Walkabout

You know what it's like. There you are in the midst of a pandemic threatening to shut down Western Civ, what's left of it anyway, so whaddya do? 

Go for an armed stroll 'round town at 11 pm to see what's up. Load up and off you go, born to have adventure, sort of thing.

But what was up? Not very much. Flags were flying but the streets were empty. Had a neutron bomb gone off? Would you hit anyone if you fired a canon down the middle of the street? No.

So I strolled about and went to the downtown filling station for Marlboro Lights, then stood in the middle of the road and took photos. There wasn't any traffic, it's all shut down because of China, you see. Not that it's especially very busy ever.

Heading home, First Methodee was all lit up but no one was home and the Meth Shack was getting it on with a "domestic." I sensibly ignored the furor and strolled by, round in the chamber. And that was that, mission accomplished.

Message? If you're going walkabout, take a gun.

Best,

LSP

Private Mass

While not able to worship publicly at this time, I did offer the Mass this morning on all our behalf. This service is known as a Missa sine populo (Mass without the people) or a Private Mass. 

However, the grace in this worship is very far from private and ripples or reverberates throughout the whole Church, not least our part of it.

This is because all of us are joined to Christ and one another in a mystical, spiritual communion. As the Apostle Paul teaches us, "For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body." (1 Cor. 12:13) And so the blessing of even one faithful Communion at the Eucharist extends to us all.

Please know that you were all offered up at the Altar of Our Lord this morning and rest assured of my daily prayers. May God bless, preserve and keep you. 

Be strong in Him and take courage, for Christ has "overcome the world,"(Jhn. 16:33) and neither death nor Hell itself have any power over us.

With much love and every blessing,

LSP

The Shoot Before Christmas

"Up for a shoot, old chap?" The Private didn't need much prompting and sprang out of bed, eager to show off his skills. "I reckon I'll smoke you on the AR," he quipped in a merry two days before Christmas kind of way. 

"I reckon there'd be something wrong if you didn't," I replied in the famously understated way of irregular cavalry, "But first I have to walk the Blue." The Blue being a dog, obviously.

That done, off we went to the range with a couple of .45s, an AR, a 20 SxS, and a big box of bullets courtesy of CheapAmmo.com; thanks, guys, great result. And what a good day for it, the sun shone, the ground was firm, the air clean in a big Texan sky, and all was well. 

CZ 20

First things first, we set up a silhouette along with a few playing cards and warmed up on the .45s. I kicked off with a Glock 21 and pounded five rounds into an approximation of the X Ring. OK, for a rusty shooter. The kid followed on and did well with a PX4 Storm, the green terr was definitely down. We moved onto playing cards at 10 yards.

Hmmm. Rusty.

I know, nothing outrageously skilled, unless you're out of practice like me, but we put the paper beast back in its box and had plenty of fun to boot. Nice. Then onto the 20 and a box of skeet, which we hurled redneck style into the sky. They mostly got smoked. 

Go Army

Next up? AR, and disaster struck. The battery'd died and the helpful red dot was no more. Good thing the weapon had back up iron sights. We blasted away like good 'uns, mostly against steel plates which swang like fury at the impact of the small but forceful 5.56. 

Did the kid "smoke me on the AR"? No, but I feel he would've if the shoot had gone on much longer and he got the feel of weapon. More training, you see. But what a neat little beast, Hipertouch trigger, Bison barrel and lightweight furniture. Far better, thought the Private, than issue. Such, perhaps, is the value of being irregular.

Boom!

We finished off with .45s against steel plates and had a blast knocking the adversary about. Boom, off you go. And then it was time to head for home, mission accomplished.

I love shooting, I scorn the DNC. And thanks, CheapAmmo for making the whole day possible. Great result, and your bullets worked too, like fury. Result.

Gun Rights, 

LSP

PS. Look, they helped the Compound out so I want to return the favor. Check out CheapAmmo, they support our troops. Good, right?

LSP - All Talk No Action?

So Where's The Action Buddy?

Yeah, so what about the new rig and the lever gun, so-called "LSP," if that's your real name, which we doubt. 

Good question, and right about now the readers of this popular if lighthearted mind blog are wondering if it's all talk and no action. Sure, you talk the talk, "LSP," but where's the walk?

Where's the fishing, the guns, the horses, where's all of that? Where's the country life we don't pay good money to see played out in real time, straight from a rural haven deep in the heart of Texas? Where is it? I'll tell you.

Shaolin Glory Brexit

First off, unexpected evolution with a returning son; there goes the rig and the gun. Secondly, recovering from being kicked off the back of an Arab, who btw self-identifies as a woman, and being tended to by a dog and a recruit. 

Will the leg heal in time to see the kid off to Basic? To find out I hopped and climbed into the rig and drove to Walmart. Guess what? No problem, couldn't have done it a week ago. So there is movement and this, philosophers, signifies life. Which in this instance is made up of small triumphs.

In other news, the European Union's setting up an Army! The world trembles at the dread step of the rainbow phalanx. Who knows, perhaps the enemy'll die laughing.

Advance to contact,

LSP 

April Fools Shoot

CC swung by from the metrosprawl with a truckload of guns, he especially wanted to see if an old Winchester 1200 pump worked after visiting an armorer. We drove out into the Texan countryside to find out. 

Fail!

The 1200 was up first against the clays, which call themselves White Flyers even though they're orange. Anyway, hopes were high that the Winchester was going to work, it usually doesn't, and CC lined up to shoot, "Pull!" and off flew the orange adversaries into a big sky. Boom, down went a few clays, it looked like the gun was working.

A Glock & A Ruger

Until it didn't. After the first few rounds the troubled beast didn't want to feed, had trouble ejecting and then stopped firing altogether. You'd chamber a round, squeeze the trigger and... nothing. I advised CC to sell the April Fools gun to a pawn shop or part ex it for something useful.

Winchester Model 90?

We changed over to a CZ Bobwhite 20 and merrily smoked skeet till all the ammo was gone. What a lot of fun and what a great little gun. Thanks, TC. After a short bout with a Ruger Redhawk (sorry, Security 6) .357 Magnum and a Glock 21 .45, it was time to plink.

The Range

Shotgun shells, cans, milk jugs, bits of broken skeet, steel plates and more all fell under a deadly hail of .22 LR sent via Ruger and Remington. Hours of enjoyment and then it was time to head back to the Compound, a good time had by all.

Big Sky

In related news, New Zealand's banned pump action shotguns so that only criminals can have them. Now they're much safer.

Gun rights,

LSP

This & That

The day started off well, with strong covfefe on the porch.

It moved ineluctably to guns, note health food.

And now? Stations of the Cross.

God bless,

LSP

Monday Shoot

One of the good things about Mondays is you can shoot, provided the new Ice Age doesn't have you snowed in and it didn't, so off I went to the range. Nothing fancy, just a Ruger American .22 and a Glock 21 .45.

I hadn't shot the Glock in a while and wondered if it'd work. It did, blasting rounds into the X Ring like a good 'un at around 15 yards. Things opened up a bit at 25 yards and I wasn't surprised, given lack of practice.

Then it was time for the old playing card trick at 10 yards and they met their match, thanks to Austrian engineering and the mighty .45 ACP. But my shooting was getting erratic, time to move on while the going was good.

And there it was, the humble .22, ready to go with a fixed 4 power scope. Was it on? Kind of ish but to be honest I'd forgotten what the little beast was zeroed for, so I unscientifically dialed it in at 50 yards.

After a bit of tweaking the scope seemed on enough and Little Green was taking damage. Sorry, fella, you lose this thankfully one sided firefight.

Then it started to rain and it was time to head back to the Compound, mission accomplished. Needed pistol practice and a pleasant zero-in plinkathon with the Ruger.

The trail out of the range always looks as though it'll present some target of opportunity, like a coyote, a small gang of pigs or even a rabbit, but it never does, oddly. Regardless, there it was, a good afternoon out in the country well spent.

Gun rights,

LSP

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

Predictions - Clean Those Guns

There's nothing quite like a bit of midterm madness to get the blood racing and the heart pounding as the nation goes to the polls in unprecedented numbers to decide the legislative fate of America. Will the Blue Wave  break against the Red Wall? 

For that matter, will there even be a Blue Wave or will the great Democrat push be more of an effervescent froth which foams away only to leave an underwhelming puddle, sinking into the muddy ground of ignominious defeat.

Hard to tell, though the media agitprop arm of the Democrat Party is fast back peddling their chorus of a massive win, a win they hope will lead to impeachment of the hated, Nazi Russian spy, Orangeman. Yes, the same president who brazenly threatens to cut off the Democrats' supply of immigrant votes and NWO kickbacks.

Who knows how it'll turn out, they say, hedging against the kind of credibility disaster they faced in the aftermath of the November 2016 rout.

Do you remember that? Every expert in the entire world said that Hillary was going to win. The polls said so, the lying media said so, the globalist elite's intellectual satraps in the universities said so, anyone who was anything said Trump would lose. 

Then he didn't and they cried, hyperventilated and went hog wild crazy, thrashing like wounded eels. Lo and behold, all of a sudden the experts didn't look so expert anymore. Nate Silver & Co. doubtless hope to avoid such embarrassment this time 'round. 

For what it's worth, I predict a narrow GOP win in the House and a more substantial win in the Senate leading to a majority in both houses and, of course, in the Supreme Court. But what do I know? 

I just clean guns.

Cheers,

LSP

Get Out And Shoot

For a shooter you sure don't seem to shoot much, so-called "LSP." Good point, I hear the criticism, it's constructive. To put things right I loaded some guns into the rig and headed off for the country.

That journey took all of 10 minutes and there it was, the sylvan path to the glory that is rounds down range. I always think there'll be some kind of random game on this trail and a shot of opportunity but there never is, so far.

Instead, there was a mass tangle of fallen trees and brush blocking the path, the weather's been fierce here. I scouted it out; there wasn't a way to get clear short of a chainsaw and I wasn't going to risk the truck in the waterlogged clay of the fields. It's embarrassing to ask people to pull you out, so I parked up and walked in.

The grass was high, the sky was big and the shooting house had been blown over by tornado force wind. Whatever, I set up at the bench with a Desmond, a  Glock and a carbine.

First things first, the plates took a beating, so did the soda cans and, in the end, some reactive targets someone had left behind. At first I was shooting ironically high left, but sorted it out when I remembered the Desmond Tutu was zeroed at 100 yards and I was shooting at 50.

Tutu over, it was time to give the .45 a spin and it did famously, the elegant, workmanlike simplicity of Austrian engineering swinging the plates like fury. Satisfying. But what about the AR?

This one's a hybrid, an ancient CMMG lower and BCG married to a Bison Arms Barrel, Fortis lightweight hand guard, topped off with a cheap Primary Arms red dot. 

Odds and ends by Magpul. Well, the little beast shot like a champ, I was pleased.

Then it was time to head back to the Compound after an armed stroll through the grassy plains and big sky of Texas.

Gun rights,

LSP