Presidential Debate

 

Did you watch Biden's scripted, stumbling, lying, fakey, fraudulent, unconvincing, pathetic, weak, pale, corrupt, inconsequential, China scripted attempt to debate Trump? Remember the sinister Urfa Man? 

Wow, that's your boy, Democrats. To say nothing of Alpha meets Beta.

E Pluribus,

LSP

Love Long Range Shooting

someone else's guns

OK, now that I've experienced the awesome enjoyment of shooting successfully out to 1000 yards I've decided that I love it with a passion and want more of it. The appetite, as it were, has found the thing pleasing and wants to enjoy it. This means getting a long range, precision rifle and associated optics.

Is this amor amicitiae ("the love of friendship" or of willing the good of the other for its own sake) or amor concupiscentiae ("the love of fervent desire," and of a good for the beloved)? Both, surely. You apprehend the beatitude of long range shooting and the good, in this case an awesome rifle, to make it happen. And all because, according to Aquinas, you first love yourself.

In recognizing something's good for you, say long range shooting, you see it as good in itself and want the best for it. Its value is your value and so you give yourself to it, in a movement of the heart and mind which is paradoxically the reverse of egotism. Or something like that, such is love. But what about that gun, eh?

J with a gun

Good question. J came by the manse and I asked his advice, "Maybe I should get one of these out of the box precision guns, like a Ruger or a Bergara or something like that?" His answer was, "No, they don't hang with a custom build. What you've got to do is look out for a used one. You can save hundreds of dollars."

Interesting and I think it bears a means test, which is this. Get a reloading press and associated kit, probably a Rock Chucker, and see if I have the commitment to get into precision ammo. Because if you don't, you probably don't have the commitment to invest in a precision, long range rifle. The shared value or commonality isn't there.

Does that make sense?

Gun Rights,

LSP

Love

 

Love, says the Angelic Doctor compactly, consists in willing the good of another. God is this, in perfection, in himself (1 Jn. 1:18). We see the truth of revelation in the Trinity where Father, Son and Spirit live in an eternal dynamic of infinite love. But what are we to this? 

Nothing in comparison, though we're commanded to love God with all our heart, soul and mind. Where does this take us? To nothingness again, which paradoxically becomes something, namely our true selves. We see the thing casually; the person who forgets themselves in conversation is more entertaining than a faked-up fraud.

I found this helpful, by Peter Kreeft:

Nothing is ours by nature. Our very existence is sheer gift. Think for a moment about the fact that you were created, made out of nothing. If a sculptor gives a block of marble the gift of a fine shape, the shape is a gift, but the marble's existence is not. That is the marble's own. But nothing is our own because we were made out of nothing. Our very existence is a gift from God to no one, for we were not there before he created us. There is no receiver of the gift distinct from the gift itself. We are God's gifts. So the saints are right. If I am nothing, nothing that is mine is anything. Nothing is mine by nature. But one thing is mine by my free choice: the self I giveaway in love. That is the thing even God cannot do for me. It is my choice. Everything I say is mine, is not. But everything I say is yours is mine. When asked which of his many library books he thought he would have in heaven, C.S. Lewis replied, "Only the ones I gave away on earth and never got back." The same is true of our very self. It is like a ball in a game of catch: throw it and it will come back to you; hold onto it and that ends the game.

 

And Farrer as always is beautiful:

Even today, when we pray, the hand of God does somewhat put aside that accursed looking-glass, which each of us holds before him, and which shows each of us our own face. Only the day of judgment will strike the glass for ever from our hands, and leave us nowhere reflected but in the pupils of the eyes of God. And then we shall be cured of our self love, and shall love, without even the power of turning from it, the face that is lovely in itself, the face of God; and passing from the great Begetter to what is begotten by him, we shall see his likeness in his creatures, in angels and in blessed saints; returning at long last the love that has been lavished on us, and reflecting back the light with which we have been illuminated. To that blessed consummation, therefore may he lead all those for whom we pray, he who is love himself, who came to us at Bethlehem, and took us by the hand.

 

Love not hate,

LSP

So Worried About The Election!

 

All worried and pent up? Hey, calm down, relax.

DFTR,

LSP

Walk Like an Egyptian? Grill Like a Chieftain

Like an Egyptian? Well, not really but the catchy jingle ran through my head as I passed the jolly old Meth Shack. It's empty now, sadly, and sits disconsolate, waiting for new tenants. I kept walking.

Meth Shack

All the way to the early voting station, where I stood in line waiting to cast my vote with all the other patriots. Or Bolsheviks. Were there any? Hard to tell but I haven't seen this kind of enthusiasm for an early vote ever.

Typical voters

Speaking of which, early voting data shows a large surge for 45, not least in Texas, and no wonder. The corporate sponsored Democrat Communists have made the killer virus that hardly kills anyone part of their platform. 

Whoa... I think I need one

So guess what, all their people are too scared to get out and vote, the virus will kill us!  And on the other hand, they can't be bothered to go to the polls because the Biden/Kamala ticket's so incredibly rubbish. Who wants to vote for that? Then there's the hugely popular riots. Yeah, what a winner.

Grill

Good electoral strategy, guys. Seriously, who's responsible for the K Street genius PR firm? That in mind, I stood in line and cast my vote against Marxism and the corrupt, opportunist crime families who push this odious ideology.

MAGA

Then it was back to the Compound and its grill. Smoke ensued, meat was added to heat and all was well with the world. Burgers were close to perfect, too.

Gator or would that be Caiman?

Your friendly Old Pal,

LSP

Sunday Vespers

 

Keen-eyed readers of this liturgical mind blog will appreciate the photo of LL standing guard on the summit of his mountainous stronghold, high on the Mogollon Rim. Others may simply enjoy Wishbone Ash, or not. No rule.

But in keeping with Argus' classical theme:

Rare, colourized footage of a member of one of Clodius' political gangs, circa March-May 58 BC. pic.twitter.com/ditN5JPwb0

— Andrew James Sillett (@andrewsillett) October 18, 2020

Rather good, eh? In other news, the religion of peace beheaded a teacher in Paris for daring to show his class a drawmo. The peaceful member of TROP was shot dead by police. 

Here in the US, the seething mass of corruption that is our political elite continues to unfold, don't say laptop, and more seriously, Old NFO has published a moving sermon. Read it here.

Nunc Dimittis,

LSP

Rodeo

Yesterday was a big day. Great shooting enjoyment in the morning and then evening rodeo in Waco. 

OK, it's no fun to drive to Waco but the Extraco venue's a great place to see the event, far better than a massive stadium because you're closer to the action, especially with a ringside view.

Good, too, to be with some of the people who organize the competition, which makes everything more personal. But regardless, I like the excitement of the thing.

So much suspense: will she make that barrel, will he get stomped by a raging bull? Why is that USMC veteran a rodeo clown? How long will he stay on the ferociously bucking horse and will he die if he's thrown off into the arena? And so on.

I tell you, adrenaline's up and at it. And guess what, none of the people there took a knee for the national anthem. They're patriots who do not disrespect the flag. The PRA's very different to, say, the NFL or the NBA and thank God for it. 

All that in mind and more, what a great night out. When I got back to the bucolic haven that is this small rural farming community, my eldest called in from Korea. 

"Hey, dad, what's up?" I told him and learned that he 's fine and enjoying army life. Thank God. But exactly what this entails is a bit of a mystery because he steadfastly refuses to send photos of anything beyond being in the "motor pool." Though I've been told beaches are involved. Hmmm.

Therein lies another post. 

Ride on,

LSP

Thousand Yard Shot(s)

"Hey, LSP, why not come over and join us for a shoot on Friday at 8 am on the 1000 yard line." I thought about it for a moment, a thousand yards, would I make a complete fool of myself in the face of these expert, experienced and scientific shooters? Probably. "Sure, I'm in, see you there and thanks a lot."

So I rolled up to J's 1000 yard setup and looked down the lane towards the targets, a series of metal plates, gongs and a silhouette named Jihad. Did I see the targets? No, I did not, far too far away. But that changed when we got up on the stand with Nightforce optics and a spotting scope, I forget the brand. Then the targets came in loud and crystal clear. It was time to shoot.

J went first, to see if the guns were on, an M40 and a custom 300 Win Mag. They were, and N followed with some hits on steel. Well look at that, you can, actually, shoot that far. Exciting, eh? But of course J was guiding the show as a spotter and he knows his stuff. 

Then it was my turn. Huh. By way of full disclosure, I'm not a particularly good shooter and hadn't shot out to 600 yards, even, for years. So I wasn't expecting to get on steel at this range but hey, money on the monkey and devil take the hindmost.

Line up the crosshairs of the beautifully clear Nightforce glass on the plate. Observe the mirage roiling at the base of the sight picture. The wind is moving at what, 5-8 mph? J calls "hold fire..." the wind dies down, "Hold center." You breathe, shoot. A massive winmag explosion ensues, mitigated by the awesomeness of the rig.

And lo and behold, you're on steel. "Hit!" I was amazed, this thing works. And so it did for the next few shots. The gun was on, along with the spotter and, amazingly, the shooter himself. We moved onto the Jihad and scored convincingly.

The M40 was more tricky, with a lesser scope and its round more prey to the wind. Still, the beast got on target to good effect. And then it was over, all too soon. 

Wow. Shooting at 1000 yards and lots of sub moa to boot. What a lot of fun. Of course, for me, none of this would have been possible without a guide getting me onto the target. Big thanks go out to J for making it happen, at every level. And now look what you've done.

Looking at ballistic charts, equations and far more math than's sensible. And optics and guns and spotting scopes and... Hmmmm, I feel an obsession brewing.

And what a great morning.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Serious Political Analysis - Crack Pipe Edition

 

What's going on, in politics? Good question and hard to tell because you're wasted on crack the news cycle's moving so quickly, like one of those abhorrent windmills turning at full tilt. Still, here at the Compound we've crunched the numbers and spun up the algos.

Here's the result.

You can vote for deep state pay to play, crack pipe Moloch. Then get millions of dollars and go to Hell. But what shall it profit a man to gain the whole world?

Or you can vote Life and go to Heaven.

Which way will you choose? Think carefully and reflect. This call is all yours and it's all important, what's it to be? Remember, the destination of your immortal soul hangs in the balance.

So call the shot.

No pressure,

LSP

PS. Is Hunter in hiding? Asking for a friend.

Bridge of Sighs

 

Totally re-addicted to shooting now and guess what? Can't get any ammo because the commies have gone hog wild in a Dem electoral ploy. Thanks a lot, Bolsheviks. Bridge of sighs.

Speaking of which, I always used to like this song. Turn up the volume and listen to the electric wind blow. Breezy! 

In other news, Biden's Crack Pipe is shaping up to be a neat cartoon character.

Cheers,

LSP

Shoot!

Get a haircut, hippy

We'd been planning a shoot for some time but things kept getting in the way, broken femurs, a boy graduating Basic, climate change, a deadly Chinese plague, you name it, all conspired to keep us off the range. Until today.

RHT drove over from the DFW connurb and we headed off to J's place to try out some weaponry. All well and good, and then disaster! My rig sank into the sand of an ancient seabed on the way to our objective and had to be pulled out by a handy tractor. Obstacle overcome, we set up at 200 yards and shot.

J knows how to shoot

I went first with an Aero Precision AR10 firing 168 grain .308. Would it work and more to the point, would I remember how to shoot? 

Watch out kids, don't bet the monkey, but I did, just, and ended up with a decent group in the 10 ring, which should've been in the X. RHT followed up with a Hogue stocked .308 Howa and a Redfield scoped M1A. They shot well, very well.

Good Call

Now, all of the above were great to shoot and made considerably more accurate by RHT and J's hand loads. I don't reload or cast bullets, unlike these two very friendly competition shooters, and was struck by the difference. Wow. Speaking of which, RHT and J's Howas were X-Ring on the money for a ridiculously low price. I want one.

Do Not Scorn This

Then, after a quick remedial bout with .45s it was time for lunch at Los Verdes, which always serves excellent Mexican food. Did we discuss the satanic evil of Marxism, the wickedness of banksters and the importance of wine? Possibly. You be the judge.

Back at the range it was time for RHT to roll out an 1872 Remington .50-70 and an 1873 Trapdoor Springfield .45-70. For me, this was the high point of the shoot. There's something about firing these now exotic and antique firearms which appeals. Is it the history of the thing, their provenance, or the nature of the guns themselves? There they are, muskets turned into rifles.

Regardless, the Remington wasn't too keen to get on paper but the Springfield noisily got on a gong, in the appx. 10 ring in my hands and in J's it was hitting the bull. With iron sights. At 200 yards. All 1873 of it. We were amazed. This old rifle was outshooting... ahem. What a lot of fun.

RHT on his awesome M1A

We finished off with some AR action, J stealing the show with a series of X-Ring excellence. 3 shots, left to right touching on the X. A testament to Geissele, the barrel, Nightforce optics, the loads and the shooter himself. Seriously, a lot of people would've been pleased with that group at 50 yards with a .17 HMR. Good shooting.

Random LSP guns

And that was that. Huge enjoyment out in the clean air and big skies of Texas. And about time that this shooter actually got out and shot. Big thanks to RHT for getting the wheels rolling and thanks too to J for such warm hospitality, and a great range which goes out to 1000 yards.

Bullets

Hmmm, can I shoot that far? Good question, perhaps it's time to learn. We'll see about that and calling the shot as this mission progresses.

In the meanwhile, thanks guys for a great day out, what a perfect result.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Do You Remember Punk Rock?

What! That's not Punk Rock! Apologies to Lemmy (RIP) and Hawkwind, but do you remember Punk Rock? I do and I didn't like it at the time, with notable exceptions, like the Stranglers. Whatever, Punk Kingpin impresario Johnny Rotten's come out again in favor of Trump.

Joe Biden is, in all practicality, senile, and delinquently senile. My wife has Alzheimer’s — I know the symptoms,” Lydon said in the BBC interview.

 

Who knew Phil Lydon aka Johnny Rotten had such wisdom? He joins erstwhile leftist pop icon Morrissey, who loves Trump and hates open borders and NWO oppression. 

To be honest, I always scorned the appalling "Smiths." You'd go by some student's room humming Urban Guerilla like a good 'un, and there was a kid lying on his bed with a hand over his his eyes, listening to Meat is Murder. Pathetic.

Well said Mr. Rotten, and previously despised Morrissey. Let's see 45 become 46.

Rock on,

LSP