Rest In Peace Chief

 

Far-sighted readers of this inconsequential mind blog will remember him as "VCC," Veteran Crew Chief. Yes, the same man who confronted a crew of motorcycle hippies chancing it out of Austin and swimming in his stock tank. "Swim away," he told them, "But I'd be careful, it's pretty snaky. Man, you shoulda seen them run."

Before that he'd been with the EMU's, an experimental American/Australian unit, motto, "Get The Bloody Job Done." And they did, which weighed hard on him after retirement.Time on his hands, you see. I liked him a lot, what a good man, so it came as a shock to hear this afternoon that he'd died in a car crash outside of Alvaredo, hit by an 18 wheeler.

Please pray for the repose of his soul. Ronnie Storrs, rest in peace and rise in glory.

Requiescat,

LSP

Standing on the Cliff

 

Financial Cliff

The Episcopal (TEC) Diocese of Vermont's in trouble, which is weird because they have a famale person of color (POC) at the helm. Problem is, no one's going to their churches or parting with cash. 

This got bishop figure MacVean-Brown worried, so she hired a consultant, Stephen Burnett, who used to work for Deloitte, no less. What did Stephen say?

Bishop Figure

That you're spending more than you're getting, "The Bishop envisioned financial shortfalls early on in her ministry, and we can reaffirm that there is, in fact, trouble ahead, likely in the first quarter of 2023, where, without intervention, expenditures will far exceed revenues.” 

Oops, there you are on that old "financial cliff." So what to do, apart from hiring consultants and appointing "task forces"? Merge with other failing dioceses, obviously, in this case New Hampshire and Maine. And we have to ask, does the Episcopal Church and its lib mainstream protestant, bow tie, seer sucker sorority even have the will to live at this point?

Downsized

Not really, just look how they shut down in the face of a virus that kills what, 0.2something of the people it infects. Or less. But hey, their religion was never the Gospel of salvation, more the gospel of the New York Times and, apotheosis achieved, why not retire? 

Tough luck on MacVean-Brown, though. She might be looking for a job.

Cheers,

LSP

Look At That Striper!

 

Don't get me wrong, catching perch is fun but catching striper is awesome. There we were after Mass, pitting wits and worms against junior bluegill when the water erupted about 30 yards off the bank. I figured it was sand bass blitzing on minnows and tied on a topwater lure.

Out it went, wait, then a zig-zag retrieve back to shore. About two thirds of the way back the water surged under the lure and a fish hit it like a steam train, taking the silvery, rattling, plastic prey down into the depths. Behold rod double action as the fish dived and tried to run, this was surely more than a regular sandy or hybrid. And sure enough it was, out came a striper.

I love topwater fishing. There's something about the explosive impact of the fish striking the lure, amped up, full of ferocious, predatory drive; it's going to get the prey before its competition. Then the fight's on. And with that, have a blessed Feast of the Transfiguration.

Tight lines,

LSP

Vade Retro Satana

 

It's been a little busy at the Compound with one thing or another, including a visiting seminarian. He's a good guy and we discussed the iniquity of the present age over delicious bean and brisket burritos from Karen's on the porch, and agreed that Satan was waxing strong.

To the point, I was struck by this, via Adrienne:

Lucifer has placed his stamp upon the present age. Open and secret revolt against God and His Church, the spirit of criticism, unbelief and immorality are spreading. The arrogant boast of Lucifer, "I will be like the Most High!" re-echoes everywhere. Puffed up with their discoveries and the progress in material science, men loudly proclaim their self-sufficiency and deny the existence of a Supreme Being. Governments and secret societies, plotting against God and striving to blot out from homes and schools, from offices and factories, all traces of Christianity, show plainly whose standard they follow. Never before in the world's history were God's rights so blasphemously mocked and denied, or the rights of man so arrogantly asserted, as they are today.

These frightful evils must convince us that we must turn to St. Michael, the Archangel, that glorious prince of Heaven who rendered all glory to God, conquering Lucifer and casting him into the abyss.

Already three centuries ago, St. Francis de Sales wrote: "Veneration of St. Michael is the great remedy against despising the rights of God, against insubordination, skepticism and infidelity" - vices which are perhaps more prevalent now than ever before.

Surely, it is time for Christians to "rise from sleep" and to offer vigorous resistance to the enemies of salvation. The weapons in this conflict are not the arms of civil warfare, but the spiritual weapons of prayer and penance, increased fidelity to the Commandments of God, and frequent reception of the Sacraments.  And surely we can choose no better leader in this conflict than the powerful captain who led the faithful Angels to victory.

Let us, then, with confident trust invoke the aid and protection of this mighty Archangel whose shield bears the inscription: MICHAEL -- "Quis ut Deus" -- Who is like unto God?

 

Rise from sleep and enlist the aid of the heavenly host and its archangelic prince, "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." (Eph. 6:12) 

We are in a war, ultimately a spiritual one, of good v. evil, light v. dark. And victory is assured, in fact it's won, though the fight's ongoing. St. Benedict, the founder of Western monasticism, gives us a weapon to add to our spiritual armory with this powerfully short prayer:

CRUX SACRA SIT MIHI LUX / NON DRACO SIT MIHI DUX

VADE RETRO SATANA / NUNQUAM SUADE MIHI VANA

SUNT MALA QUAE LIBAS / IPSE VENENA BIBAS

Dragon, ipse venena  bibas, drink your own poison.

Yes indeed,

LSP

Defende Nos

 

An anarchist(!) in London sent in this neat infographic of a Greek Mirage, all ready for battle, defende nos. And my mind goes to the sword of the Angelic guard over Eden. In related news, a pal's setting up some kind of pop concert next door to the Acropolis, in Athens, yes, the actual Acropolis in really Greece.

Our conversation went like this.

"I love classical antiquity."

Silence.

"You must make your musicians play ancient Greek instruments. And ONLY ancient Greek instruments. As in, 'WTAF is that?' sheepish pause, "A lyre, Eminence." 

"Yeah. Exactly. UNPLUG IT. Same goes for the goddam pan pipes. Which, btw, should be in tune."

Silence.

"I take silence to mean 'yes.'"

 

But hey, I wish I was in Athens, at its remarkable Acropolis zone and armed with a handy backstage pass. Maybe next time. In the meanwhile, made it to Dallas instead and visited with some lawyers, a pleasantly great result. Well done, team.

Weird to see downtown Dallas though. Main, north of Griffin, showed signs of revitalization, it even had an English pub, which was shut. But seriously, you could be forgiven for thinking you were in a city where people went to restaurants, had apartments, walked about and all of that, and actually lived in a city. 

As opposed to a desolate wasteland of office blocks, rising like glass and steel teeth between homeless encampments.

Cheers,

LSP

Cossacks Scorn Commies

And what can we say? God save the Czar.

Name one, just one of our elite, transnational billionaires who can ride a horse. 

That is all.

Да благословит тебя господь,

LSP

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