Saturday, April 30, 2022
Fighter Jets
Dogs of War
The Swiss were famous for it, the Hessians gave it a college try, some even wonder if the US military haven't been in the game as the armed extension of the House of Saud. That's as maybe and it's all going on in the Ukraine today. LL makes the compelling point that if you want to fight in a "stand up war" join a PMC (Private Military Company), with a sponsor, and people who know what they're doing.
That in mind, we remember the world's most famous mercenary in recent times, Mad Mike Hoare. Born in British India to Irish parents, Hoare fought in WWII and retired at the rank of Major to Durban, South Africa, where he worked at the insufferably dull job of accountancy until recruited by Moïse Tshombe to put down the communist Simba insurgency.
Mad Mike's final exploit was in the Seychelles, where his team were arrested at the airport. The BBC comments:
When officers found a dismantled AK-47, the man panicked and revealed that there were more weapons outside.
At this point the entire plan unravelled, and amid the ensuing conflict at the airport the mercenaries commandeered an Air India plane and flew it back to South Africa.
When they arrived the mercenaries were jailed for six days...
There is, when you think on it, something remarkable about Hoare and here at DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry) HQ he's required reading. He was, miraculously, 100 years old when he died in 2020.
Rest in Peace, Colonel,
LSP
Friday, April 29, 2022
Well Well What Have We Here?
A dead Dane and he died yesterday. WTAF, why was this Ragnorok larper in the line of fire? Because psychopaths in suits are running this deadly clownshow and don't care who they kill. Their Father was a murderer from the beginning. But seriously, living out a HEILUNG video to the point of death? Wow.
Here's another one, some Brit from Plymouth who surrendered when his team got wiped out. He wasn't even paid, apparently:
Thursday, April 28, 2022
Revenge At All Costs
Ice Cream Van Reflection
An ice cream van, remember those? wends its way through the leafy streets of this bucolic Texan haven. It's a noisy thing and I happen to know it peddles rather more than refreshing ices, maybe the cops will shut it down, please.
Speaking of which, there was a bust outside the Pick 'n Steal (Shamrock filling station) this evening. A couple of Tahoes, lights strobing, a POC with his shorts hanging low cuffed on the back of a beat up Honda, and a "caucasian female" 'splainin' to the Blue. Uh huh.
I didn't stop because I had a Mass to catch but you can imagine the low-level failed heist scenario. Whatev, the PnS is always getting ripped off, maybe the Nepalese who own it need to hire private security.
In related news, our Beloved Leader wants to send $33 BILLION to Ukraine. Leaving aside the knotty question "why do they need the money when they're so clearly, obviously and literally winning" we have to ask. Who benefits from this?
Don't say DC consultancies, firms like Raytheon, corrupt politicians and the whole MIC. No, say freedom loving people everywhere. War, it's said, is a racket and that wouldn't be so bad, perhaps, if it didn't actually kill people.
In the old days leftists were against war, do you remember that?
Your Old Pal,
LSP
Wednesday, April 27, 2022
Typical Texas Street Scene
Tuesday, April 26, 2022
Filthy Hippies
One of the things about hippies is they don't wash. But sometimes they get near water and even in it, like a crew of motorcycle hippies chancing it out of Austin who ended up in my friend's stock tank. His Mossberg pump told them to leave, along with the snakes, and they did.
Speaking of which, the last trailer full of stuff left my friend's (RIP) place today. I tell you, he sure collected and where is all that going now? Hey, you get the sermon. Moral aside or perhaps reinforced, we found his old '60s service dress uniform. Neatly pressed. Respect.
My friend was a member of an experimental US/AUS chopper unit which saw action in Laos and Cambodia. Their motto? Get The Bloody Job Done. And they did. Utter respect. Anyway, we got the job done today and all was good.
A friend, RIP, landed at LAX during the conflict and a hippy punched him in the taxi rank, shrieking "baby killer." He hit that hippy right in the face and a cop came up, "Do you want me to book her for assault?"
Your Best Pal,
LSP
Monday, April 25, 2022
Big Sky
Sunday, April 24, 2022
Preppers! Preppers! Preppers!
Easter - 8 Days After
Birds sing and fight ferociously with squirrels, Blue Terminator rests on the kitchen floor, Mex/Latino big bass pounds from the neighbor's compound and it's the second Sunday of Easter. Or the first if you're old skool lectionary.
Lectionary wars aside, here's some Farrer:
THE death and resurrection of Christ draw near to us in this sacrament. The bread is broken - there Christ dies; we receive it as Christ alive - there is his resurrection. It is the typical expression of divine power to make something from nothing. God has made the world where no world was, and God makes life out of death. Such is the God with whom we have to do. We do not come to God for a little help, a little support to our own good intentions. We come to him for resurrection. God will not be asked for a little, he will be asked for all. We reckon ourselves dead, says St. Paul, that we may ask God for a resurrection, not of ourselves, but of Christ in us.
Christ in us, crucified and risen. What can we do but with Thomas, fall down and worship at touching so great a mystery, my Lord and my God! Some call that the most magnificent confession of faith in Gospels.
Pax,
LSP
Saturday, April 23, 2022
Orthodox Easter
What beautiful music from the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra. And here we are, on Orthodoxy's Easter Vigil and the Feast of St. George. I won't comment but to say, the Cross leads to the empty tomb and victory over hell, death and Satan. And so Chrysostom:
O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory? Christ is risen and you are abolished. Christ is risen and the demons are cast down. Christ is risen and the angels rejoice. Christ is risen and life is freed. Christ is risen and the tomb is emptied of the dead: for Christ, being risen from the dead, has become the Leader and Reviver of those who had fallen asleep. To Him be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.
Bless you all, not least our brothers in the East.
Христос воскресе! Воистину воскресе!
LSP
St. George's Day
Friday, April 22, 2022
A Day of Rest
After the rigors of Holy Week it only seemed right to take a day of rest at family HQ in Dallas. Blue agreed and wasted no time falling to sleep on a Moslem rug, not that he's a Moslem, by the beard of the Prophet, but he does like their rugs.
As do I, but rugs aside you may have noticed something about the soldiers fighting in the Ukraine. There's all sorts, obviously, but some seem more equal than others, they're bigger and older, as if construction worker turned gunfighter.
Shades, when you think on it, of the German veterans who went into the Ardennes, or something like that. Huh. Modern war as deconstruction site and soldiers as its lethal tradesmen and laborers? Respect to both, but still.
Speaking of the Ardennes, imagine you were wandering around inna woods of Ukraine with, say, an SS dagger, just coz, and you were captured by some Chechens. What would you say:
A. I just found it, honest!
B. I'm a battlefield archeologist, my good sir.
C. Give a crisp Seig Heil, sing a verse of Erika and wait to be recruited into the WAGNER PMC?
All options are risky and I'd have gone for unspoken option D. Lose that bad boy before you get captured. Some guy didn't the other day in Mariupol and looked more than a little sheepish. Maybe he's still alive, unlike this unfortunate.
Seriously, what's with all the NSDAP in Eastern Europe? Well, therein lies another tale.
Mind how you go,
LSP
Thursday, April 21, 2022
Wednesday, April 20, 2022
Wednesday Roundabout
Tuesday, April 19, 2022
Clown Force Multiplier
Who Runs This Clownshow?
Here in the Compound's fast-paced newsroom we've been confused. Who's running this great nation, a demented old sock puppet or some other thing? Disturbing photo evidence from the Easter weekend says it's not Old Joe.
Monday, April 18, 2022
Kingdoms
The Fall of Mariupol, or Total War Cometh?
Here we are, on Easter Monday, and birds sing, the sky is mostly clear of chemtrails, and all's well except for the fact that the most ferocious war on European soil since the '40s is taking place before our eyes. No small thing, and some of you doubtless have friends engaged in the conflict. Get home safe, guys. But what's the story?
I don't pretend to know, though it's curious that Western State agitprop's been lockstep in defending cokehead, actor clown Zelensky. And we have to ask, how many of our overlord$ were making ma$$ive amounts of cash out of this unfortunate eastern European country?
It seems the Ukraine, like some kind of casino where the bank always wins and you are the bank, was jackbot all the way. Regardless. Mariupol's about to fall after an extreme fight, and what next? Phase two of this ill-begotten war. As in Russia goes hard. Let's see how that pans out.
In the meanwhile, Russians With Attitude offer analysis:
They (Ukrainians believe they are) fighting an apocalyptic battle against the forces of evil who are trying to eradicate all of humanity. This is what they sincerely believe, but they also sincerely believe the Russians are not somehow serious about war and will not not fight the war like a war. It's super weird.
Super weird? A bit like the western left ascendancy defending literal Odin Valhalla Nazis on the Donbass front. OK, equivalent to Wagner? Next step, acceleration. Please bring this hideousness to an end.
Your Pal,
LSP
Sunday, April 17, 2022
Saturday, April 16, 2022
Cooking With LSP - Bread
I know, man shall not live on bread alone. That in mind, we notoriously have bodies which need to be fed and the aerogel rubbish which passes for bread in our supermarkets, if you can even find it, doesn't cut the ticket. Problem? Solution. Make it yourself. Here's how.
Get a mixing bowl and add 3 1/4 cups all purpose flour, 2 teaspoons salt, 1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast, and 1 1/2 cups of warm water. Mix that beast around, stir it up, then cover the thing and rest it, covered, somewhere out of reach of animals. And here's the thing.
Let the dough rest and rise overnight++, ignore it, let it do its thing as though it were an errant teen. Then, somewhere before Vespers on Holy Saturday, remove the dough onto a floured surface and form it into a ball. Let it rest some more in a bowl on parchment paper as heavy metal heats up in the oven at 450*.
After the metal's hot, about 30 minutes, pull it out and transfer the dough to the pot, parchment paper and all, then cover the thing, put it back in the oven and kick back for 30 minutes. Maybe clean a gun or sharpen a kukri, not that any of you have such things. They were lost at sea. Whatever, your call, no rule.
After 30, uncover the metal and finish off the loaf for around 10 minutes. Result? Behold your delicious, life giving bread and fall upon that scoff, like a warrior.
LSP
Holy Saturday
The body of Jesus lays in the tomb, and all is still.
GRANT, O Lord, that as we are baptized into the death of thy blessed Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, so by continual mortifying our corrupt affections we may be buried with him; and that through the grave, and gate of death, we may pass to our joyful resurrection; for his merits, who died, and was buried, and rose again for us, the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
God bless,
LSP
Friday, April 15, 2022
Good Friday #2
It's Good Friday so let's have some Donne:
Let mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other Spheares, by being growne
Subject to forraigne motion, lose their owne,
And being by others hurried every day,
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:
Pleasure or businesse, so, our Soules admit
For their first mover, and are whirld by it.
Hence is't, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East.
There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
And by that setting endlesse day beget;
But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
Sinne had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I'almost be glad, I do not see
That spectacle of too much weight for mee.
Who sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye;
What a death were it then to see God dye?
It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke.
Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,
And tune all spheares at once peirc'd with those holes?
Could I behold that endlesse height which is
Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is
The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus
Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They'are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,
O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.
Yes, they speld differentlie in those dayes,
LSP
Good Friday
The Altars are stripped, consumatum est, it is finished, and TS Eliot writes:
The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer’s art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.
Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam’s curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.
The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.
The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.
The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.