Pope Francis Some Kind Of Joke?

A joke? No, he's not. He's the head, chief pastor, shoes of the fisherman Pontif of the Roman Church. An heir and fulfillment, when you think of it, of the Imperium itself. So what does the spiritual head of Western civilization have to say about the Chinese Virus? That it's caused by Climate Change, by Global Warming. Here he is:

“We did not respond to the partial catastrophes. Who now speaks of the fires in Australia, or remembers that a year and a half ago a boat could cross the North Pole because the glaciers had all melted? Who speaks now of the floods?

“I don’t know if it is nature’s revenge, but it is certainly nature’s response.”

Nature's response? Well yes, in a round about way. If a crew of Chinese Communists mess with bat viruses in a lab in Wuhan nature will, most probably, run its course. Good call, cross the road, hit a truck. 

But Francis won't name the actual truck, he can't bring himself to call out the atheist tyrants who run China and work to crush the Church. You know, the same people who unleashed this on the world. He blames climate change instead.

Name the real culprit, Francis, but perhaps you're somehow... conflicted? For goodness sake, how embarrassing.

Soylent Green,

LSP

Rest In Peace John Prine

Country singer and legend John Prine died on Tuesday from Chinese Virus related illness, he was 73 years old. Out of many  excellent obits I like this.

Rest in peace and rise in glory,

LSP

Her Majesty The Queen Addresses The Nation

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

LSP

Walking The Eschaton

It was like a midsummer day in Borth on the Welsh Riviera. Overcast, a drizzling rain, not too cold, not too hot but no, this was North Central Texas and time to take Blue Eschaton for a walk.

The streets were empty, because of the Chinese Virus or because they always are? A mystery, and so was our old friend the Meth Shack. The Shack's under new management, who've been busy gutting the place with a view, presumably, to newer and better renters. Good luck with that worthy project.

Mourning the passing of an age, we advanced to the Pick 'n Steal. It still stands, essential business in the midst of lockdown. I tethered the Eschaton to an empty newspaper vending machine and went inside for a coffee "refill" in an invincible Yeti mug. 

The store's Owl Idol looked down with unflinching eyes on its supplicants, the usual crew of pajama wearin', slipper shufflin', lottery playin', blunt buyin' punters. There they were and there it was. Reassured that some things never change, I walked the furry apocalypse back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And then a curious thing happened.

Within a space of minutes, clouds rolled in from the north and with them a fierce wind. The temperature dropped like a stone in seconds, taking us from Borth in August to Borth in April. Fearing a Polar Vortex, I showed the Eschaton inside to warmth and safety.

Poor dog. You can imagine, centuries later, explorers discovering an elderly Heeler encased in ice, the remains of a fried cherry pie in his mouth, frozen where he stood on the awful day the Climate Changed.

That aside, I hope you've all managed to recover your firearms from the lakes and rivers and sensibly saved on SCUBA by use of powerful magnets and sturdy ropes.

God bless,

LSP