How Dare They!

 

As brave and daring street artists were celebrating the death of a fentanyl overdose thug and his resurrection as an angel, the US Embassy was flying rainbow flags and NGO's were busy teaching the merits of art in the toilet. In Afghanistan. Wow, the stupid runs deep, and behold the utter genius of our secular power in winning over the hearts and minds of the people they'd occupied, by force. 

Stoopid

As in, "Now look here, tribespersyns, gender's a construct and isn't it about time we woke up to the global struggle to end systemic racism? And love Dadaism? You know, urinals in art? And by the way, you'd better agree or we'll drone you out of existence, you barbaric serfs."

Quite. You see the hooves of the unicorn stamp deep, and the Taliban, which we've just spent Trillion$ defeating, are now in power. Make of that what you will.

Erase Stoopid

In the meanwhile, some people have become even richer than they already were, private jet upgrades all 'round. But Angel Floyd's muriel has been washed over in Kabul. 

It seems our new allies in Central Asia don't count him as a saint, they don't feel George "Fentanyl" Floyd represents them. How could that be, it's almost as though they don't appreciate our obviously superior culture.  

Really Stoopid. Note Cunte Kinte Scarves

How dare they. Maybe we need to go back in and teach those evil, binary, sexist, cisgender thugs a lesson. How dare you paint over a George Floyd muriel. He was a saint, and an angel.

In the meanwhile, every time a two-bit fentanyl thug grows his wings, a Taliban fires a shot in celebration. Watch that tracer.

Cheers,

LSP

Fish On

 

The sky was beginning to lighten as I got to the marina, in search of piscine adventure. "G'morning, gentlemen," and then we were motoring out into the lake as the sun began to rise.

Beautiful, and a moment of anticipation, would we catch any fish? It's not a given and there, right from the get go, lies a moral; just because you're on a boat doesn't mean you'll catch anything.

Belay that lure...

That in mind, we'd rigged up for topwater because intel said young, ferocious striper were blitzing surface shad. And sure enough, there against the bluffs was line of spray, a frenzy of fish exploding out of the water.

Young but Fierce

Power over and look at that water boil! But not for long, there's no time to waste. Line out, zig-zag retrieve then bam, down goes your lure and it's game on, a fighting striper on a light rod bent double. Big fun and fast action, which went on as we tracked the fish across the lake. I lost count.

What great fishing! OK, the stripers weren't fully grown, only around 16-18" but still,  full of aggression and predatory fury; they went back to fight again another day. It'll be a different story in the Spring when they've reached leviathan status.

Mission accomplished, we headed back to the marina, well satisfied with a morning out on the water. And here's the thing. Just because you're on a boat may not mean you'll catch any fish, but it can help. Thanks, J, for the trip.

Tight lines,

LSP

Labor Day

 

Labor Day started off well, on the porch and armed with a strong survivalist 20 oz. tumbler of coffee. Well, you can't be too prepared for the apocalypse. Bacon and eggs followed because workers have to eat and eat well, which we did before heading out to Killeen and the home of Phantom Lethal!

I won't lie, it was a nasty drive, especially through Waco where the road becomes a bumper to bumper, Armageddon car Hell. "Can't you hitch a ride on a passing Blackhawk, kid? Heck, they're giving 'em away. Or what about an autogyro or a Fiesler Storch, it'd be easier than this." He didn't think it'd be possible, annoyingly.

But speaking of Hell, have you noticed how the satanists are furiously in favor of killing more Texan babies? The same applies to Democrats at large, who've made abortion a kind of anti-sacrament, an outward and visible sign of Promethean, demonic, lethal pride hiding under the pretense of compassion. See LL's foray into the leftist mind.

In related news, the despicable Fauci's worried about a "Mu Variant." You can imagine the fabled lost continent rising from Pacific depths to afflict us with its wickedness. And why not, surely anything's possible at this point, from arming the Taliban to one of our political party's being in open alliance with satanists.

Workers of the world unite against our evil, elite, transnational, rainbow oligarch overlords.

Your Pal,

LSP

Sunday Rambling

 

In some dioceses the bishop's visitation is a terrible thing, a nightmare. There you are when some unspeakable old heretic tips up with a view to destroying everything you believe in. Thank God it's not that way in the Diocese of Fort Worth. Our bishops stand firm for the Faith, they're successors of the Apostles as opposed to wicked mountebanks in the pay of Rainbow Baphomet.

So today was good, our bishop came, sung the Mass and preached, what a blessing. The Specialist even came down from Fort Hood to swing some incense, well done. Curiously, everyone in the sanctuary party was either former or active duty or involved in pro rodeo. Clearly a moral, if you care to draw it.

Then we fell back to the church hall for a delicious lunch, the mission eats well, and a good time was had by all. What a lot of fun, and I tell you, it's a real blessing to be in this diocese. 

Is it perfect? No. Should we be part of the wider Catholic Church, East and West? Yes. But so too should Rome and Constantinople be as one and, of course, the broken shards of the catholic mirror are one, essentially, in terms of faith, to say nothing of deeper sacramental union. 

Ut unum sint, may they all be one, prayed Christ. Do you think the Father somehow chose to ignore His Son's prayer? Hardly. The Mystici Corporis, the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, is one by nature or essence. The unity is there; that we've wrecked it, in worldly terms, with competing jurisdictions and associated wickedness is, frankly, the Devil's work. 

My take, for what little it's worth, is that it'll take real persecution to bring about the outward and visible unity which strengthens the inward and spiritual. After all, it's in the Good Book, "Except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved."

Apocalypse aside, what a great day.

Keep the Faith, you heathen,

LSP

Beverly Hills

Now that this well-read, popular, influential, urban planning mind blog's firmly established, we feel, here in the luxurious bay window of The Compound, that Weezer's most appropriate.

Dear God, let's hope you showered before and after, what?

Just a thought,

LSP

Shack Down

 

There it was on the corner of Crack and Meth, a shack. I used to drive by the shack and point it out to the Cadet, "Play your cards right, son, and you too could live there." But not anymore, the shack has gone, reduced to a small pile of inconsequential debris in this once prosperous farming community.

And it was prosperous, complete with shops, businesses and 20,000 people. All on a walkable, human scale too. You know the score or perhaps you've read about it, being able to walk around your town saying hello to friends and avoiding enemies, perhaps shooting the latter in this instance. Hey, it was the frontier.

Then the asset-strippers took over, King Cotton moved overseas and the town hollowed out as the socio/psychopaths in charge of the way we live now decided to turn our towns and cities into roads. What would you rather live in, a city or a road? Asked no one, not waiting for an answer.

Net result? Shacks, which are returning to nature. Imagine, if you can, how that'll play out in our vast suburbs over the course of the next few decades. Think Detroit on a continental scale. But maybe there's hope, maybe we'll turn this thing around and start living, approximately, as we should.

Who knows. Next time you drive into any one of our Mega Cities, look at the landscape to either side of the highway and ask, "Could we do any better? Or is there some kind of law that says, 'No, you have to create the ugliest possible environment to live in, otherwise you won't be so rich.'"

Demonic, eh? In the meanwhile, I thank  God I'm in the country, shacks and all.

Cheers,

LSP

Wreckers

 

One of the things we love about America's elite rulers is the way they've led us to success and prosperity over the past few decades. It's not as though they've been traitorously asset-stripping the land for personal gain or anything like that. Here, have a look.

Gary Indiana. You'll note how much better things are now, far more prosperous. As in, a lot. Everyone's standard of life, from civic environment on down is so much better.

You see how we're so much more prosperous now that the experts are in charge. And what about Detroit. Check out this typical Motor City school:

The Kakistocracy's done well, clearly. But maybe you're not convinced. Here's another school, back before trans bathrooms improved the curriculum.

Result!

Stunning, isn't it. But seriously, how have we allowed a gang of crooks, mountebanks, grifters, profiteers and corrupt clowns to run our country, destroy our cities and with it, the lives of our people, especially the poor. And here's the rub. 

The very people who say they're about "lifting up the oppressed" are the ones looting them. But don't worry, at least you'll be able to get a sex-change on the public dime as you collect your welfare.

Arduus Ad Solem,

LSP

Iambic Poetry

Well done, team, what a great project! Aliens, capes, mist, the Hackney Marshes and Iambic poetry itself. No mean feat, just you try and roll it all into one single toe-tapper.

Plaudits aside, how about vocals on the next shot? Or is that wrong?

Halcyon,

LSP

Cultural Enrichment

 

Did you know that America spent at least $787 million on "gender programs" in Afghanistan? You have to admire the sheer audacity of the plan. Confront these poor, deluded, medieval, peasant Mohammedans with the all the glory of Harvard, Satan's Vatican itself. 

You know the score, pride month, gender quotas in government and army, Dadaism, the very beauty of post-modern Western art, and watch this tribal country in Central Asia become a veritable Holland on the Hindu Kush.

Here at the Compound we feel this infovideo says it all. It's short but informative, some say you can tell when the war was lost at the 31 second mark:

Special, don't you think? Roughly translated, "Now look here, Muslimas, this is very important art in the West, of a toilet.  I don't expect you to know this, but I was educated at Oxford and deddy's an Irish peer, he goes to Brooks, so pay attention."

Words fail. Read this.

Dear God,

LSP

A Magic Train

What a beautiful train, and it seems appropriate right about now, don't you think?

Kizmet,

LSP

Good News For A Change

 

This wildly popular mind blog may well be about documenting the Eschaton, but that doesn't mean we can't report good news. Yes, there is some. The great state of Texas just passed a law that stops murderers  killing babies with a heartbeat.

That's right, baby has a heartbeat? You can't kill it, you demons. Predictably, all the people who want to kill babies in the womb are howling with rabid, luciferian outrage. How dare Texas stop us from killing babies and getting rich off the proceeds. How. Dare. They.

Note this, the people who want us to kill moar babies are the very same devil worshipers who abandoned our people in Afghanistan, and spent Trillion$ killing hundreds of thousands of people in wars which we've consistently lost.  Is there a connection? 

Of course there is. People who will kill babies will kill anyone, their moral compass is gone, kaput, while their bank accounts swell with blood money.

Texas, meanwhile, has said no to these satans. Let's see that continue.

God bless,

LSP

Rest in Peace

 

Dallas' Veterans Cemetery is on the far west edge of town, past the Cockrell Hill ghetto zone and getting on to the strange no man's land of the mid-cities connurb. There it is, overlooking what was once a grand prairie, and I pulled up into "Lane 1" to celebrate my friend's funeral.

You've met him, here, as Veteran Crew Chief (VCC). He was a quiet and private man, never loud or boastful, and while he didn't suffer fools gladly he did a lot of good, helping people out quietly, not least his fellow veterans, comrades.

It's a curious thing, "giving the message" to a group of tough people who have done tough things, all under the heat of a Texan sky. What can you do but tell the truth, with a view to consolation, hope, and strength. "My enduring memory of R is this. He approached the Altar with great reverence and humility. I tell you, it humbled me, as a priest."

RS loved the Lord. Rest in peace and rise in glory.

God bless,

LSP