Climate Change Settled Science

"You see, the government needs money, huge amounts of it 

just to stay alive in the elite luxury they're accustomed to. 

Penthouse apartments on the Champs Elysee 

and Mews getaways in Knightsbridge don't come cheap." LSP

And that's just it, like Mars needs women the government needs cash, lots of it, and the only way it can get it is by taking it from you with the threat of force. The fly in the ointment, currently, is that our elected officials are just that, elected, and raising the levy doesn't sit well with the voters. So what to do?

Introduce a tax that isn't a tax, a stealth tax dressed up in terms that appeal to the demographically ascendant Woodstock generation. A tax that says pay this or fragile planet earth will be destroyed and goddess Gaia with it! Then watch the mug punter hippies climb aboard and agree to give the government more money. Heck, they can afford it, in between lattes.

Unless they're French, in which case they're rioting and burning cars in downtown Paris over the hated faux Napoleon Macron's tax on deisel. All in the name of stopping Climate Change, aka the weather, but really about giving the Rothschild's puppet government moar money. 

The serfs don't like that and the gloves are off. Don't use our old enemy, The Weather, as an excuse to raise taxes, contemptible Macron. But here's the thing.

Like all right thinking people I scorn big government and its insatiable demand for money it hasn't earned. It reeks of despotism, tyranny and corruption and the larger the more so. But as a sportsman who loves the countryside, I hate pollution.

So why can't the government be honest and appeal for funds to stop the scourge of plastic in our oceans and the destruction of nature. Why? Because honesty isn't in it. Our transnational, private island overlords don't care about pollution, much less the weather, and aren't about to spend your cash on putting that right. But they do want an excuse to get your money, they always want moar. It defines them.

Regardless of the dishonesty, which is hateful, we're in for another Ice Age because the Sun's had enough of being hot. Smart people are getting their bob sleds ready for runs across a frozen English Channel and a disarmed populace.

Don't say loot,

LSP

Rise Of The Witch

Once consigned to the realms of bigotry, superstition, fable and myth, witches have been making a comeback and now outnumber Presbyterians in the US.

According to the Pew Research Center, 1.5 million Americans identified with pagan and Wiccan witch cults. By contrast, mainline Presbyterianism (PCUSA) trailed behind the occultists at 1.4 million members. 

America's rapidly growing witch cult was galvanized into action by the election of Donald Trump in 2016 and lost no time in setting up the Magic Resistance. The Magic Resistance organizes regular rituals to curse Trump and his supporters, and "bind" the President. 

But the spells go further than "binding." One, used against Justice Kavanaugh, reads, "The king is dead, hear us scream, tear off his head, burn his bones, salt the earth, rage is our song, rage is our mother." And sample rituals pray to demons.

Hear me, oh spirits

Of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air

Heavenly hosts

Demons of the infernal realms

And spirits of the ancestors

Well sure, it's all a fun-and-games, raise the Pentagon stunt like the Temple of Satan itself. But pause for a moment and ask yourself why America's rapidly growing witch cult almost uniformly sides with the Democrats. 

The same Party, you may recall, who wrote off Podesta's part in Marina Abramovic's hellish Spirit Cooking (performance art?) as a big so what.

Reflect on that and the fact of these people invoking demons and casting spells. Such is the company of the DNC, to say nothing of Molloch's child sacrifice industry star, Planned Parenthood. Christians might want to think twice about siding with that.

In the meanwhile, it's all a larf until the, ahem, higher power you've invoked comes alive and you wake up with a demon gnawing on your elbow. Or you're in a wicker cage and it's on fire.

The number of Presbyterians, Episcopalians and clergy in the CofE who identify as witches is currently unknown. As we await stats, the battle lines between good and evil become more sharply drawn.

OUT DEMONS OUT,

LSP

Feast of Saint Andrew

It's the Feast of Saint Andrew, almost, so here's some pipes.

Scotland the Brave,

LSP

State Religion Goes Dhimmwit In Blackburn

If you're a state religion, like the Church of England, it'd be a bit odd if your teaching didn't mirror the state's. Which is awesome as long as the state's Christian, but what happens when it isn't?

Imagine a mythical country where everyone thinks you can change your biologically given gender at will and that anything less is an attack on freedom. 

The freedom to be what you wanna be regardless of your chromosomes. Sure, you've still got to slave away at the cubicle for the Man but you can do it in a frock, because now you're free.

OK. The State Church supports this in our imaginary country and starts telling its few believers that there's no such thing as the fatherhood of God and gets rid of all his oppressive personal pronouns. Boom. Liberty at last.

Now take this small thought experiment a step further.  Say you live in a small town, let's call it Blackburn, where 25% of its 100+k population are Muslim and you decide to hold an "anti war mass" on Armistice Day eve. What happens?

Being a reflection of the state of things, an imam gets up during the beautifully pacifist liturgy and incites Jihad with the Muslim call to prayer or Adhan, thus claiming the cathedral for Islam. 

Speech, as it were, notoriously enacts and there it is, a once Christian cathedral becomes a mosque in the imaginary land of the dhimmwits.

You can read all about this make believe scenario here. The Archbishop of Canterbury's preference for a genderless God is as well known as his love for chinos.

Good luck, CofE,

LSP

Cooking With LSP -- Cyber Monday Pie

"Oh, cooking with LSP, where's that on the spectrum?" Good question. First things first, get a gun and put it on the table, I use a Glock 21 but that's just me. You might prefer a revolver, a Sig, a CZ or a Beretta. Up to you.

Next, boil up leftover beef bones or beef ends, the fatty, gristly stuff you don't want to eat. Add salt and pepper, you're making stock. Let it boil then reduce to a simmer for around an hour or so until the fat's rendering. You'll want around 2 cups worth.

While the stock's doing its thing, chop up an onion, a leek, a carrot or two and peel 4 or 5 cloves of garlic. Don't crush or mince the garlic, this isn't some kind of Macronite, faux Napoleon, globalist assault on traditional value. 

No, throw the whole cloves into the tin with the rest of the veg. Add olive oil and a few tablespoons of butter. Pour a cup+ of beef stock over the veg, then put that bad boy in the oven at 400* to roast. Why?

Because it'll taste good, trust me. Let the veg roast for around an hour, 'til it's starting to char, In the meanwhile, cube up some leftover roast beef, as much as you like, set it aside. 

Boil up a couple of carrots and set them aside, slice some mushrooms in half or leave 'em whole if they're small. Set them aside too. Well done, you're nearly there, so have a glass of wine or seltzer water, your choice. I chose wine.

Thirst assuaged, make a poor man's roux. I use 4 tbls of butter, flour, salt and pepper and a cup of milk+. Cook it up and behold the roux magically thicken, then pour in 1 1/2 cups of stock. Add more stock if needed, up to you.

Stir it 'round like a champion. Add the roast veg, beef, and mushrooms, stir and let simmer for a good 30 minutes. You'll see the roux change color from cream to brown. Such is cooking.

While the beast's simmering away and consolidating like a battle group about to go over the start line, roll out some pasty. I cheat and use pre-made and here's the orthodoxy; don't use puff pastry in a beef pie, use the other sort. But I like the rainbow riding puff, it tastes better. Whatever, your call.

Pastry rolled, pour the simmering awesomeness of beef and veg into a deep pie dish. Stand back and consider the completion of this phase of the advance. Perhaps play some baroque fanfares, up to you. Chivalric reverie over, don't say Agincourt, place the rolled out dough over the mix.

Decorate the in potentia pie crust with leftover dough, then glaze with egg white and put the whole thing in the oven at 375* for as long as it takes, around an hour.

Take it out, let it rest, and eat your scoff like...

A King,

LSP

Archbishop of Canterbury Goes Gender Neutral Christ Still King

By now all the world knows that Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, doesn't think God is male or female.

Welby, who's popularly known as Justsin, dropped this theological bombshell at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, stating, “God is not a father in exactly the same way as a human being is a father. God is not male or female. God is not definable."

Good heavens, there was everyone thinking the necessary Being of the Deity was just a scary old bloke in the sky with a beard. Now we know, thanks to Justsin, that God's a bit more than that and we can only speak of the Creator by analogy.

We know where Justsin's earthshaking logic leads. God's a perfect spirit, beyond gender so, drum roll... we should have wimmin priests and bishops, trans education in church schools, and get rid of all those pesky male personal pronouns invented by the patriarchy to keep the people down.

Let's go further, in the bold spirit of boundary breaking Justsinian theological inquiry. 

God's neither male nor female, obviously, so we deploy gendered language to describe the divinity as a kind of construct. And what's human gender but an invention, a construct? Which means that hybrid no-sex transsexuals reflect the reality of God better than anyone else. So make them bishops.

The problem with this, apart from the fact that it's completely wrong, is that some analogies are better than others and that the ones we use, as Christians, are definitively revealed in the Person of Christ, who was notoriously a Man and taught us to pray to God as Father. Geoffery Kirk, at Ignatius, makes the point and you can read it here.

But feel free to break with revelation in favor of the spirit of the age, disregarding the truth given to us by the Word made Flesh. Go right ahead, disobey your Sovereign King and see where it gets you. 

Just don't be surprised if you wake up to find a demon gnawing on your shinbone.

Viva El Cristo Rey,

LSP

God Save The Tzar

"Monarchism is gay and weird, Colonel," said one of the team. I considered, the man had a point but not enough of one. Human governance must reflect the heavenly and that's not parliamentary, thank God.

With this in mind, enjoy the above infovid and consider, why are the Western atheist powers intent on destroying Russia?

Surely not because it's building 1000 churches per year.

Yours,

LSP

Black Friday Frenzy!

Black Friday. Here we are at one of the pyramid peak celebrations of the old lie. Viz. Buying more molded plastic and associated things will make you happy, fulfilled and rich. Being a citizen journalist, I went to Walmart to cover the story.

Mallbrawls, scrapping over flatscreens, getting into it over rollovers? No. You could've shot a canon down the aisles of cut price mammon and not hit a soul.

I walked away, as a committed Monarchist, with some eggs, carrots, bullets, a bottle of wine and pie crust pastry. It was easy, no lines.

Why the absence, had a neutron bomb gone off, were people too full to move or were they staying at home in a grass roots movement to boycott the big corp rainbow in favour of a return to the governance of Christendom?

On that theme, well done Russia, you're the one that got away from beneath the talons of the nihilist beast.

Stand.

LSP 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving! And you'll forgive the team for going down a beef route as opposed to turkey. A small standing rib and thank you very much. It's resting now, as the Yorkshire Pudding gets fired up.  

Seeing as there's a break in the proceedings, here's some martial music to stir the spirit. To the beat of the drum.

God bless you all and have a great time with family and friends.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Just Strolling

There was a stillness in the air as the sun rose above this small redoubt on the Texan Front. That's because everyone was sensibly in bed before braving the Thanksgiving Day Supermarket Maelstrom. I gazed at the frost, had a cup of hot tea, said Morning Prayer and took Blue Eschaton for a walk.

We went by a small but patriotic compound which seems to be in a constant state of yard sale. You know the thing, broken records, a bent bicycle wheel, soggy clothes in a wet cardboard box, a few old rusty spoons, a doorless fridge, whatever. A bit like the Tramp Market under the London's Westway in the early 1990s.

"Must get this crew into church," I thought to myself as I passed Jose's new house. Jose's bought some wooden fencing to mark the boundary between his compound and the yard sale scrappers' but he hasn't put it up yet.

The Pick 'n Steal was empty, apart from the Owl idol, and I poured some coffee into a Yeti 20 Ounce Tumbler, guaranteed to keep your drink hot or cold, no matter what kind of beating you give it. I'm inclined to doubt Yeti's marketing but haven't put it to the test, stay tuned.

Coffee poured into the purportedly indestructible Yeti, I strolled across the way to the Disciples Christian Church, at least I think that's what it is but it's hard to remember. They're a small crew but friendly, good luck to 'em.

We stopped up behind the temple and Blue got to nose about while I took a few sips of Yeti insulated coffee. Yes, thanks to Yeti's special system the coffee was still hot even though the Tumbler hadn't taken a beating, well done. 

I looked around while Blue Appalling did unmentionable things and took in the quiet Texan street scene. This part's well put together and a few young families make the effort to make it nice, in pleasant contrast to the crackheads, fools and wastrels that live down the block.

We moved on, patrolling beneath the locust trees, keeping an eye out for malfeasant skulduggery from the ne'er-do-well rent shacks on the left. But they were fast asleep and Blue Attack missed his chance at glory.

And there it was, the Compound, flags waving, chairs gleaming and all was well. The day moved on from there, much of it on the porch, but that's a different story. 

So there it is, another morning's worth of country life in Texas.

Quas Primas,

LSP

States Rights

Do you remember reading Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and thinking how awesome it was? Such beautiful thoughts expressed so beautifully. But consider this, H.L. Mencken via Borepatch. It's long for this kebob stand of a mind blog but read on:

The Gettysburg speech is at once the shortest and the most famous oration in American history. Put beside it, all the whoopings of the Websters, Sumners and Everetts seem gaudy and silly. It is eloquence brought to a pellucid and almost child-like perfection—the highest emotion reduced to one graceful and irresistible gesture. Nothing else precisely like it is to be found in the whole range of oratory. Lincoln himself never even remotely approached it. It is genuinely stupendous. 

But let us not forget that it is oratory, not logic; beauty, not sense. Think of the argument in it! Put it into the cold words of everyday! The doctrine is simply this: that the Union soldiers who died at Gettysburg sacrificed their lives to the cause of self-determination — “that government of the people, by the people, for the people,” should not perish from the earth. It is difficult to imagine anything more untrue. The Union soldiers in that battle actually fought against self-determination; it was the Confederates who fought for the right of their people to govern themselves. 

What was the practical effect of the battle of Gettysburg? What else than the destruction of the old sovereignty of the States, i. e., of the people of the States? The Confederates went into battle an absolutely free people; they came out with their freedom subject to the supervision and vote of the rest of the country—and for nearly twenty years that vote was so effective that they enjoyed scarcely any freedom at all. Am I the first American to note the fundamental nonsensicality of the Gettysburg address? If so, I plead my aesthetic joy in it in amelioration of the sacrilege.

“that government of the people, by the people, for the people,” should not perish from the earth. It is difficult to imagine anything more untrue. The Union soldiers in that battle actually fought against self-determination; it was the Confederates who fought for the right of their people to govern themselves. 

Reflect on that and ask yourself, when Leviathan tears down another statue, how free are you. Or, if you'd rather, make like a pathetic lib Sumner sheep and bleat freedom, no slavery! Well done, but don't support its antithesis.

All for the Cause,

LSP

Celine Dion Goes Devil Witch

When you think "Celine Dion," if you ever do, you probably don't think satanic devil witch but maybe you should. 

The famous popstar's launched a line of gender neutral kid's clothes, NuNuNu packaged as Celinununu, because children obviously need to be freed from oppressive binary gender stereotypes.

Here's a few snapshots from Celinununu's promovid.

The singer walks into a maternity ward and doesn't like what she sees, boys and girls separated according to biological gender. Poor infants! So she changes this soul crushing injustice by blowing magic dust around and makes everything better. See for yourself.

Now boys and girls are gone, they're plus signs in a colorless black and white world because that's so liberating. And not just for the kids, look at all the black demons sitting up in the cribs. They've been freed from the Pit to play with the babies. Here's one, look how happy it is.

This baby's wearing a black skull beanie because putting death symbols on your infants is entirely appropriate when they're genderless drones of the New Order.

But don't forget this isn't really Celine's work, she's just endorsing NuNuNu, which has this totally unsuggestive photo on its web site. And here's another one, expressing the innocent joy of childhood.

In case you're wondering, NuNuNu's Instagram account's pretty instructive too and not even remotely satanic.

Hollywood and Devil Witch Celine Dion love NuNuNu, a clothing line which obviously loves children. 

OUT DEMONS OUT,

LSP

Moving Day

"Can I ask you a favor?" said the man, standing on the porch in the brilliance of freshly restored metal chairs, gleaming like a Guards barracks ready for inspection. "Sure," I replied, quickly calculating cash flow, "What's the deal?"

The deal was this, to help my friend move from his bucolic rural retreat into the county seat grandeur of this thriving farming community. 

So, unlike the wicked priest in the parable of the Good Samaritan, I stepped up to the plate and off we went. "Just a bed, a refrigerator and a microwave, yessir," that's all it'd be. It wasn't, of course, but that was alright, we made the haul in two trips.

Move

During a lull in the firefight, I stepped off to inspect the treeline and stood still, listening. You know what it's like, first a kind of null then hearing sharpens, senses begin to live again and the countryside comes alive. Right at that point I heard a slight rustle through the brush and out padded a grey fox.

He didn't see me at first, just picked his way with a doggish grin along the game trail. The occasional shot echoed out in the distance and I wondered at the fox; gunfire didn't faze him. He stopped, as if on cue, while someone's rifle sounded off in search of deer.

A Typical Gray Fox

I looked at the fox and the fox looked at me with his comical face, his amazingly full tail gently brushing away. Then he trotted off in search of the next adventure and I finished off the move. 

Part of that meant bagging a weirdly large amount of lights that'd been strung around the small compound. I told the story of the fox and got a spirited reply, explaining the light show.

Cat!

"Yes! Seen grey fox and red fox, bobcat, coyote, all kinds. There's a black cougar, yes there is. These lights here see him off. Don't want that puppy, nossir! Bag that extension cord. Cost me 68 dollars. Not leavin' that behind for no black cougar."

We left, truck loaded down with half of a man's worldly possessions. Not much when you think of it, two short-bed, tailgate-down loads to account for a life. By worldly standards a failure but listen up.

Ford

"No luggage racks on the top of a hearse" and, in the Gospel, "It's harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle."

Comfort one another with these words.

LSP