Friday, December 6, 2019

Age Of Aquarius

So, how do you celebrate the Feast of St. Nicholas of Myra? Simple, load up the rig with a couple of light rods and head out to the mighty Brazos.

Boom. Pretty much every cast a fish, it was like... like the Age of Aquarius. No kidding, I lost count.

Mostly perch but also drum, a couple of cats and curiously, baby striper. Ferocious little fish, all of them, but especially the striper. Big fun to catch when they're big and not bad when they're small. And here's the thing.

My friend Pedro was fishing silver spinners, slabs, the live perch which I gave him, and caught exactly nothing. He was going after big fish and failed. 

By contrast, I was pulling the aquarian adversary out of the water every few minutes or so on a worm, small hook, two split-shot rig on a light rod. Big success, "You're rippin' 'em up, man!"

Moral? No libs, fish smart,


Thursday, December 5, 2019

Rolling To Civil War?

"Gotta say, LSP, mebbe it's lookin' like Civil War," said a rancher I was riding with back in the days of the Great Rhetor, Barack Stilted Delivery Hussein Obama. He had a point, way back then. Fast forward to today.

Two fundamentally opposed points of view are facing off in America. The one, a rainbow hued neo-pagan expression of the radical liberal project, with total personal autonomy as its end goal, see transsexualism. And the other, God, Guns, Church and Country Life in Texas, and beyond. 

The radicals, rightly, see abortion and getting a sex-change as a sacramental, an outward sign of something inward and spiritual. In their case, the promethean or luciferian desire to create themselves in their own image. To be, as the Good Book puts it, "as Gods."

Red State America, however imperfectly, says no. You're not a God and guess what, if you're a man you can't use the woman's restroom. And by the way, a country has borders or it's not a country and don't kill your babies, that's sick and evil. 

Now, granted all of the above and more, how can these two states of mind, heart and soul exist in peace? Impossible and we're seeing the clash right now in Congress. But picture this.

45 will doubtless survive the Democrat attack on him and the Constitution, but will nonetheless leave office in 2024. What then. Who knows, perhaps there'll be a Trump Dynasty and Ivanka will become the first woman president, yes please.

Well Done, Aberystwyth

Or the globalist elite deep state will snap right back and resume Federal control. If that happens, expect resistance, real resistance, and here's the thing. If Washington DC bans your guns or tells your kid's school to set up trans bathrooms and Texas says no, what are they going to do, send in the troops?

I tell you this, the Army won't fire, and states will ignore federal laws they don't like, it's happening already. The result? The balkanisatoin of America and hopefully an unbloody civil war. But hey, perhaps we'll all come together under Ivanka.

In the meanwhile, is anyone taking the impeachment farce seriously?


Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Olympia Trans Awesome

Do you remember a time when the Left was supposedly about helping the "working man"? You know, people in low paying jobs. Not any more; move over, proles, it's tranny time. Freedom or what. And bear in mind these people are protesting a trans event held by the city.

Scheming antics of the genderless, transnational globalist elite, risible identity politics, Illuminati Hivemind aside, I'm most in favor of The Royal Majesty,  being a Monarchist. But perhaps you have a different preference?

Thanks for the tip, GWB.

Over the rainbow,


Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Hunter Thompson What A Man

Some of you may have heard of Hunter Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hell's Angels, and all the rest. He was famous as the King of Gonzo journalism, and though he shot himself in 2005 he lives on in myth and legend, "We can't stop here, this is bat country!" Uh huh, quite, and Hell's Angels is great too, but consider this, from American Digest:

Warren (Hinckle, Scanlan's) liked to drink and spend other people’s money on himself and writers. Naturally, such a honey pot was going to attract Hunter Thompson.
Thompson liked to drink, snort coke, and spend other people’s money on articles he might or might not write. Sometimes the small staff working with me and the larger staff working the con with Warren at Scanlan’s would decide to drink together. We liked to drink at our bar of choice up at the end of the alley, Andre’s.
And so one night, when Hunter was in town, we all went up to Andre’s for a non-stop night of drinking.
Andre was an elegant French-Canadian who ran an elegant bar and restaurant. He was old-school and could mix any drink anyone could name and it was always perfect. He was polished, polite, and a good listener. But he was a pro and usually knew when you’d had enough. Then he politely asked you to leave. If you ignored him, he had a very large mallet with a three-foot handle behind the bar and you didn’t ignore that.
So there we were, eight or ten of us I think, hanging around and drinking with “Hunter S. Thompson, man!” And, as they would, Warren and Hunter got into a drinking contest — sort of like watching a match between Ali and Frazier in their prime.
It went on and on long past the point where I could or would keep up. It was getting late and Andre announced to the assembled cross-eyed drunks, that he was giving us our last round. The regulars took him at his word, but Hunter had to push the envelope. Except with Andre there was no envelope. Just a polite, “Non.”
The next thing I know there’s a gun in Hunter’s hand and three rounds into the ceiling of the bar. (Did I mention that there were apartments where people were sleeping above the bar?)
Then I think there was a blur of Andre, in suit and tie, coming over the bar with the mallet. Then more blurs and everybody is out on the street dragging a semi-conscious Hunter back down the alley mumbling something about getting his gun back. After that I don’t remember much and, frankly, haven’t thought all that much about Thompson in the nearly 50 years that have intervened.
Later Hunter left this Earth  in the same way that he lived — gun-crazy, thoughtless, self-obsessed and selfish to the last second. A gunshot suicide at home, leaving his wife and son to discover and deal with his ruined corpse and clean up the room.
What a man.

Whoa, what a damning obit, and Vanderleun tells a good story, shooting right in the X-Ring of a crew of boozy hacks. But consider this. HST managed to fire off a few rounds and guess what, no one called the police, it was handled the right way, with a mallet, by old school Andre.

Such was, apparently, the '70s and we've clearly lost a lot, the flawed gonzo genius of Hunter Thompson and perhaps more to the point, the greatness of Andre. We're a smaller world for that.

Your Old Pal,


Schiff Hits The Fan

If you found this infovideo helpful you might enjoy If You Give A Donkey A Cookie.



Monday, December 2, 2019

AR Mods

...did you ever think you'd be using the words “narwhal tusk” in regular conversation?  Or thinking of the merits of a narwhal tusk for everyday carry?  Or comparing a narwhal tusk to an AR-15 for ease of concealment?

Here at the Compound we agree, who would have thought that NARWHAL TUSKS would become a tried and true must-have in the anti-Jihad toolbox?

They fit beneath the admirably modular AR15 too, like a grenade launcher or a bayonet, but a lot longer. Useful, right?

Aloha Snackbar,


Melania Mondays!

Melania Mondays are back and they're back in force, with America's popular and glamorous First Lady decorating the White House for Christmas.

Melania Loves Christmas

Elegant as ever, Melania put finishing touches on the Christmas decorations, which she entitled "Spirit of America" on social media:

The Spirit of America is shining in the @WhiteHouse! I am delighted to share this beautiful exhibit of patriotism for all to see, and excited for everyone to experience the beauty of the #Christmas season!

 Obama's Hated Mao Balls

Melania's Spirit of America stands out in stunning contrast to the Obama's turgid, tasteless, traitorous and ugly Christmas tree ornaments, which mocked America and Christmas with images of the infamous mass killer Communist, Mao Tse Tung.

Melania's Beautiful, Patriotic Ornaments

As one noted commentator put it, "Patriotism and Christ have returned to the White House." And not before time.

Best First Lady Ever

Thank you Melania, for doing your part to make America great again.

MAGA 2020,


Sunday, December 1, 2019


No sooner Thanksgiving than Advent follows, the great almost forgotten season of the liturgical year. Conversation in the sacristy before the second Mass went like this.

"Good morning gentlemen, how was Thanksgiving?" One server looked me grimly in the eye, "About two thirds."
"Two thirds? That's no use, what happened?"
"Daughter-in-Law's dog bit me."
"You shoot the dog?"
"No, but I said I would shoot the dog if it did it again."
Another server chimed in, "Maybe you should've bit the dog right back." And at that point it seemed right to pray. Here's the governing Collect of the season:

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen.

God bless,


Saturday, November 30, 2019

A Mild London Bridge Response

When will the UK and the rest of Western Europe wake up to Moslem threat their ruling elites have imported into their countries for votes and cheap labor? Maybe some people have woken up and aren't prepared to sit down, roll over, and take it.

Who knows, maybe they'll take the fight to the enemy, like a Massive Attack. Then, oh my, watch the Hackney lesbian theater collective duck and cover. Point being, there's a scrap coming.

In the meanwhile the Met, London's police force, go by a rainbow twitter handle cuz, you know, Jihadis run from a rainbow. 



Take Out The Terr With A Narwhal Tusk And Brexit

Some things are all too predictable, others aren't. For example, if you're Cambridge University and you invite an early release,  tagged convict, bomb plot Moslem terrorist to your criminal rehab seminar, don't be surprised if he goes full Jihad and starts killing people on London Bridge. So predictable.


That a Polish cook will react to the cultural enrichment by pulling a 5' Narwhal tusk off the wall and go after the frenzied knife-wielding savage is less obvious. Not the sort of outcome you'd, say, wager the fighting monkey on. And this brings us to Brexit.


If and when the UK's ruling elite see fit to deliver Brexit and respect the votes of over 17 million people, to say nothing of national sovereignty, should Poles get an exemption? 

Judging from London Bridge, I'd argue for a bipartite pact between the Sceptered Isle and the descendants of Jan Sobieski.

Well done, Luckasz.

Aloha Snackbar,


Friday, November 29, 2019

Blue Friday

The Friday after Thanksgiving's famous for scenes of crazed shoppers fighting over all the made in China debris of modern life. Rather than go out in the fray we decided to emulate the feeding frenzy at home. How?

Enter one stuffy squeaking dog toy, and a voracious Heeler. Blue Friday fell onto that squeak cow like a mall full of shoppers on a cut price flatscreen.

The toy didn't have a chance. Blue Consumer was on it. Ears? Rip 'em off. Head? Tear the stuffing out of it. Body? Disembowel, and scatter the contents to the floor, growling and grunting like a Best Buy punter in search of a cheap deal.

Then, almost as fast as you can say mindless mall brawl nonsense, the fight was over and Blue Khan stood, victorious, on the battlefield. Did he expect a treat for his Blue Friday performance? Yes, of course.

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving and manage to stay out of the store scrum today.



Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Thanksgiving Interlude

Rock on,


Thanksgiving Warning Order

George Washington urged this, in his 1789 Thanksgiving Proclamation. Take note, it's a prayer:

May we all unite in rendering unto God our sincere and humble thanks— For His kind care and protection of the people of this country, For the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty which we have enjoyed,
For the peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness,
For the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge, and in general for all the great and various favors which He hath been pleased to confer upon us.
And may we also unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech Him—
To pardon our national and other transgressions,
To enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually,
To render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed,
To protect and guide all nations and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord,
To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science,
And generally to grant unto all mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as He alone knows to be best.

I reckon all of the above holds as much now as it did then, maybe more. Have a blessed Thanksgiving and may God fill us with his light, truth and love.

Your Pal,


Tuesday, November 26, 2019

They're Not Even Bothering To Hide

In the olden days, back when children were still allowed to say Christian prayers in school and everyone knew that gender was a God given construct of biology, Satanists used to hide. They were secretive, with a few odd exceptions like failed Oscar Wilde Crowley.

These days it's pretty much  out in the open. Spirit Cooking, so what? Witches casting spells on the President every weekend? Whatever. 

Selling baby parts to biotech firms? Better fine the sonofabitch that uncovered that to the tune of $800k++. Forcing children to watch tranny drag queens in libraries? Well yeah, obvs, because tolerance.

And on, to say nothing of the malfeasance of our pedophile millionaire elite on places like Epstein's island, watch out Andy!, NXIVM, such a painful brand, and cannibal performance art by Abramovic & Co. 

You get the picture. There it is, for all the world to see, they're not even bothering to cover it up, much. And their hallmarks are clear, hatred of Christianity, children, beauty, truth, freedom, love and life itself. Remember, they're against that and want to kill it in the womb.

The question is, do we care enough to do anything about it? And for those who think the above's some kind joke, it's all a larf  'til you wake up and a demon's gnawing on your inner thigh. To the point:

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. (1 Peter 5:8)

I'd argue the chief Apostle knew what he was talking about.

Your Old Buddy,


Monsters Of The Deep?

So you're standing on the rip-rap like a warrior on the edge of time, beholding the mighty Brazos as it flows beneath you to Houston and its enormous Dalek. You have a choice, stare in amazement at the fabled waterway and reflect on its storied history or get a rod from the truck and go after some action.

There's no "rule," either way is OK, but I chose the latter path and went to the pier armed with a light Shakespeare Ugly Stick and a couple of boxes of worms. I felt the fish would love these worms and they did, snapping, tugging and bumping with pretty much every cast.

All well and good, but I wasn't closing the deal. Fishing wizardry told me juvenile perch and bass were plundering the line and a smaller hook was in order. Such is piscine soothsaying, don't discount it.

Sure enough, before too long I was reeling in the young 'uns, and ferocious predators they were too, going at the juicy worms like Democrats boarding a Greyhound for Chicago. But you're saying, in that mocking tone of voice, "Aren't they a bit small?"

Not so fast, readers of this popular international mind blog, they may have been small but a fish is a fish and even a small fish is value on a light rod. So I left the dam pleased, mission accomplished. 

And I tell you, it's good for the soul to get out in the clean air and big sky of an overcast Texan morning and fish, no matter what you catch.

Tight lines,


Monday, November 25, 2019



PS. The Uppity Duchess of Suffolk Sussex, a well known millionaire socialist, D List actress from LA is famous for flying private jets to stop climate change. Her now relative Andrew was kicked out of Buckingham Palace for his affinity to the notorious pedo millionaire, Jeffrey Epstein.

Hero Dog Conan Honored By President

The world's most famous dog, a Belgian Malinois named Conan who chased down the infamous ISIS head-chopper savage Al Baghdadi was honored by President Trump at the White House today.

The Commander-in-Chief praised the heroic K-9 at a press conference, lauding the brave dog for her fighting ability. "This is the ultimate fighter, the ultimate everything," stated the President, adding that Conan was a "tough cookie."

America's heroic dog, a veteran of 50 missions, was clearly at home with 45, Vice President Pence and especially Melania. However, while the country at large was delighted, at least one leftist goon wasn't pleased.

CNN reporter Frankie Boyle blurted out on antisocial media, "Two children died in this raid - they're giving a dog a certificate." No, you commie moron, the head-chopper blew himself up and his children. 

Conan, on the other hand, is a hero.

MAGA 2020,


Sunday, November 24, 2019

Lawyers Guns And Money

With deepest apologies to the White Wolf Mine,


Shroedinger's Ginsberg Paradox

Via Dr. Swankenstein:

Are you familiar with Shroedinger's Ginsberg paradox?
The scenario presents a hypothetical Supreme Court Justice that may be simultaneously both alive and dead, a state known as quantum superposition, as a result of being linked to a random subatomic event that may or may not occur.

Good Lord, remember the sound and fury that surrounded Kavanaugh? Magnify that to infinity on Ginsberg's timely demise.

MAGA 2020,


Saturday, November 23, 2019

They're Satanists

Have you been wondering why the Left are People of the Lie, of inchoate rage, fury, spite, deceit and self-contradiction? How they're all about destruction? For example, the Left is 100% in favor of killing babies in the womb and up to and beyond the point of birth, but they call this healthcare. Lies and destruction.

Again, America elected a president the Left didn't like. So they've lied, destroyed and freaked out in revolutionary fervor to the point of attempting to impeach on the basis of no evidence whatsoever. Pitch, froth, foam, lies and derangement under a pretense of the law. 

As with the absurd "Trump is a Russian Spy!" gambit, so too "Trump is a Ukrainian Crime Lord!" Yet more lies and destruction,  to Hell, literally, with our polity. But no wonder, they don't care, they want to destroy it.

The Left hates this country, its religion, its spirit, its people, its history and everything else about it. So they want to destroy it. 45 doesn't, he represents the old America, the America that loves its country,  so a clash is inevitable.

Who will win and to the point, what ultimately drives either side? On the Left we have lies, fury, hatred, destruction, rage, and infanticide. They're the party of infernal, satanic nonsense, in which men are women, murdered babies are healthcare, government control is freedom, taxation is wealth. 

Of course it makes no sense, but sense isn't in it. They've abandoned reason, ask any undergrad if there's such a thing as "truth." En lieu of that, truth, you have force, power and emotion, the ready weapons of the Left, all directed to tearing down and destroying their enemy, what's left of Western civilization. 

Make no mistake, they hate us and the West with all their emotive force, after all, emotion's all they have left; as it was in October 1917 so it is now, they're murderers from the beginning and their Father is Satan. 

45 would do well to align himself lock, stock and barrel with the other side. That in mind, only one side's going to win, and it won't be  the Devil's.

And I may be old but I'll put my gun on the line. Not kidding.

Your Pal,


Chow Thief

Note the Thieve's Claws

Yes, he may look innocent but this Blue's an inveterate chow thief. Ask LL, who witnessed Blue Voracious steal a delicious fried cherry pie from the Compound's dining room table. Ask Ma LSP, who saw the aftermath of a raid on a couple of fine New York Strips.

Not Innocent

Go right ahead and ask the neighbor's chickens, who mysteriously vanished without trace apart from a few small feathers which somehow, strangely, found their way onto the muzzle of Blue Eschaton. Yes, a chow thief.

What's The Difference Between Hillary And a Ham Sandwich? You Can Indict a Ham Sandwich

And that's why I hesitated to put a tasty ham sandwich on the kitchen counter. Sure enough, a ravenous, unprincipled someone was looking for targets of opportunity. Only to be thwarted by the watchful eye of his Commander-in-Chief. Still, he got a consolation prize in the form of Alpo Variety Snacks. Ahem, yum.

So Close Yet So Far

Speaking of chow thieves, why is LTC. Vindman still working at the White House? For that matter, why's US Navy Secretary Richard Spencer still employed? Or any of the other thieves, crooks, knaves and placeholders responsible for locking up soldiers for killing head-chopping savages.

Your Old Friend,


Friday, November 22, 2019

Texas Street Walker

The climate changed, yet again, from a balmy Springlike 70 something to freezing wind and rain. It was like being in Aberystwyth instead of Texas, but you know what they say, adopt, adapt, survive. 

That in mind, I pulled on a pair of sturdy G.H. Bass brogues, an Arctic Hardware fleece and a Barbour jacket, maybe label shock alone would scare our enemy the weather into submission, and ventured forth.

I walked past the Methshack, which is suffering because half of the shackers have been evicted. There it was, sitting in the rain behind a semi-urban field which no one's inclined to buy. Who knows, maybe they're waiting for the shack to be cleared before purchasing land to build on and sell.

The Yellow House wasn't looking too good either. It's famous for something, was reinvented as a bed and breakfast, which didn't work, then re-inhabited by crackheads. A friend tried to buy it last year but the deal went south because of craziness. I always ask myself, why would you paint your house yellow? 

Then it was a short patrol through welfare, several shacks, a pleasantly unpaved vista and on to Montes for a late breakfast. Montes is alright and's upped its game lately, with new menus, suspiciously attentive waitresses and an extra dollar on every meal.

I ordered Huevos Rancheros, which was delicious and filling, and pondered their choice of music. Relaxed New Country as opposed to Mexican House/Techno. Curious, they're obviously trying to appeal to someone and sure enough, there were a couple of cowboys getting into the spirit of the thing.

New Country aside, the Fossil Museum was worth a look in and they seem to be getting actual, literal fossils to display to the public. Well done. It used to be a place where someone from the Metrosprawl kept his collection of vintage Cadillacs, and before that the HQ of a filling station chain which stretched to Europe, forgotten now.

Around the corner lies Franklin, broad and wide to accommodate the cotton traffic which was stolen by greed-filled globalists, and home stretch on to the Compound. A short walk, for sure, but the longest I've made since I was catapulted off the back of a mad Arab back in July.

And I tell you, it's good to get moving again, even if on a short patrol around this small Texan country haven.

God bless,