Saturday, August 31, 2019

US Navy Ends War On Weather

Was the last post a bit depressing? Well try this. The US Navy's ended its War on Weather by disbanding the Obama initiated Climate Change Task Force. What? You didn't know the US Navy had been tasked with fighting the weather? Think again.

Thanks to the annointed God King Messiah Obama, the most powerful Navy the world has ever seen was told to fight our ancient enemy, the Weather. 

So important for fighting ships to be on hand as glaciers melt, coastlines flood, and millionaire socialists everywhere resort to high ground. Yes, the high ground of their private islands. Except the Obamas, architects of the climatic naval strategy.

They've invested 15 million socialist dollars in prime Martha's Vineyard seafront property. Counting on the Navy to save them? Fond imagining. As the waters rise, look in vain for Littoral Combat Ships to come to the rescue. Or, if the pundits have it right, anyone else.

In other news, the Navy's allowing people who don't identify as trans to enlist. Such fascists.

Senior Service Go Navy,


Friday, August 30, 2019

Two Disturbing Shorts - Warning Graphic

Dirlewanger On Arrest

You may not want to watch these, but here they are. The first is from Russia and SS Dirlewanger (to avoid censorship click...):

You can see why the Russians went hard when they got to Berlin. The second short is, for me, more upsetting. But see what you think:

Disturbing? I'd say so, and then some. Make of this what you will.

Your Old Pal,


Relaxin' In The 'Sprawl

As Jules points out on her engaging literary site, there's a background sound to Texas. It's mostly cicadas,  their static rising and falling in time to the waves of heat that roll in like air from a hot oven. Not unlike an insectoid alien early warning signal, when you think of it. 

Add in the squawking of ferocious birds defending their territory from barking, predatory squirrels, and the same squirrels hurling half-eaten pecans down on you like nutty shrapnel. You get the picture, a Texan morning in late August, and I enjoyed it, sipping coffee while the sprinkler watered Ma LSP's ferns.

You can say, with justice, that there's many things wrong with the 'Sprawl but her garden isn't one of them, and it's been good to set up here for a few days while she's in England celebrating the Brexit movement. Tranquil, despite the barrage of pecan nuts raining down like shells on the Chancellery of the doomed Reich.

To escape the barrage I drove to my favorite ghetto barber, which used to be called Senor Ramone's, they call him "Ramen" for some reason, and now goes by a different name altogether. 

A few years back someone went in for a haircut, had the cut, left, returned, and shot a barber stone cold dead. The shooter then fled the scene of the crime only to be gunned down (or was he  just arrested?) by Dallas PD in the alley behind the shop. None of the staff seemed particularly phased. I know, I asked them at the time.

Haircuttery over, return to base and stand in awe as a brisk wind kicks in, clouds roll over and it begins to rain. What is this, Skywater? And why did I water everything in the smothering heat of the morning? Must get more and better Weather Shamans.

Back to the country tomorrow. Blue #4 is nesting in front of the sink, curiously.

Be good,


Thursday, August 29, 2019

Peak Luvvy?

This Oscar Wilde actor is against Britain being a sovereign country. In his own words:

Have we reached peak luvvy? Apparently so.

God Save The Queen,


What A Great Time To Be Alive

BREXIT, MAGA, leftist heads exploding into the stratosphere like a frothing pumpkin luvvy latte Vesuvius. London awash in floods of liberal tears and Comey exposed for the lying mountebank we all knew he was. OK, no indictment yet, but this show ain't over and pundits are saying McCabe's going down. Yes, please, drain the swamp.

Speaking of which, the Archbishop of Canterbury's been found in the icy wastes of the Antarctic. "Justsin, in the Antarctic?" said one anonymous Lambeth source, "Travelers Club, Hollow Earth, Hollow Church? I'm awfully afraid, LSP, that I can't comment." More on this exciting story later.

Then, in evidence of a beneficent Creator ruling the cosmos, an HVAC tech turned up today in Dallas who was 1. Competent and 2. Got the job done. I think. Mustn't presume on miracles.

Like the miracle of the nihilist, globalist left and their millionaire billionaire backers being rolled back in the US and the UK.

Keep it coming,


Wednesday, August 28, 2019


UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson got the Queen's permission to prorogue or suspend Parliament today, clearing the way for Brexit and the UK's return to sovereignty as opposed to satrapy under the heel of unelected bureaucrats in Brussels. And guess what?

Leftist heads are exploding all over the Sceptred Isle as the New York Times spins like a dreidel. Here's Hugh Grant (language!):

Response was swift and predictably deadly. I liked this, which you can read here.

And on, and on. Johnson's brilliant, heroic, patriotic and clever move has caused storms of outrage amongst the badly outsmarted left. They're saying it's "undemocratic," as in bypassing Parliament.

Note, This War Hero is 90

But what kind of Parliamentary democracy is it that traitorously ignores the will of the people it's supposed to represent? To say nothing of constitutional precedent.

No democracy at all, will of the people be damned. And that's just it, we're dealing with absolutist revolutionaries who will not, ever, take no for an answer. Until they do, and it looks like Great Britain's following the US in that. Well done, BoJo.

God Save The Queen,


Tuesday, August 27, 2019

Beto Burger

Remember Beto? Neither do we, but here he is miserably failing to fry up a burger in a risible attempt to persuade you that he, the millionaire socialist, is really one of the people.

What's wrong, buddy, the cook's sick? You obviously need more and better servants, and what's with the weird broccoli side? "Oh, I'll have a side of steam-damp broccoli with my burger on a toasted English Muffin," said no one ever.

I mean really, you couldn't make this sh*t  up if you tried. Good work, Beto, you're gonna beat 45 2020, right along with those Kraft Singles. Pathetic.

Dems are flailing. Has Satan abandoned its toys? 



Copperhead Road

As you were. 

Carry on, 


Boy's At Basic

Joining the US Army's quite a process. It took my eldest son, the Recruit, four months and I have to hand it to the recruiters, they kept the boy engaged. Given the nature of the teen beast, things could easily have turned out differently. 

But they didn't, and the kid shipped out to Fort Benning yesterday to be with the Army in Georgia; he  left a very soldierly(!) sounding message last night, excited to be on his way. Of course he has the pleasure of looking forward to this:

Well you know what they say, character building, and in the long term so much better than sitting around playing Death Metal, awesome as that is. So well done Recruit, get through Basic and evolve up.

More on this exciting story as it unfolds.

Go Army, 


Sunday, August 25, 2019


This one's for our Georgia correspondent and no comment except, "Vatican 2? Empty the pew."

God bless,


The Cane

Here's the thing. The broad path of licentiousness, of "do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law," of "No Gods No Masters!" is all very well until you get to the rodeo and end up with 3 screws in your femur. Don't do that, enter by the "strait gate" instead, or its anemic friend "narrow door."

Lectionary notes aside, the Recruit suggested I try out a cane at Walmart and guess what, it worked. This means bye-bye walking frame, hello cane. And I tell you, I like the evolution. So does the dog. The appalling frame confused Blue Eschaton. But perhaps you're asking "is there a sword in that stick?" and "if not why not?"

Don't worry, we'll sort it out. In the meanwhile, the kid's with Uncle Sam, waiting to fly out to Ft. Benning tomorrow. More on that later.



Saturday, August 24, 2019

Trans Genius

Beautiful, right? But here's @XplosiveTweets:

There's genius and there's genius. I won't comment because that'd be redundant.



Friday, August 23, 2019

#MillSoc Mountebanks

Millionaire socialists Barack and Michelle Obama, estimated net worth $135 million, loved their seaside summer rental so much they decided to buy it, for less than $14.85 million. 

That's right, this socialist paradise of a summer house, featuring seven guest rooms, servants quarters and so much more, costs less than $15 million. And it's a prime oceanfront property.

But wasn't global warming going to raise sea levels, flooding out the coasts? Wow, that's really serious, like War on Weather serious, which is why Barack said this in his 2015 State of the Union address, "No challenge – no challenge – poses a greater threat to future generations than climate change."

Yeah, that's why you bought a mansion on the Atlantic coast, you #MillSoc mountebank. But hey, at least it cost less than $15 million so when the waves wash it all away, not so bad. Plenty more cash where that came from, and we have to wonder. 

"There’s only so big a house you can have,” said Barack to South Africa,  “There’s only so many nice trips you can take. I mean, it’s enough.” Quite.

Leaving aside egregious #MillSoc hypocrisy, are the Obamas corrupt, ignorant, deluded, living-in-a-bubble liars, or all that together? Have they reached Marie Antionette (RIP) levels of hubris? Your call. 

And their multi-million dollar house is common.



Thursday, August 22, 2019

The Democrat Slate

Nailed it? Via Armed And Dangerous:

How the D candidates would introduce themselves at the next debate if they were honest
Hi, I’m Joe Biden. I’m the perfect apparatchik – no principles, no convictions, and no plan. I’m senile, and I have a problem with groping children. But vote for me anyway because orange man bad.
Hi, I’m Kamala Harris. My white ancestors owned slaves, but I use the melanin I got from my Indian ancestors to pretend to be black. My own father has publicly rebuked me for the pandering lies I tell. I fellated my way into politics; put me into the White house so I can suck even more!
Hi, I’m Elizabeth Warren. Even though I’m as white as library paste, I pretended to be an American Indian to get preferment. My research on medical bankruptcies was as fraudulent as the way I gamed the racial spoils system. So you should totally trust me when I say I’m “capitalist to my bones”!
Hi, I’m Bernie Sanders. I honeymooned in the Soviet Union. I’m an unreconstructed, hammer-and-sickle-worshiping Communist.
Hi, I’m Kirsten Gillibrand. I used to be what passes for a moderate among Democrats – I even supported gun rights. Now I’ve swung hard left, and will let you just guess whether I ever had any issue convictions or it was just pandering all the way down. Tee-hee!
Hi, I’m Amy Klobuchar, and I’ve demonstrated my grasp on the leadership skills necessarily for the leader of the Free World by being notoriously abusive towards my staff.
Hi, I’m Robert Francis O’Rourke. I’m occupying the “imitate the Kennedy” lane in this race, and my credentials for it include DUI and fleeing an accident scene. The rumors that I’m a furry are false; the rumors that I’m a dimwitted child of privilege are true. But vote for me anyway, crucial white-suburban-female demographic, because I have such a winning smile!
Hi, I’m Pete Buttigieg. I was such a failure as the mayor of South Bend that my own constituents criticize me for having entered this race, but the Acela Corridor press loves me because I’m fashionably gay. And how right they are; any candidate you choose is going to bugger you up the ass eventually, but I’ll do it like an expert!
Hi, I’m Bill de Blasio. I’m as Communist as Bernie, but I hide it better. And if Pete thinks his constituents don’t want him in this race? Hold…my…beer!
Hi, I’m Cory Booker, and I’m totally not gay. OK, maybe I’m just a little gay. My city was a shithole when I was elected and I’ve done nothing to change that; I’m really just an empty suit with a plausible line of patter, especially the “I am Spartacus” part. But you should totally vote for me because I’m…what was the phrase? Oh, yeah. “Clean and articulate.”
Hi, I’m Marianne Williamson. If elected, I will redecorate the White House so it has proper feng shui. I am the sanest and least pretentious person on this stage.

Here at the Compound we hope you appreciate this lighthearted satire.

Your Progressive Pal,


Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Ursula von der Leyen Zapfenstreich!

Germany's outgoing Defense Minister Ursula von der Leyen got quite the sendoff  on her way to become President of the European Commission. Look, here's a short video.

I like martial tradition, a lot, but where have we seen this sort of thing before? The "great replacement" might want to take note of precedent. 

That aside, the German military are obviously pleased to see their Defense Minister go, and who can blame them? They've been training with broomsticks, their planes don't fly, their subs don't work, and they have these weird little tents. Hardly good for morale. 

Not to worry, Fatherland, Ursula's taking her, ahem, warlike qualifications to Fortress Europa, where plans are afoot for a grand EU Army.

The world quakes at the dread prospect of the rainbow legion! Except that it doesn't. You see, behind every dark cloud there's a silver lining.

Your Old Friend,


Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Greenland? Our Land.

Yes, '45 is an APEX TROLLMr. President, that island belongs to US. You see, yet more happy news.

Your Friend,


Monday, August 19, 2019


Tired of an endless stream of negativity? Maybe Donna will help.



Up To Their Old Tricks or Rank Hypocrisy in High Places

Celebrated royal eco-warriors Harry and Meghan are exhausted from their mission to tell you to save the planet. That's why they climbed on another private jet, again, to visit Elton John's rainbow palace in Nice.

Nice if you can have it, which we don't, but not to worry. "Sir" Elton's promised to pay a "carbon tax" to offset the royal couple's expenditure in fossil fuel. Big sigh of relief. 

Thanks, Elton, and behold your new reality, serfs. A transnational elite flying Gulfstream to visit each other while lecturing you, their slaves, to pay up, pay up, and the pay the game. 

Oh, and by the way, don't you dare accuse a jowly old pop star of being anything other than normal. That's be racist, homophobes.

Hey, don't worry, your city might be a hollowed out, asset-stripped wasteland but at least you, the serf, has access to trans toilets. So everything's rainbow alright. Celebrate that, peons, while your betters climb aboard their Gulf Streams.

Halfhearted rant aside, I'm a loyal servant of the Crown, a Monarchist, the Old Service. Can someone please tell these Green Imposterf that privilege comes with responsibility? Otherwise watch out for pitch forks down the Mall. 

And that, friends, is the very least of it,


Sunday, August 18, 2019

A Curious Tale To Mark The Anniversary Of Woodstock

Here's a short and curious tale to mark the 50th anniversary of Woodstock, the greatest hippy gathering the world has ever known.

It was a hot night in Dallas and the whisky flowed freely on my friend's back porch as we talked of guns, religion, Sergeant Majors, wars and hippies. 

Then the conversation turned personal. TH fixed me in the eye, he'd been a combat diver in Vietnam, a kind of proto SEAL.

"I'd just returned from a mission, it'd been," he paused, "difficult. And got orders to go on leave, so off I went without changing uniform. Out of the jungle and onto the plane.

"Landed in LA, and went outside to get a cab. It was right after Woodstock, and there was this hippy woman, staring, I must have looked a mess. She jabs her finger and calls me a 'baby killer.' What? I couldn't take that at all so I knocked her out, bang. 

"A cop comes over, he'd seen it, and asks, 'Do you want me to book her for assault?' I thought for a moment, no, let it be."

Here endeth the Lesson.

Rest in peace, TH.


Observations Upon A Dog

Keen-eyed readers of this popular and cosmopolitan mind blog have noticed the startling similarity of the Compound's dog, Blue Monarchist, to Prince Rupert of the Rhine's notorious canine accomplice, Boy.

Feared and hated by Parliamentarians as a devil dog and witch's familiar, Boy, a rare white hunting poodle, was applauded by Royalists for his(?) ability to speak multiple languages, prophecy, make himself and his master impervious to bullets, while wreaking bloody mayhem amongst those who dared offend him. 

All this to say nothing of the dog's preference for stained glass, oriented altars and chanted liturgy. 

Boy infuriated the mutinous, superstitious, killjoy, Christmas-banning Puritans as much as he pleased loyal servants of the Crown, who famously made the dog Sergeant Major General of the British Army. 

Notwithstanding rank or perhaps because of it, Boy chased out of rear echelon captivity to follow his master at the charge, and was shot at Marston Moor. The Royalist cause followed soon after, along with Britain's first and only military dictatorship.

Blue Edgehill, you have been warned.

Spiro Spero,


Saturday, August 17, 2019

Behold The Revolution

Beware, readers, of its thudding hooves and goring horn. And with that in mind, behold the state of revolutionary Anarcho/Marxism in Portland, today.



Dog Days

It's ferociously hot and Blue Monarchist leads the way, Edgehill's another day. But what about Naseby and Marston Moor I ask him, incredulously. 

By way of answer he sits with loyal expectancy and asks for a treat, as though that, somehow, will stop the New Model Army and advance the last gasp of chivalry. Fond imagining, but he gets one anyway.

Quarter Master over, we went out back with a good view to capturing Banbury, Reading, Oxford, and Bristol. Quite the campaign and devil take the hindmost. Charge and scatter the enemy to the winds!

Needless, Blue No Bishop No King got stuck into the Anabaptist provisions and ate my sister's dog's toy. Typical cavalier ill-discipline, raid the enemy's baggage train in the exuberance of the after-charge. And lose the war. Good work, furhead.

Chagrined, Blue Divine Right Of Kings went prowling in search of Trained Bands to destroy and defeat. Perhaps they were hiding in the cover, in a psalm-singing fit of millenarian expectancy. Good luck with that, Blue Old Service is prowling, seeking whom he may devour.

Not least the advance scouts of the enemy, Chimney Swifts. They're protected by Law, no thanks to Edwardus Coke, and doubly by a sheet of cardboard. Undaunted by pettifogging legal skulduggery, Blue Loyalist stands guard.

As did I, when I could stand. But seriously, as a loyal Son of the Crown and an irregular cavalryman to boot, let's see a bit more Divine Right of Kings and less Satanic Rule of the New World Order.



Friday, August 16, 2019

Regime Change?

Some say we need to sort out Puerto Rico first. Here at the Compound we say, "Whatever, let's have that island."

Nothing Says Green Like A Gulfstream

Speaking of which, the noted millionaire socialist, Illuminati celebrity couple, Prince Harry and Meghn are back from well needed R&R in Ibiza. You know, 'coz nothing says Green like a Gulfstream.

Come A Long Way From The D List

So what? So a lot. How dare these outrageously rich, and by extension powerful people, be such canting, commie, leftist, elite, champagne SJW hypocrites instead of working to make the world a better place. As in leading instead of goofing off to leftist platitude.

Proles Partying in Ibiza, Spot Harry & Megynn

Which they could do, given their cash, influence and standing. But no, all these Illuminati shills are apparently capable of is turning an anointed monarchy into a laughing stock. That, to me, is outrageous.

Go Green On A Gulfstream

Harry, sort it out, or others will for you.

Regime change?