The Miracle of The Widow of Nain

There's been a momentary lull in the War on Weather, giving us all time to reflect on the miracle of the widow of Nain, which is the Gospel reading for Sunday. In it we find two processions.

One is a procession of death, led by the grieving widow who has lost her only son. The other is a procession of life, led by Christ. At the point of contact, Christ is moved with great compassion and love. "Weep not," he tells the woman, and in power summons the son's soul back to his body and restores him to life. 

The widow and her son are, of course, types or figures of ourselves and the Church who are met, loved and given life by Christ. I found this reflection helpful, here's the conclusion:

The story of the widow of Nain is a wonderful story. It reminds us that the Gospel, like the Christian life itself, is seamless and perfect. The demands made on us are no less than the demands of love and of faith. As the Apostle John said, God is indeed love. And He responds to us, to the Church, as we in faith and in love cry out to him. For ourselves, for each other. For the living; for the dead; for the entire world. We cry out for mercy and for love and always – always – God responds. It is for this – faith and love – that we will be held accountable at the dread judgment seat. Nothing else. Not buildings, not numbers, not visible success. Faith and love. This is our life in the Church, it is our life in Christ.

You can read it all here, and if you think, in a fit of brazen, stiff-necked, secularist nihilism that it's all a load of pious nonsense, consider the reverse of the qualities of faith and love and see how far they get you.

God bless,

LSP

Thunderstruck

As this small kebob stand on the information superhighway is now all about the weather, it's only right to release this powerful version of the AC/DC classic, Thunderstruck.

By Finns. Let the reader understand.

That is all,

LSP

Storms Rock Texas

We were warned by our Commander-in-Chief, yes, warned, but took no heed. Texas refused to pay its carbon tax and play its part in the life and death War on Weather. Complacency slipped in, and this is the result.

The Commander

Thunder, lightning, incessant, relentless rain and fierce winds, all combining to make this the storm of the century. 31 counties have been declared disaster zones by Governor Greg Abbott and still the water continues to rise.

The Bricks

Rain is set to fall all week, bringing not only record breaking floods but also a plague of snakes, insects and floating trash.

The Road

Here, in this small farming community, we watch from high ground and the roofs of our homes as the rain pounds down, and stand ready, razor sharp kukris in hand and shotguns chambered, for the snakes.

The Dam

Lake Whitney dam holds, for now.

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday!

Bushcraft isn't simply about surviving without the aid of modern conveniences like supermarkets and the Nanny State. Sometimes it involves ethical decisions, perhaps even dilemmas. 

When a monkey gets shot, is it murder?

You be the judge,

LSP

Sweden Gets Raped

In 1975, Sweden was what you'd expect it to be, a peaceful, law abiding, Scandanavian haven of prosperity. It was probably dull; in between listening to Abba singles and fishing the fjords, Swedes probably didn't do a whole lot, so the government decided to change it up. How?

By importing over a million mostly Muslim immigrants from the Middle East and Africa, and what happened? Lo and behold, Sweden became the rape capital of the West and nearly the world, second only to Lesotho, with 53 rapes per 100,000 people.

That's an increase of 1,472% on 1975, when 421 rapes were reported to the police, as opposed to 6,620 in 2014. During the same period, violent crime increased 300%.

Surely the increase in sexual attacks against women in Sweden and the rest of Europe has nothing to do with, you know, massive Muslim immigration. It's not like the Quran sanctions sex slaves or that Mohammad owned a couple, or anything. Except, of course, that it does and he did. Go ask ISIS.

In the meanwhile, well done multicultural Swedes, you're getting up there with Lesotho in the rape leagues. And where's the feminist outrage? Oh, there isn't any.

That'd be Islamophobic.

LSP

The Mighty Brazos Crests at 54 Feet

The Brazos river crested today at a record breaking 54 feet, leaving homes in the Houston area flooded and whole neighborhoods surrounded by a swirling dystopia of snakes and suchlike waterborne trash. 

Typical Houston Street Scene

What caused this aquatic catastrophe? Failure to pay a carbon tax to our globalist elite overlords; refusal to ride the rainbow and turn the state's schools into a rainbow-riding, trans free for all? Or maybe divine displeasure at Houston's Pink Stasi Mayor?

A Proper Little Fighter

I drove to the Brazos to find out. It was in full flood and I cast off into the torrent via the rain. Three Hybrids and one small Widemouth later, I still wasn't any closer to winning the War on Weather but I was holding my own against the fish.

Shoot The Monkey

In related news, a monkey threatened to kill a child at a zoo and was shot. Some people are calling this "murder." Those people are clearly insane.

Your Friend,

LSP

Isle of Man TT With The Morecambe Missile

Some people ride unicorns over the rainbow, others, like the Morecambe Missile, John McGuinness, ride bikes and they ride them fast on what's possibly the most dangerous race of its kind in the world, the Isle of Man TT.

That's going on right now:

Held over a 37.75 mile course of closed public roads on the sleepy island tax haven in the (Irish) sea between Britain and Ireland, it is considered one of the most authentically original, spectacular and most dangerous sporting events in the World with average lap speeds approaching 133 miles per hour through the 380 bends and 1500 foot climb and fall the road makes on the Island’s mountainous topography. Riders in the races on ‘the Island’ are considered specialists in the art of ‘real road racing’, a sport restricted to small parts of Europe in these very safety conscious times, and are willing to risk everything (literally) to be crowned ‘King of the Mountain’. They certainly don’t do it for the money, as there is very little...

One reader described it neatly, "This sport's not for wussies." I'd be inclined to agree and note McGuinness' humility in the video. That's a virtue.

Say a prayer for the riders, they don't always make it.

God bless,

LSP

Memorial Day

From the first Memorial Day, then called Decoration Day, address in 1868:

I love to believe that no heroic sacrifice is ever lost; that the characters of men are molded and inspired by what their fathers have done; that treasured up in American souls are all the unconscious influences of the great deeds of the Anglo-Saxon race, from Agincourt to Bunker Hill. It was such an influence that led a young Greek, two thousand years ago, when musing on the battle of Marathon, to exclaim, “the trophies of Miltiades will not let me sleep!” Could these men be silent in 1861; these, whose ancestors had felt the inspiration of battle on every field where civilization had fought in the last thousand years? Read their answer in this green turf. Each for himself gathered up the cherished purposes of life—its aims and ambitions, its dearest affections—and flung all, with life itself, into the scale of battle.

And now consider this silent assembly of the dead. What does it represent? Nay, rather, what does it not represent? It is an epitome of the war.

You can read the whole thing here. Remember those who gave their lives. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.

God bless,

LSP

Basschaton

There we were , somewhere in Texas, fishing for Bass, and they weren't biting, until they did. Clamp! Vise-like jaws snapped shut on an alluring dark plastic worm and in came a fish, an apocalyptic leviathan of a Bass.

GWB soon caught up with some swift action, and after an hour at the lake we were neck and neck at 3 fish each. By then the sun was setting, the lake was still as glass and it just seemed right to try out the Tiny Torpedo topwater method.

A small strike, almost more of a gulp, later and kaboom! A big fish was on, leaping and fighting, playing out the drag as it stormed and thrashed out of the water. Excitement wasn't in it, this was a serious fish.

As if on cue, lightning flashed through the thunderheads, right there, at the Basschaton.

Tight Lines,

LSP

Hippies Are Traitors And Thieves

A famous clergyman once said, "When I was in seminary, there were a lot of people there who were simply evading the draft, so they didn't have to fight in the Vietnam war." I replied, "Traitors." And that's the way it is with hippies.

You see them hanging out in a park, maybe strumming a  guitar or eating some yummy fried tofu, and you think, "Hunh, look at that freakish looking deadbeat." Unpleasant, but so what, harmless. I mean to say, what's the worst they can do, hassle you to buy some beads? Yeah. Think again.

The same crew of goof-off clowns that wouldn't fight the commies who ruthlessly killed millions of people, eclipsing the abhorrent Nazis, are now living high on the hog of local and state government. They were traitors to western civilization then, back in the daze, and they're traitors still.

And oh, lest we forget. Remember that hippy who ripped off your stuff? Well, they're still at it, only this time they've ripped off entire states, like California, or Austin. And a couple of them want to steal the entire country.

Don't be fooled when they come at you panhandling, putting out sob stories about how unfortunate they are. All they're after is your cash and they'll take it by force if you let them, all in the name of their compassionate trans workers utopia.

The Choom Gang

Still, with all of the above in mind, and it's a lot, I still hope Bernie Sanders beats the sachs out of Hillary.

Never trust a hippy,

LSP

Archbishop of Canterbury in Detroit Phone Heist?

Detroit police have released photos of a larceny suspect from the crime plagued city’s west side, to help investigators find the man wanted in connection with the incident.

A camera showed the suspect, wearing a stonewashed buttoned shirt, black T-shirt, dark shorts and white gym-shoes, inside the Marathon filling station in the 16300 block of Fenkell  at about 7 p.m. May 6. He then proceeded to grab a woman's cell phone and race from the store into a parked maroon vehicle, shouting, "Consequences!"

Authorities described him as a middle-aged Caucasian male, 5-foot-10, 160 pounds, with a gray complexion, and a startling resemblance to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby.

Anyone who has any information is asked to call the Detroit Police Eighth Precinct Investigative Unit at (313) 596-5840 or Crime Stoppers of Michigan at 1-800-SPEAK-UP.

Justin Welby was last seen attempting to pawn church regalia on the Motor City's notorious 8 Mile Road.

LSP

Crazy Mental Insane Fishing

There I was at Lake Whitney, casting away without a whole lot of success, and my luck was mirrored by the multi-ethnic band of anglers that make up modern America's fishing community. Good people, no doubt about it, but no one was catching any fish.

Then Shad started schooling in the channel, about 30 yards off of the bank. You could see them flicking out of the water and swirling in ever increasing numbers. I waded out along a submerged ledge to get in the action and send my lure into the Shad in the hope of picking up feeding Bass. 

Random Widemouth

Not much was happening, just more and more of the jolly little Shad messing about in the water. Then it happened. A surging, leaping, exploding wall of Bass broke the water about 30 feet off to the left, blitzing the Shad.

Staring in wonderment at the Bassnado, I cast into the thickest part of the surge and down went the lure. No twitching, no scientific retrieve, just boom. Fish on. Two fish were on in fact, one on each treble, and that became apparent as I reeled them in to the ledge. I held them up for my wading wary Latino pals to see, "Ha! Topwater!" they thought that was pretty cool, "You're on them, man."

No sooner were the Hybrids back in the water to live to fight another day, than another wave of marauding Bass exploded up. Cast! And another catch. This went on for about 30 minutes, as Bass tsunami after tsunami burst on the merry little band of Shad. 

I tell you, it was crazy, mental, insane, fast fishing. Watching the ferocity of the Bass erupting out of the water was excitement enough. Catching them only added.

Then the sun was setting and it was over; time to head back to the compound.

God bless,

LSP