Muslim Cooks Off in Texas. Gets Shot

Mohammad Moghaddam went Jihad in an Amarillo Walmart and got himself shot.

Here endeth the Lesson.

LSP

Sorry, Globalist Elites, You Lose

I know, you're sitting there inside the Beltway, drinking a Gimlet in the club chair while a servant polishes your tasseled loafers, and you're thinking, "So what, LSP, if you caught some ridiculous bait fish?" 

The Team's on Point

Good question, and here's the answer. It's true, I may have been holding down the Compound and getting in some down-and-dirty-by-the-dam fishing, but that doesn't mean the Team hasn't been busy elsewhere.

Sorry, Elites. You Lose

And look here, all you Ivy League, gravy train elitists, a fish is a fish. Especially when they're a Redfish. So don't scorn the Team.

Tight Lines,

LSP

Fishing Frenzy

It was like fishing for Hillary Clinton's lies, just throw a lure in the water and pull one out. Seriously, there were times this afternoon when I couldn't cast fast enough.

Lake Whitney dam was releasing water into the Brazos and the fishing pier was unexpectedly deserted, so I set up right at the side of the dam in the face of the churning current. That alone was exciting, watching the elemental force of the water, and then there were the fish.

Bass after Bass struck and struck hard at a small silver spoon. They were chasing shad and I fished with the current, which took the spoon and the baitfish to where the predators were waiting in ambush. The idea being to get your lure to where the fish were feeding.

That was the theory and it worked, though to be honest it was hard to miss, fishing science regardless. Anyway, I stopped counting after some 20 Hybrids/Sand Bass were reeled in, which is a lot of fish for me. But that wasn't all.

Black Drum?

Somewhere in midstream I got a fierce bite, it felt like something more than the ubiquitous Hybrids and sure enough it was. After about 5 minutes of aggressive to and fro, don't lose that fish LSP!, up came a very respectable Striper. A big fish, and then, right at the point of taking a trophy picture, I dropped the ferocious creature and off it swam into the surging depths.

A couple of Black Drum(?) came in too. Large fish with plenty of go and neat to catch on a light rod. Perhaps I should have kept them to eat, but they lived to fight again another day. And that, readers, was that.

There She Lies

As I write this deep-thinking philisophical fishing post, the fish are still there, and so are Hillary's lies. Rest assured that the fight isn't over.

Tight lines,

LSP

Muslim Kills French Cop, Eiffel Tower Lights up Like Rainbow

It seems the Jihad wastes no time. Hot on the heels of the Florida massacre, an ISIS soldier killed a Deputy Police Chief and his wife outside of Paris. The couple were stabbed to death with a knife, as the killer shouted Allahu Akbar.

Aloha Snackbar, ISIS Quakes

ISIS, which is mysteriously Islamic but not Muslim, has claimed responsibility for the knifing. That's obviously a charade. Everyone knows the Christians and the NRA did it. 

A Laughing Muslim With a Slave

In the meanwhile, Paris has lit up the world famous Eiffel Tower like a rainbow. That'll stop the Jihad, eh? Who knows, maybe the Muslim terrorists who aren't Muslims will die laughing. Or not.

ISIS laughs,

LSP

Well That Didn't Take Long

Via ZeroHedge:

Yes, there is a war between religious fundamentalism and the spirit of love and tolerance. But we progressives here in America still labor under the delusion that the religion we need to combat is Christianity. But that's a strawman opponent, and has been so for decades. Since the 1990s, Christian extremists have essentially lost all their power, and are now toothless nonplayers in the "culture wars." Meanwhile, Muslim extremists, with guns, murder us, and on the left our only response is to bleat about "Islamophobia" and jump through hoops trying to explain away the self-evident religious motivation for the killings.

Oh sure, all year I've been playing the "Bernie or Hillary?" game with all the other default-Democrats in my social and professional circles. But this is no longer some kind of game. Our lives are on the line. Although I voted for Hillary in the primary, I now cringe inwardly with shame and embarrassment at having done so, and in November I will vote for Trump.

Who knows, maybe the Unicorn's landed, or begun its descent. 

LSP 

ISIS Laughs, Gays Die

ISIS soldier, 29 year old Omar Mateen, was laughing as he gunned down 50 partyers at a gay Florida nightclub, making this the most deadly terrorist attack on American soil since 9/11. But perhaps things aren't as straightforward as they seem. Who really committed the crime? Let's investigate.

Let us Ponder This Mystery

It obviously wasn't the gays, after all, they're the victims, and it can't have been a Muslim because Islam, as everyone knows, is a Religion of Peace. Nonetheless, a heinous, bloody massacre did take place and if it wasn't carried out by Muslims or gays, who or what did it?

Muslims Throw Gay Off Building

Wise President Obama and Hollywood's millionaire socialist celebrities have supplied the answer, they've solved the crime. A gun did it. An evil, hate-filled gun and its friends, the NRA and its conservative Christian supporters. They're the ones to blame for this atrocity. Yes, Christians and the NRA.

ISIS Laughs

Expect support for Trump to surge along with firearms sales and concealed carry applications. In the meanwhile...

ISIS laughs.

LSP

Florida Jihad

Via Sipsey Street Irregulars.

LSP

Texas Crazy Rain

One of the things the team looks forward to after Sunday Mass is fishing, and not just any old fishing. No, we like to go to a secret location somewhere in Texas and catch enormous, absurdly large, leviathan size Bass on light rods. Just a whole lot of fun.

That plan didn't work out because of the threat of rain and because one of the team decided to go fishing in Venice instead, which is ironic, given that the place is flooded. So I went down another route, and drove to Lake Aquilla.

Not a bad option. As the storm was coming in, thunderclouds looming, boats were pulling into the ramp and the scene was soon deserted. Just me, the still-before-the-storm water, distant lighting flickering across the sky and the pleasure of trying to lure a Bass onto an enticing topwater spook.

Thrash! One of the fierce predators was lurking right near the bank and attacked the lure at the end of my retrieve. A good fight with a decent Widemouth, who lived to fight again another day. There were a few more close calls, with a small school of fish surging up and out of the water around the spook, but no strike. Still, even that was action, and action against the dramatic backdrop of the lake.

It's a new lake, like most in Texas, and before its creeks were dammed, an archeological survey was done on the soon to be flooded area and what became the lake shore. There were any number of Indian campsites and small settlements, some of them dating from the not so distant past. They'd be hard to recognize if you're not an expert; mostly charred stones from campfires and the occasional worked piece of stone. Some of the sites remain, if you have eyes to see.

I imagined those Indians as I fished, under the big, threatening sky. There they had been, hunting and fishing on Aquilla and Hackleberry creeks, in the vastness of the land. Well, the land's still vast and the sky's still the same, and before long it began to crash down with a vengeance.

Time to get back to the Compound, a glass of wine and the latest awful news from the Jihad. But before that, the sky turned ominously green and it started to rain in earnest, Texas-style. No fooling, and a good thing I had a truck because the streets were flooding as I drove into town.

If the rain continues, it will all be underwater. Is there a moral in this story?

If you care to draw it.

Your Buddy,

LSP

A Sign

Seeing as we're on a roll, I present this sign without comment, because it speaks for itself.

Secede.

LSP

Get Back in The Saddle, Fool

It's been a little while, but I rode out on Tres this evening before Vespers. Tres is a horse of color who identifies with her biological gender as a mare. Tres is OK with people calling her "her" or "she", that's the kind of pronoun she goes by, at least for now. 

Tres also idolizes a white Stallion, called Whitey McPrivilege. Whitey feels, pretty aggressively I can tell you, that Tres belongs to him. Tres agrees and even seems to like it.

A Saddle on a Truck

I know. By now you're probably feeling a bit sick at the sheer spectacle of this heteronormative, self-imposed cisgender stereotyping. What's wrong with these horses, you're asking. Good question, and I don't know what's got into them, but I do know that Whitey McPrivilege wasn't there when we rode up on the herd.

Is Whitey Here?

They were all horses of color and Whitey wasn't there. Tres was pretty upset, no kidding, so we ran back to the safe space of the barn, fast. Maybe she'd find Whitey there, thought Tres. No, she didn't. Then we ran down to the big cow pasture. Was Whitey there? No, he wasn't. Maybe someone had shot Whitey for being a hate-filed, misogynist gender fascist. Whatever, he wan't there.

Where is Whitey?

Bereft of gender oppression, Tres posted back to the safe space, ate some grass and got turned out. So you see, readers, all six of you, everything turned out alright.

Ride on,

LSP

Detroit Gets Goats?

It's no secret that America's onetime automotive capital, Detroit, has fallen on hard times. Over 60% of the Motor City's population has left since 1950, leaving behind some 677,000 inhabitants and between 20 and 40 square miles of vacant land.

Yes, somewhere between 20 and 40 square miles of vacant land. So what do you do with all that land where houses once stood and the remaining 677,000 suffer from what's euphemistically referred to as "food security"? Simple answer, you turn some of that empty space into farmland and you change the city's ordinances to allow livestock.

If upcoming code amendments pass the city's Planning Commission, Detroiters will be able to farm with livestock, including chickens, goats and rabbits. Imagine, you're driving down Gratiot and there's a goat, on the rubble of a collapsed crack house, next to a field of wheat.

Good idea, right? But there's a catch. You see, farming's racist. According to Kathryn Lynch Underwood, a member of Detroit's Planning Commission:

“You have people that may have come from the South and don’t necessarily have good memories of their experience in the South, so the whole agriculture, animal thing reminds them of something they wanted to get away from.”

The curiously named Lynch Underwood is black and so is around 80% of what's left of the Motor City's population. How many of these will be able to shake off their memories of being slaves on southern plantations and return to the land, is presently unknown.

Maybe hunger will help solve that dilemma.

Way to go, Detroit. You're obviously coming back, or not.

LSP

Dust to Dust

There was a burial this morning, out in the country and the hot Texan sun. While we were waiting for everyone to arrive I talked with one of the gravediggers. He had a shamrock tattooed on his wrist and I asked him if he was Irish.

"Yes sir, I am," he replied, sounding entirely Texan, "I used to have red in my beard, but now it's grey." We had something in common. "My hair used to be brown, "I told him, "Now look at it." The gravediggers thought that was funny and stomped about laughing.

What can I say, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but let's not forget the sure and certain hope in the resurrection. After the burial was over and everyone was leaving, an elderly gentleman told me he'd shot five Cottonmouths in the last few weeks, but he hadn't seen a rattler.

RS, rest in peace and rise in glory.

LSP