Catch Of The Day

 

What is this iridescent little fish, some sort of tropical mini bass? Whatever, I caught three of them this morning and ferocious little beasts they were too. And now that memory serves, you can find them swimming along the urban creeks of Dallas. I say urban, they're patches of untamed brush and worth exploring, typically in East Dallas.

Mystery fish aside, the rest were Bluegill and full of light rod, drag out fun. Here's the thing, even a medium sized perch seems like Leviathan on a light rod, and all the more sport for it.

So yes, the bite was on for an hour or so around Noon, and big fun. Then the famous Texan wind picked up, clouds rolled in from the North and it began to rain. I stood there, resolute, against the gathering storm, catching fish. Next time I'll keep some back.

Off topic, but have you noticed our rulers backing away from PCR tests? You know, the same tests which told us we were all going to die and mysteriously didn't? The tests which changed an election and made how many billions for Pharma's bought and paid shills in Congress and beyond. The tests, let the reader understand, which established the pandemic in the first place.

They're unreliable, not to be trusted, the CDC itself says so. That in mind, take your vax, you serf, and count yourself lucky you're not in a SuperMax.

Fish On,

LSP

Satan's Jewel Crown

Because awesome,

LSP

British Cryptids

Great Britain's no stranger to the weird and wonderful, to mysterious creatures which may or may not be real. Experts, brave enough to look beyond the dogma of current scientific orthodoxy call them "cryptids," creatures that aren't proved by science, until they are. Here at the Compound we're pleased to present a sample of these beasts from the Sceptered Isle.

The Mullally

The Mullally. Long thought to be a lingering remnant of pagan devotion to the corn goddess, the Mullally mythos starts in Devon and became popularized in the 17th century children's song, "Mullally, Mullally, we all fall down." Sightings of the large toothed cryptid are currently confined to London. 

The Southwark

The Mullally is not to be confused with the Southwark, popularly known as the Streatham Werewolf and famous for howling, "I'm the Southwark, it's what I do!" Recent sightings of this half-man, half- something else seem to indicate the Southwark has grown less aggressive in recent years.

Boy

Moving North, reports are coming in about a strange creature locals call "Boy."  Boy, apparently a holdover from an age where biological sex and dentistry was somehow blurred, stalks the winding, cobbled streets of Gloucester, a cathedral city labouring under an ancient curse.

So Faull

To the Northeast, local legend talks of the Faull, part man, part woman, who haunts the onetime Royalist port of Bristol. Witnesses report earsplitting shrieks, cutting the night, "Am I a man!?!"

The Nameless Thing

Then there's the Nameless Thing. A vampire?

Cheers,

LSP

Devil People

 

Via NFO:

So he’s a dementia patient who is under a very public regime of elder abuse, with a brain dead wife who wants to be called doctor but thinks cardboard hearts will heal the country; followed by a clueless hooker who cackles when nervous…which is all the time because she has no clue what she’s doing; they have a doctor who is caught lying about everything, pretends it doesn’t matter, doubles down on debunked science to push experimental drugs for his own profit.

A bunch of pretend representatives who demand peons submit to national socialism while they are given free reign to spend insurmountable amounts of other peoples money; all while silently swapping national socialism for militarized dictatorship using “mostly peaceful protests” to prove the peons cannot govern themselves or the legal system. With a whole bunch of people who rigged elections, got caught, pretend it didn’t happen, then fight like it’s armageddon to keep people from seeing what is already known and when that fails start screaming about those evil, national terrorists known as white people.

Teachers are refusing to go to work until they can freely teach children that its okay for adult to groom them for sexual assault, to take life changing drugs before their bodies are fully developed, that only white people should be judged on the color of their skin and not the content of their character, that their parents should never be told what is being done and said to them, and that lowest common denominator isn’t low enough, we must aim lower because…race, 12 trillion “genders”, and more race.

Straight people are the devil. White people are the devil. Christians and Jews are the devil. Heterosexual family dynamics are the devil. Men (oh wait sorry, penis owning persons) are the devil. Americans are the devil. Capitalists are the devil. Hard workers are the devil. Free thinkers are the devil. People who know their rights are the super devil. Un-vaccinated people are the super devil murdering klan. People who believe the wrong science are the devil. People who ask questions are the devil. People who don’t want to “circle back” and demand answers now, are the devil. (I’m sure I missed a few). Devil people aren’t real people. We have no empathy for devil people.

Devil people should be locked away from real people, used for labor, for experiments. Devil people shouldn’t have rights. Devil people should be marked so real people know not to trust them, not to let them into schools, hospitals, public places, their lives. Devil people need to be removed from being a drain on society. Something quick, cheap and efficient.

All with the world’s most powerful propaganda wing proclaiming these are all good and right things. This is what America was meant to be, but those evil white men screwed it up, They even used the wrong birthday for the nation right? We’re all supposed to be okay with this, support this, bow to this, or we will be devil people.

But hey everyone, not to worry. The really mean orange guy who wrote all those mean scary tweets, and made you question how an outsider broke the establishment is gone. I mean really, how could we ever live with those mean tweets!

 

 

I'll leave you to scry out the demons, but remember kids, it's all a larf 'til you wake up in a Wicker Man and it's on fire.

Your Pal,

LSP

Vatican Grindr

 

Imagine yourself in Vatican City, the veritable hub of the Roman Catholic Church; the pilothouse, if you like, of the Ark of Salvation herself. So what do you do on those odd moments in between drafting concordats with the Chinese Communist Party or blasting the Latin Mass? Hook up on gay sex apps like Grindr, obviously.

No kidding, reports are coming in about about Vatican City Grindrs. Here's The Pillar:

...during a period of 26 weeks in 2018, at least 32 mobile devices emitted serially occurring hookup or dating app data signals from secured areas and buildings of the Vatican ordinarily inaccessible to tourists and pilgrims. 

At least 16 mobile devices emitted signals from the hookup app Grindr on at least four days between March to October 2018 within the non-public areas of the Vatican City State, while 16 other devices showed use of other location-based hookup or dating apps, both heterosexual and homosexual, on four or more days in the same time period.

The data set assessed by The Pillar is commercially available and contains location and usage information which users consent to be collected and commercialized as a condition of using the app.

Extensive location-based hookup or dating app usage is evident within the walls of Vatican City, in restricted areas of St. Peter’s Basilica, inside Vatican City government and Holy See’s administration buildings including those used by the Vatican’s diplomatic staff, in residential buildings, and in the Vatican Gardens, both during daytime hours and overnight.  

 

Not very wholesome, is it, and more than that it's a security risk because Grindr was owned by a Chinese firm, Kunlun Tech, at the time of the reported, ahem, emissions.  Surely that wouldn't have anything whatsoever to do with Pope Francis' kowtowing to the CCP in 2018, ceding effective control of the Catholic Church in China to atheist Communists.

Don't say blackmail and homosexual hierarchy, or ask yourself if the smoke of Satan has entered the walls of the Church. In the meanwhile, brave Christians are being persecuted for their faith in China and the Vatican's silent. Perhaps they're too busy on their phones.

H/T Adrienne,

LSP

Fish On

 

There you are, sitting on the porch. It's hot, and you've prayed the morning Office, walked to the Pick 'n Steal, drunk that 20 ounce Yeti tumbler of coffee, checked the news and wondered if "hell in a handbasket" isn't too mild. So what to do? Go fishing, of course.

And that's what happened, put those CDC Stasi guidelines in your knapsack and head off to the water, to what used to be a Cretaceous sea. 20 minutes later, there I was, casting off from the prehistoric reef, sun beating down with ferocious intensity. Would the fish bite?

Sure enough they did, round about Midday. Pretty much every cast a fish, and all Perch/Bluegill, some of them large and full of fight. In fact, they were all full of fight and I lost count. Great result. Then, just as I was beginning to melt, a fierce, predatory tug. Drag out, rod double, what's this? A good sized Bass, in you come.

Walking back to the truck meant walking over countless fossils, the crystallized relics of our primeval past. There they were, frozen in stone, under the glare of a Texan sun. Imagine, if you can, a series of great reefs, breaking up a sea which stretched from the Gulf of Mexico to Austin and beyond. Or something like that.

Above it glided Pterosaurs and in the water, ferocious beasts. Perhaps today's fish are their descendants, they're certainly fierce enough. In other news, some pals are fishing in the sea, off some island. Blessed are ye poor.

Tight Lines,

LSP

I Am The Bread Of Life

 

"I am the bread of life," says Christ in the sixth chapter of John's Gospel. It's a remarkable statement. Jesus claims that he is the spiritual food which came down from heaven, sent by his Father. That he is true manna, "not such as your fathers ate and died, he who eats this bread will live forever." 

He, Jesus, is the very food which endures for everlasting life, the fulfillment and embodiment of the Law represented by the 5 loaves of the miracle performed the day before. 

He is the glory of God which passed by Moses, who was hidden by God in a cleft in the rock, and spoke through the unquenchable fire of the burning bush. He is now unveiled, present, incarnate, "and we beheld His glory, a glory as of an only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth." Glory that's given to us in sacrifice for our atonement on the Cross, "the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh."

Bread which we receive by faith, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” And that's just it. Do we dare to believe, to put our humble, perhaps desperate and fearful faith in the Son of Man who came down from heaven that we might live. To put it another way. Do we labor for earthly food, for bread and power, or for the heavenly food which is the life of God himself? 

Christ faced this temptation in the wilderness and answered Satan, "Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word which proceeds from the mouth of God." He said no to "all the kingdoms of the world and the glories therein," and went to the Cross, which became his throne. He invites us to do the same, "take up your cross," so that we, in him, will have life, divine life.

Of course you might want to choose bread and power instead, thus cunningly marking yourself with the number of the beast. Your call, good luck. But remember, it's all a Big Pharma congressional larf until you wake up and a demon's gnawing on your inner thigh.

God bless,

LSP

Excelsior!

 

Do you feel we're living at the very end of an age? That in mind, let's hear it for Procul  Harum. Grand Hotel, what an album. And it reminds me of a South African Latin teacher who used to command us to strike our heads against 18th C desks if we messed up vocab tests.

"I like Harum and Purple," he'd exclaim. "Strike your head against the desk ten times. Harder." Well, it was the '70s.

Cheers,

LSP

Bio-Tyranny

 

A Roman Catholic friend sent this in:

I just got an "effective immediately, until further notice" from my parish:

To help avoid a Covid exposure at the parish, which could result in the church closing for 10 days, and based on current guidance from the Centers for Disease Control, the Clark County Health Department, and the Chancery Offices at the Archdiocese of Seattle:

Based on current guidance from the Centers for Disease Control, the Clark County Health Department, and the Chancery Offices at the Archdiocese of Seattle, St. John the Evangelist asks all individuals visiting the parish campus to wear a face mask at all times. This is regardless of vaccination status and is effective immediately. We realize this is disappointing, but with everyone's cooperation, understanding, patience and - most importantly - concern for our fellow human beings, we here at St John can be part of the solution in stemming the spread of Covid-19. Thank you, God bless, and stay healthy! 

I'm so mad at this irrational stupidity I could spit nails.  Fired off a note to my parish with solid facts of why this was not needed, and got back a note that said " Out of love and respect for all our fellow human beings and following the guidance of the CDC, the Clark County Health Dept, and the Archdiocese of Seattle"   

Told them to spare me the "Out of love and respect"  bull shit.

 

 

Exactly. Out of love and respect bull shit. Behold the gurning, despotic face of our new biomed, corporate sponsored rainbow tyranny. That the Church would be complicit is, to me, outrageous if predictable. 

Be that as it may, imagine your overlords laughing at you, the masked serf, from their private islands and private jets, all in the name of "science," while their masked servants offer them deliciously cooling ice cream.

Just a thought,

LSP

Taking Care Of Business

 

A busy morning. Get up, feed the Blue, make hot tea, enjoy that tea on the back porch while scanning the news, say Morning Prayer, you might say "Mattins," walk to the Pick 'n Steal, observe a new iteration of the Meth Shack, get back to the Compound, answer emails and then... drive over to Tom's Tire to get your rig inspected.

You have to do it every year, the State demands it, and we must obey. But it's no big deal, just 7 bucks and an excuse to go to Montes for a delicious brisket burrito. Tasty and then some. Next stop? 

A dinosaur museum, conveniently next to the diner. It used to be a filling station and then something else, followed by something else, and something else again, amounting to yet another vacant, asset stripped country lot. But now it's a dinosaur museum. 

I ambled over, pleasantly aglow with brisket and homemade tortilla's, only to be ambushed by a fit young fella with a dinosaur T and a Ho Chi Minh, obviously a paleontologist. "What's up, man!" he asked. I looked him straight in his expensively rimless glasses and asked, right on the nail, "Is this museum open?" To be fair, it rarely is, and he said yes, step straight on in, which I did.

What a great little museum! Big fossils of the ferocious beasts that used to roam North Central Texas, and small fossils too, to say nothing of aboriginal artifacts. These, if you know where to look, which I mostly don't, can be found by the boxfull here in Hill and Bosque counties. How old are they? Good question.

Museum over, collect the rig, get it registered, go to the 1st Inconvenience Bank and then to the lake. I won't lie, it was quite chilly, only about 100*. Is it too hot to fish when your eyelids start dropping sweat on the inside of your cunningly polarized glasses? Hardly, all the more incentive to carry on regardless.

4 Blue Gill later it was time to head home, in yet another episode of being glad to be in Texas.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

DFTR

I feel this relevant,

LSP

Cooking With LSP

Typical Cooking Kukri

Ah yes, cooking with LSP, that tired old trope. Tired! No, this is a recipe that's ever old and ever new, equally at home in the wintry wastes of Northern England and the oven intense heat of a Texan summer. (Stop it, I'm warning you. Ed.). OK, here it is, Cottage Pie, and it starts at the grill.

A Grill

You know how it goes. Grill up some 80/20 burgers, yes they're delicious, eat half, freeze the rest, repeat. A week or so later open the freezer and behold the frozen medium rare, seared patties. Defrost the icy offerings and chop up an onion, celery, and a carrot. Saute the veg for a few minutes until it smells and looks right. You'll know, then add a clove or more of minced garlic. I prefer more, you may not, no rule.

Add  Some Flour, It's Not Hard

Next add the meat, stir it 'round, break it up, and simmer on medium high 'til it looks right, as in browned. Perhaps you think that's a sly, racist, reference to POCs. It's not, we're just talking cooking. Meat and veg together as one, add 1/4 cup of flour. 

Chuck it in, don't be afraid, then mix in 4 tbs of tomato paste, 1/2 cup of cheap as you like red wine, 2 cups of beef broth, 1 tsp Thyme, 2 dried Bay Leaves, 2 tbs Worcestershire Sauce, salt, pepper and chili powder to taste. Alright, the chili's not trad, but I like it, and I'm willing to bet that dry English mustard wouldn't go amiss either. Anyway...

Simmer Down!

Simmer this beast until the sauce reaches desired consistency. I let it run on medium high, stirring occasionally, until the oil and sauce start to separate, as in Bolognese or curry. Your call, just don't leave off in a fit of weakness and find yourself with a watery sauce. That's an error.

Just Enough Potatoes

Sauce/gravy achieved, take it off the heat and let it cool down. This will, maybe, prevent the filling of the pie from seeping into its mashed potato top. Not a disaster if it does, but better if it doesn't; preserve the integrity of the pie, as we should the electoral process itself.

Most Awesome

Potatoes mashed, cover the sauce with the creamy spuds, sprinkle with Parmesan or some other cheese, grind pepper over the thing, add a tbs of butter or olive oil, and put it in the oven at 350 until golden brown. Perhaps you want to texture the mashed potato top, maybe add a slogan. Up to you, some say it makes for a better pie.

Cottage Pie

Kick back for 30 minutes, have a glass of wine, sharpen a kukri,  load magazines, clean weapons, whatever, then take the pie out of the oven, let it rest, and fall upon your scoff.

Like a Warrior,

LSP