So what's better. This^^^, or this.
Thanks, DM, you clearly rock, and thanks for the tip. But what's best, Mexico or Egypt? As always, you, the reader, be the judge.
Shoot on,
LSP
PS. Have you noticed Hugh Cornwell's increasing similarity to a senior officer in the British Army. Perhaps it's reincarnation.
Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.
The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.
Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.
Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God.
So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.
Parentally,
LSP
Never a frown with golden brown. I'd advise caution and so would the monkey, he's a ferocious beast. Here's Toto.
One Love,
LSP
Here at the Compound we're keeping it simple with roast duck, partly because there weren't any turkeys and the Specialist thought duck would be tasty. But that's for later. In the meanwhile, here's a prayer.
O MOST merciful Father, who hast blessed the labours of the husbandman in the returns of the fruits of the earth; We give thee humble and hearty thanks for this thy bounty; beseeching thee to continue thy loving-kindness to us, that our land may still yield her increase, to thy glory and our comfort; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Bless you all; have a great day with family and friends.
Your Old Friend,
LSP
It's Regency London, the Westminster Pit, some five years after the Corsican upstart met his nemesis at Waterloo. Candlelit faces gleam with anticipation, and it's on, "Gennellmen, place your bets!"
A monkey emerges from shadow into the ring, club high, fangs barred, simian snarling. Yes, this is Jacco and he's not alone, a dog growls, ferocious, it is Puss, the favourite. Fight.
A flash of gold in the wings, of real money, "Wager a guinea on the monkey, eh? Devil take the hindmost." Hat, stock, cane and guinea purse agree, "Hindmost? Twice up and double on the ape, damme." And the monkey wins against the odds. Triumph. A short clip back to St. James, White's and...
It's North Central Texas, Anno Domini 2021, with a hot sun blazing from a blue sky. "How much you want for this pipe?" Silence is golden, "You tell me," and business concluded. Not as racy perhaps as the Pit, but no less good for all that.
If you look hard enough, there's a frontier, country, equivalency between the two.
Time travel's weird like that.
LSP
Wow. There you are. In your SUV. In Wisconsin. And you look at all these people with hatred, there they are, having a Christmas parade and there you are in your car, whipped up on hatred, insanity and God knows what else. So you drive your car into that parade and kill as many as you can.
What, five persons killed and how many injured, including children. This is sickening to me, and to all right thinking people. But the reaction of the Left is worse, it's demonic, those people deserved it because they're white, it's karma for Kyle's acquittal.
You, a child in a stroller or a "dancing granny" deserve to get plowed up and killed by a lunatic blacktivist on account of the color of your skin. At a Christmas parade. Dear God. If you can't see Satan in this you're blind.
It's the Feast of Christ the King today and the readings at Mass present us with a glorious vision of the majesty of God. In Daniel's prophecy we see the Ancient of Days, mystically enthroned in fiery power and the Son of Man given "dominion, glory and kingdom," everlastingly. St. John the Divine takes up the theme, "Jesus Christ" is "the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the prince of kings of the earth," the Alpha and Omega. Triumphant, then everything changes.
In John's Gospel we find Jesus in the Praetorium, on trial for his life before Pilate, before the power of the idolatrous Roman state. We know what comes next, Christ, the King, is scourged, crowned with thorns and crucified. And this jars, it doesn't seem right. Surely Pilate should be whipped as a pagan usurper in the Holy City, and aren't the false prophet Caiaphas along with his followers the ones deserving execution for blasphemy and treason?
Yes, according to the logic of the world, of the Beast, of Caesar, and the math of Satan. But Christ's kingship is not of this world, he says as much to Pilate. No, his is the Kingdom of God, the kingdom of love, and he witnesses this truth to the full with his sacrifice on Calvary. There, on the Cross, Christ manifested his kingship as the God of love, defeating the ruler of this world and inaugurating the kingdom, establishing his dominion over sin and death and reconciling us to the Father.
It is a kingdom which will be fully revealed at the end of time, when our sovereign returns as he left, in clouds of glory. At that point, "every eye will see him, every one who pierced him; and all tribes of the earth will wail" as the beast is burned with fire while the righteous shine like the sun.
But this is for the future. In the meanwhile, the Pilates of our age, of the godless state, to say nothing of false prophets, wax large. As it was in the Praetorium so it is now, Antichrist appears ascendant. And as foretold, they come with lying signs and wonders, "Look, we can conjure money out of thin air, from nothing. We are Gods." A satanic parody of creation, and that's just our financial system; enough to deceive the very elect.
Do not be fooled. They're not gods and neither are we, "It is he that hath made us and not we ourselves." He, Christ, is our true Sovereign, the king of kings and lord of lords who, on his return at the end of the age will blow wickedness away like smoke before the wind and the Beast along with Satan and his apostate angels will be cast into the lake of fire.
Wait for this in confident hope and as we do, as we watch and pray, ask God to fill us with great faith and love such that when he comes our savior and king who reigns from the Cross will recognize us as his own, as his faithful soldiers and servants, sheep of his pasture, sinners redeemed by his precious blood, and will raise us at the meeting to glory.
Christus Rex,
LSP
Via Kim in Substitute:
Because of all this woke bullshit, we are no longer allowed to use the word “Mozambique” for our favorite shooting drill (two shots in center-mass, one in the head) because raayyycisss.
As always, the solution can be found in the Old Country. At the suggestion of Mr. Free Market, allow me to present the new drill, the Rittenhouse:
