Virginia Cryptids - The Scallywagster

The Commonwealth of Virginia has a long and storied past, not least as home to a mysterious cryptid Old Dominion locals call "Scallywagster."

As far back as the 1700s, Virginia residents claimed a giant  carpet bag carrying, blackfaced reptilian bird would appear in the sky, and swoop down to attack freedom, pets, game, livestock, adults and sometimes even children. 

Eyewitness descriptions of the Scallywagster resemble that of a Mountebankesaur; an enormous flying monster with an absurdly claimed wingspan of twenty-five to thirty feet, a long smirking beak, and revolting, leathery, sagging, reptilian neck skin. 

The Scallywagster has tentacles, bloombergs, and carries with it the pungent scent of corruption, degeneracy and death. According to witnesses, its shriek resembles a drunken loser at the Kentucky Derby.

Reports of the Scallywagster are ongoing. Virginians be vigilant, wise and safe.

Gun Rights,

LSP

Knaves Charlatans And Crooks

There's no shortage of candidates for this nation's prestigious KCC (Knaves Charlatans Crooks) awards, but here at the Compound we'll get the ball rolling.

A knave, a crook, and a charlatan

Maxine Waters scored high. Yes, the KCC runs strong in this one, ponder her multi-million dollar mansion and tried and true record of corruption. And guess what? It's socialism. Try not to throw up in disgust.

Knave, crook, charlatan, cuffed

Michael Avenatti, popularly known as "Creepy Porn Lawyer" for his stalwart defense of prostitute Stormy Daniels, gets an award too. Yet another Millionaire Socialist, CPL got himself arrested in court a couple of days ago and led off in cuffs. Basta.

Note regimental tie. What a charlatan, to say nothing of crooked knave.

Al Sharpton gets a look in too, just coz it's obvious, and so do all the Congresspersons who not only enrich themselves on the public dime but also use your tax money to pay for their sexual adventures. Don't say hidden congressional sex slush fund.

Rachel isn't wearing an ankle bracelet, unlike Lev Parnas

And let's not forget the lying, venal, corrupt, elite, degenerate, hypocritical MSM.  Well done, "Rachel," you get a sturdy KCC award and them some.

So there it is, for now. The list is big and this is just a small start, a beginning. Feel free to nominate your KCC and may the worst crook win the best prize.

Looking forward to your nominations,

LSP 

Traitors Mountebanks And Frauds

Here at the Compound we're making cornbread, sharpening kukris and handing out awards. That's right, the coveted Traitor, Mountebank and Fraud awards or TMF for short. And the first prize has to go to Nancy Pelosi and the impeachment crew. 

Well done, team, for doing your level best to make a mockery of our Constitution and polity. Let's see how that plays out at the polls in November.

Governor Ralph "Minstrel" Northam comes in a sturdy second. So much fraudulent treason committed by one, yes one fraud. Remarkable. Behold the traitorous, lying blackface of the Old Dominion's ruling party.

Then there's Meghan. She's off to Canada, which belongs to Kate, and pretends she's royalty. A mountebank, clearly, and a traitorous fraud to boot. Rumors of Prince Philip threatening to take a crop to the LA, D-List, semi-celeb before leaving Sandringham in a rage are just that, rumors.

The world's first trans doll comes in fourth place. Looks like a little girl then, "Oh dear Mommy, what have we here?" A fraud designed by mountebanks and you can fit in traitor where you will.

So that's our list, you may well have another, there's no "rule" and perhaps it'll change tomorrow when and if Betelguese goes supernova. Feel free to add or subtract from the above, and by the way, the cornbread was awesome -- no sugar, 2 eggs, 2tsp baking powder, buttermilk, only cornmeal. But more on this later.

Your Ally,

LSP

Virginia State Of Emergency

So what's the score? Governor Ralph "Minstrel" Northam's declared a "state of emergency" and banned guns from the state Capitol this Friday through Tuesday. He's afraid a Second Amendment demonstration on Monday's going to turn into an "armed insurrection."

Well now, it might just possibly become exactly that because Virginians who are already enraged at Minstrel's virtue signalling, Bloomberg paid-for gun grab aren't going to obey Governor Blackface Northam. 

No, they'll go to Richmond armed. And they'll do so because they believe a free citizenry is free to defend itself against tyranny. Not least from its own government.

2A justification aside, what does Minstrel hope to achieve by this posturing, is he trying to provoke a showdown? Possibly, "Just look at all those white supremacist Nazis, with guns! Good thing we've got the National Guard to shoot them all before some kind of goddam Richmond beer hall putsch!"

And that's just it. Since when are Virginian LE and the Guard going to fire on their brothers and sisters in defense of some fraudulant, MillSoc, Bloomberg pawn mountebank? I'd say never, I hope, and Minstrel has to know it.

So what's the score? I'd argue political theater and dangerous brinksmanship on Minstrel's part. He doubtless believes in gun control to the extent that he blackface believes in racial equality. What an utter fraud. 

The 2A crew are different, they really do believe and guess what? They know how to shoot. Poke that tiger at your peril. 

#VCDL forever,

LSP

First Fish Of The Year

As the morning's evolution drew to a close and sun shone through the mist like the warming hand of God, it seemed right to test the waters and fish. So I climbed in the rig and headed out to the dam in search of action, first time this year.

I wasn't expecting much, to be honest, it being deep Texas winter January and solidly off-season, so having the pier to myself wasn't unsurprising, pleasant though. Regardless, I cast off in search of fish, steeling myself for disappointment. As in "hey, it's really good to be outside in the clean air of the Brazos even if nothing bites" type of deal.

But no, they were on, and on and on and on. I stopped after three perch, three cats, two striper and one crappie. OK, they weren't huge but they weren't shabby either, especially the striper which put up a good fight.

So that was that, first catch of the year and it augurs well, I think, for 2020. Plenty of fish, Mini Mike B spends all his cash on a futile bid for power, hypersonic tech goes mainstream and 45 steams into the White House on a landslide of shattered liberal dreams.

Tight Lines and Full Disclosure,

LSP

Islamocrats 2020

And just like that, the Democrats go full Mullah. Unlike the Persians who are notoriously protesting and not walking all over our flag.

Well done 45 for pinning the hijab on the donkey!

Are these people trying to lose an election?

Kizmet,

LSP

Moaning Markle

Some call her a victim, a poor put upon person of color, driven from her adopted home by vile, hate-filled, brazen racism. Others call her a venal, narcissistic, gold digging, c list, millionaire socialist hypocrite.

That's as maybe. Popularly known as "Moaning Markle," Meghan's leaving Great Brexit Britain for Canada, where she and Harry plan to make their own fortune as well as being paid by the British taxpayer for doing precisely nothing.

Moaning Markle would like to move to LA but can't, because Trump, so Canada it is. Perhaps Moaner doesn't understand that Canada already belongs to Kate? But not to worry, when pounding the icy streets of Halifax looking for voice over work gets tiresome, there's always Sweden.

You can sign on to the popular grassroots movement Give Kate Canada here.

Cheers,

LSP

Our Town MAGA 2020

"The sun's gone down on my town." Respect to Miss Dement, but that's exactly what we're working to turn around, putting an end to the asset-stripping gutting of our country by a transnational crew of elite Illuminati sociopaths.

The message resonates, which is why 45's filling stadiums and Groper Biden isn't. Look out, Virginia.

Watch my tracer.

MAGA 2020,

LSP

The Baptism of Christ and Other Epiphanies

We celebrate the Baptism of Christ today and find an epiphany, God is a trinity of persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. "This is my beloved son," says the Father as Christ rises from the Jordan and the Spirit, like a dove, rests upon him. But what of the baptism?

Jesus, taking sinful humanity on himself descends into the waters only to rise again to the acclaim of the Father, and the heavens are opened to him and the humanity he has assumed. We will see this again as our Lord descends to the dead from Golgotha and rises from the tomb at Easter. So we find another epiphany, Jesus' baptism at the outset of his ministry describes its salvific action. 

No wonder, then, that the Spirit rests on him like the dove over the waters of creation or Noah's dove flying over the flood to dry land. Jesus is the Spirit anointed Messiah who recreates humanity through his passion, death and resurrection, the dry ground in whom we find entry to paradise.

All well and good, but the epiphanies weren't over. I got back to the Compound to find Christmas decorations being taken down and new decorations being put up. There they were, snowperson statues with owls on every table of the church hall. Gifte Shoppe snowperson centerpieces. But why, for what?

"I don't even like snowpersons," said the exhausted tablepiece decorator responsible for these wintry idols. "Why don't you shoot them then," I suggested, "Do you have a gun? No? Don't worry, I've got plenty, bullets too. You can borrow them." She declined, "But I like doing it, parson!" 

The snowpersons and their owls remain, as does the great mystery  and Feast of the Baptism of Jesus in the Jordan.

God bless,

LSP

Wake Of The Flood

Everyone's asking, did this pastoral Texan haven survive last night's sound and fury, did it survive the flood? Yes, by the grace of God it did. 

You could see the after effects of the storm this morning. Pecans and the broken debris of modern life lying in the gutter where they'd been swept by the floods. Want a weave or a styrofoam Whattaburger cup? Take your pick, there's plenty.

Regardless, POCs were scavenging the detritus as I walked Blue Eschaton to the Pick'n Steal. Good for them, big money in pecans. And that was that, we survived yet another raid by our Old Enemy, the Weather on the brave Republic of Texas.

I know, you're cautioning against false complacency. A battle won is not the same as a war won and that, all of you ten readers, is why we're prepared. 

Come and take it,

LSP

Virginia

I was moved by this, via Borepatch:

For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet, it not only hasn’t begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin ...

                                  William Faulkner, Intruder In The Dust

Let's hope; deputization in the Old Dominion.

#2A Sic Semper,

LSP

Crazy Storm

Texas is big and so is its weather. When it's hot it's really hot, like an oven. When it storms it really storms and that's what happened tonight. We were at the Four Seasons, no, not that one, this is a different place, the one next to Internet, Sweepstakes, Fun Time, then crash, down came the rain. 

You could hear it pounding on the roof above the stained acoustic tile drop ceiling while sheet lightning lit up the sky beyond the Seasons' barred windows. There it was, our Old Enemy the Weather venting its fury like a thwarted Presidential Candidate falling on Mook with outstretched talons. 

The ride home down a black ribbon of half-submerged asphalt was dramatic enough but uneventful, I took it slow and so did everyone else. Smart, who wants to hydroplane in a near zero viz stormfront?

Still, it was good to get back to the Compound. I set up on the porch as lightning arced across the sky, rain sheeted down and tornado warnings flashed on the phone screen. Thunder's rocking the house now, Elite Hotel's playing on the jukebox.

Will anything be left of this town tomorrow, will it be washed away like so many futile Bloomberg millions in Virginia? Only time, and a new dawn, will tell. 

For now, we stand to, cleaning weapons, sharpening kukris, loading magazines and throwing last year's broken furniture on the fire.

#2A,

LSP