Sunday, March 31, 2019

Apropos of Awesome

There he was, on Peshawar's train station pavement, wearing a blazer, straw panama, grey slacks, some sort of dam tie and, to cap it off, an umbrella, furled. Take note, natives, here am I.

And they did, by saluting sharply. The Raj, you see, had returned. Perhaps you think this some kind of made up, ha-ha joke. Think again. No, early 1980s.

Lord Curzon forever,


Saturday, March 30, 2019

Freedom Day March London

Here's a lighthearted video from London via our reporter on the ground. A lot of people aren't too happy at being sold down the river by a gang of Jermyn Street crooks in Parliament, but there wasn't any violence.

Still, OSE, BBC millionaire socialist Jon Snow thought it was racist because so many white people were there. Jon Snow, who's notoriously white, has a handy MillSoc net worth of £5 million.

It's weird, but some people found the rich leftist's comments offensive. How could that be, he earns so much more money than you.

Perhaps you didn't get the message, serfs. Obey your globalist rulers! With that in mind, faux Tory, real globalist, Dominic Grieve found himself deselected.

Who knows, perhaps the Blairite Conservative traitors will take note and actually deliver on their promise. If they don't, the next march might not be so good-natured. 

See you in the Carlton Club.



Build The Wall & Other Things

The Compound's fortunate in many ways, not least for having a sturdy wall. It's made of wood and topped off with a flexi-mesh system to keep out illegal chickens. I know, it sounds cruel, "think of the children!," but it's doing them a favor. 

You see, they fly over looking for a new life, then Blue Terminator kills them, and the poor birds get breasted and turn into jalapeno poppers. Who knows, maybe America's southern border will have a wall one day too. 

Then there's the statues. Do you remember them? All those Confederate statues which prevented people of color from escaping the oppression of systemic racism?

These obviously need to go and many have, leaving a gaping void in our civic landscape. This needs to be filled and quickly, but by what? The answer's clear, statues of a new hero, the Grand Commander, President Trump. In gold obviously, yes, real gold.

In other news, I was going to ride but it's raining and don't want  to slip and skid in the slushy mud of the Texan tundra. So it's time to clean guns instead.

Don't forget, all four of you readers, a clean gun is a happy gun.



Thursday, March 28, 2019

What A Great Week

Some weeks aren't so good but not this week, this is a great week. Here's a short list of victories so far and it's only Thursday.

Two years of the Mueller witch hunt and "Russia stole the election from the most qualified candidate ever in the history of our nation!" collapsed, because guess what? No evidence whatsoever.

Creepy Porn Lawyer Michael Avenatti, onetime presidential hopeful, gets arrested for extortion, wire fraud, and money laundering. #Basta

AOC's GND (Green New Deal) fails to get a single vote in the Senate because it's so transparently stupid that even the Democrats can't endorse it.

Juicy Smollet gets an unsurprising get outta jail free card, nearly tarnishing the week, but then the Great Commander siccs the FBI and DOJ on the celebrity hate crime hoaxer.

All this and more within the octave of the Feast of the Annunciation. Coincidence? I think not.

Carry on,


Tuesday, March 26, 2019

Fishing While Jussie Skates

Take advantage of a beautiful Texan spring morning and go fishing; bright, clear air, a shining sun, and the still waters of the lake reflecting the sky. It smells good too, wildflowers, sage, cedar, sun on limestone, and the earth coming alive. 

But I wasn't there to record a lull in the new Ice Age, I was there to fish. And sure enough there was a school of carp under someone's pleasure boat tied up at the pier. You could hear them thrashing and fighting against the pontoons of the boat in some kind of furious carp frenzy.

Very exciting and I baited a small hook with a worm, visions of titanic struggle against monster carp looming large. Not unrealistic either, I'd landed some leviathans with the same bait from that very spot the year before, big fun. 

So off went a worm under the boat into the churning carp, expectation up, and I waited, and waited. No bite. You could see the carp ignoring the delicious worm in droves, they cared nothing for the worm, it didn't matter to them at all.

I bobbed it about, tried different depths and different positions. Perhaps the fish will love this worm if it's a foot higher or lower, or somewhere else altogether. 

No, it meant nothing to them. They didn't like gooey yellow chunks of special carp bait either, which was weird because the packet said carp loved them. They didn't.

Baffled by the perversity of fish, I packed up, promising the piscine adversary I'd be back with a vengeance. Maybe with canned corn, which carp love. Stay tuned.

Back at the Compound I turned on the internet to laugh at rich socialists insisting that Trump's a Russian agent because Hillary lost an election. And then Boom! what's this? Juicy Smollet skates? Yes, on 16 felony counts and the case closed and sealed. No trial, no nothing because of a deal with the state prosecutor. 

Even Rahm Emmanuel and Axelrod think it's a disgrace, which says something. Perhaps something about who wants to be the next mayor of Chicago?

Fish on,


Monday, March 25, 2019

Monday Shoot

One of the good things about the Feast of the Annunciation is you get to go out and shoot, which is exactly what we did. The orange adversary fell under a flak-tower hail of shot. 

I tell you, it was like screaming Messerschmitts going down over the Channel. But here's a thought.

If you want to hit the clay or for that matter the bird, you mostly have to aim. That's right, put the bead on the target as opposed to firing off in the general direction like some crazed Hitler Youth. It makes a difference.

You see, people come to shotgunnery with all kinds of myths and psychic seconds of forever. They think, understandably perhaps, that they have to over lead the fast moving orange or feathered target. This means they don't aim at it, take too long over the thing, and miss the shot.

No. Those lead BBs are flying out of the barrel at 1,200+ fps, they're fast, really fast. So put the bead on, aim, and shoot. Don't hold back, don't hesitate, engage the target and boom, smoke the clay, drop the bird.

After a while it becomes muscle memory and you can get into the nuance and lead of the thing, not that I'm an expert, but first things first, don't overthink the shot or you'll miss.

There's a moral here if you care to draw it.

Texas Rules,


Sunday, March 24, 2019

No You Are Not Awesome

My, it being a Sunday, just look at these bishop figures. Imagine, if you can, so many people pretending to be something they don't believe in anyway. I like this infographic:

Touching, isn't it. Then there's the new bishop figure of London, pretty hot, eh? C'mon, COE, let's fill those empty pews!

But don't forget Gloucester, which labours under an ancient curse. Maybe Rachel's going to lift that because she's so feminine and gorgeous.

See, the thing is no one's going to take the venerable if disastrously shrinking Church of England seriously if they don't consecrate women to the episcopate.

Just you wait and see; something nasty in the woodshed? With apologies to the awesome Stella Gibbons, hardly, parading in plain sight.

Your Old Friend,


Saturday, March 23, 2019

Satan Does Not Tolerate Failure

I'd say Tucker pretty much nails it, we've been lied to for a good two years and the lie was as big as it was preposterous, that's right, Trump's a Russian agent in the pay of the Kremlin. 

But why the lie? To cover up Hillary Clinton's massive failure in 2016. How?

1. Undermine his legitimacy before he even takes office.
2. Accuse him of what Hillary actually did: collude with Russians and Ukrainians to effect the outcome of the election.
3. Paralyze Trump on his foreign policy desires to scale back the Empire.
4. Give aid and comfort to hurting progressives and radicalize them further undermining our political system.
5. Polarize the electorate over the false choice of Trump’s guilt.
6. Paralyze the Dept. of Justice and Congress so that they would not uncover the massive corruption in the intelligence agencies in the U.S. and the U.K.
7. Isolate Trump and take away every ally or potential ally he could have by turning them against him through prosecutor overreach.

But the plan didn't work, like Hillary's shot at becoming President it was a monumental failure. There wasn't any Russian collusion, and lo and behold, Trump isn't a Kremlin spy installed in the Oval Office by Putin, Head of Spectre.

That makes two really big, epic failures, 2016 and now this. Think of all the money and vested interests wasted and thwarted by the doubleplusbig loss. Given that Satan doesn't tolerate failure, heads must inevitably roll. The question is, whose?

In the meanwhile, per Tucker, let's see a pardon for Roger Stone.


Friday, March 22, 2019

Upside Down

The Russia probe's at an end, no indictments apparently. It has to hurt to be MSNBC. Don't say Maddow.

Your Pal,


Thursday, March 21, 2019

Out And About

Is it the Lenten fast, the prospect of Beto running for president, the onset of Spring or something else that makes me want to shoot? Who knows, but for whatever reason, it seems right to get out in the country and blast away.

There's certainly a freedom in it which speaks to a larger freedom, slaves aren't allowed to bear arms, to say nothing of the enjoyment of the thing itself. Speaking of freedom, New Zealand's banned deadly assault rifles. No more AR15s for you, Kiwis, unless you're a criminal. 

Look, it's a Muslim! Just kidding, it's a Western Lib who thinks Islam's a religion of peace which empowers women.

New Zealanders are also being encouraged to wear a hijab tomorrow, and the Muslim call to prayer will be broadcast on TV and radio. Can you imagine the country's leaderene asking people to wear a crucifix and broadcasting the Angelus if a church had been shot up? Unlikely, isn't it.

But it's hardly an unlikely scenario. Christians are being savagely persecuted around the world, especially by Muslims, and the media's almost entirely silent. 

France, for example, has seen a wave of attacks against churches in recent months and you'd hardly know it from the press. Just think, what if it'd been a mosque that was set on fire the other day instead of St. Sulpice?

Mount Popocatepetl on Monday

In other news, Mount Popocatepetl erupted this week, not far from Mexico City. The roar of the volcano was felt 40 km away. Let's hope Yellowstone doesn't go up too, as a mark of God's vengeance on a country which funds Planned Parenthood to the tune of well over a million dollars a day.



Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Check Out This Beto

Perhaps the last post was a bit serious, too click on the links and discover the satanic heinousness that is the Belgian church. So here's a Beto infographic via LL to lighten the Lenten load.

And no, Beto's not a faux Mexican sandwich, he's the reincarnation of JFK.



Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Thy Will Be Done

In between cleaning rifles, researching Gobekli Tepe, antedeluvian megaliths, ruins on Mars and the hideous story of modern Belgian Roman Catholicism, I came across this, Alexander Schmemann on the third petition of the Lord's Prayer (Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven):

In reality, however, this is the most difficult petition.
I would have to say that precisely this petition, "Thy will be done" is the ultimate yardstick of faith, the measure by which' one can discern, in oneself first of all, profound from superficial faith, profound religiosity from a false one. Why? Well, because even the most ardent believer all too regularly, if not always, desires, expects, and asks from the God he claims to believe in that God would fulfill precisely his own will and not the will of God.

Precisely his own will and not the will of God, I'd say that was right in the X Ring and close to the heart of the temptations in the wilderness. Satan invites Christ to walk the way of the flesh, of bread, power and egotistical pride rather than the way of the cross and fidelity to the Father's will; he tempts us likewise. Schmemann continues:

"Thy will be done"-but in fact we are thinking: "Our will be done," and thus this third petition of the Lord's Prayer is first of all a kind of judgment on us, a judgment of our faith.
Do we really desire that which is from God? Do we really desire to accept that difficult, exalted, that seemingly impossible demand of the Gospel? And this petition also becomes a kind of verification of our goals and directions in life: what is it that I want, what is it that forms the main and highest value of my life, where is that treasure about which Christ said that where it lies, there our hearts will be also (Mt 6:21)?

I'd say that's a question worth answering, if you can take time off from throwing darts at photos of Beto "Napoleon Dynamite" O'Rourke, and staring in slack-jawed horror at reports of Belgium's pedophile catechism.

God bless,


The Peasants Revolt

Why are the French rioting for the 18th consecutive week? Good question, you'd think that the thought of their globalist elite ruler living it up in the ski lodge would keep them off the streets.

Apparently not. What's wrong with these French people, what don't they get about the MillSoc rulers of the New World Order enjoying elite privilege skiing trips in the Pyrenees?

But don't worry, Macron's promised to ban protests against his illuminated progressive rule. That'll soon put a stop to this peasants revolt.

Macron's net worth is only around $31.5 million, while average French disposable income per year is $31,137. Obviously the people aren't being taxed enough.

Your Pal,


Monday, March 18, 2019

Monday Shoot - Ruger Rimfire Roustabout

"LSP, what are you up to tomorrow?" asked the text, followed by one simple answer, "Shooting, join in." And that's what happened, CC drove over from the Metrosprawl, we loaded up the rig with guns and headed to the range. 

I wanted to test out not one, not two but three Ruger rimfires, an American .17 HMR, .22 LR, and the country's favorite semi, a 10/22. But first off we shot off a box of skeet, smoking the biodegradable orange adversaries in good order with a CZ Bobwhite SxS 20. What a great little gun, bang on.

A Gang of Three

Then it was down to serious business with the Rugers, while CC plinked away. I hadn't shot the .17 in ages and, please don't laugh, wanted to see if the dirt cheap, made in China, Simmons 4x scope I'd bought this morning from Walmart actually worked. It boldly advertised itself as ".22 MAGNUM," so perhaps it would.

That's Weird, it Works

And it did, amazingly, right out of the box with minimal adjustment, sending the tiny high velocity rounds into a small silhouette with miraculous $26 precision. Well done, Ruger and Chicom Simmons, you shoot like a laser. I was taken aback.

Best Ruger American .22 LR Group 

Next up, I checked the zero on another Ruger American, a .22 I'd unscientifically sighted in last week at around 50 yards. After a bit of adjustment, it was well in the zone and the same went for the 10/22, which shot as it should given iron sights and LSPvision. So well done, Rugers, you work, but which one's best?

Note Expensive Scope

The American .17 was easily the most accurate, cheap optic regardless, and its .22 twin wasn't far off either, which you'd expect from these rifles because their "Patented Power Bedding® integral bedding block system positively locates the receiver and free-floats the barrel for outstanding accuracy." 


At least that's the marketing and sure enough, the aluminium blocks which the American's receiver screws into seem to do the trick. The barrel's crowned too and comes with an adjustable trigger, 3-5 pounds, which doesn't hurt. 

Proper Little Blaster

Then there's the 10/22, which has been around since 1964 and's still going strong. Why? Because it's an excellent rifle, reliable, accurate, and a lot of semi-auto fun. It's also around $60 cheaper than the American rimfires.

Yet Another Ruger

So I'd say they're all good depending on what you're after. For rounds in the same hole accuracy at an affordable price, the .17 does the trick, provided there's no wind to blow the little bullet off course. 

Random LSP With Shotgun

For a less accurate but cheap to shoot all day alternative, either the 10/22 or the American .22 are more than good and inexpensive to boot. One's semi, the other's bolt, the American's perhaps more advanced but the 10/22 can get a lot of rounds off quickly. Your call.

Needless to say, I like them all, buy one of each if you're into shooting the lowly .22 and its faster cousin, the .17.


The shoot finished with a good old blast off against the enemy. Soda cans, range debris, steel plates and silhouettes all met their match as the afternoon lengthened into evening under the Texan sky, and that was that. Big fun and always good to get out and shoot.

Gun rights,


Sunday, March 17, 2019

Beto For Prez!

He skateboards, wears a frock, was a hacker, played bass or something, thinks he's Kennedy but has gross teeth, married into big money, is a millionaire socialist and thinks we need to tear down the wall because a country having a border is fascist.

Beto wants to lead the world as President of the United States. Does this faux Mexican sandwich know no bounds? Apparently not, such are the wages of cheese, lettuce and tomato in a handy fake bolo.

Still, at least he's a socialist, despite being white and a man, kind of. So what's this celebrity commie's net worth? Only about $9 million as of 2015. 

See, the beauty of socialism is that the really rich people get to run it because they're so wise and know so much more than you. That's why they grow these cool beards.

Let's hope this rich commie jackass runs 2020, alongside every other freak, weirdo and misfit the Democrats are pushing for supreme power of the most powerful country on earth.

I tell you, when the wheels come off it won't look pretty.

Your friend,


Your God Is The Belly

Today's Epistle warns of "enemies of the cross," and who are these enemies? People whose "God is the belly," bringing to mind someone gorging themselves at a restaurant or banquet. 

It's an unpleasant image but a good one, drawing our attention to the substance of the thing, worshiping the cravings and appetite of the empty cavity of our gut. What a hungry and jealous god. Euripides puts it well in the mouth of the splendidly wicked one-eyed monster, Cyclops:

Wealth, manikin, (Odysseus) is the god for the wise; all else is mere vaunting and fine words... I shudder not at Zeus’s thunder, nor know I wherein Zeus is a mightier god than I... The earth perforce, whether she like it or not, produces grass and fattens my flocks, which I sacrifice to no one save myself and this belly, the greatest of deities; but to the gods, not I! For surely to eat and drink one’s fill from day to day and give oneself no grief at all, this is the king of gods...

The Apostle describes this in terms of "flesh," listing its attributes in Galatians, and for sure, it's an attitude and state of mind, body and spirit which ends in destruction, being diametrically opposed to the selfless love of God evidenced on the Cross. 

Long story short, you can't worship your belly and God at the same time and with St. Paul, those who do, "glory in their shame." Go on, watch a Pride Parade on Youtube and dare to disagree. On second thoughts don't, it'll ruin your Sunday, but you get the point.

So we've i.d.'d the enemy, well done, and if we're honest we'll admit it's something very like the religion of our age. Drive into any one of our cities and behold the square miles of strip malls and their accompanying advertising, signs lifted up like the plastic standards of a conquering army, all of them telling you to gorge yourself.

Hideous, isn't it, and you don't need a degree in moral theology to sense it. But here's a question for all you Christians out there, people who go to church every Sunday. 

Do you walk the way of the cross, of sacrificial love, such that Christ will recognize you as his disciple or are you merrily wandering along the broad way, the way of the flesh that leads to perdition? Serious question with serious consequences.

Strive to enter by the narrow gate. 

End of sermon,


Saturday, March 16, 2019

On The Road

Whoever said life'd be easy? No one, and with that in mind I left the sylvan groves of old Texas for the concrete metrosprawl of the DFW megacity, not once but twice. Why? Because I had meetings in the 'sprawl and duty called.

The first part of the drive on I35W isn't bad, a fairly empty 4 lane highway through rolling farmland, passing by Itasca and Grandview. Then you get to Alvaredo and the pace picks up as you drop into the Fort Worth lowlands.

Metroplex at Night. Yellow Line = Connecticut

There you are in the Metroplex, on a multilane racetrack dreamed up in bowels of Hell. It goes on for miles, 9,286 square miles to be precise, about two thirds the size of Holland and larger than the states of Connecticut and Rhode Island combined. It's growing, too, like a monster.

Well you can't blame people for moving here from socialist hellhole states, but I'd argue you can blame the so-called urban planners who decided that city and 20 lane highway were synonyms. You'd think, after several thousand years of Western civic culture, that we could come up with something better than the 'sprawl. Thank God I live in a road, said no one ever.

It Was Going to be This

Great, readers, will be the fall of it. I know, that'll never happen because the way we live now will go on forever and ever, per saecula saeculorum, but imagine the grid went down, which of course it never will because the grid's immortal, but say for example it did. And you're living in the 'spawl with no water, electricity and before long, food. How would you get out?

But Ended up This

Dirt bikes, on foot? Apocalypse aside, the meetings were good, though it seemed strange to be in the city. Back in the country, Mexican music's in the air and with it the delicious aroma of slow cooked carnitas

This makes fasting difficult and speaking of roads, Jack Kerouac was a catholic.

Drive safe,