We were looking for striper and sure enough, Pat knows where to find them. He's just a great guide, friendly, helpful and most importantly he gets you on the fish, usually with live shad. But today it was all about 6" Cotton Cordell pencil poppers and big silver spoons.
First off, topwater poppers and brisk action as the ferocious predators exploded onto our lures like Red Guards on a gang of recidivist Mensheviks. Or something like that. But look, and I know you're all experts, in the adrenaline rush excitement of the strike, do not try a premature hookset.
Don't do it, no, let the fish take the lure down into the depths and if he doesn't, leave it be, chances are the enraged bass will come back again and again in its misguided fury. And you'll get your fish.
Next up, silver spoons, which are a workout. Drop the spoon into the water, let it hit bottom, then "whippit up, and let it flutter down. They'll tear into that thing." And so they did, but not so much for me. Still, I wasn't complaining, the topwater had been outstanding.
Then back to the boat ramp, where Pat cleaned the fish in a fraction of the time I could've done and that was that, back to the Compound where fish awaits. My plan is this. Salt and pepper a fillet or two, pan fry in olive oil on medium high heat, serve with some kind of vegetable or two and fall on that scoff like a warrior.
What a good morning! Thanks, S.O. for the fun, and Pat for being a great guide.
Fish On,
LSP
The kid has a plan, and it's this. Complete two years of a remote/online computer science degree and then go "green to gold" for the final two years at Texas A&M's ROTC, the Corps of Cadets. Then, riding boots burnished to a reflective glow, get a commission and go from there.
Good plan, eh? And it starts this week as classes commence. So let's see if the onetime cadet will become the genuine article, a real Cadet. But first things first. Our conversation went like this as we were about to take the Bernie Beck gate exit to the home of III Corps.
"Let's get you fixed up for a vehicle." He paused and went lateral, "One private bought an old fire truck." I slowed down as the old rig made it's way to the Great Place, "What?" Quick as a flash the boy replied, "A firetruck. The CO got mad and made him get rid of it."
What a wasted opportunity, I thought to myself, and then out loud. "That's pretty shortsighted. I'd have made him give it to Brigade and made it the THUNDERBIRDS truck. You know, paint up the Thunderbirds logo and drive around base playing the brigade song. From speakers, loud, very loud. It'd boost morale. You do have a brigade song, right?"
The once and maybe future Cadet pondered this and promised to find the rousing song, "There has to be one, dad." And surely there is.
In other news, our new Afghan friends are sexually attacking US servicewomen at various bases around the country. How totally unpredictable. Good work, Team Biden.
Cheers,
LSP
Today's warfighter has to deliver mission critical, cutting edge solutions in a fast-paced, high threat environment. That's why I sent the Specialist on the Compound's justly famous Jungle Warfare Training School (JWTS).
Some people go to Belize, others to SE Asia, but here in Texas we do it in house. "Take this cutting edge to the enemy, son," I announced with typical paternal affection, "And knock down the green menace. Chop, chop. That hedge won't cut itself." Quite.
Arboreal,
LSP
Here we are on the porch, with the light shining in darkness, back from Fort Hood with a happily off-duty Specialist. "Hey, dad, we're off work at 1300, can you pick me up? I'll serve Mass on Sunday," some kind of bribe?
Regardless, off I went only to return to the sylvan groves of this small but steadfast farming community, at the Compound. But maybe trouble is brewing, a cloud's on the horizon, perhaps.
You see, the troops are excited, ecstatic and enthusiastic about the vax mandate. They're veritably lining up to get the jab. Like my kid, who got in early and nearly died because of it. No. Kidding. "What happens," he asked on the outskirts of Temple, "when a third, a quarter or even an eighth of Command refuses to take the jab in the face of a dishonorable discharge?"
I told him him to keep his head down, get the degree (CS) which starts in October, and see where the wind blows. "We're in uncharted waters, son, and bombarded with so many lies that it's hard to keep track. And who knows, the Pentagon might strike a deal like the postal workers."
Go figure. You can be a "postie" and don't have to take the vax, but a soldier? Don't even think it. Illegal immigrant? No vax for you, no, of course not. That'd be racist. Again, here we are at the Emmys, maskless, rich, cavorting and free, unlike our waitserf underlings. Which forces us to wonder if the whole thing is utter BS.
Wonder? There's no wonder in it at all except in the sheer magnitude of the deceit and the success of the thing. People are, still, consumed with fear of imminent death from a batflu with a >99.70 recovery rate. It's almost as if they wanted the STATE to control them.
That said, Truth, with a capital T, has a way of winning out. Take heart in that. And so we do, The light shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not.
God bless,
LSP
I love the Church of England, with all it's glorious patrimony, stately worship and beautiful buildings. So very awesome. But what's the point of it if nobody goes? To fix this knotty conundrum, the venerable CoE spent >$248 million on "renewal and reform." between 2017 and 2020. The result? Fewer people going to church.
What a dismal fail. According to Breitbart "typical Sunday church attendance fell to 690,000 in 2019 from 740,000 in 2016." So strange, and despite all those millions.
Maybe the English, or anyone else for that matter, aren't convinced by the Baphomet Rainbow. Maybe they're not drawn to the 1st Church of Trans, and who knows, could it be that all those wymyn bishop figures don't cut it when it comes to souls in church, on an actual Sunday.
Readers may recall that the Church, writ large, has been saying for decades, "Unless you conform to the age no one will take you seriously and the pews will empty." My, how that worm's turned. And go figure, why should any Guardian/NYT/NPR zombie go to church to have their disbelief reflected back on them.
Well the proof's in the data. No one, much, is. What does this mean? That the libs, like parasites, will destroy their host and a righteous remnant will remain. Against this, all you jaded cynics, the gates of Hell shall not prevail.
Cheers,
LSP
It's a hard life. When not watching inspirational videos of Eva Peron who could, per LL, launch several B 52s, it's all about Vespers or Evening Prayer.
Speaking of which, do you remember our bizarrely incompetent retreat from Afghanistan? How much money, we have to ask, was paid to the "big guy," and why aren't the people he paid in full control of the Panjshir Valley? Apparently they're not. "Ban, ban, Taliban," as the song goes.
Let's see how the resistance plays out. In other news, more and more people are getting sick from the vax, China's facing a Lehman moment and Biden's popularity is tanking, which is weird, coz he's the most popular president ever in the history of popularity.
And lest we forget, the millionaire celebrities at the Emmys were exempt from masking because they're "performers." Quite unlike you, the serf. Maybe we need some frontier justice?
Your Old Pal,
LSP
Not only is it beautifully cool in north central Texas and even rained, miraculously, but it's also the Feast of St. Matthew. We all know how Matthew was converted and went from being a wicked tax collector to a holy man of God, an Apostle. Less well known is the great saint's mission to Ethiopia, in which the Apostle confronted two sorcerers, Zaroes and Arphaxat.
Zaroes and Arphaxat were in the habit of secretly enchanting people, causing them to be immobile and then, cunningly, curing their paralyzed victims. It's possible that the adepts used magically conjured snakes in these acts of occult chicanery, regardless, they were hailed as Gods by the incredulous and doubtless made a lot of money.
Matthew, no stranger to fiduciary malfeasance, occult or otherwise, saw through Zaroes and Arphaxat's trickery and went out to meet the sorcerers. These mountebanks of the dark side proceeded to set their two dragons on the Apostle, who promptly put the reptilians to sleep. A 13th century Legend describes the encounter:
Then said Matthew to the enchanters: Where is your craft? Awake ye them if ye may; and if I would pray our Lord, that which ye would have committed in me, I should soon execute on you. And when the people were assembled, he commanded the dragons that they should depart without hurting of any, and they went anon.
Needless to say, the dragons went on their way, Matthew preached a remarkable sermon, the occult mountebanks were thrown in prison, and the Apostle retired to the Queen of Ethiopia's palace. Yes, the enigmatic Candace was his patroness.
He then raised the king's son from the dead, converted the nation, and was promptly martyred by the king's successor for challenging the monarch's sexual immorality. How dare you take the Virgin Ephigenia?
The evil king then imitated Herod, beheaded the Apostle and burned Ephigenia alive. Perhaps conscience got the better of him, as the Legend tells us he "slew himself with his own hand by the sword." Our friends Zaroes and Arphaxat survived, curiously, and fled to Persia.
Their spirit is evidently alive, well and kicking. Just ask any country whose money is an IOU at interest to a privately owned bank.
St. Matthew, pray for us and vanquish the sorcerers and their dragons.
God bless,
LSP
