Uplifting

 

What uplifting worship this morning. The Word of God heard and preached, the Sacrament of the Altar administered and there we were, the local instance of the Mystical Body of Christ in rural Texas. No small thing.

You know, if any of you had told me a couple of decades ago that I'd be ministering out in the missions here in Hill and Bosque counties I'd have laughed. "What do you mean? Neither church has an 8' stone altar and where's all the polychrome?" Well, the joke would've been on me and God's been kind.

up your game, LSP

Speaking of which, many people are asking, "Where can we buy food and drink now that everything's gone full CorpCom Satan Rainbow?" Problem. Luckily Mission #2 has come up with a solution. Every Sunday the people bring food which they've grown and you can take what you want or need.

I tell you, it's like a small farmers' market, with fresh greens, beans, cucumbers, squash, eggs and more, and none of it's cursed by the wretched stamp of gaily hued degeneracy. Result, gotta get back to the garden.

In related news, infamous trans activist Scots goblin Nicola Sturgeon's been arrested. Allegedly the despised dwarven malfeasant was up to some kind of fiscal skulduggery. She's been released, annoyingly.

Cheers,

LSP

Chicken Operation

Being a rural priest, I get out on the farms. Some of them have chicken operations.

And people say to me, they say, LSP, are these eggs any better than the other eggs, the little Rubios, or the Hillarys? And I tell them that Hillarys and Rubios are pigs and don't lay eggs. Well they do, but it's a different kind of egg, an egg that's no good. I'm being polite. But these are beautiful eggs, they're gold, they have golden yolks, everybody loves them, they're uniters. They're great eggs, unlike the Hillarys and the Rubios, who are terrible, just terrible. Nobody wants them, they're so bad.

The Rubios are tiny, they're tiny little eggs, you look at them and they're gone. The Hillarys are big, they're huge but they're old, big and old, maybe they wear a pantsuit, like a demon. Nobody wants them, who can blame them? I don't blame them, they want my eggs because they're great. Beautiful great eggs that aren't little, they're not old, and they're great because they're full of flavor and they're behind a wall. A wall that lets them lay in peace. These birds are safe from the Hillarys and the Rubios, that's why they lay great eggs. It's a movement, a beautiful movement, like a family.

Right, enough of that nonsense. People do really ask me if farm fresh eggs are better than their cousins in the supermarket and I have to say yes, they are. They have more flavor, a more golden yolk and, to put it simply, taste better. They really do.

If the SHTF, which it might, we're sorted for eggs. And beef, and chicken, lamb, water, guns and veg. Oh, and ammo and horses.

Prep on.

LSP