Archbishop of Canterbury Goes Gender Neutral Christ Still King

By now all the world knows that Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, doesn't think God is male or female.

Welby, who's popularly known as Justsin, dropped this theological bombshell at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, stating, “God is not a father in exactly the same way as a human being is a father. God is not male or female. God is not definable."

Good heavens, there was everyone thinking the necessary Being of the Deity was just a scary old bloke in the sky with a beard. Now we know, thanks to Justsin, that God's a bit more than that and we can only speak of the Creator by analogy.

We know where Justsin's earthshaking logic leads. God's a perfect spirit, beyond gender so, drum roll... we should have wimmin priests and bishops, trans education in church schools, and get rid of all those pesky male personal pronouns invented by the patriarchy to keep the people down.

Let's go further, in the bold spirit of boundary breaking Justsinian theological inquiry. 

God's neither male nor female, obviously, so we deploy gendered language to describe the divinity as a kind of construct. And what's human gender but an invention, a construct? Which means that hybrid no-sex transsexuals reflect the reality of God better than anyone else. So make them bishops.

The problem with this, apart from the fact that it's completely wrong, is that some analogies are better than others and that the ones we use, as Christians, are definitively revealed in the Person of Christ, who was notoriously a Man and taught us to pray to God as Father. Geoffery Kirk, at Ignatius, makes the point and you can read it here.

But feel free to break with revelation in favor of the spirit of the age, disregarding the truth given to us by the Word made Flesh. Go right ahead, disobey your Sovereign King and see where it gets you. 

Just don't be surprised if you wake up to find a demon gnawing on your shinbone.

Viva El Cristo Rey,

LSP

God Save The Tzar

"Monarchism is gay and weird, Colonel," said one of the team. I considered, the man had a point but not enough of one. Human governance must reflect the heavenly and that's not parliamentary, thank God.

With this in mind, enjoy the above infovid and consider, why are the Western atheist powers intent on destroying Russia?

Surely not because it's building 1000 churches per year.

Yours,

LSP

Black Friday Frenzy!

Black Friday. Here we are at one of the pyramid peak celebrations of the old lie. Viz. Buying more molded plastic and associated things will make you happy, fulfilled and rich. Being a citizen journalist, I went to Walmart to cover the story.

Mallbrawls, scrapping over flatscreens, getting into it over rollovers? No. You could've shot a canon down the aisles of cut price mammon and not hit a soul.

I walked away, as a committed Monarchist, with some eggs, carrots, bullets, a bottle of wine and pie crust pastry. It was easy, no lines.

Why the absence, had a neutron bomb gone off, were people too full to move or were they staying at home in a grass roots movement to boycott the big corp rainbow in favour of a return to the governance of Christendom?

On that theme, well done Russia, you're the one that got away from beneath the talons of the nihilist beast.

Stand.

LSP 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving! And you'll forgive the team for going down a beef route as opposed to turkey. A small standing rib and thank you very much. It's resting now, as the Yorkshire Pudding gets fired up.  

Seeing as there's a break in the proceedings, here's some martial music to stir the spirit. To the beat of the drum.

God bless you all and have a great time with family and friends.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Just Strolling

There was a stillness in the air as the sun rose above this small redoubt on the Texan Front. That's because everyone was sensibly in bed before braving the Thanksgiving Day Supermarket Maelstrom. I gazed at the frost, had a cup of hot tea, said Morning Prayer and took Blue Eschaton for a walk.

We went by a small but patriotic compound which seems to be in a constant state of yard sale. You know the thing, broken records, a bent bicycle wheel, soggy clothes in a wet cardboard box, a few old rusty spoons, a doorless fridge, whatever. A bit like the Tramp Market under the London's Westway in the early 1990s.

"Must get this crew into church," I thought to myself as I passed Jose's new house. Jose's bought some wooden fencing to mark the boundary between his compound and the yard sale scrappers' but he hasn't put it up yet.

The Pick 'n Steal was empty, apart from the Owl idol, and I poured some coffee into a Yeti 20 Ounce Tumbler, guaranteed to keep your drink hot or cold, no matter what kind of beating you give it. I'm inclined to doubt Yeti's marketing but haven't put it to the test, stay tuned.

Coffee poured into the purportedly indestructible Yeti, I strolled across the way to the Disciples Christian Church, at least I think that's what it is but it's hard to remember. They're a small crew but friendly, good luck to 'em.

We stopped up behind the temple and Blue got to nose about while I took a few sips of Yeti insulated coffee. Yes, thanks to Yeti's special system the coffee was still hot even though the Tumbler hadn't taken a beating, well done. 

I looked around while Blue Appalling did unmentionable things and took in the quiet Texan street scene. This part's well put together and a few young families make the effort to make it nice, in pleasant contrast to the crackheads, fools and wastrels that live down the block.

We moved on, patrolling beneath the locust trees, keeping an eye out for malfeasant skulduggery from the ne'er-do-well rent shacks on the left. But they were fast asleep and Blue Attack missed his chance at glory.

And there it was, the Compound, flags waving, chairs gleaming and all was well. The day moved on from there, much of it on the porch, but that's a different story. 

So there it is, another morning's worth of country life in Texas.

Quas Primas,

LSP

States Rights

Do you remember reading Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and thinking how awesome it was? Such beautiful thoughts expressed so beautifully. But consider this, H.L. Mencken via Borepatch. It's long for this kebob stand of a mind blog but read on:

The Gettysburg speech is at once the shortest and the most famous oration in American history. Put beside it, all the whoopings of the Websters, Sumners and Everetts seem gaudy and silly. It is eloquence brought to a pellucid and almost child-like perfection—the highest emotion reduced to one graceful and irresistible gesture. Nothing else precisely like it is to be found in the whole range of oratory. Lincoln himself never even remotely approached it. It is genuinely stupendous. 

But let us not forget that it is oratory, not logic; beauty, not sense. Think of the argument in it! Put it into the cold words of everyday! The doctrine is simply this: that the Union soldiers who died at Gettysburg sacrificed their lives to the cause of self-determination — “that government of the people, by the people, for the people,” should not perish from the earth. It is difficult to imagine anything more untrue. The Union soldiers in that battle actually fought against self-determination; it was the Confederates who fought for the right of their people to govern themselves. 

What was the practical effect of the battle of Gettysburg? What else than the destruction of the old sovereignty of the States, i. e., of the people of the States? The Confederates went into battle an absolutely free people; they came out with their freedom subject to the supervision and vote of the rest of the country—and for nearly twenty years that vote was so effective that they enjoyed scarcely any freedom at all. Am I the first American to note the fundamental nonsensicality of the Gettysburg address? If so, I plead my aesthetic joy in it in amelioration of the sacrilege.

“that government of the people, by the people, for the people,” should not perish from the earth. It is difficult to imagine anything more untrue. The Union soldiers in that battle actually fought against self-determination; it was the Confederates who fought for the right of their people to govern themselves. 

Reflect on that and ask yourself, when Leviathan tears down another statue, how free are you. Or, if you'd rather, make like a pathetic lib Sumner sheep and bleat freedom, no slavery! Well done, but don't support its antithesis.

All for the Cause,

LSP

Celine Dion Goes Devil Witch

When you think "Celine Dion," if you ever do, you probably don't think satanic devil witch but maybe you should. 

The famous popstar's launched a line of gender neutral kid's clothes, NuNuNu packaged as Celinununu, because children obviously need to be freed from oppressive binary gender stereotypes.

Here's a few snapshots from Celinununu's promovid.

The singer walks into a maternity ward and doesn't like what she sees, boys and girls separated according to biological gender. Poor infants! So she changes this soul crushing injustice by blowing magic dust around and makes everything better. See for yourself.

Now boys and girls are gone, they're plus signs in a colorless black and white world because that's so liberating. And not just for the kids, look at all the black demons sitting up in the cribs. They've been freed from the Pit to play with the babies. Here's one, look how happy it is.

This baby's wearing a black skull beanie because putting death symbols on your infants is entirely appropriate when they're genderless drones of the New Order.

But don't forget this isn't really Celine's work, she's just endorsing NuNuNu, which has this totally unsuggestive photo on its web site. And here's another one, expressing the innocent joy of childhood.

In case you're wondering, NuNuNu's Instagram account's pretty instructive too and not even remotely satanic.

Hollywood and Devil Witch Celine Dion love NuNuNu, a clothing line which obviously loves children. 

OUT DEMONS OUT,

LSP

Moving Day

"Can I ask you a favor?" said the man, standing on the porch in the brilliance of freshly restored metal chairs, gleaming like a Guards barracks ready for inspection. "Sure," I replied, quickly calculating cash flow, "What's the deal?"

The deal was this, to help my friend move from his bucolic rural retreat into the county seat grandeur of this thriving farming community. 

So, unlike the wicked priest in the parable of the Good Samaritan, I stepped up to the plate and off we went. "Just a bed, a refrigerator and a microwave, yessir," that's all it'd be. It wasn't, of course, but that was alright, we made the haul in two trips.

Move

During a lull in the firefight, I stepped off to inspect the treeline and stood still, listening. You know what it's like, first a kind of null then hearing sharpens, senses begin to live again and the countryside comes alive. Right at that point I heard a slight rustle through the brush and out padded a grey fox.

He didn't see me at first, just picked his way with a doggish grin along the game trail. The occasional shot echoed out in the distance and I wondered at the fox; gunfire didn't faze him. He stopped, as if on cue, while someone's rifle sounded off in search of deer.

A Typical Gray Fox

I looked at the fox and the fox looked at me with his comical face, his amazingly full tail gently brushing away. Then he trotted off in search of the next adventure and I finished off the move. 

Part of that meant bagging a weirdly large amount of lights that'd been strung around the small compound. I told the story of the fox and got a spirited reply, explaining the light show.

Cat!

"Yes! Seen grey fox and red fox, bobcat, coyote, all kinds. There's a black cougar, yes there is. These lights here see him off. Don't want that puppy, nossir! Bag that extension cord. Cost me 68 dollars. Not leavin' that behind for no black cougar."

We left, truck loaded down with half of a man's worldly possessions. Not much when you think of it, two short-bed, tailgate-down loads to account for a life. By worldly standards a failure but listen up.

Ford

"No luggage racks on the top of a hearse" and, in the Gospel, "It's harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle."

Comfort one another with these words.

LSP

When The Man Comes Around, Apocalypse

Listen up, you heathen.

God bless and thanks, LL, for the reminder.

LSP

Apocalypse!

Apoclypse, that was today's Gospel from Mark 13, the famous mini apocalypse or condensed version of the final wrap we see in the Revelation to St. John the Divine. It's powerful.

Wars and rumours of wars, earthquakes and famine, persecution mounting to a crescendo in the great tribulation, the abomination of desolation in the Temple. 

Antichrist with supernatural, diabolic power to deceive the very elect, the light of the sun and moon darkened and at the climax of the battle, the Son of Man returning as He left, in clouds of glory; all within "this generation." And we have to ask, has any of this been fulfilled and will it be? The answer is yes, and yes.

Jerusalem and its temple were utterly destroyed by Titus and Vespasian in 70 AD, within the generation of Christ's prophecy. And what are the crown of thorns, scourging, mocking, betrayal and crucifixion but the desecration of the temple of Christ's body?

The ultimate sacrilege, Daniel's abomination of desolation waged against the Messiah who rose from the dead to lead His elect through tribulation to the restoration of Israel in His Mystical Body, the Church.

So yes, the prophecy has been fulfilled, partially, but this points towards a greater fulfillment. The sack of Jerusalem and Christ's Passion are moments or gears in the apocalyptic clock which was set in motion at the moment of the Incarnation.

A clock that's racing to its end in the final battle, the apex of the conflict between good and evil. We know the result, victory's assured, but beware the Dragon as its chains are unloosed and the Church, like ore in the fire, is refined to precious metal through tribulation.

Watch, pray and stand fast against the rising tide of evil which would destroy all that's good, true and holy. 

Sermon over, as you were,

LSP

Behold The Face Of Western Civ!

Here we see Western Civilization giving a lovely rainbow gift to his precious spirit animal. Let's get a close up of Civ's smiling face.

Look how happy he is, handing an adorable green bowed rainbow to his favorite animal, the pink horned unicorn!

Beautiful, isn't it. And don't even think of these heartwarming photos as being some kind of metaphor for the collapse of faith, morals and sanity in what used to be called Christendom. No, don't do that, it'd be hatecrime and then you'd have to lose your job and go to jail.

Over the Rainbow,

LSP

The Restoration

There they are, three family heirlooms sitting in the back yard of your compound, rusting. And you look at the metal chairs which belonged to your Great Great Grandmother and think, it's high time these relics of a better age were brought back to life, restored.

Walmart

The next thing you know you're at Walmart, getting a haircut, taking care of business at the 1st Inconvenience Bank and buying sandpaper, primer and white enamel Rustoleum spray paint. Then what?

Sanded

Sand the chairs. I used 100 grit paper and a couple of sanding sponges, and wish I'd bought more; they're efficient. When the grit's gone, deploy them as blocks and that works too.

The Watcher

A hour or so later congratulate yourself, well done, you've finished sanding. Stand back and behold the improvement, a promise of things to come.

Apocalyptic reverie over, wash the beasts down with some kind of spirit and spray. Three coats took around two cans per chair and I think they looked sharp, but the third chair needed special treatment. 

Filthy

That's because it'd managed to get itself especially filthy and had to be cleaned before sanding. An old abrasive kitchen sponge did the trick and neatly removed flaking paint to boot. Result.

Clean

Chair #3 gets a sanding and spray tomorrow. In the meanwhile, #1 and #2 rest on the porch, looking good and ready for action. They'll be joined by a swing and #3 as time moves inexorably on towards its end.

Blue Eschaton

We'll watch that play out, on the porch.

God bless,

LSP