Showing posts with label Deo Vindice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Deo Vindice. Show all posts

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Raise The Black Flag And Ride Hard

Was Colonel Quantrell Quantrill a psycho killer whose methods went too far, or just another States Rights loyalist? I'd argue a bit of both, but hey, your call.

In the meanwhile, we appear to be heading into some kind of corporate sponsored civil war. Where do you stand, with the transgender, globalist Maoists and their Blue Chip allies or with something else?

I vote Quantrill, but that's just me. Your call.

Deo Vindice,


Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Parable of the Sower

I've been reflecting on the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13 because it's the Gospel for Sunday in our newfangled, confusing, tripartite lectionary. We all know the story and how it illustrates the four different conditions of human heart or soul upon which the Word falls. 

Although the letter said
On thistles that men look not grapes to gather,
I read the story rather
How soldiers platting thorns around Christ’s Head
Grapes grew and drops of wine were shed.

Though when the sower sowed,
The wingèd fowls took part, part fell in thorn,
And never turned to corn,
Part found no root upon the flinty road—
Christ at all hazards fruit hath shewed.

From wastes of rock He brings
Food for five thousand: on the thorns He shed
Grains from His drooping Head;
And would not have that legion of winged things
Bear Him to heaven on easeful wings.

Christ, in Himself, transforms and redeems our fallen nature, turning hard, rocky, thorn-choked ground into abundant life. He invites us to share in this victory; God grant us the humility to enter into compassion and life, to repent.

Your Ancient Friend,


Monday, July 6, 2020

The Ghost Of Robert E. Lee

What country would erect statues to defeated generals? There's a civil war genius to it, and we're losing that to some weird zero-sum, anarcho-marxist power play. 

Remember, commies, zero-sum works both ways. And get this, we know how to shoot unlike, say, Wakanda.

Lion King,


Sunday, July 5, 2020

Jine The Cavalry

I can post this because I can, actually, ride hell for leather and twice as fast. Well, at least until a Mad Arab kicked me off her back a year ago tomorrow. 

But seriously, one of my best memories of the last decade is running a horse through a Texan field, right through the silvery light of the moon. One heckuvva thing, man and beast, at one, and fast as you like. 

Now, imagine that run in the face of fire. No small matter, and while I scorn historical re-enactors as curiously insane, "Look, crazy people!", I respect our forebears; dam straight. 

Btw, Lspboro raised a Cav Brigade in the war against Northern aggression, Parson's Brigade, no foolin. 

Down with the Eagle, up with the Cross.

Deo Vindice,


Saturday, June 13, 2020

War Memorials

Inspired by patriots on both sides of the Atlantic, I drove to the town square to protect our War Memorials from rampaging gangs of Maoists, hippies and savages chancing it out of Austin. Here's what happened.

There weren't any "protesters" in the Brookshire's car park, curiously.

No Anarcho-Marxist cadres behind the library either. Like, what gives?!?

The infamous Bond Alley wasn't a heaving mass of revolutionary Communists out to smash the system. Not even an ACAB. Huh.

And there weren't any autonomous zone armed guards at the Farmers Market, but it's a small market after all. Maybe there'd be some action around the corner, at the big War Memorial. 

Nothing, nada, zilch. Not a spray can, molotov cocktail, dreadlock or tofu burger in sight. Huh, strange. They're probably at the other corner of the courthouse, attacking the Confederate Soldier, I thought grimly to myself.

They weren't. The statue stood tall, a tribute to the men of this town who lost their lives in that hideous war. I paused and said a short prayer. Rest in peace.

One last stop, the library. Wow, its brazen statue to patriarchal oppression still stood. Far out. And that was that. 

It seems, my friends, that the heritage of this small farming community remains intact. Good, let's keep it that way.

Deo Vindice,


Sunday, March 15, 2020


Brainiac boffins believe time travel may be possible thanks to "quantum entanglement," and shocking new evidence seems to prove them right. 

Nineteenth century pictures of a Confederate firing line show a bearded soldier calmly reloading his musket in the face of a Yankee charge. 

Amazingly, a photo has emerged of the same soldier in central Texas in the 21st century, a leap of over 100 years.

Is time travel now a possibility or are objects in the mirror more right wing than at first appears? As always, you, the reader, be the judge.

Deo Vind.


Saturday, March 14, 2020

Deo Vindice

Perhaps you wonder where the Compound stands on states rights and freedom. Flatten the curve.

Deo Vindice,


Sunday, June 10, 2018

Follow The Flag Catch The Fish

Orders are simple. RV (Rendezvous) with friendly forces at a 
secret location, deep in rural Texas. 

Then follow the flag.

And when you do, you catch fish.

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it. In other news, the Grand Commander's accused Canada's Suprema of being "weak" and "dishonest." Other's say there's a "special place in hell" for "backstabbers."

Don't say Little Potato,


Saturday, February 10, 2018

Going To A Gun Show

I don't know why but there's always a surge of excitement, an uplifting movement in the force, at the prospect of going to a gun show. At least there is for me and then, when you get there, the excitement builds. So many guns, so much ammo! It's like Christmas.

A pricey Christmas, mind you, because a lot of the vendors seem to think their beat up, second hand, pawn shop wares are worth full price. I don't get that. Why would you think anyone would be dumb enough to buy your second hand Glock for the price of its new equivalent. Beats me.

Still, gun shows are fun and you never know, there might even be a bargain lurking in the wings. There wasn't this time, but there was a rainbow table and a neat 6.5 AR; which was best? 

Tough call and I resisted the siren song only to weaken at the plaintive call of the young 'un.

"Please can we get a Confederate flag and an MRE?" Seeing as how the flag cost a mere 5 bucks and the MRE the same, I bought both. Eat the appalling MRE under the awesome flag, sort of thing.

Deo Vindice,


Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Rebel Yell Impeach Trump

Why? Because he told the lying, sly, venal, corrupt, elite, millionaire socialist elite media that violence on both sides of the Charlottesville spectrum was wrong.

Oh. What. A. Nazi.

Presumably because he didn't adopt the the culturally ascendant, media-driven rhetoric of the Left and endorse the feces throwing, Soros-funded Antifa protesters. That, he said, was wrong and so were the risible antics of the Klan. 

I'd call that common sense instead of  fascism and I'd bet my fighting monkey that most Americans would agree. However, the debate does spur on the urge to enlist creative people to make up life-size street art images of Confederate Generals. Three for every statue taken down. At least.

In the meanwhile, sorry, BLM and friends, you lost the election and lost hard. The country doesn't like you.



Saturday, May 2, 2015

Biker Eschaton

It's all about motorcycles these days, on this transport blog. There's Lukeya's Norton, LL's Ducati, Fredd's Kawasaki and lots more. This puts me in mind of a biker party I went to, many, many years ago.

There I was, on New Year's Eve, at a party. They were a mixed crew, a couple of Wolf's Outlaws, maybe a Bandido or two, perhaps a Desperado, and there I was, regimental tie, blazer, the whole, "I say, you men, carry on," type of thing.

As the New Year struck, I congratulated the assembled outlaws with a hearty "Happy New Year!" including one ne'er do well who was at least 8' high and 5' wide. "Is it? F***er?" he asked me. I didn't reply, but I stood up (even straighter), looked that ruffian right in the eye, and prepared to die like a soldier.

The leaders of the party saved me, fortunately. "Leave him alone!" they said, "He's Adolf! And he's alright."

And that was that. Why did the outlaws call me Adolf? I'll leave you to ponder that.

Born to ride,


Saturday, October 20, 2012

The Ordinariate. Loving the Patrimony

The Team's been hard at work, this time in an Ordinariate way, sending in photos of Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and a church not so very far from Fort Worth.

I'm all in favor, but let the reader understand that I'm loyal to bishop Iker, the Missions and, as always, to Texas.

Deo Vindice,