Benefits Of A Small Country Town

 

Behold the bucolic boulevards of Olde Texas

There was a time, dear friends, and not so long ago, when I'd have laughed at you for suggesting I'd end up in rural North Central Texas. "Ha, ha!" I'd exclaim, "Don't be stupid." Well the joke was on me and almost 18 years later here we are. Complaining? No, thanking God.

You see, here in the country the air's clear, the pace of life slower and more human, and, let's be honest, it's often more convenient. Say you want to go to the post office, DMV, police station, dry cleaners, supermarket or any of those things. Guess what, just a two minute drive or short walk away.

Don't you dare trespass. That's a positive.

That in mind, the rig caught a nail in the front door passenger side wheel and was slowly losing air. In the metrosprawl? All kinds of hassle. Here? Call up Tom's Tire after Morning Prayer (1928 BCP, thank you very much) and ask, "Hey, can you fix my tire, it's got a nail." Sure, they reply, bring it over. And so I did, easy, country style. And then?

Walked back home along the leafy boulevards of Olde Texas, answered church emails and then, after a call from the shop, wandered back again to the land of tires and trucks. "That'll be 40 bucks, Mr LSP, here's the nail." I gazed at the offending nail, "Appreciate you, man," and that was that.

Miserable Offender

Easy. Everything would've been harder in Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston. It might have been forbidden in Austin, San Francisco, London or Paris, but here in Hill County all was well. Did you know, punters, that Hill County Texas was, apparently, neutral ground for various warring tribes before we arrived in force?

All best for the great Feast of the Epiphany.

All Hail Texas,

LSP

Tranquil

 

Yesterday evening before Vespers, aka Evening Prayer (1928 BCP, thank you very much) was tranquil. Flags flew, dog slept with vigilance, pumpkins waited for their turn at the range and all was well. Quite unlike, when you think on it, the furor at Broadcasting House where the once venerable and now despised and scorned BBC is busy spewing lies. Hey, sic transit, let's see Senor take that gang of rich leftist, cough, journalists down. 

Imagine having to pay, if you live in the UK, for a, please don't throw up in your mouth, news service which really hates you, a lot. But what am I saying? We were paying for it too, remember USAID?

That Pink/Red Dem cash cow's gone now, thank God. Maybe this latest episode of egregious tax payer funded malfeasance will bring down the once vaunted BBC, and in doing so play a part in freeing the beleaguered people of the Sceptered Isle.

Yes please, I'm at peace with that.

Your Pal,

LSP

So It's Come To This

 

Yep, we're at that point at the Compound, we've become TRAPPERS. No small thing, and it involves heavy duty Victors and a 5 gallon bucket, call it a stairway to heaven if you like. Right on, but logistics are key. That in mind, a trip to the best hardware store in this part of Texas was in order, TrueValue in West.

I love West, no wymxn priestesses there

TrueValue is awesome, you get a warm greeting at the door, all kinds of handy hardware and that includes rifles, pistols and ammo. I picked up some .38 Special, .308, .5.56, 45 ACP and counted myself a lucky man, albeit bankrupt. Some people, dear readers, in the Anglosphere aren't allowed to buy ammo, much less guns. Why? Because Commie full state tyranny.

You see, free men can defend themselves, rainbow slaves cannot. 2A enthusiasm notwithstanding, we drove back down I35 to this small, beat up farming community we call home. It was prosperous once, before the asset-strippers got to the place and shut it down. Who knows, maybe we'll onshore all our jobs and become prosperous again.

Peanut butter incoming

In the meanwhile, we're busy catching rats. Tally so far? A sturdy six. Not shabby, but let's see what another night of Victors and a bucket trap produces. My feeling, and I'm not a betting man, is this: We've broken, literally, the neck of the rat insurrection. Let's see what tomorrow brings. 

Make of this short parable what you will.

Your Pal,

LSP

Just Go To The Lake

 

Some of you might say Morning Prayer or "Mattins," some of you may not, and that's your call. By all means refuse to read the Old and New  Testaments, Psalms included, in a disciplined and regular way. After all, it's only the revealed Word of God. That in mind, Morning Prayer over, 1928 BCP thank you very much, it seemed right to head to the lake.

Huh

Would the fish bite? They didn't, to any great extent, though it was fun getting bumps and a ferocious little perch and, as always, good to get out to the water. Speaking of water, did any of you watch War Hegseth's address to our assorted Admirals and Generals? He didn't seem too keen on "stealth ships" like the LCS, to say nothing of being too fat to fight.

Light Rod - Big Fish = Awesome

Some of us disagree with War Hegseth. We feel there's a very good place for stealth ships, yes, as diving platforms, fishing piers and aquatic control centers in our lakes. I picture one in Lake Whitney, Texas, doing its duty, moored up in the midst of it all. Just think of the Striper fishing.

Useless Rubbish

And what a useful place to fall back to when the Dollar tanks, the rule of law breaks down and our attempt at civilization falters and breaks. Which of course it never will because that's never happened ever. Woe to you, when that hour comes as you attempt to flee the Metrosprawl. Rejoice and be glad, all you who have a maritime fortress in Bosque County. But that's in the future.

In the meanwhile we marvel at how little our lives have changed since the government shut down. Perhaps this could be permanent? Thanks.

Ad Astra,

LSP

Just Chilling

 

Surely, LSP, which hardly sounds like a real name, you mean 'baking'" Well you have a point, it's ridiculously hot here in the great state of Texas because of climate change. That's right, we've moved from balmy July to oven-hot August. So what to do?

The same old thing, not unlike Wellington at Waterloo, when you think on it. Get up, drink strong coffee on the back deck, say Morning Prayer 1928 style, wash up and then take the dog for a constitutional. Sometimes that means a walk to the Pick 'n Steal, today it meant fallow ground behind the Compound.

What was this green space? Something to do with a hospital, I think, now it's a field. Why, we ask ourselves, is it not a communal pool? Good question. Green field dog run complete, amble over to Craig Street and enjoy the shade of some old oaks while you look at what was once a house. The place was demolished last year and lies empty, reclaimed by nature.

A parable for our declining civilization? Perhaps, but don't get too excited, people are moving here from Dallas, Alberta and California because property's still comparatively cheap, which means it won't be in a year or so. Still, reflect on this: Our town numbered some 20,000 souls well into the 1950s, it's around a third of that now. Sic transit, eh? Don't say ancient Rome.

EL SENOR

In other news, El Senor scored a major PR victory in his war against war; behold all those European, vassals leaders, sitting in the Office. Will it bring peace? Dunno, above my pay grade, but a reverse Kissinger alliance with Russia against China would be interesting, don't you think? And let's get back all those billions we've spent on Biden's war at taxpayer expense.

That in mind, sorry UK, better get in line and while you're at it, stop putting people in prison for Wrong Think, you Stasi mountebanks.

Cheers,

LSP

Great Upheaval

 

There's been great tumult at the Compound lately. Decks and sidewalks power washed, yard furniture stripped and painted, new deck furniture bought, end of season discount thank you very much; cars bought, books moved, yes, there's hundreds if not thousands of these miscreants, guns cleaned, house cleaned, steak grilled, libs and their comsymp cohort denounced on the daily, Johnny Cash and Led Zep played on continuous loop, and so it goes on.

What can I say, busy, but not in a bad way. At the end of this evolution we'll see the old place emerge stronger, brighter, and better put together than ever before. It's not all there yet but work continues and the end's in sight. Insomuch, obviously, as we'll ever reach perfection in this short and all too flawed life. Hey now, τέλος.

yes please

Speaking of which, who would've thought our country's intel, media and executive would've pushed and executed the absurd, risible, brazen, stoopid, malfeasant, deceitful, treasonous lie that Trump was a RUSSIAN AGENT. Like what? Yet they did. Who knows, maybe Comey, Clapper, Brennan, Hillary and the Magic 0 will be held accountable.

Don't hold your breath, dear friends,

LSP

Busy

 

Busy here. What with?

Dogs

Yard furniture

Movies

Not least Mission Impossible Final Reckoning, which was comedic, long and featured neat stunts, and... Twister. Twister's a work of cinematic genius, featuring a merry crew of tornado pranksters who devote their lives to following twisters. 

Watch out for cows being blown about by climate change, an hippy aunt who bizarrely feeds the twister kids with a steak breakfast and far more besides. Verdict? Twister's better than Cruise's latest magnum opus. Just my opinion.

Sheer Genius

In other news, our President's declared Rosie O'Donnell a "threat to humanity" and threatens to revoke Rosie's US citizenship. Kudos to 47, eh? The grossly unpopular comedienne's holed up in Ireland somewhere in some kind of weird asylum deal, sadly for the long-suffering Irish. Likewise, there's all kinds of illegal immigrant kids holed up on Californian pot farms, where they're employed as underage child labor slaves.

A Democrat

Nice. Democrats are furious that ICE freed some of these children, because kids working as indentured pot farm slaves for elite Californian Libs are a good thing. Uh huh, good platform to campaign on. Then there's the ongoing internicene mess that is the Epstein affair. Will we see justice? Is 47 using relevant info to apply pressure on his deep stasi enemies? Maybe, your call.

Cheers,

LSP

Independence Day

 

OK, a day late and dollar short but everything went well at the Compound yesterday. First off, strong coffee on the porch. Next, a parade, and then? Hot dogs (!) on the grill, tasty, followed by New York strips in the evening. Also tasty, and guess what, they were on special offer at Brookshires so we could afford them. Just.

So there you have it, big fun in North Central Texas as we celebrated our freedom from the monstrous tyranny of the British. Well done, and I'm no expert but wasn't the presenting cause something like a 2% tax on tea. Such utter tyranny.

Fast forward to today and reflect. Speaking of tyranny, the British resisted a regular police force for many years because "too French," as in despotic offence against freedom. Look at them now, but I won't bang on. Here's a prayer, and a good one:

O ETERNAL God, through whose mighty power our fathers won their liberties of old; Grant, we beseech thee, that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain these liberties in righteousness and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Bless you all,

LSP

ElCon

 

ElCon, El Conquistador, this evening where I was ambushed by a large crew of churchpersyns. What a lot of surprise fun! ElCon's notoriously TexMex and hasn't changed since the '90s or at least that's what it feels like, nice.

Cheers,

LSP

Floored

It's been all about floors here, like no fooling. Remove noxious carpet, behold in potentia pine and have at it with Kwik Strip, 000 steel wool, murphy's and all of that. When you've removed the dirt, ancient varnish and associated gloop apply beeswax. Works like a charm.

OK, there's a different path, another route. Rent an industrial sander and take those floorboards back to basic. I've done it before, several times, but this time didn't. Why? Because the old pine looked good as is and's going to look better with more waxing. 

The finish builds, you see,

LSP

Ascension

 

It's the great and weirdly forgotten Feast of the Ascension today, which I hope you were able to celebrate with suitably Tridentine splendor. Speaking of which, our liturgy was simple. Just an oriented Low Mass, with no liturgical dance or wymxn priestesses, oddly, but it was comparatively well attended albeit a few notable absences.

where are they?

"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. 

Shooky's

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?

A young Sarnt LSP with a young striper on the lake

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 

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

What A Good Sunday

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. 

mas gusto

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 a delicious, good-hearted feast

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

Another Day In Texas

 

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

 

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.

some guy's photo of our W Nelson muriel

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.

ICE,

LSP

Rest in Peace

 

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

Kaiserhymne - Look What Took From Us

 

Typical SMOM Church Scene

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.

Oh my, what have we lost

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.

Better than '74, imo

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