You can go Christmas shopping on 5th Avenue, NYC; Knightsbridge, London; downtown Neiman Marcus and even North Park Mall in Dallas, or you can do it the LSP way.
That means a quick spin down Davies and a foray into some off-beat gifte shoppe, full of "artisanal" Christmas items. The hipster behind the counter was wearing a Santa's elf hat. The shoppe was empty and I didn't buy anything.
Next stop? Jefferson, a thrift store, Justin Welby, and a second hand book shop, Lucky Dog Books. Maybe I'd get lucky at Lucky Dog Books, I thought to myself. Sure enough, I did. It'll be a literary Christmas for HQ Company.
Blue got some presents, too, and opened them early. But that's a different story.
It's a beautiful sunny morning in rural Texas. Squirrels gambol, birds sing, roosters are crowing and crazed peacocks shriek and scream.
Blue Scallywag takes this as his cue to gallop, romp and play. I throw him a tennis ball, which causes great joy in the canine world. But, in this vale of tears, all good things must come to end, which means I have to leave this bucolic paradise and drive to Dallas.
To buy Christmas presents. And that's just the way it is on the front lines of the War.
Here at Team LSP we like to think of ourselves as solutions providers, a one-stop-resource-shop, ranging from theology to weaponry. That's why we went to a noted defense systems consultant, asking for his advice on the best gun to take to the War on Weather.
A Unicorn on a Rainbow, With Clouds
Our search parameters weren't easy. The weapon had to pack enough power to take down a cloud, but be accurate enough to shoot a sunbeam, or knock a unicorn off a rainbow. Not easy, you'll admit, but whoever said life would be?
Guiding it's projectile unerringly onto target, the Tracking Point assisted rifle is capable of neutralizing the most elusive threats the Weather has to offer, and because of pinpoint accuracy, it can do so with minimum collateral damage. And make no mistake, the mighty .50 has plenty of punch.
Girls Love .50s
There you have it. Problem? Solution, which is what we're all about, here at the Compound, helping you to win the firefight against our common enemy.
Tracking Point sighting systems don't come cheap, but neither does war, on the Weather.
We're locked into a vicious, no-holds-barred War on Weather. El Nino is on the loose and running wild, sometimes it rains, or even snows, at other times it's hot; sometimes it's sunny, at other times it isn't. Our adversary is cunning, and no one knows for sure when, where and how the Weather will attack. And that's why it's important to be prepared.
Part of that means having the right kit to do the job, and here at the Compound we recommend MilitarySunHelmets.com as an invaluable toolkit for all those who have dedicated their time, resource and yes, lives, to this struggle against our implacable enemy.
MilitarySunHelmets.com is especially useful to those of us who live in areas of the world which are hot, such as Texas, California, or Australia, in all those many places where the sun hasn't yet been defeated by our rulers' Coalition of the Willing.
With that in mind, Team LSP is delighted to offer you this important resource, and we're sure that you'll find it as useful as we have, in the fight we all share, the War on Weather.
In a surprise announcement, the Catholic German Bishop's Conference, Deutsche Bischofskonferenz, has applied to join the Anglican Communion. Citing a desire to avoid "church dogma," Bishops Conference spokesperson, Dr. Hans Langendörfer SJ, stated that the move would be a "logical next step."
Via Ignatius -- ‘It seemed to us the logical next step in our pilgrimage of faith,’ said spokesperson Dr. Hans Langendörfer SJ. ‘We asked what the doctrinal requirements for entry were, and when we discovered that there weren’t any, we decided to go ahead. German Catholics lay great emphasis on the exercise of individual conscience as opposed to slavish adherence to Church dogma.’
Lambeth Palace is said to be seriously considering the application, along with marriage equality.
Mary exults in the Magnificat, which we heard in today's Gospel. Here it is: 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.
I'd say that was as relevant now as it's ever been.
I know it's terribly confusing, but there's a movement, or a shadow of a movement, within Anglicanism that asserts catholicity for our part of the church. Scripture, creeds, sacraments, apostolic tradition, piety, liturgy, salvation, the nature of the church herself, all these and more are viewed and believed in through a catholic lens.
Now, as a part of this movement, such as it is today, I have a confession to make -- and yes, make yours before Christmas, if you can -- there was a time, not so long ago in the greater scheme of things, when I felt that if I didn't have this:
St. Nicholas du Chardonnet
I wasn't somehow cutting it. But I got this:
Rural missions in Texas. Not shrines in Boston, New York, Philly, Chicago, or even Texas, for that matter. And you know what, I don't feel shortchanged for a moment.
Don't get me wrong, I love a Solemn High Mass as much as I loathe, scorn and despise liturgical dance, or the monstrous regiment of priestesses, women bishop figures and associated clowns. But here's the thing -- don't let yourself become that most ridiculous and pathetic of creatures, a church snob. God will surprise you. In my case, that's been for the good.
Don't Teacup, Fool
In related news, I've reminded the bishop that it'd make a lot of sense to put a new rule in place regarding postulants for ordination. Viz. If you can't ride and you don't shoot, you can't get in.
Ultra lib Oberlin college in Ohio is in an uproar about culturally insensitive food, with students, apparently from the Black Student Union, demanding fried chicken as a regular menu item, and less cream.
Via the Oberlin Review -- Students called for CDS to adhere to more traditional meals, including making fried chicken a permanent feature on the Sunday night menu and providing more vegan and vegetarian options.
A Typical Fried Chicken Dinner
And we'll have none of that white privilege cream, either.
The petition also outlines a list of proposed meals, offering authentic food ideas, recommendations on how to properly prepare food and reduce the amount of cream used in dishes because, as stated in the petition, “Black American food doesn’t have much cream in it.”
But culinary quarrels are the least of it. The pampered libleft elite at Oberlin have presented their white supremacist oppressors with a list of 50 demands.
Everyone knows that Harvard is Satan's Vatican and that it issued special Holiday Placemats For Social Justice.
Rod Dreher gives some helpful advice to families trying to cope with their social justice warrior children ruining Christmas with their obnoxious "talking points." Dreher recommends you go full Cartman:
When your Harvard undergraduate comes home for the holidays and undertakes to preach about politics at the dinner table, ask yourself, “What would Eric Cartman say?” Then say it over and over again, until the SJW runs sobbing from the table.
Harvard has since apologized for it's risible placemats, but remember this, the Devil is the Father of Lies.
At least they do if you know how to shoot them. With that in mind, I went down to the range with a couple of black guns and an eye towards some remedial target practice.
A natural gas pipeline is being put through the fields behind the range's berm and it felt strange to see a bit of country I'd enjoyed being torn up. Everything seemed smaller, somehow.
I clambered over the earthworks to speak with one of the pipeliners, who was sitting in a Ranger, and asked if it was OK to shoot. He said sure, as long as I shot away from the work. "Hell! I've already been shot once already!" he said, holding up his left hand, which was missing all its fingers except the thumb, and a bit of that was gone too.
"Man!" I exclaimed, promising to shoot safely, and asked where the pipeline was going. "From Whitney to Teague," said my new friend, and I told him that was "quite a thing," which it is.
Conversation over, I blazed away at some improvised targets, going for speed with the .45 and accuracy with the carbine. I have to say, the more I shoot the Glock 21 the more I like it; that pistol's right on the money. The AR worked well too, a proper little blaster.
Shoot over, I drove into the golden void like a warrior, on the edge of time.