Magnificat

 

Never, ever forget the power of the Western Rite. Yes, it's more austere than its Eastern equivalent, perhaps less emotional, but cold and without feeling? No, it has all the power of the Crusades, of Charlemagne, of the Western Empire converted.

Of course you may well prefer a praise band, and that's OK too, if you must, but here's our music, the music of Western Christendom, playing out in Oxford, Solemn Vespers (Evening Prayer, all you Anglicans):

Europe, said Belloc, is the Faith. Both are under attack right now, egregiously. Rise up and reclaim your homeland as you, with the Immaculate Mother of God magnify the Lord.

LSP

Vespers Said

 

Vespers is over and Mexican music fills the air as Eduardo, a good man, tends to several breeds of chickens, roosters and exotic ducks. Jesús, a house down from Eduardo, is running a welding rig and you can see its star bright light from the back deck of the Compound. 

He's working on some kind of metal frame which is already a story high, and who knows what this will become. A garage, a small shop, a fortified strong point? Regardless, I'm all in favor, we build, they destroy. That in mind, must get off the hind... and learn Spanish.

Then the phone rang and a young soldier excitedly announced that he'd bought not one, not two, but three uniforms by way of being prepared for deployment. He'd also purchased a large KA-BAR which fast release clips onto his plate rig.

Such martial ebullience was, I learned, part owing to a promotion; he's acting NCO in charge of battalion maintenance prior to a board next month. To that end, he's drawn up a training program involving weekly runs with his team in full gear, plates, helmets and all. Get fit to fight is his message.

Impressed by this I offered a congratulatory well done, and a promise to defray uniform expense. I did not share the story of a Para RSM, veteran of Arnhem and beyond who told this story, "When we were in Malaya we lost more men through self-inflicted knife wounds than anything else."

He was a model of his type and an inspiration to this day. I remember him taking his 1911 pistol out of an armoury safe and showing it to me, he loved that pistol, a keen marksman even retirement. 

Then UKGOV made it illegal for law-abiding citizens to own pistols and stole his 1911. What utter, tyrannical, lying, thieving Illuminati shill scoundrels. You see, free men can defend themselves, slaves can't.

we build, they destroy

That aside, well done boy on the military upvote and plans for combat readiness, let's hope the last part isn't needed and I mean that seriously.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Ad Vesperum

Lux

Miserere

Großer Gott, wir loben dich

God bless you all,

LSP

PS. Vastly looking forward to the powerful and needed return of Consistory Courts. Yes, I will take on this burden, with the help of LL as Vicar General.

Vespers Hymn

 

For those in peril on the sea.

Vespers,

LSP

Crazy Mental Insane Fishing

There I was at Lake Whitney, casting away without a whole lot of success, and my luck was mirrored by the multi-ethnic band of anglers that make up modern America's fishing community. Good people, no doubt about it, but no one was catching any fish.

Then Shad started schooling in the channel, about 30 yards off of the bank. You could see them flicking out of the water and swirling in ever increasing numbers. I waded out along a submerged ledge to get in the action and send my lure into the Shad in the hope of picking up feeding Bass. 

Random Widemouth

Not much was happening, just more and more of the jolly little Shad messing about in the water. Then it happened. A surging, leaping, exploding wall of Bass broke the water about 30 feet off to the left, blitzing the Shad.

Staring in wonderment at the Bassnado, I cast into the thickest part of the surge and down went the lure. No twitching, no scientific retrieve, just boom. Fish on. Two fish were on in fact, one on each treble, and that became apparent as I reeled them in to the ledge. I held them up for my wading wary Latino pals to see, "Ha! Topwater!" they thought that was pretty cool, "You're on them, man."

No sooner were the Hybrids back in the water to live to fight another day, than another wave of marauding Bass exploded up. Cast! And another catch. This went on for about 30 minutes, as Bass tsunami after tsunami burst on the merry little band of Shad. 

I tell you, it was crazy, mental, insane, fast fishing. Watching the ferocity of the Bass erupting out of the water was excitement enough. Catching them only added.

Then the sun was setting and it was over; time to head back to the compound.

God bless,

LSP

"The Cause" or "A Tale of the South"

Inspired by moonshine posts on various sites my mind ran to a friend of the family who lives in Oxford, England, the 'City of Screaming Tires.' He's a literary critic and writes books, which is a fine job if you can get it, but his American forebearers in the 1920s weren't so grand. No, one of them was a bootlegger with a mobile still which he'd move about from location to location in his old Ford truck.

All well and good, business boomed and the product was good, so good that its purveyor felt compelled to sample his 'product' from time to time. You know how it is, quality control is key, and the quality in question was excellent, it really worked, so much so that still, truck and bootlegger ended up driving full tilt into the Courthouse in the center of town. Serious offence and what was he charged with?

An illegal still? No.

'Moonshine'? No.

Reckless drunken driving? No.

Destroying the Confederate War Memorial? Yes.

I'm sure he got time for that and doubtless well deserved. Enough 'Memorials' - off to say Vespers, shoot + ride about on horses.

God bless,

LSP