Walkabout

 

Thanks to Hurricane Beryl crashing into our eastern shore it's unseasonably, blissfully cool here, only in the 80s. This is rare, remember, it's July, in Texas. Had someone bothered to do their duty to fragile planet earth and paid their carbon tax, had they obeyed the Pope himself? Perhaps, and I took advantage of this welcome lull in the War on Weather to stroll over to the square and from there to the supermarket.

Yes, we still have one, Brookshires, right in the center of this erstwhile cotton town which once numbered some 20,000 souls. It's now less than half that because we sent our cotton industry overseas to make moar money. But hold on. Not very far from me, on the way to the Pick 'n Steal Shamrock filling station, there's a house for sale.

It's been "done up" and looks pretty good, about the same age as mine but without the upper story. So there I was, strolling along the bucolic boulevard that is Franklin on my way to get coffee at the PNS, all the while admiring the refurb of this house. 

"Nice job on the house," I say to the woman hosing down a newly laid concrete walkway to the front porch. She's wearing a faded Billy Joel tour T shirt, which I recognize, dating us both, and she recognizes me, after all, I walk this path daily. So it's all very sunny hello. "So what's the price on the house?" I ask, genuinely curious, "They're asking 329k" she replies.

Like, wow. 329k for a pre-WWI bungalow with a single room attic upper story. Maybe, dear readers, I've misjudged the prosperity of our little town. And go figure, the same set up would be twice that in in Dallas, which is only an hour away in slow traffic. That in mind, why are there still so many vacant and semi-abandoned properties in the center of town?

Surely it'd make sense to convert these into places to live and restore civic life to the center of this place. Maybe you can picture it, a town square with shops and restaurants, with life as opposed to asset-stripped dereliction, and all watched over by our Confederate War Memorial, a stern and stoic soldier cast in stone. 

Compound

To be fair, some people are working towards this not inconsiderable goal, and good for them. Of course they're hoping to make a lot of money off the project, and I hope they do, but it's a bit of gamble. Will Dallas cash move south down I35 to LSPland? It is so far, in a small way. That in mind, where will the people who can't afford nearly half a million bucks to live in a bungalow actually live? Serious question.

Reverie over, I arrived back at the Compound from this latest recce patrol and all was well, the place still standing. We must thank God for his blessings.

Salve,

LSP

STORMY

 

You know what it's like. Sometimes invoices get lost and, dammit, your fair share of the Carbon Tax doesn't get paid. Totally understandable, but look what happens, a ferocious storm rolls in from the North as our Old Enemy, the Weather, changes. That's your cue to get on the front porch and dare the Weather to do its worst as lightning cracks and rain sheets down. Not unlike Ahab or King Lear, when you think about it. 

So there you are, wondering if this small slice of rural heaven, much less the Compound itself, will withstand and live through the deluge, arklike, when news comes in that a sham stasi show trial in New York has delivered a guilty verdict against President Trump. Huh, let's see how that brazen skulduggery plays out in the polls.

Note Upper Lip Stud

In related news, yesterday marked the anniversary of the fall of Constantinople in 1453, when Moslem Janissaries poured over the Theodosian walls. What a hideous moment for Christendom, what a triumph for the moon worshiping death cult. Emperor Constantine XI addressed the soldiery before he died in the fighting:

Most noble leaders, illustrious tribunes, generals, most courageous fellow soldiers and all loyal honest citizens! You know well that the hour has come: the enemy of our faith wishes to oppress us even more closely by sea and land with all his engines and skill to attack us with the entire strength of this siege force, as a snake about to spew its venom; he is in a hurry to devour us, like a savage lion. For this reason I am imploring you to fight like men with brave souls, as you have done from the beginning up to this day, against the enemy of our faith. I hand over to you my glorious, famous, respected, noble city, the shining Queen of Cities, our homeland. You know well, my brothers, that we have four obligations in common, which force us to prefer death over survival: first our faith and piety; second our homeland; third, the emperor anointed by the Lord, and fourth; our relatives and friends.

 

You can read the whole speech here as you work towards retaking the second Rome. After all, we need the Bosphorus.

Stormy,

LSP

BLISS

 

If you live in, say, Wales, Scotland or anywhere else in the UK you might get a bit fed up with rain, "Oh, look, it's raining again, like it always does." True enough, but here in Texas it's a whole different story, we want rain. And sure enough we got some, for two days running. What bliss.

After Morning Prayer on the porch it seemed good to go for a stroll in the deluge, and deluge it was as thunder rolled, dark, low clouds blew in from the West and rain crashed down from the sky. And there I was, grinning under an umbrella on the way to the Pick 'n Steal as day turned to night. 

Typical London Street Scene

The women at the PnS were caught up in the apocalyptic excitement of the thing too, fast-talking Mexican while they made up breakfast burritos on the sizzling griddle of the shop. It was like a party in there, all thanks to the rain, and I loved it.

I would have loved one of those burritos too, cheap and delicious, but settled for coffee in an RTIC 20 oz tumbler, which does the same thing as its Yeti equivalent for a fraction of the price, and headed back to the Compound. In the rain. Beautiful.

The skywater's stopped for now and humming birds hover about trumpet vine while swarms of iridescent green June Bugs fly low over the ground, and all is well. Our Weather Shamans tell us there'll be more rain tomorrow and this too is good.

Wake of the Flood,

LSP

IT RAINED

 

We certainly live in an age of miracle and wonder, it rained yesterday evening. One minute a blazing hot sun in a clear blue sky and the next, dark clouds rolling in from the West. There they were, overhead, above the Compound, but would it actually rain or was this some kind of cruel joke.

No, it was not a joke. Slow, fat, drops began to fall from the sky as the temperature went right down and then more, faster. Not with the full fury of a Texan storm but not bad either, so I went out onto the front porch to behold the sheer bliss of the thing. Rain. Beautiful.

typical Texas street scene

Then, all too soon, the rain stopped, but I'm not complaining, everything cooled right down. Let's see more of this climate change.

Happily,

LSP

Would You Go To A Pop Festival?

 

when there's no more room in hell the dead shall walk the earth

The phone rang, "Hey, gotta minute?" Yes, it was Canada and I replied, "Sure, but only a minute or two because I have to drive out to the lake and say Mass. That's if I don't melt first, the cab's maybe 120*." 

Typical DLC Campaign Tent

My Northern cohort thought about this for a moment, "That's hideous. Turn on the engine and AC, have a smoke and let it cool down, try that." I did, and Alberta continued, "Here's what's happening, the kids are going to Shambhala, it's like Burning Man but maybe worse, so I'm babysitting." 

Some of the boys

The cab cooled and I replied, "You'd have to pay me a whole lotta cash to go to a place like that." Yes, of course, and now it's over to you, the reader. 

Coronation Chicken please, and Pimms

Would you go to a pop festival and if so, how? Here at DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry) HQ we feel it'd have to involve a small fleet of flatbeds, a powerful sound system  playing uplifting Imperial music, Curzon style, and several tents, to say nothing of staff. 

But that's us. As ever, your call,

LSP

A New Dog

 

The operation got on the road to Burleson on Monday to take care of business. And so, to pass I35W time, I crunched the numbers and discovered that I was, bizarrely, 58 on that very same day. Here's the complex math: 2023-1965 = x. Tricky, isn't it, and hint, 59 ≠ x.

I know, that's pretty racist but there you have it, mathematics. Bottom line accountancy satisfied, business concluded to mutual benefit, Thai curry consumed, yum, and it was back on the road to the Compound where...

There was a dog on the porch and a grinning soldier. "Happy birthday, dad. We interviewed a number of dogs and figured this one was best. Look, he's part Ridgeback, and you love Rhodesia. He doesn't even bark."

Moving, eh? The kid had gone off to the pound and found a dog for his dad, with attention to breed(s) and demeanor. Well, there it is, the Compound has a new rescue dog and he's a good boy, part Ridgeback, part Heeler, part something else, maybe Lab and/or Pyrenees?

Regardless, what shall we call him? The  pound called him "Chester," which obviously won't do. Perhaps Rhodie? But hey, all suggestions welcome.

Hope you're having big fun today as we celebrate our freedom.

Green Leader,

LSP

Changes

 

typical Texas street scene

Changes, I won't link to the Bowie song, but that's what this small aspect of rural North Central Texas is all about. Yep, changes. For example, the hideous yellow Queen Anne house is no longer yellow, its siding's been ripped off and new and remarkably ugly plastic windows face the public from its historic visage. 

why is this even called "Queen Anne"?

Hey, maybe this is better than the crack house it's been for the last 15 years, likewise our old favorite, the Meth Shack. Alas, the Meth Shack's no longer home to tack-heads in their underwear, wife beaters and pajama bottoms lolling around onna porch with lotto tickets and heads fulla meth.

Meth Shack

No, it's been bought by Jose, who's fixing the place up, well done. But who will buy the Disciples of Christ? Good question, ask the realtor; I liked that little congregation and it's sad to see it go down. But what can we say, so many little conventicles within a several block radius, all of them in competition.

for sale, alas

I tell you, if this town had been set up by Christians its central monument and focus would have been a collegiate church, surrounded by cafes, restaurants, fountains, gun shops, bakers, Confederate monuments and everything civilized. But no, we put up a courthouse.  There, in the very center of town lies a monument to secularism. Reflect, drill down on such wickedness.

pick 'n steal

Too harsh? Perhaps, but even so, it speaks to the hierarchy of Law and Faith in our country. The former clearly pulls rank on the latter. Westphalia aside, look at the result, Faith is trampled on by secular Law.

the Compound

But not at the Compound, and some things don't change. The Pick 'n Steal stands steady in the ferocious crosswinds of our present culture war and so does the Manse. Yes, accidents may very well change but substance remains the same.

It's raining now, a storm's blown in, we thank God for that.

Your Friend,

LSP

Happy Independence Day!

 

Have a great day with family and friends as we celebrate our freedom from British tyranny. You can imagine what that'd look like now, a Whitehall mandated rainbow flag on every corner and don't you dare disagree, serf, or you'll go to gaol for Hate Thought like the brazen transphobic Nazi you are. 

In the meanwhile, London bureaucrats would be sending billions of your tax Dollars Pounds to fund literal Nazis in Eastern Europe. For moneylaundering freedom and the Liberal World Order.

What a terrifying vision! Thank God we fought against such perfidious despotism and won, but you know the saying, "A Republic if you can keep it." That in mind, the flag of Liberty flies high at the Compound and burgers are about to hit the grill.

Cheers,

LSP

War On

 

A war rages at the Compound. The protagonists?

An exotic duck.

And a ferocious dog, seeking whom he may devour.

You see, what happens here is that the duck flies over the perimeter in search of food and Blue Terminator doesn't take that lying down. No, he advances to contact, slowly, because he's blind. Meanwhile the duck continues, oblivious, until the last moment and then flies away.

Make of this problem farm parable what you will.

Rus in Urbe,

LSP

Fixing Up The Compound

I won't deny it, having a Compound's awesome but here's the thing, if it's made of painted wood it has to be maintained. Otherwise, let implacable logic show, the paint peels off, the wood rots and the whole mighty edifice of the thing falls down.

A Typical Detroit Street Scene

Sure, ruins are nostalgic, melancholy tributes to past greatness and have their value, no doubt about it but you can't live in them. Unless it's Detroit, which is different.

Rig & Porch

With that in mind, we got the place repainted and the job's almost done but there's a glitch. A load bearing beam under the front porch has been eaten away by ants or termites and must be replaced. It's a problem here in Texas.

Nearly There

And it'll take a while because of our crew's work schedule. Well, the beast won't fall down in the next month or so and there it is. An historic Texan home saved from becoming an historic Texas ruin.

Speaking of ruin, there's a lot of yard signs everywhere announcing "Beto." What the devil's a "Beto", some kind of sandwich?

Looking forward to Opening Day,

LSP

More Good Friday

We were relaxing on the compound's porch after the second liturgy of the day when a dog turned up, stumbling over her legs and acting pretty much like a puppy.

Long story short, the dog stayed. She's called called Good Friday or Friday for short and gets on well with Blue Alpha. They guard the compound as a canine team.

Where did Friday come from? Good question and I'm guessing some dreamers let her loose when the meth lab blew up or maybe Camera Hogg scared her into the compound's safe space, who knows.

Regardless, we're not complaining. The cadet's announced, "Blue's your dog, Friday's my dog," and that's fine by me, they're good for each other.

Friday's playing on the porch now with a piece of knotted rope while Blue Pack Leader casts a watchful eye. It's apparent that the compound has become a dog sanctuary, to the confutation of liberals, gun haters, globalists and NWO Illuminati shills everywhere.

God bless,

LSP

The Cooling Hand Of God

Keen-eyed readers of this family oriented mind blog will know that Russian agents masquerading as climate activists hacked the Compound's HVAC, just when the Weather climbed to triple digit intensity. Disaster? Yes.

Getting Hot at The Compound

"LSP, if that's your real name, which I'm beginning to doubt," stated one expiring art philosopher, "Sort. It. Out." Fully aware of the gravity of the situation, I got on the 'phone to a church elder.

"The AC's down and the mission's looking shaky."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pray, pray hard that the unit returns to life."

"I'm on it."

Blue HVAC

Within 30 minutes the prayer was answered, malware removed and cool, refreshing air circulating through the house. Thank God.

A Typical Buenos Aires Club Scene

In other religious news, evidence has emerged that Pope Francis worked as a Buenos Aires bouncer. Whether Archbishop Justsin Welby, leader of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC) was "on the list" is presently undetermined.

Stay tuned,

LSP

Out of Jail

It took a while but Blue Perpetrator finally got out of jail. In fact, the town's Animal Police Department (APD) dropped him off at the Compound yesterday morning. Thanks, APD, 'preciate it.

It must have felt good to be out of the cells and Blue Freedom leaped and bounded for joy on the porch before heading inside. 

He'd paid his debt and done his time, now he was enjoying the sweet air of freedom. We tested that this morning with a walk to the Pick 'n Steal. Would he nip at anyone's heels in a fit of overprotective loyalty?

No, he did not. He even ignored the bearded hipster in a ball cap and ironic shirt that went into the shop to buy whatever it is hipsters buy, "Sorry, fella, there's no artisanal coffee here in repurposed jute tumblers, and watch out for the dog."

Well done, Blue Jailbreak. Now you are free. In other exciting news, Compound HQ's about to get a repaint. About time!

God bless,

LSP

Deep in The Heart of Texas

Well, deep in Texas, anyway, trying to break the summer Bass code. To help us in this, we launched an old V-Hull into the Big Pond, the objective being to get into the center of the lake and fish in deeper, colder waters.

At first all went well. The trolling motor worked, the wind was was at our backs and the going was easy. Shad, like miniature dolphins, schooled and leaped all around us. Good news, where the Shad leap, there bite the Bass. So goes fishing wisdom.

Then disaster struck. The battery wound down and the relentless current, driven by a fierce Texan wind, swept us to the far bank. Nothing for it but to row back, as opposed to actually fishing.

What was learned? There is a spot, in the middle of the pond, where there's a superabundance of Shad. Get there and fish appropriately and chances are you'll catch Leviathan Bass. Also, get a working battery and an anchor. Proper preparation prevents...

Then it was time to head back to the Compound, in the golden light of a setting sun. And there's nothing wrong with that, at all.

TEXIT,

LSP