Is This For Real?

 

Here's William Lundy helmeted up in front of a F-100 Super Saber at Eglin AFB in 1955. He claimed to have served in the Confederate cavalry (Company D 4th Alabama Cavalry Regiment) from March 1864-1865, joining up at the age of 16. 

If true, that'd make Lundy a remarkable 107 years old at the time of the photo, but his story's disputed. Census records suggest he was actually born in 1860, which would make the alleged veteran a posing old fraud, albeit with a venerable visage.

I like this old man a lot

Who knows. I'd like to believe the story's true because there it is, a very old man who lived in the horse-drawn age standing next to a jet fighter in the 1950s. How cool is that? Very. And even if Lundy wasn't the veteran he claimed to be, he was still a stand-out from another age. A person who lived across the transformation of America and Western civ into something approaching the way we live now.

Ahem, RHSM, maybe we need some "fast movers"?

You can imagine his dismay, if he were alive to see it, at our devolution into the hideous, banal, ersatz, wicked, dumb-as-you-like-then-some barbarity of the 21st century. As it is, he had his moment with a Super Saber.

So, is the photo and all that's with it real? You be the judge.

4ACR forever,

LSP

Open Borders Begin At Home

 

Here at the Compound we believe in practicing what we preach.

That's why we call on Democrats to open their doors to show their personal commitment to an open border.

Anything else would be hypocritical Nazi Fascism, right?

Keen-eyed readers of this mind-blog will note Chicago and other, ahem, sanctuary cities aren't too keen on bus loads of illegals arriving in their progressive utopias, they can't afford it without massive taxpayer cash. But here's where you, the person who voted for this, can make a difference. Open. Your. Door.

OK, just an excuse to repost some awesome infographics. But seriously, what kind of hypocrisy, skulduggery and malfeasance are we facing here. Substantial, to say the least, and it can be parsed thus: Import millions of people into the country, give 'em amnesty and a vote and hey presto, one party Blue State per saecula saeculorum, por los siglos de los siglos, et nunc et semper. Amen. And guess what?

All the libs and their fellow travelers choke for this, gag for it and get all rainbow solemn about the Statue of Liberty. Unh hunh, open your doors and pay for it, you utter hypocrites. Speaking of which, you'll be pleased to know that Mission #1's sorted out accommodation for our new Mexican curate.

He's a good guy, a "tent maker" who likes El Senor Trump and the Latin Mass, as do I, you'll be totally surprised to know.

How pleasant it is when brethren dwell together in unity.

God Bless,

LSP

TEXIT

 

TEXIT, the popular, grassroots movement to make the Republic of Texas sovereign again, free of the shackles of DC tyranny. The TEXIT website puts it like this: 

"Our mission is to secure and protect the political, cultural and economic independence of the nation of Texas and to restore and protect a constitutional Republic and the inherent rights of the people of Texas."

Right on, and to that end we have Fort Hood, Fort Bliss, Dyess AFB and so many more, not least the DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry), which is an irregular unit known for its élan and hard work in the field. So yes, we have an army, and a formidable one to boot. 

But there's a fly in the ointment, a splinter in the toe, a loose filling, a (stop it, Ed.) problem. That problem is Austin, twinned with San Francisco, a city full of hippies and wealthy Bolshevik radicals that threatens our great state from within. A fifth column, if you like. Solution?

Blockade Austin and its allied counties, Travis, Tarrant, Presidio, Zavala, Brooks, Starr, Dallas and on and send them to California. That's it, that's the solution. Send the populations of those counties to the blue Golden State, and Chicago, and DC and New York. Governor Abbott, the time has come. Put 'em on the bus and send 'em off. 

Le /Pol/ Face

Keen-eyed observers of our ridiculously fast-paced news cycle will note Establishment Gregg's been doing just that and the Democrat sanctuary cities aren't very happy about it. Not at all. Of course blacks and latinos coexist in perfect harmony, except that they don't, and the DNC's made the command decision to throw the failing former demographic under the bus, LBJ style. More votes you see, and sorry Black Caucus, you lose the calculus game.

Not Texas but whatever

Regardless, here in Texas we stand united behind the one star, the Lone Star that's the symbol of our Republic.

Alamo,

LSP

Bonnie Blue

 

This seems appropriate, right about now,

LSP

Just Some Tunes

 

A rambunctious soldier's just strolled in on a weekend pass, and that's all good. We're watching patriotic tunes, and that's good too. As is the DOGE$ rally, wen Lambo?

States Rights and Dixie Forever,

LSP

Vindice

 

CS Lewis writes in Screwtape Proposes a Toast:

Thanks to Our Father Below, the threat was averted. Our counterattack was on two levels. On the deepest level our leaders contrived to call into full life an element which had been implicit in the movement from its earliest days. Hidden in the heart of this striving for Liberty there was also a deep hatred of personal freedom. That invaluable man Rousseau first revealed it. In his perfect democracy, only the state religion is permitted, slavery is restored, and the individual is told that he has really willed (though he didn’t know it) whatever the Government tells him to do. From that starting point, via Hegel (another indispensable propagandist on our side), we easily contrived both the Nazi and the Communist state. Even in England we were pretty successful. I heard the other day that in that country a man could not, without a permit, cut down his own tree with his own axe, make it into planks with his own saw, and use the planks to build a toolshed in his own garden.

 

I heard the other day that in that country a man could not, without a permit, cut down his own tree with his own axe.

My, how the mighty have fallen, imagine Lewis' dismay today. As in, "Wear your mask, dirt person slave, and let us inject you with our experimental DNA serum. Or face the intel agency wrath of GloboCorp, as we ride through your rivers on our super yachts." 

Do you see the trajectory? Total, abject, obedient slavery to our #MillSoc rulers. For our own rainbow benefit, obviously. And where's Satan? Hiding, a murderer from the beginning."

Here at the Compound we whistle a different tune. We are in a war, light v. dark. Which side are you on?

Vindice,

LSP

Shattered

 

What! I looked at the phone and it looked at me, broken and shattered like a mute parable of the state of our nation. Seriously, what isn't broken right about now. Our governance, borders, elections, finance, and all that it is to come together as a country; who we are as a nation?

Shattered glass aside, I went into the T Mobile shop to get a fix for the phone I'd foolishly dropped the night before, "I need a new phone, this one's glass is shattered like the state of Union itself."

Bonnie Blue

Of course they could have got right on it but here's the thing, I was invisible to their system, off grid. No kidding, no IMEI, no social, no name, no nothing, the manager wasn't even allowed, by the system, to access my account. "What do you actually do?" he asked, "That," I replied, "is a very good question."

We looked at each other in a moment of understanding. "Look, man, all I want to do is sell you a phone, at the right price." I thought for a moment, "Yes, that's what I want too, we think as one." And we did.

Sure, it took a while, but in that time we talked of late antiquity, the ruins of Rome in the 6th century, Detroit, architecture as a reflection of the soul of a nation and how we're sadly wanting in that regard, and so much more besides.

Probyn

As time went interminably call-center on I amused myself by marching about the store and saluting, Brit style, various icons, images of phones. "Eyes Left!" Quite the drill movement, to say nothing of about turn on the march and let me tell you, all were impressed. As in open order, right dress! Ahem.

Militarist gymnastics over I checked out with a brand new nicely discounted phone, and learned that the manager of the shop's cousin(?) was a Captain and that his store associate had just left Ft. Hood after 4 years of service. 

She told me, "I cried when I left." She loved Ft. Hood and the Army and has serious disabilities to contend with. "I will pray for you," I offered, and meant it wholeheartedly. 

What a good store. I love these people and wish them well. By the left.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

Remove Racist Rock!

 

A Typical Racist Rock

A massively racist 42 ton rock has been moved from the University of Wisconsin Madison's Chamberlin Hill, where it used to sit, oppressing persyns of color with its racism. According to students, the weighty pre-Cambrian glacial erratic would often hurl racist abuse.

"It was really offensive," stated one student, "Like, 'Look at me, I'm a rock. Who's smarter, me or you? Who's in debt for life on account of a pathetic trans theater degree, me or you?' Sometimes the rock would play Dukes of Hazard and Lynyrd Skynyrd. Once I heard it whistle Dixie. I didn't feel safe."

Unsafe

Here at the Compound we're glad the racist rock's been removed. One more monument to oppression gone, and not before time. Juliana Bennett, a senior and a campus representative on the Madison City Council shows zhir relief:

“This moment is about the students, past and present, that relentlessly advocated for the removal of this racist monument. Now is a moment for all of us BIPOC students to breathe a sigh of relief, to be proud of our endurance, and to begin healing.”

Hmmmm. Same Old Hippie

Well said, Julia. Now that the crushingly racist rock's removed we can all begin to heal, and breathe. 

Your Buddy,

LSP

Cheer Up! Kids!

Feeling miserable?

Happens.

So cheer up.

Vindice, 

LSP

PS. With apologies to Theodore.

Decisions, Decisions

Sure, you can sit in front of a screen in slack-jawed consternation as churches burn, statues of Christ and saints are vandalized, and a corporate-sponsored Marxist putsch plays out in Democrat run  cities, or you can go fishing. Such is free will, it entails choice. I chose to go fishing.

For Every Lure You Buy You Have to Get Rid of Three

Nothing fancy, just a marina on Lake Whitney, and it's not even hard. All you need's a rig, Texas, a couple of rods, some bait and a day pack full of lures, hooks, weights, knives, descalers, water, bobbers and all of that. I tell you, if you're not careful that "day pack" will turn into a full-scale bergen (ruck) as if it were some kind of bloated government agency. Choose to avoid that fate.

A Bird

That in mind, I strolled down the pier to the cleaning station, admiring the big hot sky, the surround-sound of cicadas, and the exciting prospect of fish. Would they choose to bite, would the small cooler full of frozen shad, perch and fresh worms entice them onto the hook? Only time would tell.

Beat The Black Drum

And it did, in the triple digit noonday sun. Long story short, the fish had heatstroke and were cooling off in deeper waters, so the going was slow. Still, I reeled in a couple of 'gills and a decent little drum, enough catching, just, to vindicate the expedition and then something tugged on the line; a soupy, lazy, sluggish tug, as if the fish was half-asleep. 

What's This? A Snag, Annoyingly

Huh. Quick experimental hookset and... KABOOM. Rod double, line out, diving, pulling, running action. What is this? A monster bass, a mega cat, a shark? No, none of those things. Some five minutes later it was a huge Buffalo (carp but not a carp), a huge fish on a light rod, big fun.

When the enormous beast finally tired of fighting the ancient mariner and came to the surface, I marveled at the prehistoric set of the thing. Large, jurassic, glistening scales and the sheer immensity of the watery beast, perhaps the largest fish I've ever caught. Then, just as I was hauling it onto the dock for a photo op, the line broke above the hook and Leviathan returned to the depths.

Well done fish, well done fisherman. And with that it was time to head back to the Compound. 

Choose wisely, my friends.

Fish on,

LSP

What A Beautiful Day

What, you're in a good mood, dubiously named "LSP," something positive to say? We won't say Hell just froze over. That's right, readers of this inconsequential kebab stand on the information superhighway, today is a good day, a great day because charges against General Flynn were dropped.

Hero

Because this is an uplifting post I won't go into the way an American hero, patriot and gentleman was framed by corrupt cops, forced into making a false confession, bankrupted, his family threatened with prosecution and all the rest. 

A Typical Badger

I can hardly contain my disgust, my revulsion at the corrupt bureaucrats who set about to ruin this good man. So I won't get into it.

Can You Excuse This Thing's Tie? No, Neither Can I, And That's The Least of It.

No, I won't detail the brazen, shameless, treasonous, makes-Watergate-look-innocent malfeasance committed by Brennan, Comey, McCabe, Rosenstein, Strozk, Page, the  Mueller gang et al. So where does the buck stop? How about Hillary, Biden and the Magic 0; let's see some justice. In the meanwhile, sit back and enjoy the moment, but that's not all.

Comin' At You

The House Intel Committee's finally released transcripts from the Mueller coup investigation and bug-eyed Schiff's thrashing, twisting and lying in enraged fear. Let's see the what? Three, four year Trump's a Russian Agent! scam exposed for what it was, a phoney, faked up, criminal fraud. And, remarkably, the good news continues.

Free

Shelley, remember her, the Dallas hairdresser who was imprisoned and fined by an Obama judge figure? Yes, that's the one. She was freed today because Texas' Supreme Court ordered it. Good work, Texan Justices. I mean to say, go figure, let's release all these criminals from jail so we can fill their cages with business owners trying to make a living. Not in the Lone Star State, nossir.

So there it is, what a day. Now let's see some justice applied to the coup conspirators and while we're at it, maybe Biden needs to take a Tara Reade polygraph and Roger Stone exonerated along with General Flynn. You know, just to make our joy complete.

Your Buddy,

LSP

Texas Street Walker

The climate changed, yet again, from a balmy Springlike 70 something to freezing wind and rain. It was like being in Aberystwyth instead of Texas, but you know what they say, adopt, adapt, survive. 

That in mind, I pulled on a pair of sturdy G.H. Bass brogues, an Arctic Hardware fleece and a Barbour jacket, maybe label shock alone would scare our enemy the weather into submission, and ventured forth.

I walked past the Methshack, which is suffering because half of the shackers have been evicted. There it was, sitting in the rain behind a semi-urban field which no one's inclined to buy. Who knows, maybe they're waiting for the shack to be cleared before purchasing land to build on and sell.

The Yellow House wasn't looking too good either. It's famous for something, was reinvented as a bed and breakfast, which didn't work, then re-inhabited by crackheads. A friend tried to buy it last year but the deal went south because of craziness. I always ask myself, why would you paint your house yellow? 

Then it was a short patrol through welfare, several shacks, a pleasantly unpaved vista and on to Montes for a late breakfast. Montes is alright and's upped its game lately, with new menus, suspiciously attentive waitresses and an extra dollar on every meal.

I ordered Huevos Rancheros, which was delicious and filling, and pondered their choice of music. Relaxed New Country as opposed to Mexican House/Techno. Curious, they're obviously trying to appeal to someone and sure enough, there were a couple of cowboys getting into the spirit of the thing.

New Country aside, the Fossil Museum was worth a look in and they seem to be getting actual, literal fossils to display to the public. Well done. It used to be a place where someone from the Metrosprawl kept his collection of vintage Cadillacs, and before that the HQ of a filling station chain which stretched to Europe, forgotten now.

Around the corner lies Franklin, broad and wide to accommodate the cotton traffic which was stolen by greed-filled globalists, and home stretch on to the Compound. A short walk, for sure, but the longest I've made since I was catapulted off the back of a mad Arab back in July.

And I tell you, it's good to get moving again, even if on a short patrol around this small Texan country haven.

God bless,

LSP

Happy Labor Day Comrades

The Compound

You stand to at first light, waiting for cadres of fanatical Frankfort School revolutionaries to infiltrate the compound's perimeter in the predawn mist. Such is Labor Day in these dark and troubled times. But guess what, we got a pass. 

The trip flares didn't go off, none of the Claymores exploded, no one had to throw a grenade, there weren't any shadowy figures being deadly in the hedge, and all was good. Huge sigh of relief. Now what?

Texas Dawn

Drive to the 'Spawl or stay in the bucolic bliss of this unreconstructed Texan farming community? Easy call, stay, and what a good choice. Everyone here's happy, smiling, laughing, helping each other out, full of the joy of the day. 

Perhaps they're elated that Labor Day 2019 didn't usher in a demented, satanic Bolshevik revolution. Then again, maybe they're simply happy at the prospect of good times with family and friends, free of the Communist menace.

A Typical Texan Vista

Who knows and I'm not complaining. So fire up the grill, have the best time with your people, and enjoy a great Labor Day. You know what they say, workers of the world unite.

Your Friend,

LSP

SUMMER SOLSTICE 2019

Yes, the Summer Solstice was yesterday, an important date by anyone's reckoning. How did you celebrate? 

At the Stones?

Perhaps the Tor.

Here at the Compound we cleaned guns, like this handy CZ Bobwhite 20.

And flew the flag.

Witch way, mysticke sister?

One flag to rule them all. 

Dixie forever,

LSP