Wales, This One's For You

Team LSP is pleased to present our Welsh readership with the Cardiff dance anthem classic, Something Good, by the Utah Saints. Here at the Compound we hope that you'll join our grassroots campaign for the re-release of this justifiably famous hit single.

Drawings of Welsh UFOs

In related news, Wales has seen a surge in UFO activity, with 476 sightings reported from January, 2015, to February this year. While some of the mysterious craft are of no known origin, others appear to be the high-flying Welsh Archbishop, Barry Morgan.

Barry Morgan Flying Above the Black Mountains

"I went for a walk in Talgarth, Mid Wales," stated one witness, "To the left of the mountain was a bright circular object rising diagonally up into the sky. It wasn’t a glider and it wasn’t the RAF jet which went over moments later. When I zoomed in [on the object] I saw that it was Barry Morgan. I just sat there wondering."

Artist's Impression of a UFO

Barry Morgan was seen flying above the Bristol Channel earlier this month, and eye-witnesses claim to have seen the Archbishop drifting above Borth golf club.

Barry is famous for saying that gay marriage is biblical. He will retire in 2017.

Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau,

LSP

A Curious Invitation

Thanks to our hardworking London Bureau, Team LSP is able to present you with a flyer to a Halloween Ball at the Coronet Theatre.

The event's themed on the seven Deadly Sins, with performances from the Cenobites, several Voodoo celebrities and many more. The front of the event's flyer even features a trans demon, which you can see here.

Deadly or mortal sin leads to the privation, or cancelling out, of sanctifying grace, which in turn leads to Hell, where Satan and his apostate angels live.

Perhaps you don't believe in that, maybe for you it's all a right larf.

Until you wake up and there's a demon gnawing on your elbow. 

You have been warned.

LSP

The Sunday Sermon, You Have to Trust us!

To be read aloud from all pulpits:

A Timeline of Mistrust via the excellent Rod Dreher:

Neoconservative intellectuals, 2003: We must immediately depose Hussein’s Baathist regime. We’re pretty sure they have been stockpiling weapons of mass destruction. We will discover the evidence of this after invading. Also, the war will mostly pay for itself when we install an oil-rich West-friendly democratic regime.

Neoconservative inellectuals, 2004: OK, no sign of the WMDs. But as long as we’re here, let’s sink half a trillion of your dollars into creating that democratic state, which we’re sure will pay off in the long run and totally not collapse back into perpetual civil war with Islamic radicals. Also, anyone who disagrees with this is an unpatriotic traitor.

Investment banks, 2006: Please keep interest rates permanently low, so we can leverage ourselves at ridiculous ratios using borrowed money and hedge our investments in ways that will never ever go wrong.
Investment banks, 2008: Whoops! Please cough up hundreds of billions of public dollars immediately to keep the financial world from descending into anarchy. Also, we’ll need those interest rates to stay low forever, ideally low enough to double corporate profits as a percentage of GDP and allow us to go back to being even more filthy rich than we were before. By the way, we still expect our alums to have major roles in the new Obama cabinet. Thanks!

Social liberals, 2004: Why do you keep passing these ridiculous ballot initiatives? No one is proposing national gay marriage, you are just doing this to be spiteful. America is Jesusland on the brink of total theocracy, and we just want enough principled federalism to give a few deep-blue states the freedom to dissent from your religious tyrrany.

Social liberals, 2012: Welcome to the wrong side of history. Please comply with our non-negotiable request to reject several millennia of your religious traditions and adopt some views about sexual morality that we literally didn’t embrace until five minutes ago. Should you fail to comply, you will be permanently barred from all participation in public life. Oh yeah, since these issues are far to important to be trusted to the voting whims of cretins like you, we’ve just invalidated all those ballot initiatives you passed.

The non-Fox media, 2012: Romney may look innocent and guileless, but he is actually a vile racist who hates the poor, wants to stuff women into binders, and loves torturing dogs.

Every urban elite, 2014: Stop whining about your lost jobs that were outsourced to Asia. They are never coming back, plus they are helping important people like us get stupidly rich by lowering our labor costs. Instead, abandon the dying towns where your last six generations of ancestors have lived, move to big cities where your accumulated life savings will get you the downpayment on a two-bedroom apartment, move your lazy stay-at-home moms into the workforce, and shoulder tens of thousands of dollars in debt to get a proper STEM education. We’re pretty sure these new high-skill jobs will be totally immune to replacement by foreign tech workers from rapidly modernizing countries like China and India (or automation). What are the odds of that happening to multiple sectors of the same economy within a century, right?

All the above groups, 2016: Have you taken leave of your sanity? Why would you trust an obvious charlatan with a third-grade vocabulary rather than sensible centrists like us? He’s an extinction-level event. All of these attacks on neoconservatives, the corporate media, social liberals, and investment bankers are just Hitler-ish dog whistling with a horrifying subtext. You have to trust us, this is important. You have to trust us!

Why don’t you trust us?

Boom.

LSP

Christa - Craven Prophets of a False God

Back in 1984, a bronze sculpture of a crucified female Christ, called Christa, was thought inappropriate for New York's Episcopal Cathedral of St. John the Divine.

The then Suffragan Bishop of New York, Walter Dennis, claimed that Christa was "theologically and historically indefensible" and the controversial bronze was removed from the cathedral. It upset too many people, back in 1984.

Christa

Now Christa's back up again, with the engaging bronze hanging above the altar of the Chapel of St. Savior in the Morningside cathedral. It seems opinion, like time itself, has moved on. Here's what the current Bishop of New York, Andrew Dietsche, has to say, in the New York Times, no less:

In an evolving, growing, learning church, we may be ready to see ‘Christa’ not only as a work of art but as an object of devotion, over our altar, with all of the challenges that may come with that for many visitors to the cathedral, or indeed, perhaps for all of us.

With all the challenges? How about this one, Jesus wasn't a woman. So who and what are you worshiping in that chapel, Dietsche? Hint, it's not Christ; in fact, it's not anyone at all. There never was a Christa who died on the Cross for the redemption of mankind, like it or leave it, and all the gender advocacy narrative of the Upper West Side can't create one.

Cathedral of St. John the Divine

But it can create an idolatrous blasphemy above an altar in what was once a Christian cathedral. Times have most certainly changed, but maybe not for the better.

As Jeff Walton reports for Juicy Ecumenism and the IRD, the Episcopal Diocese of New York has declined rather sharply over the last decade:

Between 2005 and 2015, the Episcopal Diocese of New York declined from 64,027 members to 53,353 members, a loss of 10,674 members (-17%). During the same time period, average Sunday attendance dropped from 21,723 in 2005 to 16,878 in 2015, a loss of 4,845 attendees (-22%). Baptisms in the diocese declined from 1,612 in 2005 to 904 in 2015 (-56%) and marriages performed decreased from 579 in 2005 to 290 in 2015 (-50%).

A 56% decrease in Baptisms and a 22% fall-off in worshiping attendance?

Go figure. Maybe Christa will help get those numbers back up again. 

Don't hold your breath.

LSP

Rodeo!

It was worth risking life on the corridor of fame that is I35 to go to the rodeo in Waco. That's because the PRCA ProRodeo finals are sheer adrenaline up excitement, and a good humored get together to boot. 

A ringside seat in the boxes made it even better, right up close to the action, and that had its moments. Bang, out of the gate comes a pounding, bucking, ferocious bull. Rider, stay on that bull! And when you're thrown, don't get trampled to death by the hooves of the beast. No kidding.

Bronc, barrel, just look at those girls fly!, and bull riding are all high octane, but  don't scorn team roping and steer wrestling. Go on, jump off a running horse and wrestle a steer to the ground, I dare you. Regardless, watching the horsemanship and the outstanding quality and spirit of the animals alone is an event in itself, at least for me.

All this to say nothing of muttin bustin (sheep riding) and general carry on for the kids, and the way the event kicks off, with prayer, a flag ride, and the Star Spangled Banner. Guess what, no one keeps their hat on in protest.

You might mock all this if you're an NWO stooge, or a comsymp fool who's so far up the New York Times that you can't separate truth from fiction. Or you can see it for what it is, good, wholesome, down-home, straight up enjoyment with no side.

So thanks, J&B. A great night was had by all.

God bless,

LSP

It's Dark and Stormy, on the Edge of Time

Driving on the Edge, on the Edge of Time

Lightning, rain, darkness. Just another typical day on the edge of time, except for thunder, which was weirdly missing. One cup of hot tea later and the power went down, which meant shaving by flashlight before climbing into a storm-tossed rig to the eerie cries of terrified peacocks and the forlorn howling of Blue Raskolnikov. 

The Wire

Thirty minutes of apocalyptic driving later I reached my objective, the Cowboy Church's men's prayer breakfast. And I was glad I went, because the cowboys are alright and you always, in my experience, get a good "message." This morning's was on forgiveness; don't hold bitterness, anger and resentment in your heart or it'll chew you up and spit you out. The Gospel's pretty emphatic on that theme.

A Typical Day in Wales

It was light by the time breakfast was over, and I looked out across the wire at rain-soaked Texas. It was like Wales, in August.

Be safe,

LSP

I Was Born to Have Adventure

I know what you're like, international readership of this popular mind-blog. There you are, riding big boats and fishing for shark off the flats of Bermuda. But don't scorn me for being a humble bank fisherman on Lake Whitney.

Little Fella

Speaking of which, the lake was up and restless this evening after Mass, with waves crashing against the limestone shore like breakers in the North Sea, or Aberystwyth pier. I didn't have a boat so I cast off from the limestone, with a worm. Who knew what'd turn up? Maybe nothing, that's the way I felt.

Yes Indeed

Wrong. Bass turned up, with the best of four plowing into my hook like Trump on Twitter after midnight. I didn't even have a boat.

Head Home, Fool

Here's the thing. You can sit or stand looking at the news in slack-jawed consternation, or you can get out and catch some fish. 

Be wise, readers, and chose the better option.

LSP

War Drums

Have you noticed how every time Wikileaks dumps a thousand or so email revelations on Team Clinton, and it's daily, the war drums pound louder?

Like, how dare they expose us for being corrupt pay-to-play Saudi Arabian proxies. Even Great Britain's fabled RAF (who knew there still was one) is getting in on the act, with pilots being given the green light to shoot down Russian planes. And on, and on.

Senator Kerry

Really? We're getting ready to go to war with Russia in order to protect our allies Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the UAE, ISIS and Al Queda? So that Candidate Hillzebub Clinton can preside in satanic majesty over a radioactive wasteland?

Recall the flies. The spirits of the pit do not think as the living.

Hillzebub! Hillzebub! War! War! War! Hillzebub! Hillzebub!

I thought we'd reached peak insanity a week or so ago. I was wrong. It's climbing.

LSP

Get Your Hair Cut, Hippy

It was a pretty regular morning in the hurley-burley, rough and tumble life of the Compound. Up around first light, sitting on the steps of the back deck, drinking hot tea and watching the grass grow. One perfect sunrise, except that it was cool and overcast, maybe about to rain, like England in May.

Peacock

A ragged peacock hen flew into the yard. It strutted and pecked, I sipped tea and pondered the next evolution. It wasn't complex.

ME 262 Going Down. Pilot, Get Out!

Say your prayers, walk the dog to the pick 'n steal (filling station), visit the sick, then get a haircut. Good plan. Clear, simple, achievable, and it was all going so well. Until the plan crashed and burned like an ME 262 on fire and spinning out of control.

Epic Fail

Wildcat Cuts was shut. I don't know why, neither, apparently, did they. "Shut till October 17" said the legend on the ghoul painted plate glass door. No reason given. Hunh. Veronica's, SE HABLA ESPANOL, was shut too. No excuse, just coz. So much for industry and service in this bucolic slice of what used to be a great nation. 

Now We're Talkin'

Then Quality Cutz came to the rescue. They were open, weirdly, and I strode in. "You do haircuts?" I asked and in case you think that's redundant, think again. "Sure we do, mon," said Alphonso. He was from Mexico and alright. For him, Quality Cutz was his home. I told him to "cut it short and don't carve anything weird into it."

Your Friend

He didn't, and I'll go back there again. Support local business; Lord knows, there's little of it left, and that's just the hair.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday! Pumpkin Carving

Bushcraft isn't about relying on Nanny State to do it all for you. No, it's about getting out in the bush and crafting it yourself.

In this short infovideo, Hickok45 shows us how it's done, Halloween style.

Here at the Compound we hope you find this short "how-to" film as useful as we do.

Change, adapt, survive.

LSP

In The Hall of The Turkey Grill

We were looking for hogs, somewhere in West Texas, in a Pinzgauer, eyes peeled and guns hot. Off to the left, slight movement, not pigs but turkey, three or four of them, a couple of hens and a tom. Out! sight on the birds. 

Quick, they're starting to fly. Crack, someone's got a shot off. Feathers drift in the near distance and we move forward to see if the bird was down. It was.

stand on a stool or something, LSP

Shot with a Winchester 70 30-06, of all things. Good work. Back at the ranch house we breasted the bird and that was that, it went into the freezer. Until last night.

The Turk found itself in a dutch oven, potatoes went into another oven and a Glock somehow made its way onto the mahogany. Did the Turk taste good?

Sure it did, and the firearm proved itself a stable home defender. You better believe no one crept in under the perimeter. And that was that.

Feast on,

LSP

Hillzebub

Do you remember the presidential debate on Sunday, in which Bronze Age chieftain, Donald Trump, squared off against Hillary Clinton? Sure you do and even the most ardent of Hillary haters had to admit that Candidate Clinton looked good.

The Spell Breaks

There she was, poised and polished by the arcana of makeup and wardrobe. Powerful magic indeed, until the flies landed.

flies do not rest upon the living

On her face, on her chest, in the air around her, flies. And mark this, flies don't rest upon the faces of the living.

Three Against One

Baalzebub, Lord of the Flies, is a demon, reputed to be one of the Princes of Hell. Perhaps its lesser ally, the dybbuk-driven presidential contender, has a name too.

I'll leave you with this:

The ghouls who recoil in horror at glimpsing this dream are moving to the edge of the pit, where they seek power from the abyss. But the abyss is remorseless and has no pity. It swallows whatever and whoever comes to it.

Your Friend,

LSP