Country Sale Barn #2

 

I tell you, punters, never a dull moment in LSPland. One minute it's off-world supermodels in Paris and the next you're gazing at an '08 Kubota, waiting for a 20 yard dumpster and getting ready for a  country barn sale.

Yes. Tools, we sell 'em by the box, then there's anchors, welding tables, tool boxes, PVC fittings, jacks, literal buckets full of shovels, axes and picks. To say nothing of scaffold, dog pens (x5), steel pipe. tin by the yard, copper pipe, power tools and on and on.  Roll up, roll up my friends.

But there's a lot of trash, hence the dumpster which was supposed to arrive at 11 am but didn't, more like 4. But hey, it got there and Jose, with a rambunctious flash of gold dentistry lowered the grey metal beast into position, "Sound like thunder!" And so it did. 

Mission accomplished, he left for Waco and left me to close up shop as mighty hawks swooped down on the fields in search of prey. Ferocious predators! Watch them glide and dive with concentrated ferocity.

Then back to the Compound, where Blue was busy sleeping and all was well with the world. Tomorrow? We shall fill that dumpster.

Your Old Country Sale Barn Pal,

LSP

PS. There's great excitement, rightly, in the country about this sale and you're all invited. It's this weekend, Saturday-Sunday. But when you turn up bear in mind, cash on the nail, no "Visa." But people using the code "LSP" get a special 10% discount. Value, eh?

Winged Hussars

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Walk. Trot. Canter. Gallop. RUN! All you horse people know; imagine the slashing shock, the kinetic power of the thing.

Poland rode to the relief of Vienna, not that long ago, and broke the Moslem war horde. Let's see more of that and while we're at it, let's have Constantinople and the Bosphorus back. After all, it's ours.

Hussaria,

LSP

The Fauci Candle

  

"I believe in science," said an old friend on the phone. "No you don't," I replied, "You believe in the Democrat Party." That in mind, believe is the operative word and America's highest paid civil servant's right up there at the top of the cult. You can even buy votive candles dedicated to the patron saint of big pharma profit$ healthcare.

They're not cheap, obviously, but what price passive aggressive self-satisfaction? "I don't know how to explain to you that you should care for other people," runs the smuggery. So very true, go right ahead and demonize people for being reluctant to get a jab which doesn't stop you getting or spreading a disease but which does, mirabile dictu, make a lot of obscenely rich people even wealthier than they already are.

Private islands and jets all 'round, how very... Left. And I asked my friend, "Since when and why did the Left climb into bed with notoriously charitable institutions like Merck, Moderna, Johnson & Johnson and Pfizer. Because science?" The silence was deafening.

Speaking of which, the data from Pfizer's vax trials has been sealed by the FDA for seventy five years. Let that sink in, seventy five years. Forgive the phrase, but the fix is clearly in, let's make that deep fix, and if you want to really follow the science guess what, you can't. It's sealed, you see.

So carry on, light a candle and cheer our elite overlords as they scientifically round up the maskless unvaxxed into KZs in the name of science, all because they care. Don't say about money and power.

Ορκος,

LSP

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

 

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here,

Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free

Thine own from Satan's tyranny;

From depths of hell Thy people save,

And give them victory o'er the grave.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Dayspring, from on high,

And cheer us by Thy drawing nigh;

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,

And death's dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come

And open wide our heav'nly home;

Make safe the way that leads on high,

And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Adonai, Lord of might,

Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,

In ancient times didst give the law

In cloud and majesty and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

God bless and watch over you all,

LSP

Uncle LSP's Country Sale Barn - #1

 

Whoever said life'd be easy? Do you remember anyone telling you this? If so, they lied. That in mind, the last few months have been all about putting VCC's (Veteran Crew Chief) estate in order. No small thing, and part of the process is getting the big metal barn ready for a country sale.

No. Easy. Task. Why? Because of the sheer magnitude of it all, so much stuff, and that's with the vehicles gone. I know, there's a moral here but I'll leave you to draw it. In the meanwhile, we pulled everything and laid it all out. Now it's ready to go.

As is the trash, and there's a lot, no kidding. To help with that I ordered a 20 yard dumpster only to find out today that the falsely named "Republic" wanted a $1000 for the privilege. What utter thieves. A morning of phoning around later and the same thing was secured for a third of the price. 

Yet another moral. Do not submit to monopoly/cartel, asset-stripping price gouging, go local instead. Remember the slogan, solidarity and subsidiarity? That in mind, let's see how Farmers' Local #100 snaps up these deals, cash is king, obviously.

Cheers,

LSP

JUICY!

 

Well, well, looks like Juicy's little theatrical raysiss stunt didn't play out so well. Guilty on 5 counts of pretending he was attacked by MAGA COUNTRY when it was really the Brothers Nigerian. Oops. Would that be black on black crime? Look up the stats, I labyrinthine dare you.

In the meanwhile, we have to ask. Why the need to invent race crime hoaxes when there's such systemic, ubiquitous, immoral, violent racism abounding in our nation? Did Juicy need the money, does the morally bankrupt Left need the currency, is the old paradigm simply outta gas and needs juicing?

Apparently it does. But while we ponder this, in the mental interlude, ask yourselves why we've become a gerontocracy which hates Christianity. Do you remember the Soviet Union?

Whatev. I hope Juicy goes to an easy prison because charity is key. I won't say even though he should be shot for a race baiting, theatrical goon.

Your Friend,

LSP

No Vax End Point Serfs

 

Via Zero:

“There’s not going to be an end point to this vaccination program,” the Prime Minister revealed, while calling on people who got jabbed six months ago to come back for another shot.

Ardern delivered the message while adopting her familiar passive-aggressive smiley mannerism, as seen many times before when she casually revealed the next step in COVID authoritarianism.

People who fail to continually get vaccinated will face the same fate as those who have continued to resist compulsory shots, they’ll be out of work, face social ostracization and God only knows what else in the future.

Enjoy your lifetime booster shots and enjoy not being able to travel, visit a restaurant or eventually go in a shop if you miss out on just one.

Remember, if you don’t take the Pfizer jab for life, you’ll never be “fully vaccinated”.

It truly never ends.

Embrace your slavery, serfs. Or, on the other hand, embrace gun futures.

Cheers,

LSP 

Advent Reflection

 

Here's an Advent reflection by Austin Farrer, from Crown of the Year:

Our journey sets out from God in our creation, and returns to God at the final judgment.  As the bird rises from the Earth to fly, and must some time return to the Earth from which it rose; so God sends us forth to fly, and we must fall back into the hands of God at last.  But God does not wait for the failure of our power and the expiry of our days to drop us back into his lap.  He goes himself to meet us and everywhere confronts us.  Where is the countenance which we must finally look in the eyes, and not be able to turn away our head?  It smiles up at Mary from the cradle, it calls Peter from the nets, it looks on him with grief when he has denied his master.  Our judge meets us at every step of our way, with forgiveness on his lips and succor in his hands.  He offers us these things while there is yet time.  Every day opportunity shortens, our scope for learning our Redeemer’s love is narrowed by twenty-four hours, and we come nearer to the end of our journey, when we shall fall into the hands of the living God, and touch the heart of the devouring fire.

Advent brings Christmas, judgment runs out into mercy.  For the God who saves us and the God who judges us is one God.  We are not, even, condemned by his severity and redeemed by his compassion; what judges us is what redeems us, the love of God.  What is it that will break our hearts on judgment day?  Is it not the vision, suddenly unrolled, of how he has loved the friends we have neglected, of how he has loved us, and we have not loved him in return; how, when we came before his altar, he gave us himself, and we gave him half-penitences, or resolutions too weak to commit our wills?  But while love thus judges us by being what it is, the same love redeems us by effecting what it does.  Love shares flesh and blood with us in this present world, that the eyes which look us through at last may find in us a better substance than our vanity.

Advent is a coming, not our coming to God, but his to us.  We cannot come to God, he is beyond our reach; but he can come to us, for we are not beneath his mercy.  Even in another life, as St. John sees it in his vision, we do not rise to God, but he descends to us, and dwells humanly among human creatures, in the glorious man, Jesus Christ.  And that will be his last coming; so we shall be his people, and he everlastingly our God, our God-with-us, our Emmanuel.  He will so come, but he is come already, he comes always: in our fellow-Christian (even in a child, says Christ), in his Word, invisibly in our souls, more visibly in this sacrament.  Opening ourselves to him, we call him in: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; O come, Emmanuel.

...we shall fall into the hands of the living God, and touch the heart of the devouring fire and judgement runs out into mercy. 

God bless you,

LSP 

Is This The Way?

 

Maybe it is. Keep it simple, right? That in mind, I powered this wreath with green LED lights and a battery pack. What a compact solution, and green too.  Speaking of which, do you remember Climate Change?

You know, the biggest disaster in the history of disasters which would raise the sea level so high it'd flood out the coasts, kill all the polar bears and... and... destroy the planet? The God King Messiah Barak Obama was a big booster, maybe that's why he bought a seafront mansion in Martha's Vineyard, because what a green socialist. What a colossal scam.

Ma LSP's Ready For Christmas

And now we've got COVID. Better vax up and wear your mask, even though neither protect you from getting and spreading a disease which 99.7+% won't kill you. Leap to it, serfs, and guess what. If you don't, you won't be allowed to enter a shop, much less leave your country. So you'd better OBEY.

Is that the way? Sure, the way of slavery, perdition and corrupt deceit. We walk a different path at the Compound. And lest we forget, remember Pearl Harbor, a day of infamy.

Your Crypto Pal,

LSP

Supermodel Apocalypse

 

I keep getting bombarded from Paris with photos of supermodels, and I had to reply. "Look, I've got a theory and that's all it is, just a theory," went the text from Texas to the Champs Elysee, "Sure, Supermodels are human, we get that, but they're from a different world. They're Off-World." Silence from his arrondissement, so I continued, encouraged.

Look, There's Lots of Them, Zoom in

"These beings are clearly different, they are other, see Soo Joo. So let us suppose their origin lies in a planet with lesser gravity, hence their height. Let us further suppose their planet, rich in gold, orbits several suns and is close to the Galactic Center. They are attracted to bright lights. 

Oh My!

"Let us then suggest that the WYMXN were sent here generations ago, and their descendants are unaware of their origin. But yes, they suffer from Interstellar Displacement Effect (IDE). The symptoms are clear. Low self-esteem, hysteria, a constant need for reassurance, 'Yes, you are beautiful...' and on. I take silence to mean 'yes.'"

Soo Joo

Though silence is golden, my friend replied, "You may well be onto something." A moment of reflection. "Are they victims of an as yet unknown aggressor, perhaps genetically traumatized, hence various... disorders. But look, this is only a theory, and with it the question turns. Will the AGGRESSORS follow the WYMXN to earth?

Off-World

"Man, you're on the front lines of the Eschaton. I salute your courage." And I do, the Apocalypse shall fall like a thief in the night, at an hour, place and time we least suspect. 

And as always, 

Ad Astra,

LSP

Texas Light

 

The famed City of Lights, aka Paris, France, is great but Texas has light too, from the heavens. That struck me as I drove out to take the Sacrament to a churchman who'd just got back from hospital after hip surgery. There it was, the sun breaking through the clouds like the presence of God blessing the land of the Lone Star State.

And there I was at the ranch, parking up by an old Chevy 2500 and looking over at round bales, a random dog house sitting on the side of a storm shelter, and a barn beyond. A lot of memories. Many, many hours dove hunting and walking the treelines, gun in hand, a few unsuccessful coyote calls under a bright moon, target shooting photos of Episcopal bishops with GH, rest in peace, and on. What good times.

A cacophony of tiny dogs greeted me at the door, "Come on in, Fr. LSP!" And I did, TR was recovering on a recliner and everyone was watching Yes Prime Minister, a favorite in this part of rural Texas, but that had to pause for the short service.

Think, God, in the Sacrament, visited that house and the people who received him were united to his victory on the Cross. The sun, if you like, broke through the clouds and the glory of God shone. What a wondrous miracle, and how dim our eyes are to see it, but I won't preach.

TR's a neat guy, he used to cowboy at the King Ranch and I asked him once what it was like, "I'll tell you Father, nineteenth century work for nineteenth century pay." In related news, he cooks what might be the best brisket I have ever tasted. Just outstanding, and that's no idle plaudit.

God bless you all and grant TR a full recovery.

Tantum Ergo,

LSP

PARIS

 

A pal's in Paris, France, running some kind of gig or "show" for Chanel. That means, as I understand it, being driven around in a limo to all these Parisienne places. Hey, rock on, and moar power to you but the question is, will you meet Coco?

Possibly. Look out for pearls, lots of them, and don't even consider uttering no for an answer. In the meanwhile we continue stalwart, indomitable, here in our Texan Compound. And that's no small thing.

What can we say?  Excelsior! 

Buy the dip,

LSP