Fighting Monkey

Back in the 18th Century and "the earlies", when being a Company Man meant something altogether different than sitting numbly in front of a monitor in a cubicle, people weren't adverse to putting the odd monkey in the ring.

Here's an excerpt from The Sporting Magazine, 1799.

A quite unusual fight between two animals was staged in Worcester. The wager stood at three guineas, according to which the dog would kill the monkey in at most six minutes. The dog's owner agreed that the monkey would be allowed to defend itself with a stick about a foot long.

Hundreds of spectators gathered to witness this fight and the odds stood at eight, nine and even ten to one in favour of the dog, which could scarcely be subdued before the fight. The monkey's owner took a stick, about twelve inches long, from his coat pocket, tossed it to the monkey and said:

"Now Jack, pay attention, defend yourself against the dog!"

The butcher cried: "Now, get after the monkey!"

He let the dog go and it sprang at the monkey like a tiger. The monkey was amazingly nimble, jumped about three feet high in the air and when it came down landed directly on the dog's back, bit firmly in the dog's neck, grabbed his opponent's left ear with his hand thereby preventing the dog from turning his head to bite him. In this totally surprising situation the monkey now began to work over the dog's head with his club and he pounded so forcefully and relentlessly on the dog's skull that the poor creature cried out loudly. In short, the skull was soon cracked and the dead dog was carried from the ring. Yet, the monkey was only of medium size."

two people pretending to be something they don't believe in anyway

I'm not a betting man, but I'll wager my fighting monkey against any three of your priestesses that Schori's Episcopal Church will accelerate its long slide into transexual oblivion. And while we're at it, you might also care to explain why borrowing more money will see us clear of debt.

The challenge is on.

LSP

Ride Hard, Bonnie Resigns

The last two times but one that I rode out on JB weren't very satisfactory, with the horse pulling just about every trick inn the book to do what she wanted instead of what I wanted. What did I want? Not much, just a gentle walk and trot down a dirt road, maybe a few bursts of canter/gallop. What did she want? To be back in her pasture with her horse friends. Any of you that ride will know the scenario and the ensuing contest of wit and will; it's just not any fun if all you're after is an hour or so of healthy horseback enjoyment in the Texan countryside.

ready to go?

With that in mind I wasn't expecting any kind of good performance on Thursday; I knew I was dealing with a herd-bound horse. Still, we moved off out of the pasture and down the road. Fine, until we passed an alluring herd of Quarter horses in a neighbouring field. JB's horsemind did the math and came to the obvious conclusion, viz. far better to fraternize with these Quarter Horses than be ridden by LSP.

I love the herd...

Being a smart animal, JB figured the best plan of action would be to  surreptitiously swerve left towards the enticing herd. That didn't work so she thought, "I know, I'll just back up into the herd!" which I let her do until she nudged a hotwire with her rear. A look of equine bafflement later and horse and rider were on their way into a large mown field and pointing away from the Quarter Horses.

Off we galloped along the circumference of the field; I got the forward movement and the enjoyment of the gallop, she got to go in the direction of the herd, albeit by a circuitous route. Wisdom says "use what the horse wants to training advantage, LSP." Which I did, going at it several times, changing directions, till it was time to cool down and walk. Then we did it all over again, this time going at angles across the field, followed by gallops along the perimeter.

all about the herd

I tell you, it's a good feeling to go full(ish) tilt across a big field on a horse that's bred to run. JB liked it too and was rewarded with a cooling shower. She promptly rolled in the dirt, a happy horse.

Bonnie laughing at Schori

In other news, Bonnie Anderson, President of TEC's House of Deputies, has apparently tired of rolling in the dirt of General Convention and announced her resignation following this year's  Convention in Indianapolis. She thanks TEC's "system of governance" for acknowledging that the Holy Spirit "blows where she pleases."

alien space creature

Since when was the third Person of the Trinity revealed to us as "she"? Nothing like making it up as you go along, is there.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

Point and Shoot

There comes a time on a Tuesday afternoon when you have options. You can get down to some well-needed remedial reading on the Gospel of Luke, or Just War Theory. You can edit the latest batch of articles that just crossed your virtual desk. You can read Drudge and ZeroHedge -- oh dear, Facebook, what an utter disaster -- again, you might even try and write something, or you can say, "Enough of this nonsense, I'm going to the range!" Which is what I thought and did.

It was interesting to see a John Deere with a skull mascot parked up at my parishioner's shooting enclosure. Somehow that augured well for the shoot.

The Enemy

I laid out some clays at 75 yards, two end-on Dr. Pepper cans, a couple of small iron plates and three Marlboro Light boxes on sticks. There was a sighting-in target at 100 yards beyond that, and there it was, the countryside, the tailgate, a value pack of ammo and the plinking.

Firepower

For some reason, I imagined the clays approximated to rabbit heads, which is odd, because these are notoriously smaller and not fluorescent orange. Whatever, they're fun to shoot, as were the mini plates and the soda cans. It took a little while to zero in on the Marlboro adversaries, but they came off their sticks after I got the measure of the thing.

Vespers

Shot a little high at 100 yards, overcompensating for the apparent 5" bullet drop explained on the box. I guess the little zingers go flatter than advertised, strangely. Maybe I'm missing something here and need to pay more attention to the front sight, but it's probably a good problem to have.

Not having the the energy to investigate ballistics further, I finished off with Evening Prayer on the tailgate. It was peaceful after the crack of the gun.

Shoot straight. All hail Facebook.

LSP

Rabbit Hunter!

Unlike Satan, I try to take Monday "off". This means get up, drink lots of tea and coffee, say Morning Prayer on the porch, then think of something meaningful to do, like go for a shoot or a ride. Apparently there was a small pack of wild dogs loose on a parishioner's farm, so I opted for the shoot and my plan was simple. Look out for the dogs and shoot them with a shotgun and if they were sensibly in hiding, go after squirrels or rabbits.

Kit, note the Cloak of Invisibility, aka old Brit combat jacket...

First things first, get your kit together, namely a shotgun, a .22, and a scoped .243 in case there's a need for a longish range shot against the dogs. Then inspect your porch arsenal and wonder why you're strangely over-armed for this expedition -- why not take a .45 and a semi-auto, just in case, for goodness sake -- and drive out.

No Dogs

No sooner was I at the farm and out of the truck than there's a rabbit, at about 40 yards silhouetted between two gateposts. I quickly loaded the .22 and squeezed off a shot; one rabbit for the pot. The next step was scouting about for dogs, shotgun in hand, but they weren't in evidence, so that part of the escapade turned into a armed ramble about the countryside. There's nothing wrong with that, it's important, I think, to get out in the tree lines and fields and if you're in hunting mode you see and hear more because the senses are heightened. Still, no dogs, so I went back to the truck and there's another rabbit! Great excitement, as I swapped out guns, went into the brush and shot it. Two rabbits for the pot.

Two for the pot

That was plenty of action for me -- time to head off home to skin and gut then soak the meat in brine. I made the rabbits into a red wine based stew and served up over polenta, Italian style. Next time I think something to do with a grill might be in order, or maybe a curry.

Clean

Tasty, and all the better for being something I made for myself, from kill to clean to pot. A quantity of red wine didn't hurt anything either.

Simmer

Moral? Don't be a slacker, get out and hunt.

God bless,

LSP

Liturgical Dance

southern orders

I know, this is mostly a gun and horse blog, but sometimes you need the exception to prove the rule. So here's some interpretive liturgical dance to brighten up your Sunday night. See if you can spot which ones are catholic and which ones aren't.

catholic or protestant?

Here's another.

a catholic?

And another!

a protestant?

Well, nothing like a good bit of liturgical dance to brighten up the evening,  I always think, especially combined with a healthy dose of poetry from the Episcopal Women's Caucus. This one's entitled "Sister Spirit" and it goes like this:

Sister Spirit

lift us up on angels wings

fill our

hearts

minds

spirits

bodies

with hope

that we might respond to God's call

with joyful song and praise.

God bless us with your love,

this day

and every

day.

Amen.

Beautiful, isn't it.

The Episcopal Church is losing 50,000 members annually.

Keep dancing,

LSP

Faith

I know this site is mostly about firearms, horses and our space faring friends in the ACoC (Anglican Church of Canada) and liturgical dancers and, well, whatever springs to mind. So here's a bit on faith, which the Epistle to the Hebrews tells us is the "substance of things hoped for, the argument of things unseen." (Heb 11:1)

There's a curious interplay of surety and uncertainty in this, to say nothing of the action of the Word drawing us as hypostasis (substance) and argument through our present clouded perspective to the fullness of the beatific vision.

I like these words from Benedict XVI's Introduction to Christianity:

“No one can lay God and his Kingdom on the table before another man; even the believer cannot do it for himself. But however strongly unbelief may feel justified thereby, it cannot forget the eerie feeling induced by the words “Yet perhaps it is true.” That perhaps” is the unavoidable temptation it cannot elude, the temptation in which it, too, in the very act of rejection, has to experience the unrejectability of belief. In other words, both the believer and the unbeliever share, each in his own way, doubt and belief, if they do not hide from themselves and from the truth of their being. Neither can quite escape wither doubt or belief; for the one, faith is present against doubt; for the other, through doubt and in the form of doubt. It is the basic pattern of man’s destiny only to be allowed to find the finality of his existence in this unceasing rivalry between doubt and belief, temptation and certainty. Perhaps in precisely this way doubt, which saves both sides from being shut up in their own worlds, could become the avenue of communication. It prevents both from enjoying complete self-satisfaction; it opens up the believer to the doubter and the doubter to the believer; for one, it is his share in the fate of the unbeliever; for the other, the form in which belief remains nevertheless a challenge to him.” 

And again:

“There is no such thing as a mere observer. There is no such thing as pure objectivity. One can even say that the higher an object stands in human terms, the more it penetrates the center of individuality; and the more it engages the beholder’s individuality, then the smaller the possibility of the mere distancing involved in pure objectivity. Thus, wherever an answer is presented as unemotionally objective, as a statement that finally goes beyond the prejudices of the pious and provides purely factual, scientific information, then it has to be said that the speaker has here fallen victim to self-deception. This kind of objectivity is quite simply denied to man. He cannot ask and exist as a mere observer. He who tries to be a mere observer experiences nothing. Even the reality “God” can only impinge on the vision of him who enters in the experiment with God – the experiment that we call faith. Only by entering does one experience; only by cooperating in the experiment does one ask at all; and only he who asks receives an answer.”

If you're interested in this, see B16's lecture to the theology faculty at Breslau. His use of Thomas, Augustine and other "Masters" is simply outstanding and to my mind well worth reading several times. 

Keep the Faith,

LSP

 

Greece Tanks

Everyone will have noticed that Europe's fiscal policy, and by extension the value of our own fiat currency, is going extremely well, which is why there are absolutely no runs on banks anywhere -- especially not in Greece and Spain.

ZeroHedge refers us to Thucydides "in the vain hope that those who have blindly pursued the policies which have brought Greece to the brink and risks plunging the whole of Europe into the abyss, might consider more keenly the consequences of their actions and change course before it’s too late."

You can read the whole thing here.

What was it that Germany's evil dictator said before Kursk? "When I think of this battle my stomach turns over."

Have a blessed Feast of the Ascension.

LSP

Horsing Around

JB

To celebrate May Day I thought I'd go for a ride, and was pleased to see that JB's put on some needed weight. Being in a new pasture with plenty of grass, and a deworm, have certainly helped. So that's good.

The Terror!

We rode down a dirt road for a couple of miles and Kyrie, what an effort. A herd of cows? Very spooky to this horse's mind. A barking dog? Incredibly frightening. Tall bamboo? Oh dear, bad threat. A butterfly? Time to stop this scary dare and head for home! In brief, a whole lot of work and dangerous with it. A balking, spooked, snaking, nervous as you like thoroughbred might just decide to throw its rider onto the top of a T post, or back into some barbed wire, or anything bad and crazy. Solution? Stay calm, ride on, reassure the horse, keep going forward and move through the resistance.

random gun

A few days later we did it all over again and JB was doing better, perhaps familiarity had dimmed the fearsome terrors of the extremely threatening dirt road. I sensed a positive forward attitude and felt some speed was in order. Canter, all it takes for JB is a whisper and a slight shift of weight and leg to the relevant lead, and off we went.

good horse

She rode very well, working herself out of the spook and being a real pleasure to ride. We went faster on the way back, then turned around and went back up the road several times, just to prove that it could be done.

Moral of the story? Riding is hugely enjoyable, especially at speed and, as always, patience and persistence pay a large dividend.

Stay on the horse,

LSP

I am the Good Shepherd

Jesus tells us in today's Gospel that He is the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for His sheep, unlike the "hireling" who runs away from the "wolf."

I waxed fiery during the sermon about the apostate hirelings who have either run away from the demonic beast or sided with him in order to lead the foolish sheeple to perdition. Western Anglicanism serves as a handy case study. Under its current gang of heretical pagans pastors The Episcopal Church (TEC) is losing 50,000 annually and its lesser cousin, the diminutive ACoC (Anglican Church of Canada), well, where is it? Mars?

some kind of joke?

After the first Mass we discussed the text a little further over coffee, noting that Christ is both sheep and shepherd, sacrificial victim and eschatological Lord. This prompted the following:

Countryman 1:  "I used to raise sheep, Father."

LSP:                 "Ah hah."

Countryman 1:  "They're dumber than a box of hammers."

Countryman 2: "I was showing a sheep and it ran right off into a  moat. I had to use a lariat to haul it out."

LSP:                  "I see."

Here endeth the Lesson.

LSP

Shoot the .22

I love guns and I love to shoot, it's as simple as that. So here's a quote from Bob Owens via pajamasmedia; he's in favor of new shooters entering the fray with a .22. 

"I’m suggesting you’ll learn faster, and often without imparting many bad habits you have to overcome later, if you learn your fundamentals with a .22 handgun. It’s all about the fundamentals. Even advanced courses boil down to learning to use the fundamentals more efficiently to promote accurate shooting. As former Delta Force operator and noted weapons trainer Larry Vickers has noted: “Speed is fine. Accuracy is final.”

If your goal is to learn to use a long-arm for anything other than wingshooting, I’m going to make a similar, and unsurprising, recommendation. Semi-automatic or bolt-action (your preference) .22 LR rifles are a ridiculously inexpensive entry into firearms ownership, with decent quality new rifles retailing for $200 or less, and used rifles for even less than that. Unlike most other rifles, rifles chambered in .22 LR are also welcome on many “pistol only” ranges that don’t have the ability to safely contain centerfire rifles. Again, practice is key. So where do you get the training you need in order to learn the fundamentals?"

I couldn't agree more. The .22 is great value at every level.

Get out there and shoot!

LSP

St. George for England

Today is the Feast of St. George, Patron Saint of England. He shares that title with St. Edmund and Edward the Confessor, interestingly, and appears to have been a soldier martyr during the reign of Diocletian. Richard the Lionheart consecrated his crusading army to the saint and his Feast, along with its allegorical symbolism and legend, grew to chivalric proportions in late medieval England. 

gun dog

I celebrated the day by slaying my own dragons -- shooting offhand at a steel plate turkey and a steel plate ram at 100+ yards. A 30-06 drilled right through these wicked adversaries, .223 made a crack thwack against them and the lowly .22 seemed to burst on impact. Fun, and good practice to get on target without relying on a rest of some sort.

All for England and, of course, Texas.

St. George pray for us.

LSP

Sporterizing the Lee Enfield - Porch Project Pt. VII

In bits

After a lot of sanding, I managed to finish the old walnut butt stock of the Mk. III. I used the "wet sanding method", in which a fine slurry of thinned oil/lacquer (Minwax Antique Oil in this case) and wood dust is produced by sanding with the grain then wiped gently across the grain. This fills the 'pores' in the wood. The stock is then left to cure for 24 hours or more and... you do it all over again. I found these instructions helpful.

Are we there yet...

There were times when I wondered, apocalyptically, if the grain would ever fill up; a recalcitrant bit of timber. But it did in the end and I polished the thing to 2000 grit, giving it a satin luster. 

That'll do

A lot of work, but I wanted the practice before ordering a new semi-inlet stock set and you never know, it might be good to keep the original military butt. Next step? Bluing the metal; I'm inclined towards a rust blue. More on that later.

Shoot straight,

LSP