Showing posts with label Erika. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erika. Show all posts

Sunday, May 15, 2022

Sunday - Eurovision

 

Zu Befehl


I hope you all had a beautiful and uplifting worship experience this morning and I have to say, it was good here in a country mission way. Is that the best way? Not necessarily, it's one way, no rule. But uplift in mind, did you watch the Eurovision Song Contest? 

Of course the Ukraine won, with the astounding Kalush Orchestra. Here's their catchy tune Stefania, official video no less:


Note Banderist Flute Break Don't Say Volyn

And heere they are live, calling for the relief of AZOV in Der Mariupol Bunker, and the crowd goes wild! Wow:



as everyone knows, the eurovision song contest is about organizing military operations to pull a bunch of psychopathic war criminals out of a bunker. Why didn't they just cover Erika? Not dancy enough perhaps. That in mind, let it not be said that Russians lack a sense of humor.

Make of this pop post what you will. And note, the US does not, emphatically does not arm, train and support ISIS in Syria. And if we do so what, traitor.

Erwache,

LSP

Friday, April 22, 2022

A Day of Rest

 


After the rigors of Holy Week it only seemed right to take a day of rest at family HQ in Dallas. Blue agreed and wasted no time falling to sleep on a Moslem rug, not that he's a Moslem, by the beard of the Prophet, but he does like their rugs.

As do I, but rugs aside you may have noticed something about the soldiers fighting in the Ukraine. There's all sorts, obviously, but some seem more equal than others, they're bigger and older, as if construction worker turned gunfighter. 




Shades, when you think on it, of the German veterans who went into the Ardennes, or something like that. Huh. Modern war as deconstruction site and soldiers as its lethal tradesmen and laborers? Respect to both, but still.

Speaking of the Ardennes, imagine you were wandering around inna woods of Ukraine with, say, an SS dagger, just coz, and you were captured by some Chechens. What would you say:


A. I just found it, honest!

B. I'm a battlefield archeologist, my good sir.

C. Give a crisp Seig Heil, sing a verse of Erika and wait to be recruited into the WAGNER PMC?

 

All options are risky and I'd have gone for unspoken option D. Lose that bad boy before you get captured. Some guy didn't the other day in Mariupol and looked more than a little sheepish. Maybe he's still alive, unlike this unfortunate.



Seriously, what's with all the NSDAP in Eastern Europe? Well, therein lies another tale.

Mind how you go,

LSP

Sunday, April 7, 2019

How To Replace The Extractors On A Mossberg 835 Ulti-Mag



"So, LSP, if that's your real name which we doubt, how do you replace the extractors on a Mossberg 835 Ulti-Mag 12 gauge?" Good question, punters.  First things first, you put the beast on a Led Sled and take a photo with your not-so-smart phone. Beautiful, isn't it.

Then you reminisce about all the armed strolls through the country, dove down, skeet smoked, rabbits for the pot, ducks missed and general pump action shotgunnery. Good times, no doubt about it.






But here's the thing, it may be a deadly assault shotgun but only if the extractors work and the gun cycles ammo. Then it's banned in dhimmitudes like New Zealand, Great Britain, Australia and beyond. In those countries only criminals can own guns, so law abiding citizens are safer.

Reverie over you move to the task in hand, changing out the 20 year old (?) extractors and their dualist, Manichean springs. How? It's not hard, take down the weapon, behold the bolt, place it on two blocks of wood and tap out the pins which hold the extractors and springs in place. Then replace. Easy, right?





No, not easy, because the pins are held in place by dark Zeroastrian magicke, Pangea, typical. First you take a pin punch to the thing, tap, tap, tap; tap out the pin, LSP. Fail. The pins don't want to move because they're wedded to staying deep within the Solar Disc of the bolt.

Don't give up like some kind of RINO, fight through to the objective. For me, that meant moving the lubed up bolt to  a vise. Resist, Ulti-Mag enthusiasts, the urge to pound the bolt with a hammer. Instead, take a sturdier punch to the task and tap again, the pin should move. Follow through with a lighter gauge punch equivalent.





Retaining pins driven out of communion, replace the worn out qabbalists with new parts. It's easy enough, pop in the springs and extractors, hold the extractors in place with a retaining punch and tap in the pins. Do it in a vise, if you're me. 

Please don't freak out and pound on the immobile pins with a sledgehammer, that'll mess up the job. Stay calm and while you're at it it, remove and clean the bolt lock. You don't have to, there's no "rule," but I recommend it.





Then sit back and behold the glory of the thing. Two new extractors in an old bolt and a gun restored to fight again for another couple of decades. Right on, and you did it yourself as opposed to paying someone at Ray's to rip you off $200.

The Mossberg 835 Ulti-Mag began life in 1988 as an all-purpose shotgun, capable of handling small to big loads, 2 1/4-3 1/2". It retails at around $600, mine cost $200 from a gun show a decade ago, and features a ported barrel, tang safety and over-bored barrel (don't try slugs, kids). It's been a workhorse and worth every penny.





Buy one if you like, but be sure to spray the unpleasant camo on the new guns black. Better yet, go to a gun show and buy one at the right price.

Your Pal,

LSP

Saturday, January 26, 2019

State Of The Union


'Coz everything's just fine in the land of the free and brave. Infographic via Borepatch who thinks things might get nasty.

I put it to the fighting monkey who promptly put on a spiked hat and marched about the living room singing "Erika." Vicious little alt-right beast.

But seriously, since when did we become some kind of Stasi Soviet and how long are we going to put up with it?

My feeling, for what it's worth, is that tempers are... frayed.

Love and Peace,

LSP

Saturday, November 10, 2018

November Fest



It's all going on in Texas, I tell you. House painting, Diocesan Convention, torrential rain, and endless street parties celebrating the tragic defeat of our faux Latino messiah, Beto. I went to one, it was awesome.




There were lights, food, a German band pumping out Erika and all was well. Good fun and a welcome chance to party after the Diocesan Convention's Mass and a scary drive on I 20.

Then we met again today to conduct the slight business of the diocese, meet old friends and generally get it together. There were lots of video reports, one of which seemed to say that God forgives and also forgets. 




How can God forget anything, He's omniscient. I made the point to a friend who thought this somehow "limited God."  Long story short, it doesn't.

And here we are back at the Compound, thanking God for His goodness and for survival on the highways of the metrosprawl.




Please pray for our bishop, Jack Iker, who was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer right after announcing his retirement a few months ago. 

We fight against principalities and powers.

God bless,

LSP 

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Sunday Night at the Compound


Its a pretty regular Sunday evening here at the Compound, cleaning guns, listening to marching songs on the jukebox, and frying up steak and eggs on the grill.



Blue M4 doesn't care, all he thinks about is "eye relief," "doping the wind," and "MOA." And food. He ate a block of cheese the other day, which I'd left out on the counter to get to room temp. I was looking forward to that cheese.

You're getting dangerously close to the edge, my furry friend.

God bless,

LSP