Friday, December 15, 2017

Advent Reflection

With Advent we look to the past in wonder, to the coming together of God and man in the person of an infant, Gloria in excelsis Deo! And we look to the future, when the Lord returns in His glorious majesty to judge the quick and the dead and raise up the faithful. Likewise to the present, Christ dwells in us and we in Him, Advent is here and now.

With that in mind, I find this helpful, from Austin Farrer's Essential Sermons:

None of us can be let off being Christ in our place and our station: we are all pygmies in giants’ armour. We have to put up with it: it’s the price (how small a price!) paid for the supreme mercy of God, that he does not wait for our dignity or our perfection, but just puts himself there in our midst; in this bread and this wine: in this priest: in this Christian man, woman, or child. He who gave himself to us as an infant, crying in a cot, he who was hung up naked on the wood, does not stand on his own dignity. If Jesus is willing to be in us, and to let us show him to the world, it’s a small thing that we should endure being fools for Christ’s sake, and be shown up by the part we have to play. We must put up with such humiliation of ourselves – or better still, forget ourselves altogether. For God is here: let us adore him.

Here endeth the Lesson,


Thursday, December 14, 2017

Get A Haircut, Hippy

Joni, stay clear of that lecherous deadbeat

Life is full of challenges and we rise or fall on them as we move down the fast flowing stream of life. Here's a snapshot. 

You look deep into the black depths of the scrying glass and see a monstrous reflection staring back at you, some kind of long haired freak. 


Who is that? you ask the polished obsidian and realise, in shock, that it's you. And the challenge is on, getting a haircut in this rural Texan haven. No, you're not scared, so you hit the road in your rig.

First stop, Quality Cutz but Quality Cutz is shut, unsurprisingly, because Cutz couldn't cut hair. It wasn't his strength, I hope he moved on to better pastures. I liked Cutz.

Cutz is Gone. He Couldn't Cut

Next stop, Creative Designs, all holed up in a half abandoned strip mall. No. Every chair was full of elderly women with tinfoil in their hair. Do you give up? On the contrary, you face the challenge and meet it head on.

This meant ending up at something called Salon 110 and that's trying because all I'm really asking for is an old fashioned barber. But they're gone in this farming community so you adapt and survive.


A pleasant young woman with pink hair got to work; cutting hair was her "passion" she told me and more power to her. About half way through she asked, "Did you go to Woodstock?" I resisted the temptation to say damn your impudence, "No, I missed that one."


Did I miss the teaching challenge and forget to tell her that "hippy" is synonymous with dirty, thieving, lying beggar? And that Joni Mitchell is a Devil Witch?

You be the judge,


Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Go Fishing

"Time to go fishing," said a noted member of the mining community, who may or may not be raising a pack of white wolves somewhere in Arizona. So I took that advice and paid a visit to the lake after visiting the sick.

It was good to get out and try my luck against the watery opposition and perhaps you know the feeling, that sense of quiet excitement, maybe this time you'll catch the best fish ever. Or not.

This time fell into the "not" category, though I tried my best with the kind of juicy worms that fish are known to love. But they weren't having it, if they were even there at all. 

Still, getting out by the waters of the vast inland sea that is Lake Whitney made a welcome change and no one else was catching anything either, by way of consolation. 

We were in it for the Texan air, with its hint of sage, cedar and mesquite, taking a needed break from Chelsea Handler and all the other NWO stooges gloating over Alabama.

Don't worry, fish. There will be a rematch, you may be sure of that.

Fish on,


Tuesday, December 12, 2017

This Must Cease

There's a lot that's not right with America, like our sly, venal, lying, elitist, hypocritical, mendacious mainstream media. Or the awkward let's pretend it isn't there and it won't be debt, or corruption at the FBI or any one of a number of things. Then there's Chelsea Handler.

Chelsea's a millionaire, yes, a millionaire socialist with an estimated net worth of $40 million and she wasn't happy when the President burned down her SoCal mansion. 

Or maybe it was because the President refused to go on her show, which he called "gross." Perhaps that's why she's taken to attacking women who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton. 

Regardless, here's Victory Girls on the subject of the repellent MillSoc Handler:

When Chelsea Handler is not blaming President Trump for her mansion burning down, she partakes in another one of her favorite hobbies (besides rockin’ the ganja): shaming Sarah Huckabee Sanders.
Last week, she claimed Donald Trump was “like, setting the world on fire” because she had to evacuate her Southern California home. Last week, the “I-think-I’m-so-funny” Handler, during an exchange with Lanny Davis—longtime bootlicker-lawyer and fixer for Hillary and Bill Clinton—she inquired about the “harlot with whore lipstick” the Republicans are “trolloping” out every day.

You can read the whole thing here. In the meanwhile, don't forget that Chelsea's a "Champion of Women" which is why she was part of Linda Sarsour's Woman's March movement. 

You know, the same Sarsour who promotes Sharia law because it's so empowering to women when they're koranically beaten by their husbands.

Chelsea, you are a millionaire socialist hypocrite and we scorn you. Someone, anyone, please bundle this rich leftist succubus off stage.

Your Pal,


NASA Probe Unravels Great Red Spot Mystery

NASA's Juno space probe has captured dramatic photos deep within the heart of the Jupiter's Great Red Spot, revealing what appears to be the head of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justsin Welby.

Juno left earth in 2011, making its first pass over Jupiter's Great Red Spot in July, 2017. Astronomer's discovered that the Spot has deep roots, well into the planet's atmosphere.

"Juno data indicate that the solar system's most famous storm is almost one-and-a-half Earths wide, and has roots that penetrate about 200 miles (300 kilometers) into the planet's atmosphere,” said Scott Belton, Juno's principal investigator.

However, star gazing boffins were shocked to find the Archbishop of Canterbury in Juno's camera footage.

"It came as a shock," stated Belton, "We didn't expect to find Justin Welby so far down in the Red Spot, right there at the bottom,"

Others aren't convinced. "This is absurd. It's obviously not the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby," said one expert, "It's just hot gas. Red Spot Junior is ACoC (Anglican Church of Canada), we know that."

Juno continues on its journey out of the solar system and into the icy void of deep space.

Ad Adstra,


Monday, December 11, 2017

Cultural Enrichment

Sirens fill the air, the dull rumble of a train passes by, dogs bark psychotically and all in all, it's just another evening in this bucolic, Texan, rural haven. But at least the Jihad isn't trying to kill us with peace bombs, as in New York.

We don't have many Akayed Ullahs here in Hill County, doubtless because they're all in Dallas and now that the President's travel ban on the peace lovers is coming into effect, we'll have less still. What a shame. 

A Peace Lover

Think of the cultural enrichment we'd have from a massive influx of military aged peace loving males from, say, Syria or Bangladesh or Libya or Tunisia or Iraq or any number of failed peace loving states run by the beautiful peace loving religion of peace.

Weird, isn't it, how the peace loving followers of the religion of peace keep blowing themselves and others up. Reflect on this too.

Religion of Peace Falling Behind The Tech Curve 

Muslims claim total superiority over everyone else because they have the definitive revelation from God and therefore know how to live. Leaving aside the helpful bits in the Koran about wife beating and cattle management, how come all their countries are failed third world hell holes?

Heraclius Slays The Persian, artist's impression

Or to put it another way, if Islam is so very awesome, why are the Islamic nations so clearly behind the West, culturally, scientifically, militarily and all the rest. They weren't at one time and now they are. Why? Because they conquered a fatally weakened Eastern Roman Empire and its Persian enemy, inheriting something of the genius of both. Then they drew checks on the deposit until nothing was left and we see the result today.

Let's Have This Back

It's a conundrum for  the Islamists, this can't be their fault, so they resort to victimhood and, well, blowing themselves up. But what am I saying! If the West is so great, why are we 20 trillion in debt and forcing bakers to make gay cakes?

By the beard of the Prophet,


Sunday, December 10, 2017

Make His Paths Straight

If you follow the newfangled innovation that is the lectionary cooked up by "experts" in the '60s, you'll have noticed that today's Gospel is all about John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make his paths straight."

Rev. "Rachel" Mann

Make his paths straight, what would Archbishop Justsin say about that? Let's find out, here he is in an interview with GQ as reported by Lifesitenews:

Justin Welby, the Church of England’s Archbishop of Canterbury, was asked point-blank, “Is gay sex sinful?” by GQ on Monday.
“You know very well that is a question I can’t give a straight answer to,” Welby answered, then added, “Sorry, badly phrased there. I should have thought that one through.”
According to GQ, Welby paused and looked “mildly embarrassed” after his response.
Asked why he couldn’t answer the question, Welby responded: “Because I don’t do blanket condemnation and I haven’t got a good answer to the question. I’ll be really honest about that. I know I haven’t got a good answer to the question.”

"I haven't got a good answer to the question," tell us, Justsin, is that you or the Chinos talking? Regardless, what would the Baptizer say? 

Welby's Chinos

I think we know and it doesn't take any great leap of the imagination to picture the Forerunner's career trajectory in today's Church of England. From nothing to nothing, springs to mind. 

The Baptizer

Or if the unfortunate prophet found himself within the beast itself, the CofE, where would it end. With his head on a platter at the request of a dancing girl? Or some other thing, like the curiously named trans Canon of Manchester Cathedral, Rachel Mann.


Whatever the case, I don't see the Baptist backing down. Sorry, Justsin.

Make his paths straight,


Saturday, December 9, 2017

So Who Is Dave Brock?

Here at the Compound we're often asked, just who is Dave Brock? A second hand car salesman out of Monmouth, UK, or the weirdly bouffant head of Media Matters.

The other performed fraudulent charitable status and shills for the globalist, Illuminati, NWO elite as the head of a fake news organisation.

The one has long, greasy lanks and stripey flares and he's still alive, by some miracle beyond human understanding.

The other has a remarkable silver bouffe and a rainbow lover who tried to blackmail him. He's alive too, strangely.

And one had Lemmy, who isn't alive anymore but was awesome. RIP, Lemmy, you were great.

So who is Dave Brock?  Which Brock is the Psychedelic Warlord? You, the reader, be the judge.

Dik Mik forever,


Clear The Brush

It was a day much like any other day, the objective being to clear brush from the church. So I drove Sleeping Beauty and his pal, Funboy 2, to one of the missions after the usual exercise of Morning Prayer, walk the Shadow Wolf and all of that.

Work Harder!

The men of the mission were already hard at work, chainsaws in hand, and we stuck right in. Clear that brush! was the prime directive.

A Smoker

Then a political philosopher turned up with a smoker and the fun began as mesquite met heat and the delicious aroma of hot links and other delicacies spread over the work site. Next time it'll be Elk and Boar but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Typical Brush Pile

Several hours later the work was done and we'd gotten off light; imagine the settlers of the last century, clearing and working the land. Put yourself in Montana or Alberta during the winters of the 19th C or for that matter, Texas in the summer before air conditioning. 

They were tough, no doubt about it, and rainbow riding didn't loom large on their radar. Doubtless they had other things to think about.

Funboy 2

We will too, when everything comes crashing down under a mountain of irreparable debt and our money's exposed for the rotten fish head that it is. Good luck with that, all you who live in a city and just about anywhere else.


Speaking of which, smart people are building compounds and learning to ride, shoot, fish and hunt if they haven't already mastered these forward looking skills.

Yours truly,


Friday, December 8, 2017

Planned Parenthood's Circle Of Hell

Do you remember Planned Parenthood, America's wealthier-than-the-Rolling-Stones abortion mill, with a revenue of $1.3 billion? You know, the same non-profit that's subsidized some $500 million a year by the taxpayer. 

Sure you do, but perhaps you've forgotten millionaire socialist Cecile Richards, net worth $4 million, who runs Planned Parenthood. She earns $520,000 because she's in charge of a women's health charity. Nice money if you can make it. 

How much of this money comes from the sale of baby parts? Don't act all shocked, everyone knows that Cecile's operation adds to the charitable bottom line by selling bits of babies to the highest bidder. After all, charity doesn't come cheap.

But at what price? Maybe the DOJ will discover the temporal value of Cecile's infant body parts vending. Good luck, and what about the eternal value? About the eternal quality of a soul that says killing babies and selling them equates to health.

I'll hazard the circle of that particular Hell is very deep and cold indeed. Good luck, MillSoc Cecile.

Out Demons Out,


Good Morning Texas, Walk The Dog

The Compound's first morning evolution runs like a well oiled machine. Stand to by first light, wake Sleeping Beauty, feed dog, drive Sleeping Beauty to hallowed halls of rural academe, say Morning Prayer, walk dog to the Pick 'n Steal and back. As you can see, this operation may be irregular but its not slack.

Neither was Blue Scout as he went on his morning constitutional in today's weirdly cold Texan air. Why so cold? Because anthropocentric global warming has caused temperatures to drop; it's colder now because it's warmer, unless you pay a weather tax, obviously. Regardless, the dog moved along briskly in the crisp, chill air. Then I noticed his shadow.

There it was, walking alongside him, a shadow; the shadow of his inner self, a wolf! That's right, Blue Scout is, in fact, a wolf, a shadow wolf. 

With that in mind, a lesser dog sensibly stayed well clear of my beast's avenging fangs. We walked on, unopposed.

The First Baptist sign got a good seeing to though, and the Methodists were singled out for special treatment. I'm not sure why. 

Then back to base, where the local PD were taking down a nearby drug dealer who goes by Chucho (dog). I had a pleasant conversation with a couple of the officers and compared notes. We have a common interest in getting the local bad actors off the streets.


Speaking of bad actors, I returned from the intelligence briefing only to discover that Blue 5th Column had stolen all the butter off the kitchen counter. Good thing it wasn't steak.

Your Friend,