Patron Saint of Handgunners

Today's Sunday, so let's not forget the Patron Saint of handgunners, Gabriel Possenti, whose Feast was yesterday, February 27.

Possenti saved a village from a gang of bandits in 1860:

Possenti found the gang about to rape a young woman, and ordered them to set her free. When they refused to obey, Possenti yanked two pistols out of the soldiers' holsters. (According to Mr. Paolo Tagini, who edits the Italian firearms magazine, Armi Magazine, the weapons likely were 1851 Colt Navy Model six-shot revolvers in .36 caliber or imitations thereof.) At that moment, a lizard ran across the road. Gabriel Possenti took aim, fired and killed it with one shot. Then, he turned his weapons toward the gang which, surprised and shocked, left the village.

Well done, handgun saint, for protecting the life and liberty of those villagers. That'd be illegal in England, where the State will protect you, except when it doesn't.

Gabriel Possenti, pray for us,

LSP

The Old Boot

The political analogue to Martha Stewart, only way more wicked, is popularly known as The Old Boot. Rumors abound that the FBI's looking for an indictment and that too big to jail isn't going to cut it this time.

A Flying Monkey

It's possible that The Old Boot will be brought before justice around Easter, maybe before, like on Good Friday. That would be especially appropriate.

A Typical Pair of Tasseled Loafers

In the meanwhile, inside-the-beltway gravy-trainers are looking down the barrel of "you're fired."

I like both of the above scenarios.

LSP

Ride & Shoot

One of the benefits of living in rural Texas is that you can marvel at the sheer greenness of the grass as you ride your horse through the Lone Star State's verdant water meadows. 

My philisophical pal, GWB, would say that Texas is locked into radical mimetic rivalry with the Emerald Isle. He's heavily influenced by some Frenchman called "Girard."

Then you get out in the open and pick up a gallop, wind in your face and Frenchmen forgotten as your horse's neck lengthens and she gets into her stride. Charge! No end of exhilaration.

Ride over, head off to the ranch's range and test out a rifle. Just you, the gun and the countryside in the setting sun. 

I like the muzzle flash as dusk closes in, not that I'm immature or anything. Come to think of it, tracers might be neat too...

God Bless Texas,

LSP

Texas Bath

Don't get rid of your old bath tub. Repurpose it, Texas style.

That is all.

LSP

Fire On The Mountain

One of the things some local Baptists do well here is a men's prayer breakfast. They meet every Friday and they're a good, straight-up group of guys who like to ride, shoot and fish and aren't ashamed of their faith.

I like to go for the prayer and fellowship and to hear a short, simple but direct message. Today's was on Elijah and the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings. Elijah called down fire from heaven and confounded the evil prophets of an evil god. These met a grisly end, which serves as a warning to the idolatry of our dark and increasingly barbarous age. So be filled with the fire of God that is the fire of love, and repent.

Texas This Morning. Note Water

My mind went back from that to Exodus, the burning bush and the Divine Name, I AM THAT AM, or, in the Septuagint, He Who Is, and then forward in time to Pentecost and the tongues of fire that rested upon the Apostles.

No Comment

Some say that the episcopal mitre represents this fire. Others again point to the awkward bit in the Gospel about wolves in sheep's clothing, to say nothing of the demon Baal and its false prophets.

Make of that what you will.

LSP

The Four Seasons

Everyone wants to stay at the Four Seasons because it has Sweepstakes, Internet and Fun Time. "What's the 'Fun Time'?" I asked the old rocker behind the counter of the next door gas station. I was curious, "Would that be Internet or Sweepstakes?" 

He pondered this for a moment, "Well, they can go in there and get on the internet, which can be kind of fun. Then they can gamble." Maybe I didn't look too convinced at the prospect and the truth came out, "And there's a bar." That would account for it, mystery solved. 

We talked for a bit about England and its pubs, which I miss, and he asked what had gone wrong with the country and how soon it'd turn Muslim. "How'd that happen?" he asked, pushing back his hair. 

Random Gun & Hat

"Good question," I replied, "They went lib, shariasymp lib. ISIS laughs." My new friend agreed, he had no time for commies, libs or the Jihad of Peace, but he did like Churchill.

So stay at the Four Seasons and visit the gas station. You'll find it on Hwy 22, heading west to Lake Whitney.

God bless,

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday, on Thursday!

The thing about Bushcraft is that it's all about surviving in the bush, in the wild, and part of that means knowing you're not in some kind of petting zoo.

Here at the Compound we hope you find this short infovideo helpful.

Be prepared or, as we say in the community, loaded for bear.

Your Friend,

LSP

A Prayer Poem For The Feast

It's the evening of the Feast of St. Matthias and all's quiet here at the Compound, apart from the sharp click of magazines going into their wells, rifle bolts being worked and pistol slides racking in the action. And the sound of sirens filling the air as the local PD heads West over the railway tracks to take down a meth lab under the light of a silver moon.

As you reflect on this comforting scene of rural Texan tranquility, here's something to steer the mind towards holier things. It's from the Eastern Breviary.

O apostle Mathias! thou didst complete the sacred college, from which Judas had fallen; and by the power of the Holy Ghost, thou didst put to flight the darkness of idolatry by the admirable lightnings of thy wise words. Do thou now beseech the Lord that he grant peace and much mercy to our souls.

He that is the true Vine sent thee, a fruitful branch, bearing the grapes that give out the wine of salvation. When they drank it that before were slaves to ignorance, they turned from the drunkenness of error.

Being made, O glorious Mathias, the chariot of God's word, thou didst break for ever the wheels of error, and the chariots of iniquity. By the divine power, thou didst defeat the idolaters, and destroy the pillars and the temples; but thou didst build up to the Trinity other temples, which echoed with these words All ye people, praise Christ above all for ever!

The drunkenness of error. I'd say there's a surfeit of that, right about now.

Your Old Friend,

LSP 

The Archbishop of Canterbury is Steve Jobs?

Startling new photo evidence suggests that former oil executive and Motorcity brawler, Archbishop Justin Welby, is in fact Steve Jobs.

Evidence emerged at a rural Texan Walmart, where stunned onlookers were shocked to see the face of the Archbishop of Canterbury on CD covers of the smash-hit film, Steve Jobs. 

Justin Welby, Steve Jobs

"I never knew Justin Welby was the high-tech genius behind Apple," stated one worried farmer, "I thought he was just, you know, an oil executive who went off the rez (reservation) in Detroit, hustling for spare change and trying to pawn his finery on 8 Mile."

Bronski Beat With Justin Welby (Center)

Others aren't convinced. According to sources at the Anglican Consultative Council, "The Archbishop of Canterbury is not Steve Jobs. Everyone knows he was the lead singer with the Bronski Beat. Nothing has changed."

Is Justin Welby Steve Jobs, or the former singer of the famous pop boy band, Bronski Beat?

You, the reader, be the judge.

LSP

The Feast of St. Matthias

If Donald Trump is the reincarnation of Pompey Magnus, what does that make Hillary. Some kind of pantsuited, overweight Livia? As you ponder that, don't forget it's the Feast of St. Matthias the Apostle. Here's his Collect:

O ALMIGHTY God, who into the place of the traitor Judas didst choose thy faithful servant Matthias to be of the number of the twelve Apostles; Grant that thy Church, being alway preserved from false Apostles, may be ordered and guided by faithful and true pastors; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

God bless,

LSP

Ice Creature (warning -- Muslims & Vegetarians won't like this)

A churchman kindly invited me to a hog hunt on his lease over the weekend, but I couldn't go because I had to say Mass on Sunday. I'm sure you understand, it goes with the territory.

Put it on Ice

However, I did get a pig as a consolation prize. The hog was gutted, iced, and fit neatly into a cooler in the back of the rig. 

Hang it up on The Porch Over a Tarp

Next step, take the cooler out of the bed of the truck, trying not to give yourself a hernia. Weightlifting over, lay out a tarp and hang the porker up on the front porch by its hind legs, out of the driving Texan rain.

Put on Some Gloves, Get a Knife

Put on some gloves and take up a sharp knife, I used a filet knife from Walmart ($2.00), and cut around the skin on the hoof end of the leg, then lengthwise down the front of the leg. Work the skin off and down the carcass until it hangs like a cape over the head of the pig.

Nearly There

Stop for a while and look at the pig that died so that you can live off its meat. Thanks for the sacrifice, creature of pork. 

Take The Meat Off The Back

You're now ready to get the meat; take out the tenderloins and the backstraps, then cut off the legs, slicing along the hips. You should be able to work your knife into the ball joints and pop them out, top and bottom.

Well Done, Now You've Got Some Pork

Two legs of ham later, it's time for the shoulders, cut as much meat off as you can. Clean up the mess, hose down your meat and put it in the freezer. Congratulate yourself on a job well done.

Meat in The Freezer

A friend or two threaten to visit for a feast, "honestly hunted meat is allowed during Lent," they tell me, "just not on Fridays." 

That has the ring of truth to it.

LSP

Yet More Trump Lit

Alongside decayed roués with dubious means of subsistence and of dubious origin, alongside ruined and adventurous offshoots of the bourgeoisie, were vagabonds, discharged soldiers, discharged jailbirds, escaped galley slaves, swindlers, mountebanks, lazzaroni, pickpockets, tricksters, gamblers, maquereaux [pimps], brothel keepers, porters, literati, organ grinders, ragpickers, knife grinders, tinkers, beggars — in short, the whole indefinite, disintegrated mass... 

No! Karl Marx wasn't describing the Church of England's General Synod, or even Neil Young, but what about the American political class and their media servants? ZeroHedge thinks so and I like this:

This is why the media is as much the class enemy of the working class as the incestuous, corrupted and corrupting pool of swindlers, fakes, apparatchiks, lobbyist/brothel keepers and grifters that populate Washington, D.C.

But there's plenty more. You can read the whole thing here and add it to the growing list of literature on the Trump phenomenon. 

In other news, I've just  skinned and quartered a pig on the porch. I doubt anyone's ever done that here before.

More on that exciting development later.

God bless,

LSP