Domesticated?

 

time to refinish those chairs LSP

In the old days it was all about riding, shooting, fishing, sometimes hunting. And now? You get up, feed the dog, feed the outdoors cat, drink some strong covfefe then water the ferns on the front porch before filling up the bird feeders. 

I tell you, those birds are savage. All this before a trip to the bank, Walmart, Murphy's gas station for cheap cigarettes, and then back to HQ where you notice St. Augustine grass is firmly established in the back yard.

Nice, gotta love that grass, but does all this mean the famously rugged LSP lifestyle's become somehow tamed, domesticated? Terrifying prospect. Yes, but I will say this. There's nothing wrong with focusing a bit and making your compound a more pleasant place to be. Also, it's not so fun getting out in the field in triple digit, pre-heating oven atmos. 

Sure, a few years back it didn't seem such a trial to take an armed stroll or ride around the country in a 104* heat dome. Today? Not so much. Does this mean Global Warming, aka Climate Change has somehow made us softer, more... domestic? Let me ponder that as I clean a couple of .38 Specials and a Glock 21. Remember, kids, a clean gun is a happy gun. Also this:

Anthropogenic global warming's settled science, right? That's why the UK doesn't use its own North Sea oil and imports it from Norway instead. OK, that said, how come Europe's burning from unprecedented Climate Change brought on by carbon making the planet hotter and Texas summer weather hasn't changed?

Seriously, if the climate's warmed up because of all the carbon, how come the Lone Star State isn't affected? Nothing's changed here, but it has in the UK and Fortress Europa, huh. OK, maybe HAARP and DARPA are keeping Texas' climate stable and heating up the new European caliphate, Middle East style. 

Possible, weaponized climate control. Then again, maybe not paying Weather Tax, per Texas, has an inverse effect and scares the heat away, sending it to the EU/UK, both of which notoriously pay weather tax. It's a great mystery, magnum mysterium, and clearly time to start work on those dirty pistols.

Gun Rights,

LSP

RAIN

 

At last! Rain! You'll note we put out the ferns and porch palm. Let them enjoy the skywater. In the meanwhile, thunder rolls overhead like the guns on Ostfront and all is well in this rural haven. except, obviously, that we might get washed away in the flood.

Sunny Hello,

LSP

Get Out There

 

Get out there, but to do what, shoot guns, fish, sight-see and all of that? No, to visit the sick, in this case a man in the final stages of ALS, which is an awful disease. I administered Last Rites or Extreme Unction and he told me, afterwards, in a whisper, that he was "ready to go." What a good man and I pray for a miracle; you might pray for him too, his name's Jimmy and he's a vet who was awarded the Purple Heart in Vietnam.

Visit over, I headed back to HWY 6, Meridian and home via all kinds of rocky paths. I tell you, my friend lives in an interesting place, with cactus hills, mesquite and hilltop mansions, and you can picture the Commanche lookouts on the hilltops. Fortunately there were no savage Commanche, but I did drive through a small herd of Black Buck Gazelle as I rode to the gate. Exotic, and I'm sure you get the picture.

typical Black Buck Gazelle

 

In utterly unrelated news, some 80,000 Moslem savages have crossed into Spain's North African city, Cueta, facing Gibraltar. The border simply collapsed and the Communists in Madrid have done effectively nothing to stop the flood, what a surprise; something similar's happening in Melilla. Reports indicate Spain's police and army have stood down in the face of the invasion. Again, what a total, never would have guessed it surprise.

savages

Unwelcome surprise aside, pity the poor people in Cueta and Melilla, betrayed by their beloved nihilist Socialist Rulers. Perhaps, somewhere in Spain, there's someone ready to rise up and save their nation. Let's see, it's happened before. In the meanwhile pray for Jimmy, he's a good man.

Best,

LSP

Drive

 

The last couple of days has been all about driving, yes, mostly driving on the always-in-construction  I35. "Why," you ask yourself, "do you subject yourself to such tumult and misery?" 

Because, dear friends, a Guardsman had to be collected from Fort Hood, brought back to the Compound for an evening's R&R, and then taken to Ma LSP's in Dallas for a final installment before being driven to Terminal A at DFW for a flight back to Blighty. And someone else was going to Florida for some reason and had to be dropped off too. Two separate trips to the airport because timing. Net result?

Lots of driving on roads I typically avoid. How much better if we had a hi-speed train link to DFW instead of a grisly highway(s), but we don't. Apparently that's beyond us, at least for now, but it wasn't all bad, not by any means. The Guardsmen got a kick out of Hood and thoroughly enjoyed Texas, so much more free than nanny state UK.

I asked him as we sped to the airport in the rig, "Do they still hit you in Basic and have they lowered fitness standards so chicks can get in?" He laughed, "They do and when the MOD tells us not to we just say **** you and keep doing it. Paras the same." We shared Basic war stories, always enjoyable, and it seems not too much has changed.

Where will this young man go in the Guards? I don't know, but could see Warrant, which ain't shabby. Whatev, he had big fun visiting the kid at Hood and seeing Texas. It'll be hard for him to readjust to Aldershot, Catterick and all of that. 

In the meanwhile, young Sgt. LSP had a lot of fun with a fellow warrior from across the pond. Great result, bith want to get kinetic, Kyrie... And now? Back home in the sylvan groves of bucolic North Central Texas, which is no bad place to be.

Drive Safe,

LSP

It's Raining

 

It's raining in Hill County and it's blissful after weeks of ling in a preheating oven. Perhaps you know the scent of the thing, of skywater falling on parched Texan land, the smell of cedar, limestone and prairie unlocked by the rain. The genius AI internet robot puts it like this:

The air carries a heavy scent of moist limestone and cedar (juniper) combined with rich, musty prairie soils. The higher humidity right before a storm actually makes human senses of smell keener, allowing locals to literally "smell the weather" coming in off the plains.

 

Can you smell the weather? Yes you can, and I love the rain. Of course if this was Wales, say Aberystwyth, I wouldn't be so keen on the thing but here in Hill County it's a blessing, rain on.

In other news, popular Reform politician Anne Widdecombe was murdered last week, and Senator Lindsey Graham has died of a sudden illness shortly after visiting a drone factory in the Ukraine, quite a thing. Did the Russians do it? Who knows, though it seems Rainbow Warhawk Lindsey was alive when he arrived back in the States.

Perhaps the bellicose Senator simply died of a heart attack instead of a nasty dose of the Kremlins, who knows. Likewise, Widdecombe's death remains a mystery and UK police are apparently baffled, though eager to tell the world her murder wasn't an act of terrorism and some overweight white guy from northern England was probably the killer, or not. Magnum mysterium.

For the record, I didn't know Warlord Lindsey, but I did know Anne Widdecombe and liked her. She was a big mover in a now mostly forgotten group in the Church of England, Women Against The Ordination of Women (WAOW). They failed, sadly, and Anne went on to become a Roman Catholic. May she rest in peace.

Meanwhile, thunder sounds like a Pak Front and lightning arcs from the sky even as we rain down missiles on Persia.

God bless,

LSP

Compounding

 

There's compounds and there's Compounds. Some have a beautiful lakeside view, swimming pool and several houses. Others do not, such as my Compound which is wretchedly short of a pool. Still, there's a fraternity amongst us all and we enjoy the benefit of it.

In this case, a beautiful view of the lake (Whitney), a crystal clear pool, frolicking deer and all of that. Not so bad, what a pleasant set up. Banned, I'd imagine, in Europe because class envy/politics, aka Socialism. What a great creed until you run out of other peoples' money.

In other news, it seems we've launched against Iran, again. What can I say? If at first you don't succeed, try, try, and try again. Let's hope this latest effort results in victory. Maybe that victory means the US taking all the dam oil and imposing a new rules based world order, late Roman Republic style. Good call, and 47 kinda fits the bill as Pompey, but where's Caesar? Hiding in the wings, obviously.

SPQR,

LSP

Happy Juneteenth!

 

Happy Juneteenth, punters. How are you celebrating this great feast of freedom, a holiday second perhaps to Kwanza itself. With fried chicken, yum, fall-off-the-bone tender ribs, spit roast cat and all of that? I hope not, because it's Friday and we don't eat meat on Friday, being Christians.

Weird, isn't it, how Protestants mostly look down upon or ignore fasting when it's right there in the Bible, as in Christ Himself does it and commends it. Huh, I guess some parts of Sola Scriptura are more sola than others. Fasting and solas aside, here at the Compound we're enjoying this jolly old Juneteeth by looking out on our Old Adversary the Weather from the safety of the front porch. And what do we see?

Typical Texan Porch Scene

Glowering clouds, a chill breeze, rain, and the dull rumble of thunder. Yes, a storm's threatening to blow in from the West, and for a moment it looked like we were in for a tornado, the air was turning green. But the threat has passed, for now.

Time, then, to break out champagne and smoked salmon (does this somehow count as fasting? Ed.) as we dare our Ancient Enemy, the Weather, to do its worst on this joyous day of liberation. Speaking of which, d'ye not think it about time for the US to reposition a Carrier Group into the English Channel and liberate the UK?

Random Infographic

C'mon, it wouldn't be hard, it's not as though the Sceptered Isle has a Navy, Army or Air Force. Way easier than, say, the Straits of Hormuz, and we'd be welcomed as liberators. Maybe next year, on this sacrosanct day, Juneteenth.

Cheers,

LSP

Cat Trapping

 

Lo and behold, all these cute kittens! No, not so cute when they're feral and in your church hall, living it up and full of spitting fury when you try and catch 'em. Right, nightmare. Solution? Catch the wild kittens and send them on to another compound. How?

Call up Animal Services, borrow a couple of traps from Austin and some heavy duty gloves. Lay the traps in the church hall, baited with Feisty Kitten, which is like Cat Crack, no kidding, they love it. OK, rock on, catch your first cat. Well done, you're a Cat Trapper. Nice, but what about the rest?

They didn't want to go anywhere near the cage we'd laid out for them, Feisty Kitten notwithstanding, no, they were hunkered down like sleeper cell Jihadis and we had to pry those little furies out. How? Here:

Coax Mama cat into the kitten space (church hall)

Wait, as kittens and Mama get frisky

Remove Mama (let her out the door)

Watch through the miracle of phone technology as the kittens circle the trap, enter it and... close the deal. Well done team, take a feral cat award each. Seriously, no small thing. If you doubt me, try catching one with your hands; no, fool, wear heavy duty gloves, they're fierce, very.

End of story: We caught those cats, all three of them, and they're fixing to go to a friend's compound tomorrow. WE WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN.

Cheers,

LSP

So What Have We Learned?

 

So what have we learned. In no particular order:

Islam is a right menace, yes, they want to conquer us

White Rhodesia was significantly better than Black Zim

Having an actual navy is actually important

Net Zero is an utter fake scam

Import the Third World, get the Third World

 

OK, all good lessons, but what about this. If your money's an IOU at interest to a central bank, then every cent you own is a depreciating asset, not unlike a car. Word to the wise, invest in reality, gold, silver, eyries in the Mogollon, spiritual truth. What, "spiritual truth?"

Yes, exactly that, spiritual truth. There is such a thing you know, and it's to be found in the Gospel, the Church, the Mass, and in Christ Himself.

Every Blessing,

LSP

So What Went Wrong?

 

beautiful

Have you been to a modern church or "worship space", and have you found it at best anodyne, two dimensional and somehow cheap, like a small but Ikea clean shopping mall? Perhaps you have, even worse, have you been to a modern church and found it offensively, actively ugly?

Sure you have, we all have, though I tend to avoid those places like the plague, which is hard in this part of the world. By way of aside, if you live in N Central Texas, everything's pretty much new, and that includes churches, which are built new style, and new style's not attractive, at best it's an ersatz simulacrum of the higher aesthetic of yesteryear. 

oops

"So what went wrong," I exclaim in disgusted wonder at varnished blonde pine, faux stained glass, shiny faked up wood plastic floors, water feature font and all the rest, "Two thousand years of Christian art and architecture reduced to this." At that point, I usually walk out of the grossly ugly HVAC temple and enjoy a cigarette, only to return again in repentant humility.

Please don't laugh, it's true, I do. Still, what went wrong, and it's a serious question, because something did go wrong, got broken, and within living memory for the most part. Why, dear friends, did this happen? Big question, with more than a few answers, but let's try and narrow it down.

fraud

Why? Because society went godless, rejecting in its promethean pride the classical forms of beauty, truth and goodness, such utter  bourgeois oppression, and the Church, in a fit of apostasy, followed suit. Then, after the initial revolt, ugly became the new normal and there you have it. 

To put it another way, Satan hates beauty which elevates the soul to God and salvation, and encouraged trite at best, bestial at worst ugliness in our architectural norms, which the Church embraced, being foolishly married to the disbelieving spirit of the age.

how very beautiful, you satanists

Net result? Ugly churches which no one wants to go to. And guess what, they aren't, attendance's in free fall. The same rule, not that we believe in "rule" here at the Compound, applies to liturgy, the public work of the worship of God. 

Make that as banal, polyester and ugly as the building you're attempting to worship in and wonder, aghast, at your lack of converts to a Faith you don't believe in anyway. I say again, what went wrong? Apostasy on a grand scale.

This is discouraging to faithful Christians and others, no one wants to live in an ugly world, life's too short for such a thing. But perhaps people are starting to wake up, to reclaim their heritage and their faith, the Faith on which the West is founded. Stats, notoriously deceptive but there nonetheless, suggest younger people are doing just that. 

beautiful

And well done them, they're perhaps beginning to see through the miasma of the last fifty years or more. Part of this realization will involve a thoroughgoing rejection of atheistical Socliaism, to say nothing of the Liberal project of, ahem, radical personal autonomy, and an embrace of the Faith, without which Europe and by extension us, are nothing.

That's my call and I'm sticking to it, my monkey's in the ring. Do feel free to pit your ape against mine. Guinea take it, what?

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Clean. It. Up.

 

wash that filth away

Here's the thing. Our hard-won civilization may be dissolving before our eyes but that's no excuse to let standards slip, far from it. To that end I pressure washed the pavement leading up to HQ and the porch itself, along with the venerable Compound's timber sided west wall and windows.

Great result, everything looks fresh and weirdly civilized. Ferns hang, cushions, ahem, sit on swing, and the deck's clean and ready for action. The total, when you think about it, reverse of our hell-hole cities. So congrats on a good job well done; the Compound breathes clearly now because dirt and grime has been washed away. It all looks... strangely white.

There's a moral in this, if you care to draw it.

Your Pal,

LSP

Hanging Ferns

 

Well look at that, an hanging fern, damme.

And What's this, flowers? Apparently so.

Yet more of them. A veritable deluge.

A friend texted me, "Is this Ante Bellum?" I replied, "No, more like 1910." Era Discipline you see, but perhaps you're wondering, "Does the irregular if prestigious DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry) allow wymxn into its midst?" No, of course we don't, but there is a Lady's Side, and a powerful one.

All this to say nothing of the RHA, which used to be a combat unit with a ceremonial side, being 50% wymxn. Canons are roaring, right? More on the UK's pathetic DEI defense capability and preposterous belligerent grandstanding later. But I will say this. Would any of you sacrifice a single penny or drop of blood to defend the UK as she now is? Let's see how how UK recruitment figures are stacking up.

Feel free to discuss.

Your Friend,

LSP

Power Wash

 

So what's going on at the Compound? Good question. Power washing the back deck with a Hyper Tough pressure washer. Wow, watch that grime get washed away.

Next step? Sand the ancient timbers of the deck or merely cover them with a stained seal? Dunno, let's see what kind of wisdom prevails. In the meanwhile, it's all going on here, and that's no bad thing.

Next installment in this thrilling episode of Southern Country Home? HANGING FERNS. Stay tuned, punters.

Your Best Pal,

LSP

Memorial Day 2025

Thunder rolled like the sound of distant guns, a young buzzard picked at the carcass of an armadillo in the street and there you have it. A Memorial Day morning stroll down the sylvan boulevards of Olde Texas to the Pick 'n Steal, aka Shamrock filling station, for coffee and Marlboro Light Shorts. 

There'll be hamburgers on the grill later with good time to be had for all. That said, let's not forget the purpose of the day. Here's a short prayer from the 1928 BCP:

ALMIGHTY God, our heavenly Father, in whose hands are the living and the dead; We give thee thanks for all those thy servants who have laid down their lives in the service of our country. Amen

May they rest in peace and rise in glory,

LSP

Well It's All Going On

 

There's a new addition to the Compound's motor pool, a tractor. Why? you ask in that bewilderedly exasperated tone of voice. Because of course there is. Rumors of impromptu engine block hoist are entirely that, rumors. 

In other news, this Democrat freak from Connecticut is a member of Congress, a "law maker," no less. Here, have a look at Rosa.

Zhir socialist net worth is a paltry 3MN$, which makes her one of the poorer members of our Beloved Ruling Elite. Too bad she's not getting that vaunted 40% pay raise touted in the dismally failed porculus CR Bill. I know, we all want to pay our dear rulers moar but sometimes patience is a virtue.

Speaking of which, Germans in Magdeburg aren't too happy about the Saudi Arabian doctor who rammed into a Christmas market. Here they are, on the streets.

The German people are out on the streets saying ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

They want mass deportations.

This needs to happen for the whole of Europe and the UK

Our future depends on it. pic.twitter.com/oIIXpfT5TH

— God Save Great Britain (@GSGB01) December 21, 2024

Apparently the car killer Saudi was an apostate Moslem and an AfD supporter promoted by the vile, hated, rude, condescending, deceitful, pugnacious, smug BBC, no less. Huh. What a convenient narrative. Islamophobia kills Christians at Christmas market! If you believe that you'll believe anything, as in "men can have babies."

dam straight they do

In the meanwhile, Magdeburg's people are taking a stand against their country's suicidal empathy for Jihadi savages who hate, despise and want to conquer their formerly Christian hosts. Imagine the same thing in Two Tier Kier's England; all those guys would be locked up. Well you know the saying.

Something better change,

LSP

Walkabout

 

Thanks to Hurricane Beryl crashing into our eastern shore it's unseasonably, blissfully cool here, only in the 80s. This is rare, remember, it's July, in Texas. Had someone bothered to do their duty to fragile planet earth and paid their carbon tax, had they obeyed the Pope himself? Perhaps, and I took advantage of this welcome lull in the War on Weather to stroll over to the square and from there to the supermarket.

Yes, we still have one, Brookshires, right in the center of this erstwhile cotton town which once numbered some 20,000 souls. It's now less than half that because we sent our cotton industry overseas to make moar money. But hold on. Not very far from me, on the way to the Pick 'n Steal Shamrock filling station, there's a house for sale.

It's been "done up" and looks pretty good, about the same age as mine but without the upper story. So there I was, strolling along the bucolic boulevard that is Franklin on my way to get coffee at the PNS, all the while admiring the refurb of this house. 

"Nice job on the house," I say to the woman hosing down a newly laid concrete walkway to the front porch. She's wearing a faded Billy Joel tour T shirt, which I recognize, dating us both, and she recognizes me, after all, I walk this path daily. So it's all very sunny hello. "So what's the price on the house?" I ask, genuinely curious, "They're asking 329k" she replies.

Like, wow. 329k for a pre-WWI bungalow with a single room attic upper story. Maybe, dear readers, I've misjudged the prosperity of our little town. And go figure, the same set up would be twice that in in Dallas, which is only an hour away in slow traffic. That in mind, why are there still so many vacant and semi-abandoned properties in the center of town?

Surely it'd make sense to convert these into places to live and restore civic life to the center of this place. Maybe you can picture it, a town square with shops and restaurants, with life as opposed to asset-stripped dereliction, and all watched over by our Confederate War Memorial, a stern and stoic soldier cast in stone. 

Compound

To be fair, some people are working towards this not inconsiderable goal, and good for them. Of course they're hoping to make a lot of money off the project, and I hope they do, but it's a bit of gamble. Will Dallas cash move south down I35 to LSPland? It is so far, in a small way. That in mind, where will the people who can't afford nearly half a million bucks to live in a bungalow actually live? Serious question.

Reverie over, I arrived back at the Compound from this latest recce patrol and all was well, the place still standing. We must thank God for his blessings.

Salve,

LSP

What A Mess

 

What, you say, the state of this great nation, which is apparently hellbent on going to Hell by the nearest available off ramp? No, that's a different post, I'm talking about the Compound. You see, what happened is this. I went off to visit my pal's Battle Farm in Paris Texas, all well and good, and then stayed the night in Dallas by way of filial piety. Nice, but guess what happened? It rained, and it rained mightily.

Then the rain stopped, like the Flood itself, and back we went to this bucolic slice of rural paradise in North Central Texas. Except it wasn't paradise, far from it. While I was away the church basement had flooded, wrecking the AC units cunningly stationed in its flood plain, and so had the basement in the house. In both locations our sump pumps had pathetically broken and there were the basements, awash with around three feet of water.

Worse than this, the sewer line from the Compound was partially blocked with debris, which would explain partial backups onto the kitchen floor when you run the clothes washer. Huh. Better call an electrician and a plumber, which we did.

Long story short. We pumped out the water, Electrics is looking to fix the AC and a crew of plumbers has been working pretty much around the clock to fix the sewer line. No kidding, they were here till almost midnight yesterday, digging up the line. I asked them, "I hope you're getting overtime," and they replied, "No, it's for a good cause, the Church."

Right on, and by the grace of God and sheer dint of hard work those boys cleared the line today out to the mains, some 100 feet away, and set the thing up for a dual clean out. Good work, kids, over and above the call of duty. And let's thank God for this too, the pipe in question is PVC, not clay or iron.

So that's what's been going on here in the country since Wednesday, electricians, plumbers and our ongoing war against the Weather. We shall prevail in this particular skirmish, and emerge stronger. In related news, our Beloved Rulers seem all in favor of the draft, as in "draft all the young people to fight a war."

"Why," asked my eldest, "should I fight a war for Rainbow Corporate GloboHomo and it's transnational rulers?" You see, he was thinking of getting out into a lucrative IT job, let the reader understand. I replied, quick as a flash, "You won't, you'll be part of the training cadre. Stay in and get the most out of it." He seemed to get the sense of that.

Regardless, we're approaching full water here unlike, say, Idaho. Speaking of our Rulers killing some 500,000 square acres of farmland in the Potato State, do you think they really hate us or just don't care, which is the same thing.

Cheers,

LSP

Branded Burger

Do you go out for dinner? I don't, hardly ever, but tonight a kind churchman invited, "We'll be in town this evening where we can do our business. Why not join us for dinner afterwards?" What, dinner in the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone)? Terrifying prospect, but it can be done, at Branded Burger.

Branded Burger is a family owned Midlothian restaurant which has expanded into a few neighboring towns and their slogan is, "Where The Locals Eat." Their signature is a burger in a bun which has been branded with their... brand and stabbed through with a black plastic knife.

As in, take that, burger, I forgot my Benchmade or Opinel, so here's this plastic knife statement. Marketing aside, the Branded Burger is pretty dam good, coming in seared and quick at around 7 bucks. The patty? Close to an inch thick and properly medium rare. Yes, this is a good burger and I devoured mine like a hungry wolf.

Verdict: If you're lucky enough to travel through our storied lands, stop at Branded Burger, they're alright.

Boodles Forever,

LSP

UFO Or Gravel?!?

 

What is this, some kind of UFO or "UAP" come to rest in the greensward of the Compound's vehicle park? No, it was not, just a load of aggregate arriving to "improve the ground" and make it "code compliant." Whatever that means in today's movable feast of  civic virtue.

Aggregate and a Rig

Far-sighted readers will remember the Code Cops paid us a visit a few days ago because someone had made a formal complaint about vehicles parked on our attractively grassy lot and demanded they go unless the "ground was improved."  After a congenial conversation about Glocks, I assured the Code Constables that there'd be a solution.

Sure enough there was, with D turning up with serious amounts of aggregate and gravel. He told me he'd do it and he did, I respect that, well done. Next step? March across the way to the church which generously hosts your rigs on its erstwhile grass. He tells me he will, after all, it's his local.

Gravel

Hey, I can't complain, all that "ground improvement," ahem, doesn't come cheap. Thanks, D, 'preciate you, what a good neighbor.

In Rure,

LSP