Showing posts with label hippies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hippies. Show all posts

Saturday, June 13, 2020

War Memorials

Inspired by patriots on both sides of the Atlantic, I drove to the town square to protect our War Memorials from rampaging gangs of Maoists, hippies and savages chancing it out of Austin. Here's what happened.

There weren't any "protesters" in the Brookshire's car park, curiously.

No Anarcho-Marxist cadres behind the library either. Like, what gives?!?

The infamous Bond Alley wasn't a heaving mass of revolutionary Communists out to smash the system. Not even an ACAB. Huh.

And there weren't any autonomous zone armed guards at the Farmers Market, but it's a small market after all. Maybe there'd be some action around the corner, at the big War Memorial. 

Nothing, nada, zilch. Not a spray can, molotov cocktail, dreadlock or tofu burger in sight. Huh, strange. They're probably at the other corner of the courthouse, attacking the Confederate Soldier, I thought grimly to myself.

They weren't. The statue stood tall, a tribute to the men of this town who lost their lives in that hideous war. I paused and said a short prayer. Rest in peace.

One last stop, the library. Wow, its brazen statue to patriarchal oppression still stood. Far out. And that was that. 

It seems, my friends, that the heritage of this small farming community remains intact. Good, let's keep it that way.

Deo Vindice,


Saturday, December 21, 2019


Yes readers, it's that time of year again, the WINTER SOLSTICE. You heard that right, time to get down to the Stones and party down. Or not, but hey, your call.

Maybe you don't want to get down and dirty with a crew of thieving hippies in the English countryside, maybe you don't want to worship the Moon Goddess with a cocktail of cheap red wine, fake hallucinogens and Special Brew. Then again, maybe you do.

Here at the Compound we don't judge, knock yourselves out, just don't be surprised when you wake up in a ditch and your wallet's been ripped off by an unwashed emissary of Giaia.


Sunday, August 18, 2019

A Curious Tale To Mark The Anniversary Of Woodstock

Here's a short and curious tale to mark the 50th anniversary of Woodstock, the greatest hippy gathering the world has ever known.

It was a hot night in Dallas and the whisky flowed freely on my friend's back porch as we talked of guns, religion, Sergeant Majors, wars and hippies. 

Then the conversation turned personal. TH fixed me in the eye, he'd been a combat diver in Vietnam, a kind of proto SEAL.

"I'd just returned from a mission, it'd been," he paused, "difficult. And got orders to go on leave, so off I went without changing uniform. Out of the jungle and onto the plane.

"Landed in LA, and went outside to get a cab. It was right after Woodstock, and there was this hippy woman, staring, I must have looked a mess. She jabs her finger and calls me a 'baby killer.' What? I couldn't take that at all so I knocked her out, bang. 

"A cop comes over, he'd seen it, and asks, 'Do you want me to book her for assault?' I thought for a moment, no, let it be."

Here endeth the Lesson.

Rest in peace, TH.


Saturday, September 15, 2018

Hippies, Cause Or Symptom

Why are we in the mess we're in today, and it is a mess. A super athlete bloke is hailed as woman of the year. We're told that a country without borders is patriotic, that abortion's healthcare and the more you're taxed the richer you will be.

For that matter, we're supposed to believe that it's somehow OK for a duly elected president to live under a 2 year+ investigation for "Russian Collusion" without a shred of evidence, and all at taxpayer expense. Well, don't say Deep State and they never thought she'd lose.

But regardless, throw a dart at the board and get a nasty story. From Syria to Abolish ICE to trans bathrooms as the new sacrament of civil liberty, the whole edifice of Western Civ seems to be going down the pan. Whose fault is it? Hippies?

Some say yes, the hippies are responsible. They're thieves, liars and mountebanks, just look what they did to Joni! And, at the drop of a dreadlock they'll rip off your sailboat and trash your land.

Still, are hippies the cause, the symptom or both?

Your call,


Sunday, August 5, 2018

The Hippies Went Down To Portland

Well, well, well, the hippies went down to Portland. Some of them were going to abolish ICE and the nation's borders because, you know, without a border there'll be an anarcho-syndicalist revolution that's gonna overthrow the Man.

Grace Slick With Some Deadbeat

So the hippies set up a camp outside the ICE house and stayed there forever because Portland's Democrat Mayor wouldn't let the police arrest the filthy, thieving, unclean, aggressive, reeking hippies. Then the Man told them to go and off they went but they left this, en lieu of overthrowing the State.

A Typical Hippie Encampment

Here's the Wall Street Journal:

Along the trolley tracks behind the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement field office, a biohazard cleanup crew works under police protection. It finds used needles and buckets of human waste simmering in nearly 100-degree heat. The smell of urine and feces fills the block. For more than five weeks, as many as 200 people had occupied the site to demand ICE’s immediate abolition. They’re gone now, but a community is left reeling. Thirty-eight days of government-sanctioned anarchy will do that.

1st Battalion Garbage Cans

In related news, violent hippies tried to stop Patriot Prayer in Portland and deployed the 1st Battalion Garbage Cans. 1 BGC failed to live up to promise and ran away in the face of "flash bangs." 


Whether they duct taped their garbage cans together for waste disposal is currently unclear.



Sunday, July 22, 2018

Owl Magic, A Short Tale Of The Occult

The heat came down like the beating of giant wings, suffocating, intense, taking the air right out of your lungs  and sucking it up into whatever was beyond the bonewhite glare of the sun.

So deal with it. Not easy, but I strode into the furnace and somehow made it to the Shamrock filling station pick 'n steal. A short walk across the anteroom of Hell.

"How's it going?" I asked across cracked formica in the cooling blast of air conditioning. She rose up from checking cheap cigars, Swisher Sweets, in all their lurid 99 cent, bluntish glory.

"OK. That it, coffee?" 
"And a pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Light, short, box."

She had the cigarettes ready. It was a morning ritual, regular and repeated but something was different.

"You like the smell?"

Stick incense wafted on the AC, familiar enough; like the odor of tipis in Wales, Austin or San Francisco.

"I smell it," I replied, "It smells like hippies."

She giggled, suddenly coy.

"But hey, better than a toilet, right?"
"So true, better than a toilet. But what's with the owl?"

She paused, laughter most definitely over, and looked at the plastic bird glaring round-eyed from the top of a glass counter and its  sign for burned offerings. 

We gazed in silence, while darkness flickered in and out at the edge of vision, barely perceptible shadowmen, closing in. I ended the spell.

"So what's with the owl. Guarding against evil spirits?"

Liquid brown Aztec Inca eyes met mine and stayed there before another giggle. "No, he's just an owl, you know, like some stupid bird."

I walked out into the heat, coffee in hand, to return the next day; rituals bear repetition.

The owl looked down from his perch and darkness clustered, sharp and flitting, almost out of sight.

"Coffee and cigarettes?"
"That's right, same again."
"You remember the owl?
"You're right. He stops the evil."
"I know."

I looked at Mictecacihuatl and she at me, impassive, empty, a void, this was just the way it was. 

Vade retro, I walked into the searing light of the day, "God bless."

Behind me came a rustle of feathers and the sound of tearing, plucking, ripping and pulling at flesh. I didn't look back.

All Gods, readers, are not the same.

God bless,


Thursday, December 14, 2017

Get A Haircut, Hippy

Joni, stay clear of that lecherous deadbeat

Life is full of challenges and we rise or fall on them as we move down the fast flowing stream of life. Here's a snapshot. 

You look deep into the black depths of the scrying glass and see a monstrous reflection staring back at you, some kind of long haired freak. 


Who is that? you ask the polished obsidian and realise, in shock, that it's you. And the challenge is on, getting a haircut in this rural Texan haven. No, you're not scared, so you hit the road in your rig.

First stop, Quality Cutz but Quality Cutz is shut, unsurprisingly, because Cutz couldn't cut hair. It wasn't his strength, I hope he moved on to better pastures. I liked Cutz.

Cutz is Gone. He Couldn't Cut

Next stop, Creative Designs, all holed up in a half abandoned strip mall. No. Every chair was full of elderly women with tinfoil in their hair. Do you give up? On the contrary, you face the challenge and meet it head on.

This meant ending up at something called Salon 110 and that's trying because all I'm really asking for is an old fashioned barber. But they're gone in this farming community so you adapt and survive.


A pleasant young woman with pink hair got to work; cutting hair was her "passion" she told me and more power to her. About half way through she asked, "Did you go to Woodstock?" I resisted the temptation to say damn your impudence, "No, I missed that one."


Did I miss the teaching challenge and forget to tell her that "hippy" is synonymous with dirty, thieving, lying beggar? And that Joni Mitchell is a Devil Witch?

You be the judge,


Friday, May 12, 2017

Manicorn -- Warning, Graphic.

A well known member of the intelligence community has alerted me to a new threat, "manicorns."  

Typical Manicorn Park Scene

Experts suggest that manicorns are related to the horned predators we're familiar with today, which are possibly mutations of the medieval unicorn or another species altogether, such as the Baiste-na-scoghaigh of Scottish folklore.

If you google manicorn you'll find some 69,000 results. How many of these are in San Francisco and Austin is, at present, unclear.

Mind how you go,


Monday, December 5, 2016

On Patrol

Everyone has their rituals. For John Podesta, for example, that means occult ritual magicke, Satan style, but here at the Compound we choose a different path.

Get up early, put the kettle on and make tea as you answer texts from Putin while scanning for intruders coming through the morning mist. Comms with Vlad closed and perimeter secure, take Blue Fighting Patrol for a walk to the local pick 'n steal and get some coffee.

Sometimes Blue Unmentionable "marks" 1st Baptist and 1st Methodist, sometimes he doesn't. That's up to him, there's no "rule."

Then it's back to base in time for Morning Prayer and none of your newfangled rubbish either, 1928 BCP and thank you very much for a usable psalter. If I was a Roman Catholic it'd be Latin, but that's another story.

A Pair of Thieves

So there you have it, readers, all three of you. The morning ritual. In other news, sources in the Intelligence Community say that the Standing Rock Sioux are fixing to scalp the migrant gangs of hippies that are defiling heir sacred lands. And who can blame them?

Gun rights,


Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Hippies Trash Tribal Land

Freeloading bands of thieving hippies are wrecking North Dakota, stealing food and trashing once pristine tribal land.

According to DAPL protestor, Alicia Smith,"They are coming in, taking food, clothing etc and occupying space without any desire to participate in camp maintenance and without respect of tribal protocols." 


Characteristically, the hippies are "subsisting entirely" off of other people's money and "generosity," noted Smith in a post on social media.

An Indian

Hippies are notorious thieves, whether the feared warrior Sioux will put up with their panhandling antics remains to be seen.

Drill, drill, drill.


Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Scorn Hippies, Again

What's the connection between A Train Robbery and hippies, you ask yourself, wonderingly. Simple. Hippies are notorious thieves.

Of course these days we don't have train robberies because there aren't any trains to speak of, sadly. And why hold up a train when you can rob an entire country?



Saturday, May 28, 2016

Hippies Are Traitors And Thieves

A famous clergyman once said, "When I was in seminary, there were a lot of people there who were simply evading the draft, so they didn't have to fight in the Vietnam war." I replied, "Traitors." And that's the way it is with hippies.

You see them hanging out in a park, maybe strumming a  guitar or eating some yummy fried tofu, and you think, "Hunh, look at that freakish looking deadbeat." Unpleasant, but so what, harmless. I mean to say, what's the worst they can do, hassle you to buy some beads? Yeah. Think again.

The same crew of goof-off clowns that wouldn't fight the commies who ruthlessly killed millions of people, eclipsing the abhorrent Nazis, are now living high on the hog of local and state government. They were traitors to western civilization then, back in the daze, and they're traitors still.

And oh, lest we forget. Remember that hippy who ripped off your stuff? Well, they're still at it, only this time they've ripped off entire states, like California, or Austin. And a couple of them want to steal the entire country.

Don't be fooled when they come at you panhandling, putting out sob stories about how unfortunate they are. All they're after is your cash and they'll take it by force if you let them, all in the name of their compassionate trans workers utopia.

The Choom Gang

Still, with all of the above in mind, and it's a lot, I still hope Bernie Sanders beats the sachs out of Hillary.

Never trust a hippy,


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Ripped Off

Yesterday's fishing was hijacked by locksmithery and I thought I'd make up for that this morning. First things first, put a couple of rods in the bed of the rig and stop by Walmart to pick up a lure and some worms. 

Simple, and so it was until I returned to the truck from the store, looked in the bed and lo and behold, no rods. Some goon had ripped them off, so I drove 'round the car park looking for rod thieves but they were long gone.

Some Thieves Ripping Off a Crop

Maybe it was some crew of freaks, chancing it on their way back to Austin, trying their luck down the I35 corridor. I don't know, it's possible, but one thing is certain.

It takes a special kind of wickedness to steal someone's fishing rods.