"Huh," I thought to myself, Sherlock Holmes style, "Where are they?" Good question, surely they weren't at Shooky's, which is a pleasant marina restaurant overlooking the lake.
As you know, intuition is key in the detective trade and I followed it, arriving at Shooky's some 20 minutes after Mass. It's alright there, it has a resort marina friendly vibe and a great view of the lake, and the food's alright. I ordered catfish, onion rings, hush puppies and a plastic beaker of cold white wine. Nice. Next step?
Wander around jolly old Shooky's and look for the lost sheep of the house of Mission #2. Lo and behold, there they were, in the pool room. A grin, "Happy Feast of the Ascension! You do know the food here's even better after Mass." What can I say? Caught in the act, and a good time was had by all, what good people.
Oremus:
Concede, quaesumus, omnipotens Deus: ut, qui hodierna die Unigenitum tuum Redemptorem nostrum ad caelos ascendisse credimus, ipsi quoque mente in caelestibus habitemus.
Grant, we beseech Thee, almighty God, that we who believe Thine only-begotten Son, our Redeemer, to have this day ascended into heaven, may ourselves dwell in spirit amid heavenly things.
God bless you all,
LSP
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
Are Sundays ever bad? Well they can be when you go to a church and get ambushed by wymxn priest figures, assorted space junk like hideous modern attack language, nefarious congregants and new rite nonsense. Not edifying, not at all, but there was none of that here today. No, just the Word of God proclaimed and the Sacrament of the Altar administered.
Not once, not twice but three times, the last celebration of the sacrifice being a Spanish speaking Mass to which people travelled from the Metrosprawl to support Mission #1. Fr. S celebrated the sacred mysteries, Fr. D preached mas gusto, and a goodly number assisted, after which we fell back to the church hall for all kinds of delicious food.
What can I say. The church was full, the hall was full, the car park was full, and everyone was in great and congenial spirits. Was the Spirit present? Most definitely, for those with eyes and hearts to see. What a great way to end our Sunday worship. Communion with the Lord and one another in the Blessed Sacrament and in the that fellowship which flows naturally from this. Beautiful.
I tell you, priests and pastors who fail to address this opportunity for the increase of God's kingdom should think again, at least in this part of the world. To that end I'm applying myself to Spanish, it's a resolution.
God bless,
LSP
What a beautiful, clear, springlike day in rural Texas, and I tell you, it was all go at the Compound. Salvador was up on a ladder, scraping, caulking and priming, these wooden houses have to be kept up, and Carlos was busy with his crew inside the church, where they were replacing an interior window frame.
Well done Team. Catching the spirit of the thing, and not wanting to seem like some kind of idle layabout, I set to, polishing a serried rank of loafers. Those shoes weren't going to shine themselves! The same held true for a couple of guns.
Apply cleaning rod, patches, Hoppes, and get those weapons fit to fight. You see, if you don't clean them they get dirty, and a dirty gun left untended has a nasty habit of not working. Some of you may have noticed that out in the field.
Cleaning imperative complete, it was time to dial up the Royal Scots Club in Edinburgh with a view to a September exeat. Why the long lead time? Because if you don't get on the RSC early, you won't get the excellent room at truly excellent value that you want.
What a great little club in a neat city, check it out if you can. In the meanwhile, all's well in this part of the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone.
Your Friend,
LSP
It's freezing here, seriously freezing, there's ice in the dog's water bowl and snow on the ground. "What is this," I thought to myself grimly, "North Central Texas or Ice Station Zebra?" The latter, apparently, and here we are at the Compound wrapped in layers of protective clothing against the biting cold and piercing wind. What's happened?
Clearly this. Our Old Enemy the Weather decided to change, outraged at being cheated of EPA billions. Tribute denied, it changed the climate. So yes, the War on Weather continues, with hardy Texans ice fishing on Lake Whitney, doing their best just to keep alive in the new Ice Age.
In related news, the UK's committed itself to producing zero carbon emissions by 2030, or something like that. So the Sceptered Isle's going to end family farming because kill all Kulaks and cover the land with wind turbines and solar panels. That'll save the planet, obviously, and who knows, maybe all the rainbow energy will power Two-Tier Kier's mighty army all the way to Moscow itself.
I pondered all of this as a cold sun set in the rear-view after Mass, the revealed Word proclaimed and Sacrament confected. No small thing, the Mass must go on, even in the face of our ancient adversary, the Weather.
LSP
Have you been to a country cemetery in Texas? I'm sure some of you have and I like them, right out there in the fields, complete with old shade trees under a big sky. Saying that, it can seem a little odd officiating at the graveside in such a place wearing Anglican Choir dress; Old England meets the frontier, sort of thing. But I wasn't taking the service, a young pastor was, and he did a good job, for which I thanked him.
Say a prayer for the repose of the soul of Marian W, who passed away in her early 80s and was an innocent, humble, faithful soul. She was a FORTRAN coder by profession, which I always found remarkable, and a diligent pianist. You could tell, on meeting her, that she was on the right side of God and heaven. May she rest in peace and rise in glory.
God Bless,
LSP
Imagine being there in the golden summer of pre-war Europe, before 1914 and the slaughter of your generation. Quite a thing, and how different from the way we live now.
Beautiful buildings: Architecture reflects the spirit or soul of a culture, now unspeakable concrete and steel ugliness. Butchers, bakers, tailors, things made for you by real people. Communities, not today's ersatz online fellowships, but real people being with each other for good or ill because they met, in person, all the time. As opposed to our fake electronic equivalent.
In short, our quality of life has decreased. What we see, what we get, is worse than before, we've devolved. In 1910, a middle class family could afford servants and a house with ceilings higher than you could swing a cat in. Today? Good luck, maybe you can afford a two bedroom flat in outer London.
In the meanwhile, the people who would have been staff in a house, and by extension were part of the family, are now reduced to flipping burgers or stacking shelves at the local "don't give a dam about you" hypermarket.
You get the point. Was my town better or worse 120+ years ago? Worse. It was way less attractive, not being a truck route, way more prosperous, because it hadn't been asset-stripped, and was way more attractive, you know, to look at. It even had all these small shops selling meat, bread, produce and, doubtless, fake whiskey. Don't say Wesley Hardin.
See you at the Club,
LSP
You know what it's like. Wake up, feed the dog, make strong covfefe, check the news on the back porch and learn that Russia's launched a new Oreshnik (Hazel) hypersonic missile at a target in Ukraine. Video footage of the strike on Dnepropetrovsk appears to show the munition was armed with multiple warheads, hinting, we can imagine, at potentially nuclear MIRV capability. But for now, thank God, the payload was conventional.
A shot across the bows of Lame Duck Biden and his vassal Two-Tier Kier's authorization of US/UK supplied missile attacks on Russian territory? As in, "Scalp, Storm Shadow, ATACM, meet Hazel," sorta thing. In related news, the deputy chief of the UK's defence staff, Lieutenant General Sir Rob Magowan, told the country's defence committee that, "If the British Army was asked to fight tonight, it would fight tonight."
It would, would it? With what, exactly. The UK has around 100 functioning tanks, 240 or so field guns, and around 100,000 in the Army itself with enough ammunition to fight for what, a week or two? All this to say nothing of Labour's latest round of defence cuts, which promise to shave 500MN from the military budget. What can we say, why spend money on your own security when you can spend it to protect Blackrock's investment in Ukraine. Snap to it, lackey.
Huh, all that flashed across the screen as the sun rose, birds sang, Bitcoin hit 98k, Doge hovered between .38/.40, Matt Gaetz took his hat out of the ring, is Bondi better? and race hoaxer Juicey Smollet got let out of jail by Illinois' Supreme Court. Well it's all going on, and then some.
I took solace in Morning Prayer, 1928 BCP style, thank you very much, and went for a stroll to the Town Square, which is, unfortunately, an industrial truck route. From there? Over to Ya-Ya's Mexican diner for dam good huevos rancheros, a quick look-in at a good seamstress who's fixing an old poplin suit coat, the Gold Nugget pawn, and our dinosaur museum, yes, we have one.
Cheers,
LSP
There it is, Texas, under a big blue sky. And I tell you, it was good to be out on my friend's ranch, which is pretty unreconstructed apart from the neat house he's built on the ancestral land. Yes, it has a tower, important for overwatch, and's built of stone as opposed to brick. I'll send photos next time I'm back, it's a substantial house.
In the meanwhile, we enjoyed a brunch send-off for a church woman who's leaving for Weatherford. What a good person! Worldwide champ barrel racer in the '80s and President of the WPRA, which would pretty much make her totus orbis Head of the Cowgirls. Like no kidding. She's also been Senior Warden of Mission #2 and I could not have wished for a better person in that role, to say nothing of a friend.
Ranch brunch over, I headed back to the Compound along the strip of rural wasteland that is HWY 22 and thanked God for His goodness. Beautiful country, outstanding people, no rainbow garbage and a great moon overhead.
God Bless,
LSP
What, our governance? No, just the upstairs AC, which is no joke in September Texas. Point in mind, I slept for a week on the couch downstairs, where the air works and it isn't 100+* But all that's over now, Greg turned up and replaced the malfeasant compressor.
He's a good guy and wears camo, which means you mostly can't see him. He also turned away from assorted wickedness to "follow Christ." Well done. Does that include assisting Mass? I've asked, many times. Not yet, apparently. Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day.
In other news, P Diddy's sharing a room with FTX Friedman, the totally not corrupt Mayor of NYC is being charged by the totally not corrupt DOJ and the fuel tanker which supplied a Middle East US Carrier Group apparently "ran aground." Far out, sure that wasn't a torpedo? You know, just throwing it out there.
LSP
A young churchman called, "We're shooting skeet this evening at the ranch to knock the rust off before Opening Day. Are you in?" Sure I was, and loaded a new CZ over and under 20 gauge into the rig and drove off to the countryside.
It's not far, and before you could say Dialectical Materialism is rubbish, there we were, five shooters and a couple of spectators in a ranch shop, checking out guns, shaking hands and all of that. Then we set up in the shade of an old oak and got down to it.
First up, two shooters on the firing line with Old LSP throwing the clays. Boom! Smoke that skeet! Good work boys, didn't take long at all to get in the zone. Then it was my turn, would the CZ work, would I work? Magnum mysterium. But lo and behold, I somehow remembered how to shoot and was up there with the young 'uns. What a lot of fun. But here's the thing.
The boys were shooting 12 gauge pumps, mostly newer Remington 870 Wingmasters, to be precise, and guess what, their weapons kept jamming. My CZ 20? Worked flawlessly, as well as being lighter and easier to shoot. I tell you, I'm a double barrel 20 convert after years of 12 gauge pumpery (Mossberg Ulti Mag and Wingmaster). For that matter and for the most part, I'd go for a double 12 over a pump, they're more reliable.
Mind you, a smooth working pump does have that rate of fire advantage, so there is that. Double v. Pump, 12 v. 20 reverie over, my shoot was done and I left the guys striking steel with various deadly assault rifles and banned in England pistols.
What a great evening and so good to get out in the clean air and big sky of Texas, with the added bonus of putting lead on clay to boot. Maybe we need to organize a church shoot, with BBQ, obviously, and prizes for taking out John Lennon CDs at 500 yards.
#2A,
LSP
So how is life in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone, so-called LSP? Good question, and I'll tell you. It's blissfully cool, seriously, in the 80s, and this is Texas in late July. Enjoy it while you can. On topic, which is worse, the HEAT or the COLD.
I've lived in both, Alberta and Texas, and feel heat is marginally better, but only marginally, both can kill you. That in mind, what drove Europeans to settle these places? They faced the elements, utterly hostile, low-barbaric Indians and all of that. Possibly, on both counts, a death sentence. So why do it?
Adventure and opportunity for sure, come to the New World and make a new future for yourself. But also this. Things in the Old World, Europe, have to have been bad, so bad that they risked their lives to come here. No small thing, tough people, not least in Texas.
That in mind, here we are, with Europe in a state of, apparently, complete degeneracy, and our bicoastal elites fully inline with the Lesbitransgay++ agenda. Will the country as a whole, which is by no means rainbow woke, stand up against these tin-pot glitter Maoists, and say enough is enough?
To put it another way, will all the Christians stand up, go to the ballot box and vote against abortion and transing in such numbers that even a Deep State rig couldn't fix the result. I'm waiting.
Your Buddy,
LSP
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\Went to the lake today to fish, and lost count of the perch, fierce little beasts. Then there's this:
NEW - Trump Assassin video shows him crawling on the roof while multiple people point him out to police
— DC_Draino (@DC_Draino) July 15, 2024
They ytw-align-centerelled about him for *almost an entire minute*
It’s insane how Secret Service allowed this amateur to almost kill Trump pic.twitter.com/CWfHBGzOCp
What's your take. Massive, egregious incompetence or something more sinister? Either way it's bad for CONUS looking forward. Just sayn.
Your Pal,
LSP
Thunder crashes, booming like guns on Ostfront Donetsk as rain splatters the back deck, blessed relief after the shock triple digit temps of the last couple of weeks. Relief, like no kidding. On theme, what's worse, heat or cold? I won't bet the monkey, that vicious beast, but I'll hazard cold. You can mostly survive in Texan heat, but Albertan -40? Not so much. Just a hazard.
Speaking of survival, the UK's just had elections and Labour, the Sceptered Isle's, cough, socialists, were swept into power by a low turn-out electorate. Something like 59% bothered to vote and they voted Red because they hated, loathed and despised the conservative-in-name-only party.
Who can blame them. Yes, but look what you've got now, not so united kingdom, Net Zero, Moar Tax, War, even though you don't have an army... conundrum, and all your kids will be turned into trannies who are so useful in war, another conundrum. Well, maybe not all, maybe just enough to make Pharma even richer than it already is.
All this against the backdrop of an industrial and increasingly peer-to-peer war in which the UK's off-shored its manufacturing base. Not unlike the US, when you think on it. Anyone for a cold cup of hegemonic synergy? That aside, the US is run by a Corrupt Old Crook with dementia and we can only guess at the literal, brazen, evil of its handlers. See Podesta/Marinovic/Pizza etc.
So, good luck UK, with your Uniparty vote, hope you won't be disappointed. Just imagine how Labour will bring back all those manufacturing jobs to Britain! And think how your wages will soar under never ending mass migration. Diversity, UK, will be your strength.
In the meanwhile, our Texan storm rolls apace, though somewhat abated, annoyingly.
Cheers,
LSP
What's up? Well I'll tell you. A recce mission to the lake to see if the Piscine Adversary was biting. No, it was not. I think they were stunned by the shock of massive heat after massive rain. Still, I tried my luck with topwater lures and it was good to get out in God's clean air by the water.
Other people were fishing and not catching either, so I didn't feel so bad as I melted into the limestone of what was once an enormous paleolithic reef in an inland sea. A rogue rooster didn't seem to care one way or the other, he just strutted around. And I wondered.
If that bird was paleo large, say 6-8' tall+, would it kill you? Dam straight it would, if only by reflex, and just think, our ancestors in the age of magafauna fought and survived against such fearsome beasts. But now they're shrunken and harmless, unless you're a member of our Godless Elite who want to erase all life from the planet apart from themselves.
CS Lewis writes about this in That Hideous Strength and the Abolition of Man. Read 'em both if you haven't already, and if you have, read 'em again. By the way, the former's a novelization of the latter and, I'd say, all the better for that.
Then there's fish. They were lying low today, like Democrats in defense of Hunter Biden's cracked up gun buying, but don't kid yourselves, aquatic predators, we'll be back. And then some.
Tight Lines,
LSP
Everyone's armed, so maybe some rainbow warriors outta DC are gonna take 'em away. Maybe you've seen the film, Civil War? Rock on, kids.
Stand Steady,
LSP
This town has gone full eclipse, right at the time we're going to London for a Club shoot out. Stay tuned. Airport tomorrow.
LSP
Most Anglican priests in North America typically stay in their parish or mission for about five years before moving on to moar cash greater and higher things. At least that's what the stats said a few years ago, and I reflected on that as I strolled through the sylvan boulevards of Olde Texas in the gentle rain. How can you possibly, as a clergyman, get to know the people and place of your cure in just five years?
Well you can't, not to any great extent, and there's a virtue in staying in one place for a length of time. Of course it helps if the place in question is congenial and involves riding, shooting, fishing and, today, gentle, soothing rain. Enjoy it while you can, fellow citizens of this bucolic rural haven in North Central Texas.
Weather reverie over, I strolled past a sign for the impending eclipse and into the food bank, which does a brisk business because no one can afford to buy food at the supermarkets, and talked to their leaderene who has to be pushing 90 but doesn't look a day younger or older than she did 15 years ago.
What a good woman and tough as nails, I used to shoot pistols with her husband, RIP, back in the day using pictures of Episcopal Church bishop figures as targets. Fun. Then it was a short saunter over to the Square, complete with its Confederate war memorial. No, no-one's even thought of taking that down, and from there to a shop I've never been in.
Gold Nugget Pawn. I bought my first Lee Enfield there back in the far-off mists of time and used to bring great containers of Holy Water for the staff. They said they needed it, which they doubtless did. Then the owner Miss Dale died, I buried her, and Cindy took over the operation only to sell the shop off. Now it's under new management who are staunch #2A, so we get on well. I'll offer to bless the place, maybe an exorcism'd be in order.
On the way back to the Compound, I passed by the Pick 'n Steal, still going strong after all these years, though I miss the Nepalese who used to run it, and swung 'round the corner past what used to be the Meth Shack. That's no more and's being fixed up by Jose who, is, I think, from El Salvador. A good man and maybe he'll go to Mission #1's new Spanish Mass.
Regardless, back at the front porch of the Compound I looked out on the rain of a Texan morning and thanked God for bringing me here. So much better than, say, Baltimore, Philly or the suburban ghetto Maryland suburbs of DC.
You see, gentle readers, I've pretty much been a slum priest for much of my time, so this is most congenial, in a semi-abandoned railway town kinda way. You'll note, in passing, that priests tend to stay two years in this position before moving on, and I've stayed over fifteen, this is a record. No inclination to move either, and there you have it, and Devil take the hindmost.
In other news, my eldest texted me yesterday as I was collecting clothes from the Dallas Koreans, "Dad, they've promoted me to Sergeant." And so they had, right there in the field. I texted back, "WELL DONE. GOOD WORK." We must take our victories as we find 'em.
Stand Strong,
LSP
