Long Live the Queen

Queen Elizabeth, who isn't afraid of a bit of gunfire, is celebrating her Diamond Jubilee. Long may she reign.

vivat

Here in America we don't have a Monarch, we just have this totally awesome President.

the commander in, er, chief

Have a blessed Trinity Sunday,


LSP

I Love Guns - Pistol Long Shot

PX4 Storm .45

I love guns and I love shooting. I like the look and feel of the firearms themselves and the challenge of the shot, I like the satisfaction of getting well on the target as well as the concentration and calm in the midst of explosion. There's a strange mixture of stillness and adrenaline to it that appeals, at least to me. Then there's the benefit of getting out in the countryside; it's a fine thing to be out there in the fields and brush with the guns, at a distance from the rush of the world. Still, with all that and more in mind, I won't pretend that I'm some sort of great shot. More like a decent priestly average.

filthy little beast

So after an hour or so of banging away at my old enemy, the steel plate ram and its lesser ally, the steel plate turkey, offhand iron sights at 50 and 100 yards with an AR (CMMG), I didn't expect to hit the ram with my .45 at 100 yards. After all, I'd never shot out to that range with a pistol before and the adversary was little more than a grayish blur of rust against the brush backstop of the berm.

somewhere, to the right of the 'silhouette' is a steel ram...

A round in the chamber later I lined up the sights slightly high on the metallic beast and squeezed off a shot, by instinct more than anything else. Lo and Behold! A satisfying plink of bullet on metal. Somewhat amazed, I fired off two magazines and was rewarded with 4 hits, the last shots being wasted due to lack of concentration and shooting high. 

make safe and for goodness sake, LSP, don't shoot the fridge

People mostly shoot their pistols, I think, at anywhere from 5 - 25 yards, something like 18 being the average. Fair enough, they're probably practicing at the range they think they'll use the weapon  at and it makes sense to get good at those distances. Still, I discovered there's a whole lot of enjoyment in going for the ridiculously unfeasible long shot and, unless I'm mistaken, the .45 shoots oddly flat.

At the nearest opportunity I plan to load up on Walmart's cheapest (TulAmmo... look, I apologise) and do it all over again.

Shoot straight,

LSP

The Feast of the Visitation and the Unborn Child

Yesterday was the Feast of the Visitation, the second joyful mystery of the faith, in which Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth. Both women are pregnant, the Virgin with Christ and Elizabeth with John the Baptist, and Scripture tells us that the "infant leaped" in Elizabeth's womb on hearing Mary's greeting. Our Lady, overcome with joy, exclaims the Magnificat:

My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden. For behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. For he that is mighty hath magnified me; and holy is his Name. And his mercy is on them that fear him throughout all generations. He hath showed strength with his arm; he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek; He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away. He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel; as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed, for ever.

The Visitation is, at the very least, a celebration of the miracle of life in the womb. Consider, then, the irony of House Democrats and seven Republicans defeating a bill, on the Feast of the Visitation, that would have outlawed sex-selective abortions.

life

To do so, it's argued, would have stood in the way of a woman's "right to choose." That's true. The defeated bill would have made it a crime to choose to kill your unborn child because you didn't want to give birth to a boy, or a girl.

What was that old film called? Ah yes, "Triumph of the Will." 

Look it up if you like.

LSP

The Number of the Damned

Interest rates on Spanish 10 year bonds rose to an apocalyptic 6.66%, or in other words, "Spanish Bonds, Meet Satan."

more ponzi, please

Not to be outdone in the not so slo-mo descent of the Gadarene PIIGS into the fiscal pit, Greece's largest lender, National Bank, posted a Q1 loss of $666 million.

the fall of the swine

Somehow the words of the Angelic Doctor, Aquinas, spring to mind (S.T., Q98, on the will and the intellect of the damned), "Although an increase in the number of the damned results in an increase of each one's punishment, so much the more will their hatred and envy increase that they will prefer to be more tormented with many rather than less tormented alone."

Rumours that European insolvency will have some sort of effect on the U.S. are entirely without any foundation whatsoever.

Carry on.

LSP

Memorial Day

Remember the fallen.

May they rest in peace,

LSP

Pentecost

On the first Feast of Pentecost the Holy Spirit, who is the personification of the love between the Father and the Son, came down upon the Apostles, filling them with the fire of love. This same fire is given to the successors of the Apostles, the Bishops, whose miters signify the the pentecostal flame. 

Well, there's bishops.

everyone's budde

"p"?

boy bishop

And there's bishops.

Here's the invocation of the Holy Spirit. The Church needs that right about now and doubtless always.

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

Every blessing for Pentecost,


LSP 

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