Ball Joint Apocalypse

While everyone else was busy "taking the knee" or burning NFL logos, I was taking the rig to the shop. You see, the front suspension was sounding rough and creaky.

Where was the creak coming from? Sure, somewhere at the front but where exactly; hard to tell. I rocked the stationary leviathan back and forth, trying to pinpoint the apocalyptic creak. Like a hot coal falling from a smoking thurible, it seemed to be coming from behind the wheels.

Underneath an F150

So I climbed under the thing and had a look, all the while pushing up on the Beast to provoke the eschatological creak. Was it the shocks, tie rods, sway bar or ball joints? 

Not The Problem But Change Out The Ancient Shocks Anyway

With a sinking feeling that the end of the world was near, I figured it was probably the ball joints. But, hope against hope, I sprayed lithium grease and WD40 over everything, all on the off-chance that a miracle would occur and lube would magically cure the hideous creak.

 Note The Eschatological Bottom Ball Joint

It didn't, no more than words like "millionaire socialist hypocrite" would cure the concussed minds of our nation's baller geniuses. That's because Ford, in its wisdom, doesn't build grease inlets into F150 ball joints. You can spray all the lube you want and it's not going to grease up the interior of the joints, which dry out and die.

Brazen

I know, you'll scorn me for not attempting the job myself but I took the rig to the Shop of The Brazen Pineapple that rests upon the Seven Hills of this rural haven and they quoted me $700, mostly labor.

Genius Patrol

The moral of this end-times tale of country life in Texas is simple. Built-in obsolescence is evil, and learn how to replace your ball joints or pay the price.

Here endeth the lesson.

LSP

Apocalyptic Storm

I had barely settled in for a relaxing evening after the Sunday Masses and visiting the sick and dying, when a worried churchperson called, "There's a big storm blowing in. The weather people are saying there'll be hailstones the size of golf balls!" Undaunted, I stepped onto the porch to see the action.

Sure enough, lightning was flashing across the sky, filling the still sky with its sudden glare, as yet noiseless, but promising greater things. A good cue to get an umbrella and go on patrol. Half way to the town square it began to rain, slowly at first then in great, pounding sheets. Thunder ripped and crashed from the heavens, like the wrath of God itself.

I took shelter at the Shamrock Pick 'N Steal and watched the rain before wading through flooded streets to the safety of the Compound and its porch. Would the town survive?

It did, but only just and by the grace of God. You can watch an exciting video of this exciting tempest here.

Weather the storm,

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday!

Surviving in the wild can be dangerous, which is why it's important to be properly equipped with the right tools for the job.

Over the years I've found this teaching video inspirational, so I'm posting it again in the hope that you, too, find it helpful.

Be prepared!

Your Old Pal,

LSP

A Cheery Little Advent Message

Here's a cheery little message to get you ready for Advent:

When confronted with Americans who have seen their standard of living falling for the last twenty five years and are sick and tired of hearing drivel about white privilege, black lives matter, safe spaces, gay and transgender “rights”, micro-aggressions, rape culture, misogyny, $15 minimum wage, and a myriad of other offenses against feminism, these easily offended “warriors” will piss their pants. These trivialities will seem so quaint when they are confronted with an angry guy with a gun on the streets or when they are told to report for duty as we wage war with Russia and China. The foolishness of the culture wars will become strikingly apparent when economic collapse and life or death choices confront our special snowflake generation.

Special snowflake generation. I like that.

God bless,

LSP

Whatever, Hippy. Gun Rights.

A few years ago I told an English friend that I enjoyed shooting and supported the 2nd Amendment, unlike, say, the repellent Piers Morgan. My pal looked at me like I was a crazed snake-handling fascist redneck, who had gone native in a bad way.

Hated NWO Shill

"That's so backward," sneered my buddy as he sipped green tea out of a biodegradable cup, made out of re-purposed, sustainable  hemp mash. "Whatever, hippy," I replied, toying with a razor sharp kukri, "I'd rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6, and while we're at it, what're you going to do when ISIS shuts down the Tower Hamlets Trans Theater Collective? Go whining to the Sharia Police? Yeah, good idea."

This Store Didn't Get Looted

But seriously, why do you think people are arming up and stockpiling ammo? Why are people looking at off-grid solutions, and laying in food? 

This Store Did

Because cities like Detroit, St. Louis, Chicago, New York, and Baltimore, to name just a few, aren't a few steps away from breakdown? Or because a financial system based on infinite debt and accordingly infinite growth, is somehow viable? Or maybe you feel safe in a society that has lost its ethical moorings to such an extent that it actively funds an organization that sells baby parts.

Crazed Looter

In the meanwhile, the FBI has seized Hillary's private server. Maybe she'll go down, like the video producer she framed. Maybe, and maybe the IRS will get disbanded. Don't hold your breath.

Gun rights,

LSP

The City of Brass

And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given

From the City of Brass

They unwound and flung from them with rage, as a rag that defiled them
The imperial gains of the age which their forefathers piled them.
They ran panting in haste to lay waste and embitter for ever
The wellsprings of Wisdom and Strength which are Faith and Endeavour.
They nosed out and digged up and dragged forth and exposed to derision
All doctrine of purpose and worth and restraint and prevision:
And it ceased, and God granted them all things for which they had striven,
And the heart of a beast in the place of a man’s heart was given...

You can read the whole thing here, if you like. Kipling was writing about the Empire on which the sun never set, some think he's relevant today.

Kizmet,

LSP

Tropical Storm Bill 2015

The War on Weather took a savage new twist, as Tropical Storm Bill blew into North Central Texas from the Gulf.  As much as 12" of rain are predicted to fall today on several already waterlogged communities in the Lone Star State, threatening to overwhelm local infrastructure  and the renowned Alamo spirit of the population.

Storm Chaser

Here in Hill County, situated between Dallas and Waco on what some call the "I35 corridor of desolation," resources are at breaking point, as streets flood and high winds rip through once prosperous farming communities.

Ruin

"If only we'd have gone and paid the Carbon Tax!" stated one devastated resident, as she surveyed her home, "I thought climate disruption was just a money grabbing scam, cooked up by New World Order shills in Big Government, and their transnational Illuminati puppet masters. Now everything I left outside is wet, because of rain. This is a war."

Typical Texas Storm

Will the Brazos overflow its banks and turn Waco into Little Venice? Will Dallas become a city of islands, clinging to high ground as the waters rise? Or will Texas finally come to its senses and confront the greatest threat this nation has ever faced, The Weather, and pay the tax.

Prepared. Note Fishing Rods

This, as with Bill itself, remains to be seen.

From the eye of the storm,

LSP

Wednesday Night Jukebox

It's Wednesday night and I'm cleaning a pistol, listening to Mr. Cash, and wondering where the Anglican Communion has got to.

Maybe it's in high orbit somewhere, maybe it's on Mars, or deep beneath the icy waters of Enceladus. Perhaps the Large Hadron Collider will discover it when they break into a new dimension. I don't know, maybe that's what will happen.

In the meanwhile, I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts.

Do not take that lightly.

LSP

Dire Wolf

The Missions had a clean up day on Saturday, which meant I worked as a kind of laborer, helping to shovel up debris and hauling off the odd tree branch; it was good to get out with some of the men of the church.

One of them talked about his time as a young man on his parents' ranch in Ontario, where he somehow adopted a timber wolf as a pet. The wolf was loyal and friendly to him, but to no one else.

On Sunday, I said to him, "Good story about the wolf." He replied, "You have to be two things to have a wolf for a pet. In your early 20s and very, very stupid."

I liked that.

God bless,

LSP

Consumatum Est

The Altars are stripped, Christ lays in the tomb, and death, apparently, has won. Now is the judgement of this world, and its redemption.

Consumatum Est.

LSP

Train Hard, Think Positive, Fight Easy

We're not snobs, here at DLC HQ. Sometimes we like a glass of the right stuff, after a hard day's training.

As you were,

LSP

Presbyterian Church Goes Gay

The Presbyterian Church has become America's largest Protestant denomination to endorse gay marriage, after changing its Constitution to read that marriage is a "commitment between two people," instead of a man and a woman only.

The new definition of marriage was ratified last week by the declining denomination's 171 regional Presbyteries, giving the go-ahead for same-sex marriage rituals in all of the church's 10,000 congregations. 

Rev. Robin White, who lives with her spouse, Rhonda, and acts as Co-Moderator of More Light Presbyterians, was pleased with the decision.

“So many families headed by LGBTQ couples have been waiting for decades to enter this space created for their families within their church communities,”

So many LGBTQ families? How many would that be? In the meanwhile, the Presbyterian Church has lost over 20% of its membership in the last decade, losing just under 200,000 members in 2012 and 2013 alone.

Maybe gay marriage will reverse this disturbing trend. Just like it has in the Episcopal Church.

Don't hold your breath.

LSP

Devil's Advocate

Maybe you think everything is just fine, and all we need is some more diversity training poetry workshops to make our very own modern utopia. But what happens when the money, and the credit, runs out? Reflect on this:

It looks as though they’ve got the perfect hustle going. They create money to buy their own debt.

You can read it all, at ZeroHedge.

Cheers,

LSP

Dog

I wasn't looking for a dog. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a comsymp dog-hater, I just wasn't looking to get one. But Blue Eschaton thought otherwise. He turned up on the porch and didn't leave; I fed him, perhaps that helped.

The rest is history. I doctored him up and took him to the range, where he hasn't died yet, despite jumping up to catch the bullets. And now he's here; some think he's making his way to Californy, others think he's staying in Texas, where it's safe.

One thing's for sure. Blue Apocalypse loves Christmas, no doubt about it. He even snarls at people who say "Happy Holidays."

I like all of this.

LSP

An Army Of One

Spurred on by SBW's urging to "shoot the Lee" I filled the truck with guns and headed off to a parishioner's range. It was beautiful, just me, the guns and miles of misty countryside. I set up a silhouette and my ancient adversary, a Marlboro Light box.

After a brisk .22 warm up I moved on to the more serious business of SMLE firepower and was surprised to shoot my best groups with that rifle. Shot less well with an AR, oddly. Probably due to a lack of concentration. Neat little rifle though.

Finished off with a blast of the .45. Ferocious fun to see the flaming flash of the shot. Then the heavens opened and I began to wish, and not for the first time, for something in the 4x4 line. Hopefully that will arrive before the impending 2012 apocalypse.

But the Eschaton and lack of four wheel drive aside, I love shooting. Good for mind, body and soul. What did they used to say about America being a "nation of riflemen"? I like that, even if it's no longer true. 

Keep pulling the trigger,

LSP

Eschaton

Along with the ride and shoot imperative goes a bit of reflection on the Revelation to St. John the Divine. Why? Because apocalypse seemed suitably Lenten and I foolishly told one of the Missions that I'd teach a course on it - something I've never done before. Farrer gives a powerful account; here's an excerpt, on bestial numerics:

"The number of the Beast reveals him as both the instrument of judgement on the wicked and the object of judgement himself. But that is not all. St. John takes up two mathematical properties of the 666. First, 666 is what we should call the recurrent decimal for 2/3. St. John's age did not talk about recurrent decimals, but of course St. John could recognize 666 as two-thirds of that standard quantity, the thousand. Why is Antichrist two-thirds? because the angels of the trumpets (showing the enthronement of pagan power) have destroyed one-third of everything before he begins to reign, and the angels of the vials return with total destruction as he comes to his end. In the interval he reigns over a kingdom of two-thirds."

Farrer goes on to describe 666 as the triangulation of 6 x 6:

"666, therefore, is a 12 fold triangle with a periphery of 30 x 3 1/2. St. John's calculation of the period of the Beast's reign, in days, is 12 (months) x 30 (days) x 3 1/2 (years). The coincidence between this reckoning and the factors of the 666 triangle is no mere accident... the purpose of the artificial reckoning is to exhibit the Beast's fatally limited reign as a function of his number."

There's a lot of mathematics in the Revelation, unfortunately for me, but whoever said life would be easy?

Speaking of maths, my Revelation class added up the number of horses that were collectively owned by the people in the room and came up with 21 beasts. A decent little force multiplier if things get all eschaton and we have to leave the Union of the False Prophet.

God bless Texas.

LSP