Crockford's

 

You, the discerning and gentle reader, will be pleased to know that I'm not a gambling man. Far be it from me to wager fast and loose on the vagaries of Dog Coin, the Peoples' Currency, and other speculation. That said, others have gambled and played deep, not least at Crockford's on St. James in the 1820s.

William Crockford was a fishmonger, born and raised at Temple Bar in London but, with a quick mathematical mind and attention to odds raised himself to a professional gambler, winning a massive fortune at cards, 100,000 pounds, millions now, at a game with various nobility in a tavern off St. James.

The Fishmonger gambler sensibly invested this money in a club, No. 50 St. James, over and against White's. This aristocratic gambling hell became all the rage, as did its play. For example:

The great majority of the club’s members were serious, indeed inveterate, gamblers. The equivalent of about $40 million is believed to have changed hands over Crockford’s first two seasons; Lord Rivers once lost £23,000 ($3 million) in a single evening, and the Earl of Sefton, a wastrel of whom the diarist Charles Greville observed that “his natural parts were excessively lively, but his education had been wholly neglected,” lost about £250,000 (almost $33 million today) over a period of years. He died owing Crockford more than $5 million more, a debt that his son felt obliged to discharge.

 

Crockford retired a multi-millionaire (not a socialist) in the 1840s and lost most of his fortune, apparently, on ill-advised bets on the Derby. Captain Gronow reckons, on reflection, "One may safely say, without exaggeration, that Crockford won the whole of the ready money of the then existing generation.” Quite a thing, we're talking millions and millions of pounds by 1820s/30s reckoning.

The Clubhouse still exists today and you can see it on your left as you stroll towards White's famous bay window. It was bought by a Russian oligarch around a decade ago and then squatted. Rumours that the DLC are purchasing this fine Regency building are precisely that, rumours.

Arduus Ad Solem,

LSP

Well Lookit This!

 

Yes, you see that right, the Ukrainian colors have been added to the Trans Pride flag. All those Ukrainians are fighting and dying for Joe Biden's "greatest civil rights issue of our time," trans rights. Because, you know, getting a sex change is a really important civil liberty thing.

A Typical Black Sun. Note runes

You'll note the original Rainbow Banner of Gayness is shrinking under an aggressive assault by forward moving chevrons and we have to ask, what will be left of the Rainbow Banner's  fruity cheery colors as the West lurches into stainless steel, liberal Fascism. Intuition says stay tuned for the caring, tolerant, laughing face of Sonnenrad. But don't worry, in the meanwhile we have NATO, i.e. the US:

The U.S. Army is reportedly proposing a new policy that would allow soldiers to request a move to a new base if they believe they face discrimination from local or state laws on the basis of gender, sex, religion, race or pregnancy.

The move would change an existing policy that allows personnel to seek a move to help them cope with family problems. 

In effect, it would allow soldiers to declare certain states to be too racist or homophobic for them to live there.

 

What?

 

How very beautiful. I say again, and again, are we gambling on never, ever, ever having to fight another major war? Serious question.

Guinea on the Monkey,

LSP

Vesper Light

 

Sunlight gleamed through the window of this humble church, illuminating the temple. What a good way to end Evening Prayer, "Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

That in mind, here's some insight from Farrer:

From the first moment of its foundation, the Church was hard, clear, visible and firmly knit: nothing mossy about its edges. Its members professed one truth – they would not have risked death for religion, if they had not been convinced of the Gospel. They submitted their lives to the congregation, under the leadership of the ministers whom Christ’s Apostles had given them: if they were judged to have given scandal by their disloyal lives, they accepted penances from the Church, they fasted and wore mourning until they were readmitted to communion. They paid for the upkeep of the poor. They were present every Sunday at the Holy Sacrament: if they were absent, they were assumed to be sick: they were enquired after and the Holy Communion carried to them. Their heathen friends divorced their wives if they were tired of them: the Christians did not. Their heathen friends could make money in any profitable line: the Christians were forbidden a whole list of dishonest or indecent occupations. Their heathen friends rose in the government service: not so the Christians, because of the idolatrous oaths and other ceremonies attached to public office under Caesar. The lines were clear enough, sharp enough and costly enough, which silhouetted the living temple of God against a heathen sky.

This was the Church which Christ’s Apostles built for the honour of God, and if they did not know the mind of Christ, it is useless indeed for you to think that you will ever know it.

The lines were clear enough, sharp enough and costly enough, which silhouetted the living temple of God against a heathen sky. Yes indeed, and guinea on the monkey we're fast coming full circle to that very point.

God bless,

LSP

Wednesday Roundabout

 

Rolled into Dallas down the hellway that is I35. But it wasn't so bad, 80 pretty much all the way. Then disaster. Locked the keys in the rig.

Texas Farm Bureau had a solution, fortunately, and the truck was freed. Nice. In the meanwhile, Tucker's on downstairs. He questions the validity of our most popular president. And let's not forget, Biden's the most popular president in US history, with a solid 81 million votes.

a pal with a snake

That means, when you follow the logic, that a vote against Biden is a vote against the people. And being an enemy of the people? You do the math. Meanwhile, our beloved leader's greeting people who aren't there. 

an ENO with a daughter

What does this mean. That Biden's simply demented and out of place or that he's speaking to spirits, to ghosts of the dead and demons? I'm no exorcist but perhaps you'll be betting on the latter. Guinea on.

Vade Ratro,

LSP

Hold

 

I looked at the aging monkey and he looked at me. "Tell me, monkey, should I sell?" The old veteran of uncountable fights snarled, barring a yellowed fang, "Hold." So I did.

Look, I'm not a betting man but I'll wager the vicious monkey against any .666 of your priestesses that the Peoples Currency hits .40 by the end of the week, if not sooner.

Bets on and Devil take the hindmost, what?

Your Pal,

LSP