Showing posts with label sea Jihad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sea Jihad. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 26, 2021

Priest Blesses Italy's Vaxport Rebellion

 



You may have noticed the near complete silence or complicity of the Church in its various manifestations to the atheist state, but there are exceptions. Fr. Floriano Pellegrini blessed thousands of Trieste workers protesting Italy's vaxport mandate. Via Church Militant:


Thousands of protestors in the port of Trieste — the epicenter of current vaccine protests — cheered Fr. Floriano Pellegrini as he addressed striking dockworkers in the town square last Tuesday and led them in the recitation of the Lord's Prayer. 

The outspoken 65-year-old cleric from the northern Italian diocese of Belluno-Feltre, who said his bad knees do not allow him to kneel, climaxed his oration by asking the crowd to kneel and himself kneeling as he blessed the crowds to rounds of thunderous applause. 

"I get down on my knees before God and God alone," Pellegrini said, pausing his blessing in the name of "almighty God," wagging his finger and reminding demonstrators that "only God is almighty, not [Prime Minister] Draghi [and] not [President] Mattarella."

In an interview (see below) with Church Militant, Pellegrini blasted Pope Francis for committing "a great sin and a terrible abuse of his papal authority" by pushing the abortion-tainted jab.  

"God is not happy with Cdl. Mario Bergoglio, whom I also acknowledge as the pope, and with his support for the New World Order. And, of course, He is not happy with the bishops, including cardinals, and priests who support him," Pellegrini lamented. 

 

 



You can and should read the whole thing here. And note, "This is the first time in recent Italian history that the people protest by holding the Rosary." Powerful medicine, and you'll recall it defeated the Sea Jihad at Lepanto, it'll do the same here.

Stand steady and stand fast Trieste.

Salve,

LSP

Thursday, October 7, 2021

LEPANTO!

 



We beat back Mohammad's Sea Jihad today, thanks to the miraculous intercession of the Blessed Ever Virgin Mary and her Rosary. A huge victory, and Western civilization was saved against the demonic Moslem horde. Here's some poetry:


White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,
The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;
The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass;
From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,
And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.

Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,
Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,
Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,
The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,
The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,
That once went singing southward when all the world was young,
In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,
Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.
Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,
Don John of Austria is going to the war,
Stiff flags straining in the night-blasts cold
In the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold,
Torchlight crimson on the copper kettle-drums,
Then the tuckets, then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes.
Don John laughing in the brave beard curled,
Spurning of his stirrups like the thrones of all the world,
Holding his head up for a flag of all the free.
Love-light of Spain—hurrah!
Death-light of Africa!
Don John of Austria
Is riding to the sea.

Mahound is in his paradise above the evening star,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
He moves a mighty turban on the timeless houri’s knees,
His turban that is woven of the sunset and the seas.
He shakes the peacock gardens as he rises from his ease,
And he strides among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees,
And his voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring
Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing.
Giants and the Genii,
Multiplex of wing and eye,
Whose strong obedience broke the sky
When Solomon was king.

They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,
From temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn;
They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea
Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;
On them the sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl,
Splashed with a splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl;
They swell in sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,—
They gather and they wonder and give worship to Mahound.
And he saith, “Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide,
And sift the red and silver sands lest bone of saint abide,
And chase the Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest,
For that which was our trouble comes again out of the west.
We have set the seal of Solomon on all things under sun,
Of knowledge and of sorrow and endurance of things done,
But a noise is in the mountains, in the mountains, and I know
The voice that shook our palaces—four hundred years ago:
It is he that saith not ‘Kismet’; it is he that knows not Fate ;
It is Richard, it is Raymond, it is Godfrey in the gate!
It is he whose loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth,
Put down your feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth.”
For he heard drums groaning and he heard guns jar,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
Sudden and still—hurrah!
Bolt from Iberia!
Don John of Austria
Is gone by Alcalar.

St. Michael’s on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north
(Don John of Austria is girt and going forth.)
Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift
And the sea folk labour and the red sails lift.
He shakes his lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone;
The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;
The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes
And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,
And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room,
And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,
And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,
But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.
Don John calling through the blast and the eclipse
Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,
Trumpet that sayeth ha!
      Domino gloria!
Don John of Austria
Is shouting to the ships.

King Philip’s in his closet with the Fleece about his neck
(Don John of Austria is armed upon the deck.)
The walls are hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin,
And little dwarfs creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in.
He holds a crystal phial that has colours like the moon,
He touches, and it tingles, and he trembles very soon,
And his face is as a fungus of a leprous white and grey
Like plants in the high houses that are shuttered from the day,
And death is in the phial, and the end of noble work,
But Don John of Austria has fired upon the Turk.
Don John’s hunting, and his hounds have bayed—
Booms away past Italy the rumour of his raid
Gun upon gun, ha! ha!
Gun upon gun, hurrah!
Don John of Austria
Has loosed the cannonade.

The Pope was in his chapel before day or battle broke,
(Don John of Austria is hidden in the smoke.)
The hidden room in man’s house where God sits all the year,
The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.
He sees as in a mirror on the monstrous twilight sea
The crescent of his cruel ships whose name is mystery;
They fling great shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark,
They veil the plumèd lions on the galleys of St. Mark;
And above the ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs,
And below the ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs,
Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines
Like a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.
They are lost like slaves that sweat, and in the skies of morning hung
The stair-ways of the tallest gods when tyranny was young.
They are countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing on
Before the high Kings’ horses in the granite of Babylon.
And many a one grows witless in his quiet room in hell
Where a yellow face looks inward through the lattice of his cell,
And he finds his God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign—
(But Don John of Austria has burst the battle-line!)
Don John pounding from the slaughter-painted poop,
Purpling all the ocean like a bloody pirate’s sloop,
Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,
Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,
Thronging of the thousands up that labour under sea
White for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.
Vivat Hispania!
Domino Gloria!
Don John of Austria
Has set his people free!

Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade....
(But Don John of Austria rides home from the Crusade.)


Vivat Hispania! Domino Gloria! Don John of Austria has set his people free! Yes. And let's have Constantinople back. We need the Bosphorus. 

Ave Maria gratia plena,

LSP

Wednesday, October 7, 2020

Our Lady of Victory

 



This is a naval blog and today's the great Feast of Our Lady of Victory, now known as Our Lady of the Rosary, which celebrates the utter defeat of Turkish Sea Jihad at the battle of Lepanto in 1571.

The Ottomans, some two decades fresh from conquering Constantinople, launched across the Mediterranean with the grand aim of conquering Rome itself, the Big Apple. They were smashed by a Christian fleet led by Don John of Austria, the first decisive victory of arms against the Jihad in hundreds of years.



Don John's fleet sailed under the protection of the Virgin Mother of God and miraculously routed the Moslem aggressor. You can read about the action here and as you do, don't forget GKC's Lepanto. Death light of Africa? Love light of Spain.



Poetry in mind, here at the Compound we're about to grill Turkish style kebabs on short swords in homage to the victory. For breakfast? Croissants.

Deus Vult,

LSP

Friday, November 3, 2017

All Saints & Souls



You've probably been far too busy with the noble sport of unicorn hunting to get to church, but that's a mistake. You see, there's been a lot of feasting. On Wednesday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints and on Thursday the Feast of All Souls.




Powerful stuff, eh? And let's not hear any nonsense about "idolatry" or "soul sleep." Think instead of the miraculous efficacy of the prayers the saints, not least the Virgin Mary who destroyed the Moslem Sea Jihad at Lepanto. Well done, Rosary, you work.




May the Saints intercede for us and the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

God bless,

LSP

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Lepanto, Our Lady of Victories



Listen up, heathen. It's the anniversary of the battle of Lepanto, in which a combined catholic fleet under Don Juan of Austria, on october 7, 1571, took on the Turkish Sea Jihad and killed it. Dead.




The Mohammedans, under Grand Admiral Ali Pasha, had hoped to land an invasion fleet on the coast of Italy and seize Rome, which they curiously called the "Big Apple." But they were routed and victory is accredited to the miraculous intercession of the Blessed  Ever Virgin Mary.




Ali Pasha was killed in the action aboard his ship, the Sultana, which had engaged Don Juan's flagship, the Real. Pasha's severed head was subsequently displayed on the Real on the end of a pike.




Today's TransMed Jihad comes in a different form and the Moslems don't have a navy; neither, of course, do the Europeans. I'll leave it to you to figure out if the threat is any less real.

Salve Regina,

LSP

Friday, November 18, 2016

Hot Chocolate Onesies And Kittens


In Safe Space no one can hear you scream! Anonymous


You're proably wondering, scornfully, "Is LSP capable of serious thought?" Well, maybe not, but George Rutler is. Here's the Upper East Side onetime Anglican on the discouraging "safe space" trend:




"Professors who never attained moral maturity themselves, reacted by providing “safe spaces” for students traumatized by reality. In universities across the land, by a sodality of silliness in the academic establishment, these “safe spaces” were supplied with soft cushions, hot chocolate, coloring books, and attendant psychologists. More than one university in the Ivy League provided aromatherapy along with friendly kittens and puppies for weeping students to cuddle. A college chaplaincy invited students to pray some prescribed litanies that offered God advice in an advisory capacity.




"The average age of a Continental soldier in the American Revolution was one year less than that of a college freshman today. Alexander Hamilton was a fighting lieutenant-colonel when 21, not to mention Joan of Arc who led an army into battle and saved France when she was about as old as an American college sophomore. In our Civil War, eight Union generals and seven Confederate generals were under the age of 25. The age of most U.S. and RAF fighter pilots in World War II was about that of those on college junior varsity teams. Catholics who hoped in this election for another Lepanto miracle will remember that back in 1571, Don Juan of Austria saved Western civilization as commanding admiral when he was 24."





Don Juan was twenty four when he took down the Moslem sea jihad.  Ponder that and as you do, reflect on the West's cultural devolution. Who will save us? Rome? Moscow?




I'm not a betting man but I'd lay odds on the latter. Then again, all the polls were confounded last Tuesday so perhaps there's hope for the West yet.

Sink me, a Guinea on the Monkey.

LSP