Hillary in the Woods. A Horror Story

“I just have a sense — ” said Ellen, putting on her gloves.

“You think so?” said Carol, adjusting her scarf.

Yes, it was hardly unlikely that Hillary would be wandering the woods, trails and leaf-blown hills of New England. Pacing the autmnal chill of Chappaqua, pondering the enormity of her defeat. Like a ghost from another time, repeating endlessly, "It was Mook, it was Podesta, it was Comey, it was Weiner! I have money, so much money, why? It was Mook, it was Podesta, it was Comey, it was Weiner!" 

Hillary, as if a lost soul, hiking the windswept trails of thwarted ambition into the cold New England fall that leads inevitably to winter and ice. That's when we saw her. Ellen had been walking her chocolate lab, Huma, in crisis over the results of the disastrous election and saying to no one but the nearby frozen stream and herself, "I see her, I see her" when she appeared. In the flesh, coming around a bend.

"Here's Hillary with her poodle and the agents," said Ellen, and then we were together, and she said, "What happened?" And Hillary replied, "I don’t know. I have no idea." Ellen couldn't help herself, "I really admire you. You look great. You’re wonderful" and stood there with arms wide open and she's not even a hugger but gave her this big hug. Ellen loved the failed Candidate's beautiful sweater. Hillary asked the dog’s name.

'

She's "Huma," and then it happened. Hillary clawed at us like an enraged beast, snarling and tearing with ragged nails. It was like Salem, only worse, it was real. All too real.

In a frenzy of frustrated rage, Hillary attacked, in a shrieking frenzy, her sweater flaked with foam and dirt. We fought back as best we could, there on the lonely New England trail, until suddenly, as in a dream, the monster was gone.

"I just have a sense —" said Ellen, putting on her gloves, flexing the bloodstained but soft as silk Hermes leather. "You think so?" said Carol, adjusting her scarf. "Was it a dream, a terrible dream?" said the Chippaqua maven to the leafless trees and the wind, pausing to tug minutely on understated Chanel, "Ask Huma."

Huma, ever faithful, stood panting as leaves fell from the harsh grey sky, gore dripping from once white teeth. Teeth that had seen so many victories and lately, mind-numbing defeat. 

"Good dog," patted Ellen, "Maybe it won't come back."

"We hope so," muttered Carol, as she climbed her way up the forest path.

END

LSP

What is Texas?

What's it like, living in a rural farming community in Texas, where not having a pick up truck marks you as weirdly eccentric. I went for a walk to find out.

Irish Texas

Apparently it's about Ireland, which is why the local filling station's called Shamrock, or is it? The Shamrock may be Irish but it sure sells a lot of Mexican food. It's also run by Nepalese; I know this because I've asked them and we talk about the Gurkhas. Sometimes they salute me, Brit style, which is appropriate, if weird.

Dog Texas

I pondered that as I made my way back to the Compound with Blue Congressman. Why would a family from Nepal end up running a pick 'n steal in rural Texas, selling Mexican food in an Irish filling station. For that matter, why is there a Mongolian "buffet" in the town, run by real Mongolians as opposed to Mexicans? (don't eat there...) Why are people from the farthest reaches of the world coming to the Lone Star State?

Well, the answer's obvious. Because Texas is awesome.

TEXIT,

LSP

Detroit, More Corrupt Than Zimbabwe

Remember the pathetic Clinton campaign to win the election through Shill Stein? Via ZeroHedge:

"Today, we learn from the Detroit News, to our "complete surprise," that the "voting irregularity" rabbit hole in Detroit is a bit deeper than initially thought. According to a memo penned by Wayne County election officials, 95 of the 662 precincts in Wayne County waited several days before delivering their poll books to canvassers and 5 of those poll books are still 'missing' even today.+

Detroit People Picking Their Way Through The Trash

Go figure. You can read the whole sordid tale of Democrat venality, corruption and malfeasance here.

It's Coming Back, Man

Who knows, maybe Trump will bring manufacturing back to the once famous automotive capital of the world. 

On the other hand, maybe it'd be better to build a wall. Around. The. Ghetto.

Your call,

LSP

The Russians Did It! Or, The Stupidest Guff You Ever Heard in Your Life

The Democrats can't seem to get over the fact that the worst candidate they ever ran for President in history since Julius Streicher  the highly qualified, competent, experienced and polished Hillary Clinton didn't win the election.

There it was, drip, drip, drip, a daily diet of DNC inner-circle emails, damning the Democratic Party rulers for an unsavory, scheming, bi-coastal millionaire socialist elitocracy that didn't give a damn about anything other than power. Those emails, Hillary just couldn't get away from them. 

Then out popped the Weiner days before the election, and the FBI had to do something. They still are, in fact. Well, it didn't look good and the country noticed; sorry, Hillary, we're not voting for you, you're too freakishly deceitful and corrupt. 

And you have this terrible voice, and you're sick, and John Podesta worships Satan. And by the way, you and your globalist millionaire socialist pals have given all our jobs to Asia.

So she  lost but it wasn't her fault, it couldn't be, she's so awesome! And the scapegoat factory went into overdrive. Who to choose? Putin, of course, the nationalist nemesis, who may be a millionaire but he's not a socialist player in the mega rich New World Order elitocracy. It's his fault. Boom. Russian hackers did it, they stole the election from the most brilliantly qualified candidate ever.

If you believe that, you're even stupider than you look. Go on, ask Keith Olberman.

Sorry Libs. You misread America and you lost, you lost hard.

Gun Rights,

LSP

Night Patrol

It being #TrumpsAmerica, it only seemed right to walk off big steaks and go on patrol. That's right, night patrol, with Blue Combat Team. (BCT)

Watch My Tracer!

There weren't any enemies, luckily for them, but there were lots of lights. Good looking neighborhood; not so long ago it was ghetto. That's changed. Watch out for sticker shock, new arrivals.

We RV'd at a wine store, thanks, gentrification, and bought some claret. Good price and it makes a change, being from France and all. Then back to base.

Less Hood, More Vinters

The dollar stores, tattoo parlors and used tire shops have turned into a restaurant, "Bistro," thank you very much, a bookbinder and a children's shop. I'd be surprised if you could come out of the children's shop without paying less than a set of All Terrains.

Light it Up

Price aside, it's a good development. Less ghetto please, more safe, pleasant neighborhoods to walk about in.

A Typical Druid

Was I armed? That's a secret.

Glocks Forever,

LSP

LL Comes To Town

I was banging on my nightvision monocular in a vain attempt to speak truth to power when the phone buzzed. Hunh, an email, from LL; I decrypted it. "Hey, LSP, let's meet up for dinner in Dallas. I'll be there on business."

A little later we were getting down to steak and heart attack potatoes, somewhere in Dallas. Steak is plentiful in Trump's America and it seemed right to take advantage of that, which we did, while catching up on business.

LL

"So what happened to the drones?"

"Well, they crashed, the drones crashed and if they want my help they'll have to pay."

"Payment is key."

"Right, and this new project looks promising. Things are better now since the election, unless you're Hillary with $7 million dollars worth of unneeded fireworks sitting on a barge and a trashed Victory Suit."

"Really, they were drunk on hubris."

A Typical White Wolf

Conversation moved on to the White Wolf Mine, the site of LL's future mountain redoubt. A safe space, if you like, far away from the insanity of the metrosprawl. I suggested that the fortress have a dry room for all the ammunition and, sure enough, an armory and ammo bunker are built into the plans. I'm pressing for a tower, too, but all good things in time.

It's Starting to Look a Lot Like Kwanzaa!

Speaking of which, I searched high and low for a Kwanzaa book to give in return for steak, but had to make do with Kipling. Next time.

Just a Couple of Druids

Thanks, LL, for a great meal. Good luck with Big Blue, A&M and the latest project. Build that Compound!

LSP

Melania Mondays!

We think you'll agree that it's never too late for Melania Mondays! which is why we're bringing you this update on the life of America's glamorous and attractive First Lady on Tuesday.

Melania's fiercely protective of her family, ask Rosie O'Donnell, and won't take personal insults lying down, either. That's why she's gone to court against Webster Tarpley and the Daily Mail.

Tarpster, who is an elderly Maryland blogger, and the Daily Mail online, which is a kind of news outlet, insulted Melania, accusing her of being an "escort." So Melania's suing them to the tune of $150 million.

Message to market? Don't be rude to Melania. 

Your Friend,

LSP

So waddya do, so-called 'LSP', when you're not hanging with Putin on Snapchat, Lavrov on Instagram and Mad Dog Mattis on Twitter. Cleaning Glocks, ARs? Yeah, sure, all of that, but mostly I'm about tree Wrangling.

#MAGA

That means going to Home Depot, in the evil metrospawl, picking out a tree, putting the beast in the rig and driving it home.

#TrumpsAmerica

Then put it in the stand, have a glass of sherry and ponder the iniquity of the world. Next step, get some lights on the tree and consider the popular grassroots campaign to take Hagia Sophia back from the Turk.

Win The Firefight

Moment of glory over, hang some decs on the tree; clip-on birds are important. Stand back and look for fake news, cover the holes in the story with ornaments and consider it a job well done.

Regroup

In between the action, put lights up outside. And that, readers, is the story of that. 

Clip-on Birds Are key

Make America Great Again.

God bless,

LSP

The Vatican Goes Green!

Pope Francis' Vatican has issued tough new directives requiring priests and seminarians to go green and take the "emerging planetary crisis" seriously by having an "ecological conversion."

Rome's eco-directive, called "The Gift of the Priestly Formation," goes on to state that “it will be necessary for future priests to be highly sensitive to this theme and, through the requisite Magisterial and theological guidance, help to acknowledge the appeal, immensity and urgency of the challenge we face.”

Typical Global Warming

Here at the Compound we take the urgency of the War on Weather very seriously indeed. That's why we favor the workmanlike Glock 21 and its 13 rounds of .45 ACP stopping power, capable of unnerving accuracy in the most adverse weather conditions.

A Glock and a Spyrderco in the War on Weather

Some prefer the mighty .357 Magnum, but here's a thought.When the emerging planetary crisis has taken 6 rounds and you have to reload, the Glock 21's still firing.

Lead downrange, in the War on Weather.

LSP

Hillary in the Bunker

Not that immature high spirits rule the Compound but... 

HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA.

LSP

Geraldo, Shameless Goon

Who is Geraldo Rivera?

A Weinergate Loser?

A selfie?

Maybe just a stooge?

Or a millionaire socialist goon.

You, the reader, be the judge.

LSP

Advent Poetry, Innit

One of the Team took time off from cleaning his FNFAL to send this in; pay attention, heathen:

Coming with the shepherds to this mystical crèche, joining Mary and Joseph in holy meditation, and seeing this child in the straw – what do we see? St. Maximus the Confessor said that we see the holy child playing at the boundary of earth and heaven, of infinity and finitude. Standing at the crèche, seeing “this thing that has happened”, we see God’s victory, and our salvation, what the devil and the rulers of this world’s present darkness could never have expected – the infinite having become a finite fact – the foolishness and weakness of the eternal God, dwelling beyond the limit of grammar but having become intelligible; dwelling beyond the building blocks of logic, language, and math, but now having become a discreet reality, wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.

In his great poem Ash Wednesday, T.S. Eliot wrote:

"If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
the world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word."

And the speaker in the poem asks “Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound?” And he concludes: “Not here, there is not enough silence…” and adds, “No place of grace for those who avoid the face / No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny / the voice.”

___________________________________

CS Lewis hated TSE. Whatever, I like everything about that.

God bless,

LSP