Palm Sunday Prepper

"I've always been a prepper, because I've always been prepared, but some of these guys are too narrow. Their plan lacks perspective... I turn up at their fort with a canon and I start pounding that compound with hot shot. What then? Yeah, maybe they run out, perhaps they sally forth. I want that, I want them in my kill box." (From An Operator in Texas)

Don't get me wrong, I think it's right to be prepared but some ways make more sense than others, which is how the conversation flowed after Palm Sunday Mass #2.

"So how's the 'community'?"

"You know, there's a lot of people out there prepping for the least likely of all scenarios."

"Like the Hillary campaign getting honest?"

"Yeah, or an asteroid hitting the earth, whatever."

"Or some TAC guy turns up and starts shelling you with a trebuchet."

"Right. They're all concentrating on these never-gonna-happen outcomes."

Until, of course, that they do. But seriously, what's wrong with getting back to basics? Learning, for example, how to hunt, clean and cook your own food? Knowing, if you don't already, how to shoot, or being able to live because you sensibly know how to grow food and had the foresight to ensure that you'd have water if the grid goes down? 

And on. The point being, go off and learn all the AR 15 drills you can, and more power to you; become an ace shot, why not? Stockpile ammo, even, but more importantly, learn basic self-sufficiency. 

There just might come a point when that'll stand you in good stead, and it's a virtue in itself. 

Except, of course, when it comes to God. Then it's just wicked pride.

Prep On,

LSP

Palm Sunday

Listen up, you lot. It's Palm Sunday, time for some religion and none of your freakish liturgical dance Priestess of Baal religion, either:

Today the grace of the Holy Spirit has gathered us together, and taking up the Cross we all say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!’

He who has heaven as his throne and earth his footstool, the Word and co-eternal Son of God the Father, having come to Bethany, showed his humility today on the colt of a dumb animal. Therefore the children of the Hebrews, holding branches in their hands, sang his praise and cried, ‘Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he who comes, the King of Israel’.

Let us too, all the new Israel, the Church from the nations, come today and let us cry out, ‘Rejoice greatly, daughter of Sion. Proclaim it, daughter of Jerusalem. For see, your King is coming to you, meek and bringing salvation, and mounted on the colt of an ass, offspring of a beast of burden. Celebrate with the Children. Holding branches in your hands shout his praise, ‘Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he who comes, the King of Israel’.

Buried with you through Baptism, Christ our God, we have been granted immortal life by your Resurrection, and we sing your praises, crying: Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

Mounted on the throne in heaven, Christ God, and on the foal on earth, you accepted the praise of the Angels and the hymn of the children who cried to you: Blessed are you who come to call back Adam.

Have a blessed Holy Week,

LSP

Tack Up

It's all very well to spend your life on the water in search of fish, but sometimes it makes sense to change things up a bit. With that in mind, I went for a ride.

There we were, horse and rider all alone under the big Texan sky, a sky that was growing ominously dark with low, stormy clouds. Then the wind started to pick up and I got in the saddle, daring the elements to bring it on.

They didn't, fortunately, but it was neat to gallop out like a stormchaser, and I was pleased with the horse. We're getting to know each other and she's fast, responsive and wants to please, as opposed to being a crazy, dangerous, mutineer. Good horse.

Ride over, I looked at the strangely green water meadows of Texas and their cows. A pastoral scene that reminded me of England, but that illusion vanishes with the Mesquite, dirt roads, larger sky and the newness of the settlement. 

It was all being pioneered not too long ago. There's a sense of freedom in that.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Don't be a Loser, Get on The Boat

You're thinking, I know, if only I had a boat I'd catch a lot of fish. On the lake. And I don't blame you, it makes sense. With that in mind I climbed aboard a friend's boat, rod in hand and ready for action.

We zoomed across Lake Whitney to Steele Creek, then trolled upstream just after first light, with mist rising off the water. There weren't any banjos, but there should've been. There was, however, a great chorus of turkeys from along the banks. But not a lot of fish.

In fact, we caught one, a medium size Sand Bass. Undaunted, we fished several coves, channels and creeks, but nothing. Not a bite, and we weren't the only ones, no one seemed to be catching anything on the lake that morning.

The next day, my boat pal's 8 year old Grandson caught 7 Stripers in one of the coves we fished, using exactly the same lure, a silver shad of some sort, that'd been so unsuccessful the day before. There's a moral in that, somewhere.

In other news, I saw a wild turkey strutting through the streets of downtown Whitney this morning. It was a hen.

Fish on,

LSP

St. Patrick's Day #2

I don't want all three readers of this so-called "blog" to think that it offers anything other than deep thought and the life of the mind.

That's why we're posting this neat Leprechaun video. Helpful, eh?

And then there's the Dropkick Murphys. Another kind of helpful.

Meet you in Southy,

LSP

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Enjoy your celebration of this great saint but don't forget his remarkable asceticism, which began while he was a slave in Ireland:

“After I had come to Ireland I daily used to feed cattle, and I prayed frequently during the day; the love of God and the fear of Him increased more and more, and faith became stronger, and the spirit was stirred; so that in one day I said about a hundred prayers, and in the night nearly the same; so that I used even to remain in the woods and in the mountains; before daylight I used to rise to prayer, through snow, through frost, through rain, and I felt no harm; nor was there any slothfulness in me, as I now perceive, because the spirit was then fervent within me.” (Confessions §16)

As well as ridding Ireland of snakes and refuting demonic druids, Patrick abolished the island's slave trade. No mean feat, and I'd say we need his prayers today as much as ever. 

God bless,

LSP

New Human Dwarf Species Discovered

A mysterious new dwarf branch of the human family has been discovered in a South African cave. Standing at under 5' tall, the previously undiscovered dwarf hominids have baffled scientists.

"It's a really, really strange creature," stated one anthropologist from the University of Johannesburg, "It's like a human, Homo Sapiens, but different, a lot smaller, with ratlike hands and less brain capacity."

15 skeletons of the bizarre dwarf race of near-humans have been unearthed, and might be as much as 3 million years old. Some speculate that they're a "missing link." But a missing link to what?

You, the reader, be the judge. And I'm sorry if this is an old joke, but I'm sticking to it.

Cheers,

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday!

Bushcraft is all about authenticity. It's about doing it yourself, in the wilderness, without supermarkets, convenience stores and the trappings of so-called "progress." There's no Fender "Strats" in the bush, but that's not to say there isn't music.

Here at the Compound we hope you find this educational video as inspiring as we do.

God bless,

LSP

And it's a Knockout!

Sad face Rubio

GOP Establishment champion and Illuminati hopeful, Rat Claw Rubio, was trounced tonight in his own state, Florida, by billionaire maverick, Donald Trump.

The Bronze Age

Trump smashed Rubio in Florida, getting a whopping 47% of the Republican vote compared to Rat Claw's insignificant 27%, prompting the diminutive professional politician to drop out of the race altogether.

A Typical GOP Establishment Scene

But Florida was just one of a string of Trump victories this evening, including Illinois, and North Carolina, putting what some call a "Bronze Age Chieftain in the service of Loki" on a clear trajectory to the GOP nomination. It seems Republicans are in a state of revolt against their own corrupt, self-serving, crony capitalist, tassel-loafered elites.

Not so much the Democrats, who gave Hillary Clinton a handy win against their own insurgent, Bernie Sanders. So what if she's got a trail of bodies behind her, is the political analogue to Martha Stewart and is looking down the barrel of a Federal indictment. None of that mattered, apparently, to Democrats on Super Tuesday.

But what do I think? As if anyone cared. I'll tell you anyway.

NWO Puppet Shill

I think that the sooner our gang of corrupt, self-serving, b/millionaire ruling elite, who owe no allegiance to any people, nation or creed, other than themselves, get kicked out of power the better. Good luck with that, you say, sensibly, and I'd be inclined to agree.

Still, Republicans are at least attempting the shot, however implausibly. The Democrats have all but given in and endorsed Hillary. I scorn them for that.

Illuminati Stage Stunt

Regardless, Rat Claw has finally, at last, after long drawn-out shame and agony thrown in the towel. Marco and Jeb!, between them, spent $200 million on their respective campaigns. How, in any sense of the word, is that moral?

Someone said, tonight, "What if that'd been spent on crippled children?"

Kick out the JAMS.

LSP

Is This Texas?

The "tree guys" are still at it and will be for some time, so I rode off in search of Texas again. This time quite literally, on a horse, not far from Aquilla.

Is This Texas?

It was a crisp sunny morning and Trace enjoyed moving out across the weirdly green landscape. Was this Texas? It seemed too green. Not that I'm complaining, after all, Texas is a big state and it's only right to expect local variation.

Maybe This is Texas?

We came across an unblemished white calf. That seemed pretty Texas, in an Old Testament kind of way. 

Arthurian Legends, of Texas

Maybe the woods were Texas, the Arthurian legend part of Texas. I was hoping to spot some deer or pigs but didn't see any, just a rabbit being chased by a hawk. Texas style.

Two Horses Look at Texas

Ride over, two curious horses checked out the tack for Lone Star State credentials and I think they were pleased with what they saw.

So, did I find Texas? I certainly found a bit of it suspiciously green and lush after our heavy rain, and if horses and riding out across unspoiled country in Hill County counts as Texas, well, the search was a success.

Back at the Compound, the "tree guys" have unaccountably stopped work. I don't know if that's "Texas" or some other thing.

Ride on,

LSP

This Is Not The Cotswolds

With the racket of a trees going down around the Compound, I figured it'd be a good idea to drive off in search of Texas. And I found a bit of it, in Irene, Hill County.

The Post Office, Irene

Irene, named after a prominent townsman's daughter in 1878, was originally known as Zollicoffer's Mill, in honor of Edwin Zollicoffer, who settled there in 1848. At it's peak in the first two decades of the last century, the town boasted some 400 souls, the railway, a post office, a school, a store and as many as 10 businesses.

2nd Street, Irene

Today the railway is gone, along with the store, the businesses and most of the people, but the post office remains. You get the feeling, as you explore Irene, that it's really a farm which happens to have several houses on it. 

No Trespassing in Irene

Sheep graze across the road from an abandoned store, and round bales lay in lines in the sun behind the post office, which faces what looks like a cattle operation of some sort.

1st Street, Irene

That's not to say that the town's dead, or especially ruinous, despite the abandoned trailer home next to the Windstream junction shed. No, it's just very small and right there in the middle of the farms. Perhaps it is a farm, to all intents and purposes.

There's a small cemetery outside of town. It was sad to see the children's graves and I reflected on the character of the people who lived through the death of their infants. I feel they were made of stern stuff; I doubt that they had much choice in that.

I like Irene, even though it doesn't have a pub or a store.

God bless Texas,

LSP

Tree Logic

We're doing some building work at the Missions. Putting a new roof on one church, repairing the roof on another, fixing an out of control tree problem and repainting the HQ. One roof's been sorted out and a tree crew arrived this morning with a cherry picker, provoking a furious response from Blue Sentinel.

I took the dog for a walk to the local Pick 'n Steal so I could get a coffee and the tree gang could get on with their work. What sort of trees should we plant to replace the dead ones that are being taken down? I asked myself, as I sipped my coffee, while the dog stood guard against any life-threatening squirrels, cats, birds or mail trucks.

Typically, in this town, when trees are removed they're not replaced, giving our rural farming community's center a desolate, parade square, car park blasted by the sun look. That's unfortunate, because trees give needed shade in the fierce Texan summer. They look good, too.

Back at the Compound, I found the tree experts staring forlornly at their idle machinery. At what point, we have to ask, is technology  indistinguishable from magic?

Stay tuned for more, as this exciting story develops.

Chainsaws,

LSP