Showing posts with label whistle Dixie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whistle Dixie. Show all posts

Thursday, October 21, 2021

What A Good Day

 


You know what it's like, some days are sluggish, unproductive, but not this day. Say Morning Prayer, read the news, then drive to Whitney for breakfast with one of the flock. What a good guy, he has a ranch outside of Valley Mills and scorns our Globalist, Illuminati, MillSoc Overlords as much as the best of us. Fun to shoot with, too.

So that was good and before you could whistle Dixie there I was, back at the Compound getting stuck in to the next evolution. Viz. Get a magazine ready to send to a printer in the DFW metrosprawl. 


Defende Nos

"Text Frame Options," "Place," "Draw Text Frame," choose compelling graphic to illustrate articles you hopefully don't have to rewrite, and all of that. Seriously, sometimes you have to wonder, is English your first language. 


17 Buck Threeper

Well it pretty much was in this instance and I got the job done, result. Sharp looking book, off to press you go. Next step? Drive out to the lake church and say Mass, always uplifting, and stop by a country supermarket on the way for provisions. Lo and behold, they had a Threeper at pre-Bidenflation prices. Wow. Buy it and thank God for his great goodness.


Chilled

Now, back in this congenial if asset-stripped Texan farming community, it's time to celebrate the several victories of the day.

Cheers,

LSP

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Smash The Statues!



The best thing about removing statues of honorable Confederate generals is that it's going to eliminate poverty, injustice and oppression everywhere. 

No longer will persons of color and feminist theater study majors have to trudge in slavery under the baleful glare of General Lee, Stonewall Jackson and Jeb Stuart. Smash the statues! Strike off the manacles of fascism! And by the way, eliminate borders so that everyone can be controlled by our unimaginably wealthy transnational elite at slave labor wages.




To coin a phrase, what a crock. So come on, Sabo et al, let's see some life size Confederate street art, everywhereAs I pondered this on the Compound's southern values porch, my son came out, looking suspiciously sharp. 




"A friend's coming to get me," he announced cheerily. "Well that's nice, kid," I replied, like a member of Parson's Brigade and before you could whistle Dixie, up pulls the friend in a brand new, gleaming white F250.


Not My Rig

I tell you, it made my rig look like child's play.

Ride on,

LSP