Time Travel

 

Do you remember the days when we were able to afford meat? Yes, actual meat which we cooked on carbon footprint grills. Perhaps you recall that halcyon time and here at Dallas HQ we dialed back the clock last night to relive them.

After a brief dimensional shudder, a rip in the fabric of space and time, there it was, a grill with two New York strips sizzling above the charcoal.

Quick! Grill those bad boys before the Rainbow Time Cops bust down your door like so many SWAT teams ransacking Mar-a-Lago. Then let those steaks rest as you consider the future you've just escaped, a crazy timeline where America's run by a power mad gerontocracy, the Uniparty.

Can the future be changed by going back in time? And if so, where do we start? Perhaps with General Lee winning the War or Archduke Ferdinand's assassin apprehended before he took the fatal shot which set the end of Western civ in motion. But why stop there.

Portal through to the 11th C, stop the Eastern Schism, perhaps a saint speaks sense, turn the 1st Crusade into an allied operation against the Moslem horde and... Asia Minor would still be Christian, to say nothing of the Bosphorus. 

βασιλική Ἄννα Κομνηνή, Princess Anna Comena would rejoice.

Xαῖρε,

LSP

Grilling is Great

 

While everyone's cleaning weapons, loading mags and running blockades into California, I took time off to fire up the grill. That's right, a charcoal-fired Weber. Objective? Delicious chicken. Here's one way to do it.

Brush chicken thighs with olive oil and salt and cracked pepper. Or, if you want, some kind of dry rub. I wasn't going to go down the rub route, preferring the elegant simplicity of oil, salt and pepper, but that changed. Adventure began and on went the rub. But hey, that's just me, there's no rule.

Then, and UK readers take note, apply the thighs to direct heat for a sear, about two minutes a side, and then remove to indirect heat for around forty minutes with the lid on the grill. Again, UK, pay attention, indirect heat. This means heaping your coals to one side of the grill (direct heat) and leaving the other side empty (indirect heat). Picture it, Brits, one half of the grill is super hot, the other half isn't, more like an oven.

This established, remove the seared thighs to indirect heat, cover the grill and let the whole thing sit for around forty minutes. At the end of which, remove the thighs, transfer to a plate, rest for a five minutes and then...

Fall on your scoff like a warrior,

LSP

Just Grilling And Cleaning Guns

Hybrid

After a hard day's editing the genius of North American Christendom, whaddya do? Simple. Fire up the grill, clean some guns.

And congratulate Kayleigh on her top-level lyin' media smackdown this afternoon. Good work, Press Secretary. While we're at it, let's give it up for Texas' Lieutenant Governor who promptly stepped up to the plate for a hairdresser who was jailed and fined because she wouldn't say sorry to an Obama judge. Her crime?

Same Old Grill

Opening up her salon to feed family and workers. 7 days in jail and a 7k fine to boot for that egregious offense. Thanks, LG, for covering the fine and offering to do the time on Shelley's behalf. Well done, too, everyone who's contributed over 100k to her cause.

Speaking of "lockdowns," have you noticed Pandemic Boffin Nial Ferguson, scientific architect of the UK's quarantine order, was caught sneaking out of shutdown to tryst with his married leftist mistress? 

Look, a Cross. Imagine That Under a Killery Admin. You Can't? Quite.

I don't judge but it's odd, isn't it, how there's one law for our elite and another for everyone else. Like the lesbian Mayor of Chicago, who, against all evidence, went to a hairdresser despite ordering everyone else not to, with the threat of gaol.

Prowling The Eschaton

What's the saying, all animals are created equal but some are more equal than others?

Floreat Etona,

LSP

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,

LSP

Steak Thief

I grilled up some steaks last night; they were very tasty. My dog thought so, too.

I wasn't very happy about that, unlike Blue Steak Thief, who was.

That is all.

LSP

Monday Shoot

Empowered by a box of rare-as-you-like .22LR I drove to the range for some iron sights, off-hand plinking. First things first, shoot the miniature Dr. Pepper cans off the butts. It's fun when they explode, obviously, and I had their measure at around 50-70 yards. Then the Old Adversary, a steel plate turkey, which got a right telling off at 100 yards. Take that, turkey, and I like being able to hear the round connect. Plink. 

The Range

Then it was time for some AR fun and I practiced three round groups at 30, 50, 75 and 100 yards. Shot well at 30, unsurprisingly, and not badly at 50 -- pretty much 9/10 ring with a couple of Xs. Things spread out a bit at 75 and more so at 100 yards, obviously have to work at that. But what's the point, apart from getting out in the country, enjoying firearms and improving marksmanship skills?

Spurious Random Weber Shot

Imagine you're scouting along a trail, maybe through brush or mesquite, perhaps along a creek or a treeline, and there, all of a sudden, is your target. Maybe it's a coyote, or a hog, or a rabbit, and you have to take the shot. There's no time to rest on a truck, or on some kind of bench, or get prone, or whatever, so you have to shoot, standing up, fast and accurate (enough).

What?

A lot of people can't do that, especially with with iron sights (what if your scope breaks, eh?) and I think that's a mistake; surely it's part of basic skill-at-arms, and let's not forget, very satisfying to see the quarry go down. Not that I'm a particularly great shot or hunter, but still.

Shoot on,

LSP

Ice Storm Mayhem. Day 2

There you go, shoot the ice off the Weber

This town is in the grip of Day Two of Winter Storm 2013, as ice-blind, directionless gangs of migrant farm workers run through the streets, looting, burning, cock fighting and gambling. Just to keep warm.

Just in case

Others are inside, cleaning guns, loading magazines, inventorying food supplies, and throwing last year's broken furniture on the fire.

It's all fun and games till the grid goes down, my friend.

I stand ready to bury the dead.

Forewarned is Forearmed.

That is all.

Horse & Steak

Back in Texas, which means horses -- mine appears to have regressed and now thinks she doesn't have to be ridden -- and steak. The latter's alright, but how to fix the former? Much more riding, daily if possible, and lots of patience. Well worth it, as the offending quadruped's a joy when she's going well -- very fast, powerful and smooth in her gaits. When she's being difficult... different story altogether, but whoever said life'd be easy?

Viz. steak -- I prefer a charcoal Weber, after using a propane thing in Canada. Regardless, dove season's right round the corner and with it the opportunity for some mixed grill and a chance against the avian acrobats.

On a different theme, two Metroplex lesbians tried to enroll their daughter at St. Vincent's Cathedral School in the diocese of Fort Worth, only to be rejected. Now, like it or not, diocesan policy is pretty clear about its trad stance on sexual ethics and St. Vincent's reflects that in its teaching. So why would two people try to enroll their child in a school that's openly against their lifestyle? Surely Jill and Tracey Harrison weren't trying to use their child to make some sort of political capital? I mean, its not as though two people who made the effort to go to Canada in 2006 and get married might be lesbian activists, or anything like that.

Just a thought.

Cheers,

LSP