Thursday, March 21, 2019

Out And About

Is it the Lenten fast, the prospect of Beto running for president, the onset of Spring or something else that makes me want to shoot? Who knows, but for whatever reason, it seems right to get out in the country and blast away.

There's certainly a freedom in it which speaks to a larger freedom, slaves aren't allowed to bear arms, to say nothing of the enjoyment of the thing itself. Speaking of freedom, New Zealand's banned deadly assault rifles. No more AR15s for you, Kiwis, unless you're a criminal. 

Look, it's a Muslim! Just kidding, it's a Western Lib who thinks Islam's a religion of peace which empowers women.

New Zealanders are also being encouraged to wear a hijab tomorrow, and the Muslim call to prayer will be broadcast on TV and radio. Can you imagine the country's leaderene asking people to wear a crucifix and broadcasting the Angelus if a church had been shot up? Unlikely, isn't it.

But it's hardly an unlikely scenario. Christians are being savagely persecuted around the world, especially by Muslims, and the media's almost entirely silent. 

France, for example, has seen a wave of attacks against churches in recent months and you'd hardly know it from the press. Just think, what if it'd been a mosque that was set on fire the other day instead of St. Sulpice?

Mount Popocatepetl on Monday

In other news, Mount Popocatepetl erupted this week, not far from Mexico City. The roar of the volcano was felt 40 km away. Let's hope Yellowstone doesn't go up too, as a mark of God's vengeance on a country which funds Planned Parenthood to the tune of well over a million dollars a day.



Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Check Out This Beto

Perhaps the last post was a bit serious, too click on the links and discover the satanic heinousness that is the Belgian church. So here's a Beto infographic via LL to lighten the Lenten load.

And no, Beto's not a faux Mexican sandwich, he's the reincarnation of JFK.



Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Thy Will Be Done

In between cleaning rifles, researching Gobekli Tepe, antedeluvian megaliths, ruins on Mars and the hideous story of modern Belgian Roman Catholicism, I came across this, Alexander Schmemann on the third petition of the Lord's Prayer (Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven):

In reality, however, this is the most difficult petition.
I would have to say that precisely this petition, "Thy will be done" is the ultimate yardstick of faith, the measure by which' one can discern, in oneself first of all, profound from superficial faith, profound religiosity from a false one. Why? Well, because even the most ardent believer all too regularly, if not always, desires, expects, and asks from the God he claims to believe in that God would fulfill precisely his own will and not the will of God.

Precisely his own will and not the will of God, I'd say that was right in the X Ring and close to the heart of the temptations in the wilderness. Satan invites Christ to walk the way of the flesh, of bread, power and egotistical pride rather than the way of the cross and fidelity to the Father's will; he tempts us likewise. Schmemann continues:

"Thy will be done"-but in fact we are thinking: "Our will be done," and thus this third petition of the Lord's Prayer is first of all a kind of judgment on us, a judgment of our faith.
Do we really desire that which is from God? Do we really desire to accept that difficult, exalted, that seemingly impossible demand of the Gospel? And this petition also becomes a kind of verification of our goals and directions in life: what is it that I want, what is it that forms the main and highest value of my life, where is that treasure about which Christ said that where it lies, there our hearts will be also (Mt 6:21)?

I'd say that's a question worth answering, if you can take time off from throwing darts at photos of Beto "Napoleon Dynamite" O'Rourke, and staring in slack-jawed horror at reports of Belgium's pedophile catechism.

God bless,


The Peasants Revolt

Why are the French rioting for the 18th consecutive week? Good question, you'd think that the thought of their globalist elite ruler living it up in the ski lodge would keep them off the streets.

Apparently not. What's wrong with these French people, what don't they get about the MillSoc rulers of the New World Order enjoying elite privilege skiing trips in the Pyrenees?

But don't worry, Macron's promised to ban protests against his illuminated progressive rule. That'll soon put a stop to this peasants revolt.

Macron's net worth is only around $31.5 million, while average French disposable income per year is $31,137. Obviously the people aren't being taxed enough.

Your Pal,


Monday, March 18, 2019

Monday Shoot - Ruger Rimfire Roustabout

"LSP, what are you up to tomorrow?" asked the text, followed by one simple answer, "Shooting, join in." And that's what happened, CC drove over from the Metrosprawl, we loaded up the rig with guns and headed to the range. 

I wanted to test out not one, not two but three Ruger rimfires, an American .17 HMR, .22 LR, and the country's favorite semi, a 10/22. But first off we shot off a box of skeet, smoking the biodegradable orange adversaries in good order with a CZ Bobwhite SxS 20. What a great little gun, bang on.

A Gang of Three

Then it was down to serious business with the Rugers, while CC plinked away. I hadn't shot the .17 in ages and, please don't laugh, wanted to see if the dirt cheap, made in China, Simmons 4x scope I'd bought this morning from Walmart actually worked. It boldly advertised itself as ".22 MAGNUM," so perhaps it would.

That's Weird, it Works

And it did, amazingly, right out of the box with minimal adjustment, sending the tiny high velocity rounds into a small silhouette with miraculous $26 precision. Well done, Ruger and Chicom Simmons, you shoot like a laser. I was taken aback.

Best Ruger American .22 LR Group 

Next up, I checked the zero on another Ruger American, a .22 I'd unscientifically sighted in last week at around 50 yards. After a bit of adjustment, it was well in the zone and the same went for the 10/22, which shot as it should given iron sights and LSPvision. So well done, Rugers, you work, but which one's best?

Note Expensive Scope

The American .17 was easily the most accurate, cheap optic regardless, and its .22 twin wasn't far off either, which you'd expect from these rifles because their "Patented Power Bedding® integral bedding block system positively locates the receiver and free-floats the barrel for outstanding accuracy." 


At least that's the marketing and sure enough, the aluminium blocks which the American's receiver screws into seem to do the trick. The barrel's crowned too and comes with an adjustable trigger, 3-5 pounds, which doesn't hurt. 

Proper Little Blaster

Then there's the 10/22, which has been around since 1964 and's still going strong. Why? Because it's an excellent rifle, reliable, accurate, and a lot of semi-auto fun. It's also around $60 cheaper than the American rimfires.

Yet Another Ruger

So I'd say they're all good depending on what you're after. For rounds in the same hole accuracy at an affordable price, the .17 does the trick, provided there's no wind to blow the little bullet off course. 

Random LSP With Shotgun

For a less accurate but cheap to shoot all day alternative, either the 10/22 or the American .22 are more than good and inexpensive to boot. One's semi, the other's bolt, the American's perhaps more advanced but the 10/22 can get a lot of rounds off quickly. Your call.

Needless to say, I like them all, buy one of each if you're into shooting the lowly .22 and its faster cousin, the .17.


The shoot finished with a good old blast off against the enemy. Soda cans, range debris, steel plates and silhouettes all met their match as the afternoon lengthened into evening under the Texan sky, and that was that. Big fun and always good to get out and shoot.

Gun rights,


Sunday, March 17, 2019

Beto For Prez!

He skateboards, wears a frock, was a hacker, played bass or something, thinks he's Kennedy but has gross teeth, married into big money, is a millionaire socialist and thinks we need to tear down the wall because a country having a border is fascist.

Beto wants to lead the world as President of the United States. Does this faux Mexican sandwich know no bounds? Apparently not, such are the wages of cheese, lettuce and tomato in a handy fake bolo.

Still, at least he's a socialist, despite being white and a man, kind of. So what's this celebrity commie's net worth? Only about $9 million as of 2015. 

See, the beauty of socialism is that the really rich people get to run it because they're so wise and know so much more than you. That's why they grow these cool beards.

Let's hope this rich commie jackass runs 2020, alongside every other freak, weirdo and misfit the Democrats are pushing for supreme power of the most powerful country on earth.

I tell you, when the wheels come off it won't look pretty.

Your friend,


Your God Is The Belly

Today's Epistle warns of "enemies of the cross," and who are these enemies? People whose "God is the belly," bringing to mind someone gorging themselves at a restaurant or banquet. 

It's an unpleasant image but a good one, drawing our attention to the substance of the thing, worshiping the cravings and appetite of the empty cavity of our gut. What a hungry and jealous god. Euripides puts it well in the mouth of the splendidly wicked one-eyed monster, Cyclops:

Wealth, manikin, (Odysseus) is the god for the wise; all else is mere vaunting and fine words... I shudder not at Zeus’s thunder, nor know I wherein Zeus is a mightier god than I... The earth perforce, whether she like it or not, produces grass and fattens my flocks, which I sacrifice to no one save myself and this belly, the greatest of deities; but to the gods, not I! For surely to eat and drink one’s fill from day to day and give oneself no grief at all, this is the king of gods...

The Apostle describes this in terms of "flesh," listing its attributes in Galatians, and for sure, it's an attitude and state of mind, body and spirit which ends in destruction, being diametrically opposed to the selfless love of God evidenced on the Cross. 

Long story short, you can't worship your belly and God at the same time and with St. Paul, those who do, "glory in their shame." Go on, watch a Pride Parade on Youtube and dare to disagree. On second thoughts don't, it'll ruin your Sunday, but you get the point.

So we've i.d.'d the enemy, well done, and if we're honest we'll admit it's something very like the religion of our age. Drive into any one of our cities and behold the square miles of strip malls and their accompanying advertising, signs lifted up like the plastic standards of a conquering army, all of them telling you to gorge yourself.

Hideous, isn't it, and you don't need a degree in moral theology to sense it. But here's a question for all you Christians out there, people who go to church every Sunday. 

Do you walk the way of the cross, of sacrificial love, such that Christ will recognize you as his disciple or are you merrily wandering along the broad way, the way of the flesh that leads to perdition? Serious question with serious consequences.

Strive to enter by the narrow gate. 

End of sermon,


Saturday, March 16, 2019

On The Road

Whoever said life'd be easy? No one, and with that in mind I left the sylvan groves of old Texas for the concrete metrosprawl of the DFW megacity, not once but twice. Why? Because I had meetings in the 'sprawl and duty called.

The first part of the drive on I35W isn't bad, a fairly empty 4 lane highway through rolling farmland, passing by Itasca and Grandview. Then you get to Alvaredo and the pace picks up as you drop into the Fort Worth lowlands.

Metroplex at Night. Yellow Line = Connecticut

There you are in the Metroplex, on a multilane racetrack dreamed up in bowels of Hell. It goes on for miles, 9,286 square miles to be precise, about two thirds the size of Holland and larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island combined. It's growing, too, like a monster.

Well you can't blame people for moving here from socialist hellhole states, but I'd argue you can blame the so-called urban planners who decided that city and 20 lane highway were synonyms. You'd think, after several thousand years of Western civic culture, that we could come up with something better than the 'sprawl. Thank God I live in a road, said no one ever.

It Was Going to be This

Great, readers, will be the fall of it. I know, that'll never happen because the way we live now will go on forever and ever, per saecula saeculorum, but imagine the grid went down, which of course it never will because the grid's immortal, but say for example it did. And you're living in the 'spawl with no water, electricity and before long, food. How would you get out?

But Ended up This

Dirt bikes, on foot? Apocalypse aside, the meetings were good, though it seemed strange to be in the city. Back in the country, Mexican music's in the air and with it the delicious aroma of slow cooked carnitas

This makes fasting difficult and speaking of roads, Jack Kerouac was a catholic.

Drive safe,


Thursday, March 14, 2019

You Better Start Fasting

Fasting's an important weapon in the spiritual armory, helping us to beat back and subdue the sins of the flesh. "Their god is the belly," says the Apostle to the Philippians, and their "end is destruction." 

With that in mind, fasting's recommended by Christ who tells the lackluster disciples that certain demons can only be driven out by "prayer and fasting."

Of course the practice is recommended by the Fathers, here's St. Basil:

Fasting gives birth to prophets and strengthens the powerful; fasting makes lawgivers wise. Fasting is a good safeguard for the soul, a steadfast companion for the body, a weapon for the valiant, and a gymnasium for athletes. Fasting repels temptations, anoints unto piety; it is the comrade of watchfulness and the artificer of chastity. In war it fights bravely, in peace it teaches stillness.

Well said, that Saint, and I've been trying to take the Lenten fast more seriously this year; get real in the fight against evil, LSP. At least two things have happened.

I've been shooting more and Andrew Weissmann's resigned from Mueller's witch hunt. Coincidence?

You be the judge,




Morris Dees Fired From SPLC For Misconduct, Internal Climate in Question. Prayer And Fasting Work.

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

This & That

The day started off well, with strong covfefe on the porch.

It moved ineluctably to guns, note health food.

And now? Stations of the Cross.

God bless,


The Russia Hoax

Well, well, as all the world knows, Nancy Pelosi's decided that impeaching Trump isn't such a good idea because "he's not worth it." Or, roughly translated, because she knows the entire Russian collusion story was just that, a faked up pack of lies. And what a story it's been.

I won't bore you with details. Fraudulent FISA warrants, wanton lies, at least one murder, the phony dossier, Ukrainian power politics, MI6, Australia, lies and yet more lies, money, DNC criminality and the ongoing $30+ million Mueller investigation itself. And far, far more, what a seething mass of corruption in pursuit of power even if that meant reinventing the Cold War.

That said, you have to hand it to the Democrats and their media clown show, Goebbels would be proud. Admit it, what a bold call, claiming without a shred of evidence that the US President is a Kremlin agent. That's right, a Russian spy.

You'd think there'd be something to impeach in that. Apparently not.

Vodka all 'round!


Monday, March 11, 2019

Monday Shoot

One of the good things about Mondays is you can shoot, provided the new Ice Age doesn't have you snowed in and it didn't, so off I went to the range. Nothing fancy, just a Ruger American .22 and a Glock 21 .45.

I hadn't shot the Glock in a while and wondered if it'd work. It did, blasting rounds into the X Ring like a good 'un at around 15 yards. Things opened up a bit at 25 yards and I wasn't surprised, given lack of practice.

Then it was time for the old playing card trick at 10 yards and they met their match, thanks to Austrian engineering and the mighty .45 ACP. But my shooting was getting erratic, time to move on while the going was good.

And there it was, the humble .22, ready to go with a fixed 4 power scope. Was it on? Kind of ish but to be honest I'd forgotten what the little beast was zeroed for, so I unscientifically dialed it in at 50 yards.

After a bit of tweaking the scope seemed on enough and Little Green was taking damage. Sorry, fella, you lose this thankfully one sided firefight.

Then it started to rain and it was time to head back to the Compound, mission accomplished. Needed pistol practice and a pleasant zero-in plinkathon with the Ruger.

The trail out of the range always looks as though it'll present some target of opportunity, like a coyote, a small gang of pigs or even a rabbit, but it never does, oddly. Regardless, there it was, a good afternoon out in the country well spent.

Gun rights,