Cheer Up Sunday!

Some of the vast international readership of this popular mind blog are complaining, C'mon LSP, lighten up, it's Sunday! 

And who can blame them, it's not pleasant to be confronted with billionaire pedo Epstein on a Sunday morning. So to correct the balance here's a kitchen carbine, uplifting or what?

A bottle of wine and a .45! Now you're talkin', good times.

And look at this, a resting attack dog. 

See? Better already. In other compelling news, our military's taken some 50 tons of gold from ISIS. Ahem, a certain irregular cavalry unit's in need of funding. Over to you, RHSM.

And now everyone's happy, even though Hillary's unaccountably not in jail, we're in the midst of a new Ice Age and Epstein continues to fly the friendly skies of the New World Order in his especially cozy private jet. 

Cheers,

LSP

Dog Hell

One of the things about God, Guns, Church and Country Life in Texas is that you're surrounded by dogs. For example, I have dog, a rescue cattle dog called Blue Terminator. He's called Blue because he's a Blue Heeler and terminates fried cherry pies with extreme prejudice. Ha, ha.

Whatever, Blue isn't the problem, pie thievery notwithstanding; he's a pretty sedate old gentleman, if fierce as a dingo when he wants to be. No, the problem's not Blue, it's the other dogs and they're everywhere. Everywhere barking psychotically, all day long. 

What happens here is that Jose parks his dog in the yard all day and all night, and the dog goes insane, inevitably. You would too if you were leashed up 24/7 in Hill County.

Now, imagine several blocks of Jose. Each Tecate Dreamer with his dog chained up outside, every animal growing increasingly crazy until fully psychotic and then, BOOM. Total, utter, canine cacophany. 

Perhaps you think this some kind of joke. It's not, it's a variant of Hell, dog Hell, and it needs harrowing, it demands a solution. Maybe the Wall will help. 

We live and hope,

LSP

No Shoot

Like all good plans, this one was simple. Walk the dog to the Pick 'n Steal, get some coffee, say Morning Prayer, take care of immediate business and then go for a shoot.

Flooding

What an excellent plan, right? And practical too, involving zeroing in a  triad of deadly assault rifles, 5.56 and 7.62. Make sure the blasters were still working, sort of thing, and then relax off with a bit of plinking against targets of opportunity; soda cans, steel plates, shotgun shells, kettles, cell phones, whatever.

Typical Clovis Points

But no. It started to rain, thunder rolled and crashed across the sky and a vengeful, biting wind cut across the Compound like the harbinger of a new Ice Age. I tell you, it's like the Younger Dryas extinction event here in the Central Zone.

Look, a Dog on a Rug

So no shoot and that's fine by Blue Somnolent but frustrating for me. Still, it's not all bad, check out this uplifting new infovideo from Carpe Doncton.

 

Childish Media - This is America
Thanks for the great idea @Cernovich

Hate Crimes are Real... They just aren't "News" pic.twitter.com/1LAkZAWwCg

— Carpe Donktum🔹 (@CarpeDonktum) February 19, 2019

What excellent art!

Gun rights,

LSP

Tree Wrangling

In the olden days, which I can just remember, you didn't decorate your tree until Christmas Eve but that's changed now. We went looking for trees in Dallas on Monday with a view to getting the job done. 

First stop? Lowes, and I'll be honest, their selection was rubbish. Home Depot was better and we found a tree without too much hassle; a bit on the small side but it'd do. 

Small!

Back at HQ the tree went obediently into its stand and there it was, a Christmas tree in a stand, looking annoyingly short. "I have to say, it looks a bit dam short," I told Ma LSP, who suggested we raise it on some kind of platform. But we didn't, the Angel would make it taller perhaps.

Angel

It helped, along with lights and ornaments which glittered and gleamed like Christmas is supposed to do. Blue ADC did his bit to help, which mostly involved sleeping at guard and that seemed homely and somehow reassuring. 

All Lit Up

Dog and Christmas tree, sort of thing. A few hours later the tree seemed pretty much there, so we moved outside and lit up the front.

Getting There

Good work and well done, team, you've put up Christmas or most of it anyway. Mission accomplished, we fell back to the kitchen and celebrated the victory. For Blue Voracious that meant treats, well deserved. 

And that readers, all six of you, is the story of that. If you're a Puritan you'll disapprove because you think Christmas, when we celebrate the birth of Christ, is pagan, popish idolatry. Long story short, no, it isn't.

God bless,

LSP

Just Strolling

There was a stillness in the air as the sun rose above this small redoubt on the Texan Front. That's because everyone was sensibly in bed before braving the Thanksgiving Day Supermarket Maelstrom. I gazed at the frost, had a cup of hot tea, said Morning Prayer and took Blue Eschaton for a walk.

We went by a small but patriotic compound which seems to be in a constant state of yard sale. You know the thing, broken records, a bent bicycle wheel, soggy clothes in a wet cardboard box, a few old rusty spoons, a doorless fridge, whatever. A bit like the Tramp Market under the London's Westway in the early 1990s.

"Must get this crew into church," I thought to myself as I passed Jose's new house. Jose's bought some wooden fencing to mark the boundary between his compound and the yard sale scrappers' but he hasn't put it up yet.

The Pick 'n Steal was empty, apart from the Owl idol, and I poured some coffee into a Yeti 20 Ounce Tumbler, guaranteed to keep your drink hot or cold, no matter what kind of beating you give it. I'm inclined to doubt Yeti's marketing but haven't put it to the test, stay tuned.

Coffee poured into the purportedly indestructible Yeti, I strolled across the way to the Disciples Christian Church, at least I think that's what it is but it's hard to remember. They're a small crew but friendly, good luck to 'em.

We stopped up behind the temple and Blue got to nose about while I took a few sips of Yeti insulated coffee. Yes, thanks to Yeti's special system the coffee was still hot even though the Tumbler hadn't taken a beating, well done. 

I looked around while Blue Appalling did unmentionable things and took in the quiet Texan street scene. This part's well put together and a few young families make the effort to make it nice, in pleasant contrast to the crackheads, fools and wastrels that live down the block.

We moved on, patrolling beneath the locust trees, keeping an eye out for malfeasant skulduggery from the ne'er-do-well rent shacks on the left. But they were fast asleep and Blue Attack missed his chance at glory.

And there it was, the Compound, flags waving, chairs gleaming and all was well. The day moved on from there, much of it on the porch, but that's a different story. 

So there it is, another morning's worth of country life in Texas.

Quas Primas,

LSP

The Restoration

There they are, three family heirlooms sitting in the back yard of your compound, rusting. And you look at the metal chairs which belonged to your Great Great Grandmother and think, it's high time these relics of a better age were brought back to life, restored.

Walmart

The next thing you know you're at Walmart, getting a haircut, taking care of business at the 1st Inconvenience Bank and buying sandpaper, primer and white enamel Rustoleum spray paint. Then what?

Sanded

Sand the chairs. I used 100 grit paper and a couple of sanding sponges, and wish I'd bought more; they're efficient. When the grit's gone, deploy them as blocks and that works too.

The Watcher

A hour or so later congratulate yourself, well done, you've finished sanding. Stand back and behold the improvement, a promise of things to come.

Apocalyptic reverie over, wash the beasts down with some kind of spirit and spray. Three coats took around two cans per chair and I think they looked sharp, but the third chair needed special treatment. 

Filthy

That's because it'd managed to get itself especially filthy and had to be cleaned before sanding. An old abrasive kitchen sponge did the trick and neatly removed flaking paint to boot. Result.

Clean

Chair #3 gets a sanding and spray tomorrow. In the meanwhile, #1 and #2 rest on the porch, looking good and ready for action. They'll be joined by a swing and #3 as time moves inexorably on towards its end.

Blue Eschaton

We'll watch that play out, on the porch.

God bless,

LSP

Raise The House!

Well, the porch anyway. You see, the problem with wooden houses is that the wood can get eaten away by termites and ants. 

For that matter, if it's not looked after it'll rot and then you'll wake up to discover your historic Texan house is an historic Texan ruin. So the Compound's HQ got a respray and I think it looks sharp, but there was a problem. 

The painting crew discovered a supporting beam beneath the porch had pretty much returned to the soil. The porch looked fine but it wasn't, it was an illusion.

The crew turned up in the cold grey mask of morning to put the mirror of illusion right. That meant jacking up the porch, taking out the rotten beam and replacing it. Next step?

Finish painting the porch and then stand back and thank God for His mercy.

Gun rights,

LSP

 

Dog Days of Red October

Here in the dog days of Red October life follows a simple morning pattern. Feed Blue Voracious some delicious nuggets, then head off to the Pick 'n Steal to get a Yeti full of coffee. Blue Predator sits outside during the transaction. Smart people don't get too close.

Then we head back to the Compound's front office porch. Blue stands on guard during Morning Prayer; will enemies foolishly try and break through the perimeter?

But guard duty gets tiresome, so why not lie down in the sun? Good call, sentry. Speaking of K9s, here's the Alex Jones Dog.

What a ferocious little tyke! Don't forget to buy the products.

Godspeed,

LSP

Gone Fishing

"I know," I thought cleverly to myself, "I'll go fishing." And that was the plan for Monday morning, but it nearly got derailed because of a church PO Box and taking care of business.

Load up your rig with beer and tacos and head for glory.

Still, got to the lake and cast off with worms and a couple of lures, but the fishing was slow. Sure, a couple of bites here and there but nothing much. I blame that on the malfeasant, demonic static unleashed by Fienstein and her cohort of satanists on the world. It confuses the fish.

Look what the FBI caught!

The hideous Golem representative from California and her puppet aside, I managed to catch a decent Bluegill and had a couple of strikes with topwater. Some kind of Rapala lure, I think.

Then it was time to head home, happily tired out by clambering around the rocks of Soldier's Bluff in search of fish. Next step?

Blue SCOTUS

GUNS, and horses. This is important.

Your Pal,

LSP

Thursday Evening Round Up

Thunder's booming and roaring overhead, the dog's asleep on a Moslem rug and you can smell the rain on the Texan wind.

Stormy The Prostitute

In other exciting news, Stormy The Prostitute was arrested, in a strip club no less and then released. Meanwhile, President Trump had the sheer, brazen, unashamedly fascist effrontery to suggest that the US taxpayer shouldn't pay for European defense; defense against what, the Kremlins? 

May The Traitor

Trump's also slammed Britain's notorious traitor, Theresa May, for failing to deliver on Brexit. Think about it, Traitor May. What's better, a deal with Germany or the US? America or Germany? And while you're at it, how popular will you remain if you ignore the 17.4 million who voted to leave. Don't say Peasants' Revolt.

Regardless, Melania touched down in the UK, looking good to an RAF honor guard. The Queen has apparently organised a parade at Windsor Castle to welcome a President that isn't Obama and we can all look forward to some martial pomp and pageantry. 

Melania Looking Awesome

It'll make for a pleasant alternative to watching bolshevik teenagers running around howling for open borders and a tofu burger on every plate.

Speaking of Great Britain, a Christian Pastor, Richard Smith,  was elected Mayor of Ferryhill in County Durham in May, but had to resign because of a hate campaign led by a local drag queen called Tess Tickle. No kidding, you can read all about it here.

A Typical FBI Traitor

Then there's bizarre case of FBI Agent Peter Strzok, who's been trying to tell Congress that he's a patriot despite being a traitor. Tricky. And lest we forget, there's a new nominee for SCOTUS, thus sealing the left like a doomed djinn into a bubble of impotent rage for decades if not millennia. 

Weird, isn't it, how the progressive, comsymp, NWO elite, Illuminati stooge, MillSoc left went from anguished grief about The Children to shrieks of pro-abortion, kill your kid in the womb mania in the space of a SCOTUS nomination. 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Thoughts on fauxtrage running skin deep aside, here at the Compound we have to ask. Would an impartial observer question the progleft's love of children?

Last but by no means least, England lost to Croatia but not before some 20 million pints of beer were drunk.

Don't say theater of the absurd, say roll on the parade.

Your Friend,

LSP