Bedward The Flying preacher

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it.

LSP

Skorzeny Requiem

Otto Skorzeny, the same Otto who rescued a doomed Benito in a Fieseler Storch, went on to live and prosper. Skorzeny wasn't charged with war crimes, he lived instead in Portugal and elsewhere, and lived handsomely. Why?

Could it be that Otto was subcontracted by our own Power to do its "wetwork"? Don't say Kennedy. Instead, watch this short clip of the spec ops supremo's Requiem, and ask yourself, how many people in the funeral worked for US.

Just a thought. 

Love,

LSP

Her Majesty The Queen Addresses The Nation

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.

LSP

God Save The Tzar

Note, they stand.

Dam straight.

LSP

Cantique de Jean Racine

Gentlemen and women, you might want to rent a blue tooth speaker for the Cantique because this version's sound challenged. Still, appropriate for the time, d'ye not think?

Some of you may be thinking muh flu, deepstate hoax. I'd urge you to go here, here and here.

Whatever the case, mourn the death of Western Christendom, what's left of her. Strive to rebuild. And remember.

An armed citizen is a citizen. Not a slave.

Your best Pal,

LSP

Walking The Eschaton

It was like a midsummer day in Borth on the Welsh Riviera. Overcast, a drizzling rain, not too cold, not too hot but no, this was North Central Texas and time to take Blue Eschaton for a walk.

The streets were empty, because of the Chinese Virus or because they always are? A mystery, and so was our old friend the Meth Shack. The Shack's under new management, who've been busy gutting the place with a view, presumably, to newer and better renters. Good luck with that worthy project.

Mourning the passing of an age, we advanced to the Pick 'n Steal. It still stands, essential business in the midst of lockdown. I tethered the Eschaton to an empty newspaper vending machine and went inside for a coffee "refill" in an invincible Yeti mug. 

The store's Owl Idol looked down with unflinching eyes on its supplicants, the usual crew of pajama wearin', slipper shufflin', lottery playin', blunt buyin' punters. There they were and there it was. Reassured that some things never change, I walked the furry apocalypse back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And then a curious thing happened.

Within a space of minutes, clouds rolled in from the north and with them a fierce wind. The temperature dropped like a stone in seconds, taking us from Borth in August to Borth in April. Fearing a Polar Vortex, I showed the Eschaton inside to warmth and safety.

Poor dog. You can imagine, centuries later, explorers discovering an elderly Heeler encased in ice, the remains of a fried cherry pie in his mouth, frozen where he stood on the awful day the Climate Changed.

That aside, I hope you've all managed to recover your firearms from the lakes and rivers and sensibly saved on SCUBA by use of powerful magnets and sturdy ropes.

God bless,

LSP

Arm Up You Fools

A lot of people lost all their firearms and ammo in boating accidents over the last year, and that's a tragedy. Maybe now's  a good time to hire SCUBA teams to salvage?

Just a thought, as looting and two-bit lawlessness starts to break out here and there. To be succinct, in the words of one of our London correspondents, "Junkies are fighting outside my window." The supply chain's diminished, you see.

Trump sends a letter to Sen. Schumer and it is worth reading in full. pic.twitter.com/jrvFnEI8oa

— Kaitlan Collins (@kaitlancollins) April 2, 2020

In other news, the Pelosi/Schumer combine have started a new impeachment drive because they can't kick the habit, viz. junkies, and 45's announced war on the cartels. Meghan Markle, on the other hand, has made a stunning debut on Disney.

Coal Burner?

Whatever. Message to market. Arm up, be prepared. It's simple math and you've lost nothing for following it. Heck, you can always shoot the rounds later if they're not needed. 

As it is, they might be.

God bless,

LSP

Stardust

I love this song, calms you right down.

Your Friend,

LSP

Coronavirus Pandemic, Day 16.

Here's a report, from a survivor:

If anyone is still out there, I’m alive but struggling. Food is running low. Down to only 459 days worth. My hands are super sanitized and my butt is super clean.

Down to 1599 rounds of ammo (dropped 1 round down the heat vent while doing daily inventory). Power still on, but for how long? 

Missing human interaction but I have my dogs... for now... (I'm soaking their food in BBQ sauce in an attempt to marinate them from the inside in case I have to eat them). I fear dark days ahead. News is all bad. Neighbors have attempted to leap from windows to their death, (or near death... most have single story homes so they are badly bruised). 

Blew through most Amazon Prime TV series so may have to rewatch some again. Basic Survival is a definite challenge. I vow to persevere to the end, I am a survivor! 

Please, if there is life out there, communicate with me to help preserve my sanity.

*Copy and pasted from another fellow survivor *

For a viral roundup see Zero. For something more chilling, check out Aesop.

Cheers,

LSP

The Left Fears This

Full screen, please, and can't say as I blame 'em, what? Monkey on the home team.

#5w,

LSP

Tin Soldier

Here we go now,

LSP

Navajo Bread -- Cooking With LSP

What, cooking with LSP? That's both dangerous and stupid. Not so fast, punters, here's how it's done. First up, gaze wonderingly at all your wisely stockpiled flour and ask, what're you gonna do with it, eh? Make bread, obviously, Navajo Bread. It's easy and goes like this.

Put 2 cups of regular stockpiled flour in a mixing bowl. Add 1 stockpiled teaspoon salt, then follow that bad boy up with a tablespoon of baking soda. Throw in two teaspoons of hoarded vegetable oil and a teaspoon of salt. Or not, anarchist, your call.

Whisk it about but don't run off and fall asleep under the nearest tree like some kind of Mexican, your job's not done. No, add lukewarm water to the mix until it becomes a tacky, shaggy, workable dough. Around one cup perhaps.

Then mix that beast up, put it on a floured surface and knead the thing until it's elastic, around three or four minutes. Well done, congratulate yourself on getting this far and place the dough in an "oiled container," the original mixing bowl will do. Cover it up and let rest for an hour.

Next step? Cut the dough into six pieces. Roll each piece flat on a floured surface and fry the offerings in a hot, oiled, iron skillet. Don't be an idiot and burn the delicious bread, take each piece off the heat as brown spots occur and it's obviously done. 

You'll find, if all goes well with the culinary odyssey, that you end up with something like a cross between a tortilla and a naan. Awesome on both counts. And then, bread on hand...

Fall on your scoff like a warrior,

LSP