Yes, we do requests. Thank you, Wild. Does the Devil live in Dallas? Not at my Mother's Compound, there is that, but elsewhere? Sure he does, aplenty. Perhaps you doubt me, and that's fine, just go out yourself and see if Rusty Wier ain't right.
LSP
Yes, we do requests. Thank you, Wild. Does the Devil live in Dallas? Not at my Mother's Compound, there is that, but elsewhere? Sure he does, aplenty. Perhaps you doubt me, and that's fine, just go out yourself and see if Rusty Wier ain't right.
LSP
You drive back from the mighty DFW Metrosprawl and get to the Compound a little after noon, and what do you see? A veritable river heading down to the street by the side of the house. What? Is the AC exhaust going turbo, is there some kind of mains leak?
Good questions, so you exfil the rig to have a recce. Sure enough, water is bubbling up outta the ground, right where the boys installed a couple of clean outs. You stare at this, entranced by the cool water flowing up to water the earth. How beautiful, but this isn't some blessed, newfound aquifer, no, it's an aquatic disaster. Just picture, if you will, the mains meter spinning out of control, as if USGOV debt.
Problem. Solution? A neighbor drives up in his lifted Chevy, "What's up, man?" and you point to the watery adversary. He takes this in, a plumber, and says, "I'll dig that up and fix it. First I'll turn off the water at the mains with my cut off," which he did.
Some 30 or 40 minutes later we'd located a burst pipe, hose attached to PVC and split at the joint, and D produced some relevant SHARK BITE fittings, right sized PVC tube, and fixed the line. Utter disaster averted, and I asked, "How much do we owe you?" He replied, "Nothing." I shook his hand, "Appreciate you, brother," and that I do; you'll be glad to know I let him park his rigs in the church car park, gratis.
At the time of writing, this line holds. And there is a moral in this short story of country life in Texas, if you care to draw it.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
When you think of Dallas do you think of the ancient TV show featuring JR Ewing? Perhaps, but regardless, one of the things you get to do in LSPland is drive there, down the murder expressway called I35. I did so today, bumper to bumper tailgating crazy at 85/90 mph. Whatev, same old.
Before long you get to the outer reaches of the massive DFW connurb, but keep on, foot on the pedal, and then there it is, rising like a gunmetal OZ, Dallas' skyline. No small thing and especially emerald impressive at night.
Don't be fooled, though. Get in amongst those gleaming glass and steel towers, which rise Babel to the sky, and what do you find? Beggars, indigents, homeless encampments and associated ne'er do wells chancing it in triple digit climate change. We've moved, you see, into SUMMER. It's like this ineluctable climatic progression.
That in mind, take the Illinois exit, head south on Zang past old and new ghetto housing and ride on 'til you hit Davies and Bishops Arts. Marvel at the throngs hanging out at various bars and eateries, wonder at multiple apartment blocks which have sprung up in the last couple of years, and mourn the tragic passing of Ten Bells and Hattie's, two BA stalwarts which went under post COVID.
Oh well. Hang a right opposite the appalling PHD Pourhouse sports bar and into this neat wine shop. Buy a bot and get into a convo with the staff. Like this:
"Hey, man, I saw you went into here by the door." You pause and reply, "Yeah, that's what I did."
"But why did you do it that way, was there, like, a METHOD?"
"Say again?"
"A method?"
"Sure there was. I walked in the door and spotted some kind of white zin on offer and wanted to look further, that's why I ended up by your fridge and this great bottle of Malbec."
"Wow, man, you sound like Elon Musk!"
"Is that a good thing, brother?"
"Yeah it it is, all good, man."
I looked at my tattooed counterparts, what were they, extras for Pirates of the Caribbean?, and gave both boys a sunny hello goodbye. Yeah, they'll be laughing when they're extradited to England. Good luck with that, stoneheads.
Vinter's done, fall back to Ma LSP, who's watching a neat show called, "Why Does Everyone Hate Meghan Markle?" What a good show. Surely not because she's a D-List, simpering, fraudulent, delta minus semi moron, social climber, gold digging Hollywood fool. Surely not, and a witch who ensorcelled Harry with her witch power. He, of course, is obviously an idiot.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
Back to Tay Tay. Is she an icon of the far right, a National Socialist heroine or just a vapid pop singer? Photo evidence proves the former. Here, have a look:
Proof positive, see what I'm sayn'? Looks pretty NSDAP to me, which is obviously a problem. So what's the solution?
EXTRADITION.
Cheers,
LSP
OK, there's only so much Taylor Swift Jihad, Rwandan savagery, Big Brother Rainbow Stasi, US Clownshow politics a man can take. So what to do? Go fishing, that's right, in the heat of a Texan day in August. Would the fish bite or would they be in some kind of piscine climate change shock, immobile like their human counterparts. I drove to the lake to find out.
Sure enough, it was mighty hot, right there on the tortured limestone of what had once been part of a fibrous reef in a vast inland sea, and's now Soldier's Bluff. So it's hot, that's a given, would the fish bite, not a given, but undaunted by prehistoric reverie and the searing light of the Sun, I cast off.
Whoa, tugs and bites at the first cast, probably a small, ferocious perch. And that's exactly what it was, a perch. I tell you, even if they're small they're big fun to catch on a light rod, they fight you see. Some five or six fish later it was time to head for home and Evening Prayer, 1928 BCP style. I just prefer it, the language is worshipful, liturgical and beautiful. Here's a link.
So that was that, an hour or so catching fish at the lake in the sun and clean air of the so far Free State of Texas. What a lot of fun and a good antidote against the appalling wickedness which surrounds us.
That in mind, I find fishing brings you right down to earth and calms the soul, or excites it when the catch is on. Not unlike shooting and riding, when you think on it.
Fish on,
LSP
That's right, Hagia Sophia, let's have it back. In the meanwhile, apologies to Stella Gibbons.
Your Best Pal,
LSP
Mark my words and mark them well brothers, the above is prescient. You either get that or or you don't. Can you spot the glowies in the crowd? Well, it's not hard. Boys, word to the wise, train, train, train.
Clubland Forever,
LSP
Have you noticed, dear readers, all two of you, that the Left, and it is the Left, have supercharged words? Perhaps you have. In the formerly united Kingdom of quondam Great Britain you can be arrested and sent to gaol for words. Say the wrong thing, go to prison, criminal. You can even, they threaten, be extradited. Yes, extradited to Belmarsh and put in solitary for WRONGTHINK, because of your words. Like wow, we've come to this.
Granted, some words are nasty, I try to avoid them on this mind-blog, but still, does LSP writing SEND THEM BACK DEPORT THEM YOU TRAITORS = a punch in the face, an head butt or a glass inna face, Kray Twins style? Hardly. One is most definitely violent and the other is cognitive, an assault to the mind.
Sure, that can and does hurt, but are the two comparable? Imagine, if you like, 50 divisions of Putler's Thought Police Troll Farms spewing disinfo across the internet. Disaster. Just like the OPERATION BARBAROSSA, except that it's most obviously not.
Several things. First: The Left believes reality is a construct and so they attempt to govern it through speech. Resist this linguistic tyranny at every turn, it's bogus thought despotism.
Second: People that don't believe in Truth will peddle lies, constantly. Again, resist this with the Truth. Cold hard facts wreak havoc with their rainbow Marxist, tin-pot Maoist imaginations.
Third: They're utter idiots. No, words are not violent, dumbasses, like a knife in the gut or a howitzer raining down hell on your position, so call them out. Just say no.
Fourth: Going to war over mere words betrays brittle insecurity. Take heart in that. If they weren't worried they wouldn't be taking refuge in WORD POLICE. For goodness sake.
What is it with Tay Tay, aka Taylor "Swift"? Is it her awesome, ahem, music, her mean little eyes, being a Nazi pin up, her vast wealth and matrilineal descent from Satanist Anton LaVey's wife, Zeena? Or maybe it's just the fact that she/her is a white woman singing. Who knows, but what we all know is this, Tay Tay is a veritable JIHAD MAGNET.
Just the other day a Rwandan savage went all stab Rwandan on a bunch of little girls pretending to be Taylor Swift, in Southport, which is a kind of depressed suburb in Northern England. Awful, and the frenzied immigrant bloodletting stirred up a reaction.
Yes indeed, all these Brits looting Gregg's for sausage rolls and associated shops for Crocs. They even did a psyop, threatening unrest in some 100 towns last night, and didn't turn up, leaving SkyNews to be attacked by roaming gangs of Jihadis and some unfortunate Labour councilor who's been ruined for "hate speech." But OK, that was formerly Great Britain.
Further afield, in beautiful, elegant, civilized Vienna Tay Tay was going to perform a series of "live shows," migraine inducing eyes and all, but what happened? A young Moslem and his buddies decided to go full Jihad and bomb/stab the Swifties at their concert venue.
Bad call, Aloha Snackbar, now you're looking at gaol forever, in Austria, as opposed to 72 virgins or whatever your savage creed dictates. And here's the thing, Beloved Rulers: Encourage millions upon millions of Jihad savages into your lands in favor of higher rents, lower wages, big time votes and what do you get? Disorder, incendiarism, riot and unrest. Problem? Solution, ban freedom of speech and CLAMP DOWN.
Ban words, all those hateful words, verboten. But do you think, in your heart of hearts, that that threat, and the gaol it intimates, will somehow soothe the literal anger of people who see themselves replaced by an influx of cheap(ish) vote invaders? Let's put it another way.
You don't believe in reality, because you're postmodernist Cultural Marxists, so you endeavor to fix reality by changing the language. Good work, ancien regime commie, all the pronouns are changed, and then reality rises up like a wall and you run full-splat into it. Or something like that.
Do you think, dear readers, that Europe's like a tinderbox, waiting to go off, as if a firework in a dry field? To say nothing of the States. Just a thought. That in mind, why does Tay Tay attract Jihad?
Your Call,
LSP