Compounding Interest

 

One of the neat things about this rural Texan haven is that you get to visit other peoples' compounds, and this one was pretty neat. Woods, a field with a tank, chickens and turkeys, and all kinds of veg in raised bed planters. These people won't go hungry come the Eschaton; all 'round cheer. Why the cheer?

Because it was a joint birthday party for kids and adults and great good fun, no side. No, just good people having fun under the big Texan sky, and not least the kids. These are homeschooled and hugely well mannered and literate, just like kids used to be before the commie DOE destroyed them.

Seriously, what pleasant children and I say that as a founder member of the King Herod Society, a most prestigous club. Conviv at an end, there were invites to fish for MONSTER bass at a neighbor's pond/lake and shoot dove come September at the nearest tank. Result. But that's for the future.

In the meanwhile, I applaud these people for getting out of the Metrosprawl and setting up in the halcyon woods of Bosque County. More importantly, raising their children right, away from the leftist nihilsm of our taxpayer funded school system No hyperbole.

We pay serious money to Leftist mountebanks who hate our culture, religion and race to educate our kids, and then wonder why they're so messed up. Problem. Solution? Sidestep the Marxists and tutor your kids at home, it can and is being done to good effect.

Party over, I waved a cheery goodbye, "See you at Mass tomorrow." 

Cheers,

LSP

Surfing The Vibe

 

Perhaps some of you remember Hunter Thompson's "Wave Speech." Viz.

Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west, and with the right kind of eyes, you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

HST, most certainly surfing the vibe while discerning it to boot. Speaking of vibe, and this dates me, I remember my dad teaching a class at UWM in what, maybe 1968? There were all these shoeless, long haired fellas with headbands sitting cross legged on our living room floor for a seminar on Tolkein. My poor Mother, imagine the debris they left behind, but far out nonetheless, and I think right on the cresting wave of Thompson's watermark.

Hideous

Now, today? The choppy, sewage-ridden backwash of Hunter's breaking wave has left us in a sink of dissolved institutions and standards, see the collapse of the Western family and birth rate, and a risible university led Cultural Marxist orthodoxy. See what used to be Great Britain, where import the vote equals Raysism.

England, I think, and for what little it's worth, is beginning to wake up to their great replacement in the name of Diversity is our Strength, which it obviously isn't. America certainly has, and you'll note the descendants of Hunter's high watermark howling and shrieking about it. Tough luck, oh dear. But hold on, Parse Thompson as talking about the Uniparty, Old and Evil. Maybe his cresting wave of the '60s was just the beginning of a more thorough root and branch takedown.

Do bear in mind, dear friends, that I am a Monarchist, Chuck Cider 3 notwithstanding. And no pagan.

Yours,

LSP