It's Getting Better All The Time

"It's getting better all the time," sang the loveable, cheeky, harmonic, tousle-haired gang of pastel shaded mountebanks in an act of reverse prophecy, because guess what? It isn't getting better all the time. No, it's getting worse.  But before we get into slight detail, let's listen to their jolly little song, check it out:

I guess it seemed, to these fools and most everyone else, that everything was getting better 'round about 1968 as we threw off the oppressive shackles of the past and marched into a brave post-rationing world of progress. Outward and visible sign? Destroying the architecture of the past and replacing it with concrete, brutalist hubs of ugliness. And that's just it.

We haven't gotten any better since 1968, on the contrary, we've declined. Politics, a thrashing node of in-your-face corruption. Education, a hollowed out holding-pen sham. Police, in Europe and the UK an extension of Cultural Marxist DEI slop, rainbow enforcers if you like. And on, but let's get personal.

Do you earn the equivalent of what your fathers did in the late '60s? You know, when one man could support a wife and family on one modest income? No, you don't, that's utterly impossible unless you're amongst the fortunate and shrinking few who can. On point: Back in the '90s I could go to a pub, buy pints of beer, smoke(!) and have a great time for not much more than 20GBP. Today? Not so much if at all.

Things have gotten worse instead of better. You're poorer now, a lot poorer; we're not riding flying cars on free energy, but we are paying more for housing and entertainment, and everything is ugly, really ugly, as in to look at; see the entrance to any American city, utterly hideous. Well I could go on and on and bore you to bits but the point is this: Contrary to the Beatles, we're not getting better, we're getting worse. Why?

I'll wager this. Because we've jettisoned the Faith which is the foundation of our culture. Get rid of that and everything collapses, and into this vacuum has spread all kinds of fast-propagating wickedness, not least today's rainbow Bolshevism. 

Word to the wise. Reject it, say no to it, expose it, mock it, dismantle it, scorn it, and in doing so lift up the Faith which is beautiful, good and true. Replace their faked up satanic Marxist rubbish with the real thing, with the Faith given to us by Christ, the Faith which is the foundation of real progress and beatitude.

Sermon over,

LSP

Gotta Love The Beatles

Well no, not really, especially when the lovable moptops are a couple of murdering, head chopping Moslem savages. That'd be El-Shafee El-Sheikh and Alexanda Kotey, two members of the unholy war execution squad which specialized in cutting off the heads of aid workers and journalists.

These two murderous savages were captured in Iraq in 2018 and a massive legal battle ensued. Should the two Beatles ("Beatles" -- they were from England)  be sent to America for trial and sentencing or segue to the UK, where sensitivity training and rainbow pony therapy sessions would rehabilitate the psychotic, deranged, and possibly possessed by Satan Moslems.

The argument, from UK rainbow leftist lawyers was this. If the head chopper Beatles get extradited to the US they'll get the death penalty. OMG, how inhumane. How could anyone be so barbaric and cruel as to execute people who sawed the heads off of aid workers? You know, with their knives.

So, in a bizarre fit of caritas, the US DOJ promised it wouldn't execute the Beatles. No Helter Skelter for them, just SuperMax hi-jinx for the rest of their lives. Or worse, maybe the merry Butlins that is Gitmo.

I know, the Gospel demands charity. And in this instance I'd argue execution's the better course. Feel free to disagree, there's no rule. But in the reflection, how did the Beatles become so evil, was it innate or learned? 

My call is that people are tempted by Satan and run with it, with bestial, murderous result.

Strawberry fields forever,

LSP

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.

LSP