But just because you're out in the field like a sovereign and far away from overprieced fancified restaurants, doesn't mean you can't eat and eat well. In Trump's America this means eating steak, which is now cheap, large and plentiful. So how to do that out in the bush?

Here at the Compound we hope you find this short infovideo as helpful as we do, and don't hang around. Get out there with your 30-30 bush rifle, hunker down at the pit and sort out the T Bone!



Friday, November 25, 2016

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,


Thursday, May 12, 2016

The Wisdom of Dogs

I asked Blue Philosopher if the recent trans fad and the bathroom wars are just a proxy for the wider liberal project of radical self- autonomy, and with it the deconstruction of all external, objective, "given" value. Right down to biological gender and the family itself. "Are they nihilsts?" I concluded, gesticulating wildly, "Mad bomb throwers of the Rainbow Anti-God?!?"

Blue Socrates signaled his wise agreement by saying nothing at all and staring fixedly at the kitchen, which had been the scene of some serious iron skillet steak action.

In other news, the Fort Worth ISD has gone trans, but that's another story again.

Watch out for the Unicorn and its vicious, thudding little hooves,


Saturday, February 6, 2016

Shoot The Turkey

It's a sad fact of life that in this vale of tears we have enemies. My enemy is an ancient steel turkey and I took some time off from visiting the sick to take care of unfinished business.

We faced off at 100 yards, just me, the metal bird and a Ruger American .22. To be honest, I had an ulterior motive. Viz. To improve the recent abysmal standard of my off-hand shooting. So I shot away and while my marksmanship was nothing to write home about, it wasn't too bad either. Take that, turkey.

After a string of satisfying plinks as the .22 rounds hit the bird, I shifted to clays at 50, 75 and 100 yards. A bit more of a challenge than the turk and it's neat to see them shatter when you hit them. A couple of aggressive tin cans found themselves in trouble too. Breath, squeeze the trigger and watch the can fly up in the air. Neat.

Shoot over, I headed back to the Compound and the prospect of large steaks for dinner. There's nothing quite like doing your best to break personal stereotypes, I always think.

Your Old Pal,