Don't be a Lib, Ride and Shoot

Love riding.

Scorn Libs.

Shoot.

That is all.

LSP

It's All Souls Day, Clean Your Boots

You can sit there like an Illuminati dupe, waiting for the New World Order's pansexual Stasi to turn up and clean your dirty boots, or you can do it yourself. Like a sovereign. 

Not wanting to be a slave of the transnational elite, I chose the latter option, scrubbed off the mud with water and then applied Fiebing's Golden Mink Oil. Not because there's some "rule," it's just the way I chose to do it, and guess what? It works. 

Illminati Dupes

Those mink oiled Ariat Heritage Stockmans, with Advanced Torque Suspension, whatever that is, are nicely supple, waterproof and good for all kinds of fun.

As I cleaned the muddy and miserable offenders, I prayed for the departed, it being All Souls Day; and I prayed especially for a number of old friends who died far too young. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Some people don't clean their boots or pray for the departed. That would be a double error.

God bless,

LSP

All Saints Day, Clean Your Gun

You can be part of today's benighted entitlement culture and think that the State is going to step in and clean your dirty gun. Go right ahead, just keep on thinking that and wonder why your firearm doesn't work anymore.

On the other hand, you can take destiny into your own hands and clean the filthy little beast yourself. Like a free man.

That's what I did tonight, as I reflected on the Saints and in particular on the Cure D'Ars, Patron Saint of parish priests. Jean Vianney didn't own any pistols, much less a Glock 21, but he could read minds and see into peoples' souls.

He also led a life of extraordinary asceticism, living on a potato and a glass of warm milk per day. He did that for decades and when he died, the examining doctor stated that there was no earthly reason why the humble priest should have lived as long as he did.

The Devil would taunt him at night, bellowing out, "Potato eater!" Look it up on the modern Delphi that is the internet, if you doubt me.

Have a blessed All Saints.

LSP

Very, Very Scary

Two friends came over from Dallas yesterday and stayed over. One of them brought along a SOCOM 16, which is a short barreled variant of the M1A, and we wanted to test that out and see if it worked. So, undaunted by rain, we headed out to a ranch where there's a good area to blast away in the wilderness. 

You can even access this range via rocky roads, in your pal's new Tundra. No danger of getting stuck in the mud, right?

Well Done, Team

Wrong. We got stuck in thick sandy clay. An hour later, and lots of rocks under the tires, we were out of the mess and shooting. The SOCOM worked just fine, a right little beast of a 7.62 barker.

Proper Little Barker

On the way home, one the crew had to ask, "How many soldiers, former and serving, does it take to get stuck in the mud?" That would be three, apparently.

Moral of the story? Get a SOCOM, and a winch, and a 4x4.

Happy Halloween,

LSP

All Trick No Treat -- WARNING GRAPHIC CONTENT

Happy Halloween everybody. 

Are you scared yet?

No?

Well maybe you should be.

LSP

Well Done, Pope Francis

Castigated by many as a comsymp lefty and a lib wolf in sheep's clothing, Pope Francis nonetheless tells it like it is, at least when it comes to our Adversary, the Devil. Here he is on social media:

Now some of you may not believe in the Devil, and that's up to you. But have a look at this before you jump to any conclusions.

See? You might want to think again.

Your Friend,

LSP

Take a Bath, Hippie

At least that's what the horses say, and who can blame them? I rode out on Tres this morning after a week's break, caused by torrential rains and the horses being let loose to pasture in Texas' idyllic Mesquite Groves.

There was a little bit of rodeo (bucking) but nothing too radical. That was worked out by galloping up and down a hill and making our way through trails in the woods.

It was beautiful to ride in the clean, crisp, air and I went back to HQ refreshed and uplifted. Blue Destroyer, in the meanwhile, had chewed up an issue of American Rifleman. And some butter.

I wasn't too happy about that.

LSP

Carve The Pumpkin With a Gun

Here's Hickok45, getting the world ready for Halloween, and now I want a lever gun. Make that several.

Gun rights,

LSP

Hillary Clinton's Lovers

Who are Hillary's lovers and why isn't the media covering this exciting story of lust and intrigue from inside-the-beltway, asked Matt Drudge not so long ago.

Well, we know at least one. That would be Yoko Ono, the atonal, onetime wife of John Lennon, King of the Hippies.

Yoko Ono, What a Great Singer

This is what Yoko says (tip of the kukri to LL):

“We met many times during the New York Vietnam War protests in the 1970s, and became very intimate. We shared many of the same values about sexual equality, fighting against the authoritarian, patriarchal, male-dominated society we were raised in. 

“We had a brief romantic fling when I lived with John in Manhattan and Hillary was studying at Yale, but eventually we lost touch. I am amazed how things are going well for her and wish her the best for her campaign.”

Hillary hasn't commented on her old lover's outing, and neither has Huma Abedin. 

Your old pal,

LSP

Episcopal Church Bishop Heather Cook Goes To Jail

The former Episcopalian Assistant Bishop of Maryland, Heather Cook, has been sentenced to 7 years in jail by a Baltimore Court today, for killing a cyclist shortly after Christmas this year.

Cook had nearly three times the legal level of alcohol in her bloodstream when she drove into Michael Palermo, killing the 41 year old cyclist and father of two. 

The bishop, who had been texting at the time of the crash, drove away from the scene of the crime, but later returned after being followed by a suspicious cyclist. She was subsequently forced to resign from her position and released from prison on $2.5 million bail.

Cover Up

The ex-bishop pleaded guilty to automobile manslaughter last month and has a history of alcohol and narcotics use, which came to light in 2010 when she was arrested for DUI, possession of marijauna and drug paraphernalia. This was allegedly known by top church authorities but not disclosed to the Diocese of Baltimore.

Prosecutors had wanted a 10 year sentence for Cook, but her attorney argued for less, claiming that the once senior clergyperson had lived a mostly "model life."

You can read all about the case of the drunken Cook in the Baltimore Sun. And we have to ask, if the Episcopal Church's leader, Katharine Jefferts Schori, knew about Cook's history of driving while drunk and stoned, why was nothing said to the people responsible for electing her as a bishop?

Surely Michael Palermo's family deserve an answer.

LSP

The Curse of the Diocese of Gloucester

The Diocese of Gloucester labours under an ancient curse, a curse that some say goes back to Gloucester cathedral's ill-fated Dean, William Laud, in the seventeenth century. However, though centuries old, the curse is apparently active today and seems to be claiming a new victim, bishop figure Rachel Treweek.

About to be installed as a member of England's ruling elite aristocracy in the House of Lords, Treweek told the public that she no longer prays to God as "he," although she sometimes forgets.

According to the UK's Guardian, "She personally prefers to say neither 'he' nor 'she', but 'God'. 'Sometimes I lapse, but I try not to.'"

Well that's great. Mawkish forgetfulness aside, God is a perfect spirit and therefore beyond gender; like time itself, God transcends it. But here's the thing, Christianity believes that this transcendent Being, the perfect, necessary source of all being, is revealed in masculine terms. 

Jesus, the eternal Word made Flesh, is notoriously a man, who teaches his followers to pray to God as Father. The Church, for St. Paul, echoing the Old Testament, is the Bride of Christ. 

Mary Domus Aurea

In brief, God, for Christians, reveals himself in masculine terms. Take it or leave it, hate it or love it, that's Christianity.

Welcome to Goof Squad

Rachel, who has been promoted to one of the declining Church of England's top jobs, albeit cursed, has chosen to leave it, at least as far as God's revelation of himself is concerned. Where does this leave her?

Note Killing Rod Through Backs of Children

Hint, not praying to the being revealed by Christ as Father. And remember, it's all a larf until the horned god claims its own.

LSP

Closing Day Mojo

I'll be honest, after driving around the country to say Mass and then to Waco to visit the sick in hospital, I wasn't too keen on going dove hunting.

But my philisophical pal, GWB, tipped up looking for action, so off we went to catch the last two hours of dove season.

The clouds were grey and threatening and a chill wind blew over the waterlogged fields. It felt like Yorkshire, in June, and I wished I'd worn Wellingtons as I walked the treelines, hoping for a bird or two to rocket overhead.

Old Skool Lancruiser

They didn't, but that was alright, it was simply good to be out in the field, shotgun in hand. Armed walkabout over, I joined GWB at the decoys and waited. Soon enough, a couple of feathered predators were lured in by the Mojo and flew towards the setting sun. An easy shot, one went down.

Then a couple of squadrons came in fast, heading west; shoot, pump, and shoot again! I missed, but GWB brought one down with a snap-shot from his 20 gauge O/U Franchi Instinct. 

Dove cleaned, it was back to the Compound for poppers. Fortunately, someone had the good sense to bring along a quorum of previously shot birds from an earlier hunt. The tasty morsels found their way to the grill and feasting commenced.

And that was closing day.

God bless,

LSP