Jukebox Thursday

 

Yep, it's that time of the week when we head off to the local, sling a few quarters in the juke box and play requests. That's right, Juke Box days are back. First up, an old classic, Free Bird by everyone's favorite Southern Rock trailblazers. Good choice, LL:

Nice, but let's get down to earth with the Confederate Railroad, courtesy of WSF. Quite the toe tapper:

Anon's got the East on his mind, understandably, to say nothing of Miravi's beautiful voice. Check it out:

My turn, Randy Newman's Little Criminals. I've enjoyed that song pretty much from ever since it came out and now more than then. Picture the scene:

Rock on and keep 'em coming.

Your Pal,

LSP

Sweet Home

 

  

Maybe you didn't get the memo, so here's a video:

Tariffs forever,

LSP

World Leaders Walk The Runway - Tariff Edition

 

Tariffs? Yes indeed, fair trad forever. There's even a video, check it out:

What a compelling fashion show! Thanks, Random Reality.

Cheers,

LSP

Dire Wolves Are Back

 

Some people were freaking out, swallowing their tongues and going full panic Eschaton this morning because of 47's tariffs. As in, how dare a US president stop his country being ripped off! Now the world's going to END. So they shrieked as they tore out their hair, pulled out their teeth and gouged out their eyes (What? Ed.) in fear, shock, horror and heart stopping Panican dismay. But not us, no, here at the Compound we were excited. Why?

Because DIRE WOLVES are back. That's right, thanks to Texan ingenuity and can-do spirit, Dallas biotech start up Colossal Biosciences has successfully bioengineered two white Dire Wolves, the first of their kind since the formidable breed went extinct some 10,000 years ago. Why did they go extinct? Good question. 

The appallingly smug leftist New Yorker risibly thinks Dire Wolves and similar megafauna were hunted to extinction by bloodthirsty humans who obviously weren't taxed and regulated enough. The Compound's boffins think differently. They believe a celestial cataclysm triggered massive, catastrophic, climate change, killing off Mammoths, Saber Tooth Tigers, Mastodons, Dire Wolves and the like. But that's as maybe, the long gone wolves have returned in the form of two adorable pups, Romulus and Remus. Here's TIME, which somehow still exists:

Romulus and Remus are doing what puppies do: chasing, tussling, nipping, nuzzling. But there’s something very un-puppylike about the snowy white 6-month olds—their size, for starters. At their young age they already measure nearly 4 ft. long, tip the scales at 80 lb., and could grow to 6 ft. and 150 lb. Then there’s their behavior: the angelic exuberance puppies exhibit in the presence of humans—trotting up for hugs, belly rubs, kisses—is completely absent. They keep their distance, retreating if a person approaches. Even one of the handlers who raised them from birth can get only so close before Romulus and Remus flinch and retreat. This isn’t domestic canine behavior, this is wild lupine behavior: the pups are wolves. Not only that, they’re dire wolves...

 

 

Or something very like it. The question is, what's next, what else will be brought back from the dead by some miracle of modern science? Who knows, perhaps ACoC, the Anglican Church of Canada, will once again walk the earth.

Cheers,

LSP

What A Good Sunday

Are Sundays ever bad? Well they can be when you go to a church and get ambushed by wymxn priest figures, assorted space junk like hideous modern attack language, nefarious congregants and new rite nonsense. Not edifying, not at all, but there was none of that here today. No, just the Word of God proclaimed and the Sacrament of the Altar administered. 

mas gusto

Not once, not twice but three times, the last celebration of the sacrifice being a Spanish speaking Mass to which people travelled from the Metrosprawl to support Mission #1. Fr. S celebrated the sacred mysteries, Fr. D preached mas gusto, and a goodly number assisted, after which we fell back to the church hall for all kinds of delicious food.

what a delicious, good-hearted feast

What can I say. The church was full, the hall was full, the car park was full, and everyone was in great and congenial spirits. Was the Spirit present? Most definitely, for those with eyes and hearts to  see. What a great way to end our Sunday worship. Communion with the Lord and one another in the Blessed Sacrament and in the that fellowship which flows naturally from this. Beautiful.

I tell you, priests and pastors who fail to address this opportunity for the increase of God's kingdom should think again, at least in this part of the world. To that end I'm applying myself to Spanish, it's a resolution.

God bless,

LSP

Guns & Books

Guess what punters, it's cold and raining here in the wilds of North Central Texas. Not unlike an English Spring, when you think of it, or a Welsh summer. That in mind, I finally got 'round to cleaning up the Compound and reorganizing its upstairs rooms. 

Part of this sizable project involved adding books to the gun room, turning it into a handy theology library as well as a place to put the few firearms which weren't lost in a tragic boating accident. You see, there were all these theology books, good ones too, lying about in a guest room, doing nothing. Useless. So move all those books to a place of action, let them be with the guns.

typical books

Net result you can now sit down and read Etienne Gilson, Berdyaev, Jacques Maritain, Aquinas, Farrer, Mascall and all the rest Then take a break, clean a gun, drop a trigger group into an AR, or whatever, and after you've washed your hands read something edifying. Maybe Belloc's Europe and the Faith, your call, there's no shortage of books.

gunnery

Who knows, maybe it'd make sense to put a screen in between the bookshelves so theological gunmen can watch videos off the internet, a third potential activity in just one room. In other exciting news, I have to sort out the guest rooms. 

random Basil Hume

Not that they're a mess, but they need organizing, for example, where to put an absurdly large science fiction collection? Good question. Likewise, would one room benefit from an antique desk/drawers/bookshelf sitting idle in Dallas? 

Perhaps, we'll see. In the meanwhile it's all going on in the cold, wet Texan steppe.

Ex Libris,

LSP

Take Note

 

By some miracle they lived. Far out.

June Carter? We applaud you.

Cheers,

LSP

Women Bishops Are So Very Awesome

 

Where would we be without the sheer beauty of wymxn bishop figures? Just imagine, if you can, an Anglican world without them, in which no one, I repeat no one, would take us seriously. Uh huh, that was one of the, ahem, debating points in favor of the wymxn legislation in the Church of England's Synod and beyond. Think about it, if you don't have women bishops everyone will think you're some kind of joke. God, let the reader understand, most definitely has a sense of humor.

Others are far more serious. An ordained priesthood and episcopate which doesn't include women is exclusionary, bigoted and misogynist; in other words it's evil. So much, dear readers, for the ordained ministry from the age of the Apostles until 1976 in the US. Deficiently evil up until then, pure and whole ever after. Excuse me, the Apostles, who knew Christ, got it wrong? Apparently so, and grievously so. You see where that's going, punters, Christ Himself got it wrong, which hardly makes Him divine. Do the math, I dare you.

Ugly

Again, some proponents of  wymxn clergypersynnes wax biblical in their defense. Ordaining them, they claim, is a "scriptural imperative." Then they quote St. Paul, telling you with solemn evangelical conviction that there's no "male or female" in Christ. They might even throw in that bit about a net in which clean and unclean animals are gathered up, implying that even Gentiles are allowed into the Kingdom of Heaven. If them, so too wymxn priests and pontiffs. "Prayer," they tell you in all sanctimonious, ill-fitting suit condescension has "guided this scriptural discovery of unfolding truth."

Far out. So St. Paul, who famously forbade wymxn from teaching in church, a presbyteral role, didn't understand his own epistles? Really? And ordaining wymxn is scripturally led? Surely you mean Marxist/Boshevik/19thC radical led. Where, you ask our evangelical friend, did the ordination of women come from, the Bible or Sangerite Feminism. He'll splutter and change the subject.

Buffoon

And on and on. Long story short, what we're dealing with here is people pretending to be something they don't even believe in anyway. Call them dupes, best instance, of cultural Marxism, and wonder askance as the denominations and institutions which that movement's parasitically subverted collapse into hollowed out shells of their former selves.

Well that's miserable, you say, and it is, but take heart. When the wrecking's over the true will stand, as we do today. God will not be mocked.

Reconquista,

LSP

A Train Robbery

 

He wasn't a border psycho, not at all. LeVon Helm was, of course, a drummer.

Cheers,

LSP

Are You Mad?

 

Oh my, here's the video:

See you at the Blind Beggar, alright?

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Chicken

 

There's chicken, as in we're going to tariff all you asset stripping Quislings and your globalist offshore cronies, so bring it on if you dare, and then there's chicken, as in the meat. In full sympathy with the former, I cheerfully set about the inward spirit of the thing with the latter, buying a 4 Pack of skin on, bone in thighs.

Unlike steak, at least for now, these tasty little beasts are still affordable, coming in at a mere 6 bucks a pack, and they're made in America, which is what it's all about. So look down upon those thighs with glowing favor like the patriot you are, and get to work.

 

Step One: Fire up the grill, I use a whole funnel of charcoal. Step Two: Wash the chicken in case RFK Jnr hasn't caught all the chemicals, and pat 'em dry with paper towel. Step Three: Brush the chicks with olive oil and apply salt and pepper to both sides. You may or may not trim excess skin. I don't, surely that extra, crispy chicken skin adds to the net result. Step Four: Place thighs in fridge and empty the funnel into one half of the grill kettle, you're going for indirect heat, obviously. Well done, you've got this far.

Maybe you take a breather at this point, but don't wander off task, you want those coals hot. That in mind, oil up the grill grate, place over heat and cover the thing with its lid. Idea being to heat up grate and kettle like an oven, those thighs should sizzle when they hit the grate. That's Step Five, Step Six is simple. Put the thighs on the grate near to but not over the coals, then cover for around 30 or 40 minutes. Let the heat do its thing while you listen to the good old Grateful Dead, Lully, Glinka, Waylon, Cash, Blue Oyster Cult and all of that. A pleasant interlude.

Then boom, time to take the lid off that grill and behold succulent thighs, juices running clear. Result, near perfection. Is there a next step, beyond eating the tasty little beasts? Some say there is and I've been following their advice, it's this. Brush the chicken with your BBQ sauce of choice, I'm using Stubbs, you probably make your own, turn meat to heat, brush other side, cover for a few minutes and repeat. The sauce will caramelize and char; be careful though, you don't want to burn the thighs, unless you like that. Some do, no rule.

Mission accomplished, serve that chicken up and fall upon your scoff.

Like a warrior,

LSP

Dallas

 

Sometimes, please don't laugh, the drive to Dallas down I35 isn't so bad and that's the way it was yesterday. No wrecks, no bumper to bumper craziness at 90 mph, no construction either, just a clear highway into the Metrosprawl and Ma LSP's place.

So that was good, and we had fun on the back deck discussing the iniquities of the Left, the craven turpitude of our beloved establishment GOP and the base malfeasance of the Uniparty. Today? Morning Prayer followed by excursion to Oak Lawn and Yong's tailor. Let's see if Mr Yong can work his magic on an old pair of trousers and a suit coat.

Then back to Dallas HQ for some yardwork and a delicious steak, tasty as you like. Tomorrow it's back to the Compound and the sylvan boulevards of Olde Texas. Who knows, maybe a shoot's in order, it's been awhile.

Cheers,

LSP