Patrolling

 

The day dawned bright, with the sun torching its way through the hazy air of a Texan July; time to go on patrol. So much better than lying and moaning on a post-op sickbed and after all, movement, we're told, is a sign of life.

The alley cats were out in force. They were on patrol as well, though much of this seemed to be about an ad hoc all round defense. Well, they are irregulars.

The Fuel Stop was up and running too. They've had bullet proof(?) perspex forever, way before the Covid craze brought sheets of see through plastic to our stores. Does the plastic defend against bullets? Perhaps. Does it stop a virus? Maybe as much as the vaccines themselves.

Then it was time to stroll by Cursed House. According to legend, Cursed House used to be a dental office and home to untold horrors, and for a fact it's seen a stream of unfortunate tenants over the last few decades. 

These leave, shrieking, and are mostly never heard from again. It's under new management these days, let's see if the renovation cleanses the place from its wicked spirits. And there you have it. A good morning, well spent.

Cheers,

LSP

Zadok

 

I love this and you might too,

LSP

Under The Knife

 

0430. Get up. Feed the Blue, hop into a waiting Uber and head North  to Dallas' famed Preston Plaza. But why do such a thing at such an ungodly hour? Because I had to get an inguinal hernia fixed at the Plaza's surgery center and was first on the list.

We got there early, which gave me time to scope out the renowned plaza. "Not so much a plaza as a car park," I thought grimly to myself, staring at empty lots overlooked by medium rise, black glass offices, one being the surgery center.

0600. March promptly into the medicos, sign some papers, put on a made in China mask, because Science, and before you know it you're in a hospital bed waiting for anesthetic and surgery. I didn't have to wait long and enjoyed a short prayer with the surgeon, what a good man. Then next thing you know it's 0930, the procedure's done,  and it's time to go back to Ma LSP's. So quick. 

So there you have it, Tuesday morning under the knife and now a few days off in Dallas. Thanks Doctor, and associated team.

God bless,

LSP

St. Benedict

 

It's the Feast of St. Benedict today, the founder of Western monasticism and, some would say, one of the saviors of the West itself. He died in 480 AD at the monastery of Monte Casino, the same place used as a stronghold by Nazis in WWII and subsequently destroyed at great cost.

This prayer's attributed to him, it's a form of exorcism:

Crux Sacra Sit Mihi Lux

Non Draco Sit Mihi Dux

Vade retro Satana

Nunquam suade mihi vana

Sunt mala quae libas.

Ipse venena bibas

Here's the initials, found on the medal itself, as an aide memoire: C S S M L – N D S M D, V R S N S M V – S M Q L I V B.

This prayer has great power. Use it.

St. Benedict, pray for us,

LSP

NCOs And All Of That

Respect, Utterly Failed Mission

Do you remember them, Old Skool NCOs? Arnhem veterans and beyond? They have a culture and a dam fine one too, backbone of the Army.  And they've passed that on. Utter respect.

Boy

That in mind, the young 'un's going on a "Leadership School" all next week, and's kinda nervous. "Good," I advised, "You should be nervous, give it all you got and don't give up."

Let The Reader Understand

Your Old Pal,

LSP

You Dirty Little Beast!

 

Guns are great, we love them, they spell freedom and they're awesome in and of themselves, plus they're fun to shoot. But here's the thing, if you shoot them they get dirty, filthy dirty, and if you don't clean them they don't work. Useless.

Deadly gas guns especially. Great fun, no doubt about it, and all very well regulated militia, but they're a pain to clean, thanks a lot, gas impingement system. Still, it works and works well, if you can afford the ammo, which is questionable for most.

In related news, the people of Sri Lanka rose up and overthrew their dirty, corrupt, GloboHomo Green Government, chasing their beloved GreenCorpRainbow leader out of the country, and who can blame them? No more farms or food for you, serfs, we're going green! Pan to enraged mob storming presidential palace.

A harbinger of things to come? That in mind, a clean gun is a happy gun.

#2A,

LSP

The Hyena of Auschwitz

 

Irma Grese was just a teenage high school dropout when she found purpose and meaning in the Reich, as a concentration camp guard. The job suited her and she rose in rank, moving from the women's hell that was Ravensbruck to Auschwitz.

As the "Hyena of Auschwitz," Irma unleashed plebian fury on the unfortunates under her care. You can imagine what that looked like, up to and including lampshades made of human skin. Picture, if you like, the women kicked to death by Irma's hobnailed boots as they stood naked on roll call in freezing rain.

The Hyena was arrested by British forces in Spring 1945. She was hanged in the December of that year, 22 years old. Quite right too.

Your Pal,

LSP

Time To Shoot Again

There it was, another beautiful, clear, already ovenlike morning in country Texas, another day to shoot. This time at Chandler's range just outside of Valley Mills where I RV'd with some church people. Of course I was on a mission to test out yesterday's malfeasant gas gun. Would it work today after yesterday's failure and remedial gas block surgery?

Good question. You'll recall, far-sighted readers, that the gun wouldn't cycle because of an incorrectly aligned gas block and wrong length gas tube, which I corrected. Or had I? First shot. Bang, right in the center of the green terrorist's head, nice, the weapon was on. But no cycle. Dam.

Out came the screw driver, off went the hand guard, and whaddya know, the gas block still wasn't right. Attention to detail, LSP, get it right the first time, enough of your shoddy, useless gunsmithery. That in mind, I nudged the block back over the handy indent in the barrel, tightened it up, fired a test shot, the rifle cycled, phew, and replaced the hand guard.

A few shots later on the head of the green terr proved the rifle was in working order. Mission accomplished. Result. The rest of the morning went on remedial .45 practice, I'm rusty, and plinking about with a .22. Great enjoyment and what a lot of fun to meet with with church friends for a shoot in the clean country air. 

We must build on this worthy endeavor.

Gun Rights,

LSP

Tzarina

 

Failed Davos Clown BoJo quipped at G7 with his elite goofoff rulers that Russia wouldn't be a threat if it was run by women. Excuse me? See Catherine the Great. 

who reads the Economist anymore anyway? BoJo, what a clownfall

BoJo now rests in the dustbin of history as the failed ruler he is. Unlike, say, Putin, and his beautiful, powerful female successor, see video.

Your Pal,

LSP

Time To Shoot

 

So what kind of LSP are you, and by the way we doubt that's your real name, if you don't even shoot? Good question, punters. To set the record straight I headed for the range this morning.

There it was, hot as an oven under the Texan sky, and I was on a mission. Viz. Zero in a new and specially crafted AR15. But at what range? There's plenty of pros and cons to the 25, 36, 50 and 100 yard zero, and beyond, but I went for 36 because that's where the shooting bench had been moved respective to the nearest available target. 

 

After a quick bore sight, the weapon was on paper in the 9 ring and I dialed up twice to hit the X on the third shot. Awesome, rifle and optic worked, except that wasn't quite true. Sure, the gun was on but it wasn't cycling. Why? Because the cunning armorer who'd put the beast together hadn't installed its gas block correctly, it wasn't aligned with the barrel's gas port, turning the DAR (Deadly Assault Rifle) into a one shot wonder.

Huh. After a few shots on a steel turkey I moved over to .22 plinking with a Ruger American. A heavy metal bird took a beating along with a small spinner, and then it was time to head for home and a serious meeting with Block, Tube, Pin, Barrel & Co.

You see, the builder of this gun somehow forgot, perhaps he was distracted, that he was working with a 16" barrel. He thought he was assembling an 18" setup and labored accordingly. This meant the gas tube was too long and when fitted to its block didn't align with the barrel's gas port. No hot gas working that famous impingement system, you see, and thus no BCG cycle. What to do?

Utterly Wrong

Stare in slack-jawed, NRA consternation at the offending article and the sheer, brazen, literal incompetence of it all? Take it to a shop and ask them to fix it? Or do it yourself. I chose the latter route. It's not hard. Remove the hand guard, tap out the gas tube's retaining pin with a cleverly small hammer and roll pin punch, then loosen the gas block, slide it forward to the awesome Surefire SOCOM muzzle brake, which demands a suppressor, and remove the gas tube.

Right? Let's See

Well done, you're nearly there. Next step, produce a gas tube for a 16" barrel, clean it, mine was dirty, and press the tube into the gas block. Make sure the retaining pin holes on tube and block align, then tap the retaining pin back in. Replace hand guard. Done.

At least that's the hope. It looks right, but I'll test the offending article out tomorrow on another range at a church shoot. It'd better work or there'll be trouble, and then some.

#2A,

LSP

Druids & Associated Idiocy

 

Julius Caesar wrote this about the Druids and their heathen religion: "[They] believe that the gods delight in the slaughter of prisoners and criminals, and when the supply of captives runs short, they sacrifice even the innocent." 

Note. Even the Romans, notoriously tolerant in their polytheism, scorned these pagans and slew them, erasing the forest dwelling killers. Well it appears they're back, check it out:

And just as we're recovering from Druid/Shaman rock, some enterprising soul bombed the Georgia Guidestones, which are a kind of Stonehengey monument to the New World Order, population control, and Soylent Green, all of that. 

Whether Klaus Schwab and his bought and paid for satraps get the message remains to be seen, unlike Nancy Pelosi on a beach in Italy, which is all too uncomfortably visible.

Try not to throw up.

Out Demons Out,

LSP

God Save The Tzar

 

Living the dream. And here it is:

We've devolved, don't you think?

Your Youthful Friend,

LSP