Tuesday, November 10, 2026

600 Yards Bisley

 



Have you shot out to 600 yards? Of course you have, and then some, but have you done it at Bisley? Probably not, to be fair to US readership, but we did back in the halcyon days of the '80s. Picture the scene, a lot of kids (Cadets) up at the firing line with .303s. "Adjust your sights!" bellowed our RSM, who'd fought at Arnhem, and we did.

Not hard on the Lee Enfield Mk. IV #1, just dial up the rear sight to the required distance. No sooner said than done and there we were, waiting for the firing order. Ah, but not so fast boys. A Navy Chief walked in front of us and our RSM cried out, "Alright there, Chief!" They were contemporaries, let the reader understand.




Then, after this short Army & Navy excursus, we received an order to fire. A big black silhouette, your .303, and that was that. I did alright, scoring around center mass, and it was a heckuvva thing shooting out that far for the first time at the age of 15, with iron sights obviously. 

More memorably, it was a chance to see an Arnhem vet Para get collegial with his Naval counterpart. History, and then some. You'll note I haven't forgotten the scene.

Bridge too far? You be the judge.

Semper Paratus,

LSP


PS. The RSM Para featured above had a Colt 1911, which he kept in the armoury safe, he loved it. This was taken from him by UKGOV in the late '90s, when it banned pistols. You can't scorn the Left too much, to say nothing of their rainbow corporate overlords.

You Miserable Offender

 



No, not the repellent, loathsome, weak, traitorous, failed Thomas so-called "Massie," but the drivers side front wheel of my truck. There I was, fresh outta the Peoples Collective Store (PCS), popularly known as Walmart, and cheerfully heading across the car park to the rig with provisions when disaster struck.

The truck visibly lurched to the right because its supposedly rugged all terrain tire was flat, almost like some kind of parable. Epic fail. But do you give up and surrender in the face of adversity? You do not, on the contrary, you march over to the next door Ford House and ask for help, "This may sound kinda stupid but my F150's got a flat in the Walmart car park and I don't have a jack and all of that to swap it out for my spare..."


spare

Embarrassing and yet another parable in the offing, but the Ford service guy wasn't fazed, "Hey man, I'll meet you outside with a golf cart and we'll swap out that wheel." About 10 minutes later that's exactly what happened and the guys did it for free. Great result, "Gentlemen, your reward will be great in heaven." There are benefits, you see, to living in a small Texan town, would've been a very different experience in the Metrosprawl.

Next stop, drop the malfeasant tire off at Tom's Tire and drive 'round the corner to The Butchers of Hill County. This is a new store and something I've been banging on about for years, why doesn't our country town have a butcher? Well, now it does, and it's run by good people selling the real thing. Here's some of their marketing:


Hey there, meat lovers! Dive into our world of juicy steaks, tender roasts, and seafood delights. We're your friendly, local butcher shop in Hillsboro, Texas, serving up top-quality, hand-cut meats with a side of fun and flavor. Let's get butchering!

 

You bet, and I bought a couple of pounds of well affordable 80/20 to turn into burgers. May these friendly, good natured, quality, honest butchers prosper and flourish in the marketplace. Now, are they at the level of English country butchers, where you'll find freshly shot game? Maybe not yet, but they've only just opened and more power to 'em. If you're in town, swing by these people and buy some meat.


you even get a neat little bag for your beef

More on this exciting new development in rural revitalization anon, in the meanwhile, what can I say? It's all going on in the country.

Rusticus,

LSP

Saturday, November 7, 2026

Fighting Talk

 



Big old Susie Wiles is out and attack dog Miller's in. He does have a way with words, don't you think?



Wow, fighting talk, and I'm reminded of Charles Williams' novel War in Heaven, in which satanic Manasseh says, "They build, we destroy." True, that's exactly what they're about, destruction, tearing down all that's beautiful, good, and true. Miller says no to that and we can expect our beloved new Communist rulers to attempt to destroy him too.




Damme, Guinea on and let's see how this plays out. In the meanwhile, as a loyal Comrade Citizen of Communist Texas I deplore this running dog right-wing extremist and expect you do too. 

So, see you at the nearest collective farm and bets on the monkey who is, notoriously, a vicious beast.

Fight On,

LSP

What's It Like In Communist Texas?

 



On Wednesday, November 3, that momentous day, everything changed and Texas became Communist. So what's it like, living in this newly Rainbow Marxist utopia? I went to the Peoples' Collective Store (PCS), Walmart, to find out.

Strangely, everyone was smiling, laughing even. Yes, you'll own nothing and be happy, even if you can't afford red meat, which can only be bought at Politburo prices. Cheese had also gone up, with a small wheel of El Presidente Brie coming in at close to 6 Kopek Dollars, and increase of around 25% since the commies took over on Tuesday. 




Bacon, however, and pork products in general, remain weirdly cheap, perhaps because they're imported from Xi's CCP paradise, workers solidarity, you see. Gas was also cheaper, coming in at 3.19 a gallon; thank you, Comrade Murphy's.

Who knows, maybe all the cheap pork and petrol made the shoppers smile and laugh as they paraded through the PCS in their bright new Mao jackets. Then again, perhaps they were simply rejoicing because they love Trans Talarico and Gina Open Borders Hinojosa so very, very much. Me? I'm off to polish up my hammer and sickle.




See you in the gulag,

LSP

Thursday, November 5, 2026

Catch A Falling Starfighter

 



Relevant or not, you be the judge. In the meanwhile, Texas rejoices in its new rainbow commie rulership.  So what do you like best about Texas' new Marxist overlords? Maybe you like the way they trans kids and open the borders, then again, maybe you like higher taxation, that's up to you. In the meanwhile, catch a falling starfighter:




Your Pal,

LSP

Monday, November 2, 2026

All Saints - All Souls

 


Yesterday was joyous, the Feast of All Saints, and we were blessed with a baptism at Mission #2. I tell you, it was a cast of mostly young pro rodeo stars with an emphasis on barrel and bronc, what good people. After the Mass I found myself in the church's car park and a stylish young woman asked, "Have you seen a cowboy with a baby?" I thought about this for a second, "Which one?" You get the picture.

A little later, one old veteran reminded me of a long ago ride with my sons at ranch not far from Valley Mills. Quite a thing, not the usual hack about on half-trained beasts but beautifully trained horses in a great arena; they put me on barrel champ Randy, who was valued, I think, at 150k. So off I went, walk, trot, canter, gallop, flat out run, most awesome. What I didn't know at the time was that temperamental Randy had a habit of kicking his riders off.


Behold LSP on Randy with a young riding Buddha

The horse liked me, fortunately, and my post-baptismal pal was still talking about it yesterday, after all these years, "Man," he declared, "Bud and I saw you get on that horse and said 'he's gonna die!' but you didn't, it was all 'tally ho, old chap!'" So it was, what a great ride, and I even had the brazen temerity to run a few barrels. Heh. Kids did well too, naturals on horseback, but of course they were young, fearless, and I'd been training them up all summer.


Yes, that's a thoroughbred grey and crazy with it

Riding reveries over, we fell back to a nearby restaurant for fish and chips, excellent onion rings, white wine, margheritas on the rocks and no end of newly baptized baby love. In fairness, and I say this as an established member of the prestigious King Herod Club (KHC), the baby was adorable and mostly slept. What a lot of fun and a great way to celebrate All Saints.

You see, the child, at her baptism, enters the company or communion of the saints, united to Christ in his death and resurrection and lifted up in him, in the power of the Spirit, to the Father as an adopted child of God. No small thing, and that was yesterday.


Some old blogging fool on a horse in Texas

Today strikes a different tone. The vestments are black and we offer Mass and pray for the departed, All Souls. Do they need our prayers and do we need theirs? I'd say yes on both counts and, remember O man, that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return.




That in mind, may the souls of all the faithful departed, especially those near and dear to us, rest in peace and rise in glory.

God Bless,

LSP

Sunday, November 1, 2026

Halloween

 



So here we are, handing out candy to kids on Halloween, Satan's birthday. No! Not Satan's birthday, the eve of All Saints, in which we honor and celebrate the great heroes of the Faith. Living proof that Christianity's real and with it the miraculous, salvific, transformative power of God.

Here at the Compound this means a candlelit pumpkin, soon to be shot along with its lesser brethren, and all kinds of kids in their varied costumes looking for Trick or Treat. Well, they got that, and fair play to 'em.

Now, some think the Saints are perverse totems, idolatrous holdovers and distractions, at best, from the one mediatorship of Christ. Oh my, there goes some 2000 years of Christian belief and worship, but hold on, not so fast.



What are these saints? Men and women of extraordinary holiness indwelt by God, who works through them with great, miraculous power. Idols? Hardly, more like living proof that the Gospel's true, and we ask for their prayers as we would of any holy person. How does such a thing detract, lessen or cheapen the worship due to God alone?

It doesn't, quite the reverse, and tonight we prepare to celebrate the heroes of our Faith, maybe that involves candy and glowing pumpkins, whatever.

Your Pal,

LSP

Friday, October 30, 2026

Poland's Revolting

 


First there was France, and we expected that, but now Poland, not so much. What's happened, in case you missed it, was that EU Globalist puppet Tusk decided to take over the Constitutional Tribunal, which is kinda like our own Supreme Court. Tusk blockaded that with security forces, chained its doors shut and installed his own people, all this while Poland's President was on a plane to Senegal.



Quite the coup, and you'll be amused to know Poland's President, Karol Nawrocki, turned back from Senegal to address the constitutional crisis. Apparently he's landed now and went straight to the scene of the crime, entering the court building and calling out Tusk's traitorous malfeasance.

Like wow, draw a comparison with the US, as in a VP calling in his own armed force to take out top judiciary in his own favor. Quite a thing, and I don't think Nawrocki's gonna go down without a fight. What does this mean?




I don't know, but I do know Poland's got something like Europe's only viable armed force after Ukraine. If the former goes under in some kind of civil war and the latter kills itself into military, fiscal and demographic oblivion, well then, what's left. The Third Rome, obviously. Let's see how this geostrat skullduggery plays out.


All Hail Jan Sobiewski

Your Best Pal,

LSP


Thursday, October 29, 2026

Wymxn Priestesses Are So Awesome

 


History isn't taught anymore in schools in the US and, for all I know, may have been expunged from the UK curriculum too. Behold, punters, Gramsci's long march through the institutions, but regardless, we're all critical thinkers here and some of us may even remember the far-off, mists of time arguments in favor of ordaining wymxn.

They weren't complex and went pretty much like this: Women can be judges, lawyers and politicians, so why not priests? Anything less is unjust! To exclude half of humanity from the priesthood is hateful, wrong and unjust and has to stop, the Gospel of love demands it. The Church didn't ordain women because it was hidebound to the patriarchal oppression of the past, this has to stop! And the good old kicker, "If we don't ordain women, no one in today's society will take us seriously."




How that last point's aged like vintage milk. My, how the people of the Anglo-sphere look to Canterbury and think, "At last I can take Anglicanism seriously because Sarah Mullally's in charge." What risible nonsense, just on the face of it, much less without the vaguely deeper point that the Church, founded by Christ, is to shape the world as opposed to the other way around. You'll recall, all you history buffs, how early Christians were ripped apart by wild beasts in the arenas of Rome for standing up for such a thing.

Then there's the secular sacrosanct taboo of social justice. No wymxn priestesses means no justice, badly, egregiously so, and we must correct that to become truly Christian and loving. Oh my, how compelling, until you make the effort and see what they're saying, which is this:



That the Church, from its earliest conception was wrong, grievously wrong, that it had injustice and sin written into its ministerial and sacramental DNA from the very beginning, because it didn't ordain women. And only now, since the enlightenment of the last 50 years have we seen the truth, inspired, no doubt, by the Holy Spirit zhirself.

For Holy Spirit, read Cultural Marxism or something worse, far worse, Satan himself. They were saying, and some still do, that the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ, was evil at something like its deepest level, and had to be corrected. This is one of Talarico's impudent little blasphemies masquerading as tolerance and love. But no, their stance, their position isn't about love, it's about hatred of the Church Christ founded, and if you hate that, what d'ye think of its founder, Christ himself?




Not much. Therein, my few friends, hangs the tale, an evil tale of revolt against God, see Lucifer, and in this case, the sacramental ministry he's given to us. That's, I believe, at the heart of it, but now? Behold the spectacle of persyns like Mullally pretending to be something, Archbishop, they don't even believe in anyway.




That in mind, keen-eyed readers will have noticed that Churches and dioceses which adopt wymxn priestesses soon lose all sacerdotal character, the innovation's like a solvent which dissolves sacramental belief and practice. Caveat and hey, here at the Compound, in this sylvan enclave which is North Central Texas, there are no wymxn priestesses and no one's complaining about that.

Your Pal,

LSP



Wednesday, October 28, 2026

Texas Is Awesome - But Not Talarico

 


Still no rain, maybe that comes tomorrow, but evening light falls golden onto the Compound's porch. Sparrows rustle in the hedge, possums patrol fence tops, roosters crow, and grackles screech ferociously as woodpeckers knock out the rhythm. I tell you, it's like a zoo here. And guess what?

Apart from the dog, who relies entirely on benefits without working, there's no socialism here, much less rainbow Islamo-Marxism or wymxn priestesses. And that's just the way it is, but not if Talarico has zhir way. Talarico reckons God's non-binary, that Jesus was a radical feminist, poverty is violence, like what?, and, “My whiteness, my masculinity, all those things limit my imagination about what is possible.”

Good heavens! Once we get beyond Talarico's bizarre whiteness and masculinity the limits are down and imagination's free to surge. To what? Let's have a look at a Talarico rally in Austin:



Far out, and what does it even mean? One thing at least, that the Left's been driven insane by Satan, and you'll be glad to know we don't tolerate this on the porch much less in the church. On topic, I went to the DMV after Mass on Sunday and early voted against Talarico and his abortionist, fraudulent, deceitful, hit-me-face, open borders, high tax, greenscam, rainbow pals.  Maybe, even now, voting has some meaning in this increasingly barbarous, corrupt and despotic age.

Huh. I know what you're like, you'll say "good luck with that, so-called LSP, pass the ammo," but still, before we call Nooses Down The Mall, we must make some kind of effort. And please, God, let it rain.

Clubland Forever,

LSP