Fog of War

You can imagine, Sunday Mass at Mission #1 said and there you are, relaxing on the back porch with a cup of coffee and reading war reports out of Bakhmut. All well and good until a beating and pounding against your fence breaks the stillness.

What?!? Lo and behold, a loose dog was going hard against one of Eduardo's exotic ducks. Now, I'm not a betting man but odds on the dog and devil take the hindmost, eh? Not so fast, punters. Three minutes into the contest and the duck had not only driven off the dog but flown back into the safety of its compound.

Typical Duck/Dog Fight

There it was, wings splayed in fight-mode, strutting amongst its fellow ducks while the dog sat in the front yard of Elrond's Elf Lodge, aka The Florist's, ignominious defeat seemingly forgotten. I couldn't help but think Blue would've made a better show, but he's old now and didn't notice, being deaf and blind.

Excitement over, it was time to drive through mystical fog to the lake for Mass #2, and there you have it. Draw the moral as you will, not least, don't put all your money on the dogs.

Your Friend,

LSP

Everything is Mystical

 

Never a truer word from our friend AMLO and perhaps you remember the mystery religion that was the Covid cult? All those mystical rabbit's foot masks which were going to save us from a 99.9% non-fatal killer flu, especially on jetskis.

And social distancing, remember that? Keep your distance at the airport or you'll die, unlike in the plane where you won't. A bit like restaurants, which we could enter and sit down in but not stand because standing up notoriously weakens the immune system.

While you're at it, follow the mystical science all the way to the vaccines that were going to stop everyone getting the virus and don't, but at least they stop 0.1% of the populace from dying! Quite, said the athlete in peak fitness who died of a mystical heart attack.

But what am I saying, Pfizer et al have made immense sums of money in the last few years and it doesn't take an adept or shaman to work out how; just follow the cash all the way to enlightenment.

No mystery there, but that whole continents of people were caught up and vehemently believed the money making agitprop is another thing again. Goebbels himself would be proud.

As AMLO says, everything is mystical.

Your Pal,

LSP

Mexican President Posts Photo Of Mayan Elf

 

Mexico's President Andrés Manuel López Obrador, popularly known as AMLO, has gone viral on the information superhighway after posting a photo of a Mayan tree elf on social media. Calling the elf an "Aluxe,"  AMLO tweeted that "everything is mystical."

Here at the Compound we agree, there's a lot of mysticism running around these days. Why do so many people connected with the Clintons end up suicided? How did Crooked Joe become the most popular president in history? Why does believing in biological gender, follow the science, make you a Fascist? How come Katie Hobbs isn't in jail? Why has the Church of England gone rainbow? All this and so very much more, a mystery.

In the meanwhile, AMLO's elf glares down from its tree at the world with glowing eyes and a baleful countenance confirming, if proof were needed, that we live in an age of miracle, mystery and wonder.

Be careful out there,

LSP

Frau Ley

 

Frau Inga Ley was bizarrely talented, tremendously beautiful and an accomplished mezzo soprano. Sadly, Inga fell in with Reichsleiter Robert Ley, leader of the the German Labor Front, a World War I hero and notorious drunk.

not flattering, Inga

Ley, a drunken brute of man, beat his beautiful wife who became addicted to morphine as did many other Nazis. Depite being loved by the Fuhrer, Inga took her life, shooting herself at the end of 1942. Robert Ley, drunk, wifebeater and thug, committed suicide before his trial at Nuremburg in 1945.

All this Gotterdamerung in mind, I'm inclined to feel sorry for Inga, such beauty married to such beastliness. But my middle sister who lived in Berlin holds no such qualms, "Those bitches deserved to die."

What can I say but, "Easy, Panzer,"

LSP

War

 

I hesitate to post on the war because all of you know far more about it than I do and, to be fair, there's not much glory in being an armchair general even if the chair's solidly ensconced in your favorite club's Coffee Room, and the General's baton's a glass of vintage.

Disclaimer over, where are we at? Pretty deep financially, with moar cash flowing to the Ukraine in one year than we spent on the entirety of the Afghan adventure. Sorry, Ohio, there's other priorities in play and don't say 10% to the Big Guy.

Militarily? If you've read the news over the last year you might be surprised that AZOV hasn't retaken the Crimea and KRAKEN aren't at the gates of Moscow. Early reports of Russia's idiotically useless and corrupt attempt at military action were perhaps premature.

Hanna

That in mind, brother Rus appears to have shifted from a failed attempt at NATO style precision to what they seemingly do best, lobbing thousands of shells per day at the enemy. "The Russian guns," said Der Fuhrer from his bunker as the indefatigable Hanna Reitsch flew in to Berlin in the Reich's hour of need.

We, in the meanwhile, are running out of ammo to send our eastern proxies and, lo and behold, China, Russia and Iran grow closer by the day. Here's a warning shot via Will Schryver:

Surely Schryver's wrong. We are most clearly ruled by prescient philosopher God Kings. Or would that be satanic nihilists. Just a thought.

Your call,

LSP

Furries & Fascists

 

Readers of this humble and scarcely read mind blog may have missed it. Viz. Furries, people who enjoy dressing up as animals, are at the forefront of the perennial fight against Fascism. And who are these evil Fascists? Anyone bigoted enough to suggest biological sex might have something to do with gender.

What literal, brazen Nazis, and this includes TERFs (Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists) who turned up in Glasgow last month to protest failed Scots premiere Nichola Sturgeon's hated trans id laws. No, said the women led by Kelly-Jay Keen, women are women and men are men, it's in the chromosomes, and anything else is an attack on women.

Pan to baying, barking, snorting, snuffling, whining, shrieks of outrage from some 1000 assorted furries who were in Glasgow at the same time as Keen's anti trans protest and planned a counter demo. Keen was unimpressed, tweeting:

'If the battle cry of the SfW side could be summarised as ‘I am woman, hear me roar’, the opposing chant must surely be ‘I am Colin in a cartoon animal head, hear me whine through this small air vent’.

Such was the Battle of Furlodden, you can read about it here. But hold on, have we really come to this, are we so degenerate, bored and caught up in illusion as to suppose a gang of furverts are standard bearers of the progleft revolution and that believing men are men and women are women equates to Nazism?

Apparently we are, eat your heart out defenders of Bastogne and Stalingrad and don't say Pritzker billions while you're at it. In related news, a 53 year old Scottish transsexual butcher, Andrew Miller who identifies as Amy George, was arrested last month for abducting and molesting an 11 year old child. 

He, or would that be she, is remanded in custody. Remember, punters, Baphomet is trans and how far off is "we are legion" to "they/them."

I say again, out demons out,

LSP

Lent Begins

 

Sometimes Lent comes on with a vengeance, it has this year. I'd no sooner returned to the rural idyll that is this small Texan farming community than texts, calls and emails began to flood the ether. Why? Because of several unexpected deaths at Mission #1.

So LSPland's been all about Requiem Masses, which is perhaps fitting. "Remember O man that thou art dust and to dust thou shall return," says the priest as he imposes ashen crosses on the foreheads of penitents on Ash Wednesday. 

A stark reminder of our mortality for sure but also a badge of victory, in Christ crucified life triumphs over death. And with that, may the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace and rise in glory.

With every blessing from the NCTEZ (North Central Texas Exclusion Zone) for a holy Lent,

LSP

A Short Sunday Sermon

 

It's the last Sunday of Epiphany and, in the newfangled lectionary, we're presented with Christ's transfiguration on Mount Tabor. There the veil is lifted and we see Jesus shine with divine radiance. Then, as the cloud of God's glory descends upon Tabor as it did on Sinai, the Father speaks, "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased; listen to him."

I won't preach but  perhaps you'll find St. Gregory the Great helpful:

The Lord reveals his glory in the presence of chosen witnesses. His body is like that of the rest of mankind, but he makes it shine with such splendor that his face becomes like the sun in glory, and his garments as white as snow.

The great reason for this transfiguration was to remove the scandal of the cross from the hearts of his disciples, and to prevent the humiliation of his voluntary suffering from disturbing the faith of those who had witnessed the surpassing glory that lay concealed.

With no less forethought he was also providing a firm foundation for the hope of holy Church. The whole body of Christ was to understand the kind of transformation that it would receive as his gift. The members of that body were to look forward to a share in that glory which first blazed out in Christ their head.

The Lord had himself spoken of this when he foretold the splendor of his coming: Then the just will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Saint Paul the apostle bore witness to this same truth when he said: I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not to be compared with the future glory that is to be revealed in us. In another place he says: You are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

This marvel of the transfiguration contains another lesson for the apostles, to strengthen them and lead them into the fullness of knowledge. Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets, appeared with the Lord in conversation with him. This was in order to fulfill exactly, through the presence of these five men [Moses, Elijah, Peter, James, and John], the text which says: Before two or three witnesses every word is ratified. What word could be more firmly established, more securely based, than the word which is proclaimed by the trumpets of both old and new testaments, sounding in harmony, and by the utterances of ancient prophecy and the teaching of the Gospel, in full agreement with each other?

The writings of the two testaments support each other. The radiance of the transfiguration reveals clearly and unmistakably the one who had been promised by signs foretelling him under the veils of mystery. As Saint John says: The law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. In him the promise made through the shadows of prophecy stands revealed, along with the full meaning of the precepts of the law. He is the one who teaches the truth of prophecy through his presence, and makes obedience to the commandments possible through grace.

In the preaching of the holy Gospel all should receive a strengthening of their faith. No one should be ashamed of the cross of Christ, through which the world has been redeemed.

No one should fear to suffer for the sake of justice; no one should lose confidence in the reward that has been promised. The way to rest is through toil, the way to life is through death. Christ has taken on himself the whole weakness of our lowly human nature. If then we are steadfast in our faith in him and in our love for him, we win the victory that he has won, we receive what he has promised.

When it comes to obeying the commandments or enduring adversity, the words uttered by the Father should always echo in our ears: This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.

Listen to him. Yes indeed, and in doing so ascend the holy mountain on whose peak we rest in the beatific vision, ourselves transfigured by the light of Christ.

God bless,

LSP

Get Back

 

There it was, the urban glory of WC1, and then the nightmare that is Heathrow's Terminal Three. This used to be vaguely congenial, I recall, but presents itself now as some kind of psychotic night club in a bus station sponsored by Hermes, Gucci and Tissot. 

Nightmare? Yes, but word to the wise, you can buy an airplane book at WH Smiths and a surprisingly cheap sandwich at the Boots pharmacy franchise for £1.50. I bought several, along with Nial Gaiman's Neverwhere and headed through the madding crowd to Gate 36.

The sandwiches were tasty, bizarrely, Neverwhere entertaining and the flight easy and fast, getting into DFW an hour early. What can I say, an exception which proved the rule. And then touchdown on the DFW runway and there we were, home. A taxi ride later I was back in the sylvan idyll of Winnetka Heights, Dallas, and a warm welcome from Ma LSP, "Champagne?" Most assuredly yes.

So that was that, a successful recce patrol across the Atlantic and back to Texas, safe and sound. Lessons learned? Don't lose your phone and bank card after carousing at the jolly old NatLib, do go to Mass at the excellent St. Peter's London Docks and while you're at it, spare a thought for Turner's Old Star 'round the corner from the church, well worth the visit.

In other news, CONUS is being attacked by balloons in a vicious act of asymmetrical warfare, the Scottish National Party (SNP) is in tranny turmoil and the dear old Church of England's gone even gayer than it was already, which is saying something.

Get back,

LSP

On To Ludlow

 

All too soon it was time to leave the rain washed, windswept streets of the Athens of the North and the comfort of the Royal Scots and head to Ludlow. I rode the rails to this charming market town, once home to the Council of the Marches and a key defensive point against savage Welsh raiders.

Today the town's less about beating back the ferocious Welsh and recalcitrant nobility and more about butchers, bakers, fishmongers, green grocers, outstanding late Medieval and Georgian architecture and... pubs. We liked the Blue Boar, with its fire and mostly peaceful ambiance.

And walking too. If you go to this gem of a border town, take time to stroll around the castle, the river and, if you're feeling adventurous, climb up into the hills above the town. I asked my friends if there were bears in the woods, apparently there aren't, but we did see a large buzzard which reminded me of home. As did a view of the Malverns, which I used to be able to see from my bedroom window as teenager in Cheltenham. Memories.

Speaking of which, on the last day there, my old boss MCP drove over to visit at the Blue Boar. Onetime poacher turned gamekeeper in the IT world of the '90s and '00s, he's become an author and published a book to critical acclaim in Dublin. It's called Long Lost Log and details his adventures sailing across the Atlantic as crew in an eccentric "thoroughbred" of a boat in 1974. What a lot of fun to meet up.

So well done MCP and big thanks to S&K for great Shropshire hospitality. And now? Back to London for a few days before heading home to Texas.

Cheers,

LSP

Edinburgh Rambling

 

You see, the thing about Edinburgh is that it's this great little town, country but ritzy with it. And I tell you, more restaurants than you can shake a stick at. But that's as maybe, go exploring and see what the town's really about.

About passages or alleyways, apparently, which they call "closes," and their terminus in "courts."  Now we know and so do you if you go off the beaten path in Edinburgh's Old Town. This, by the way, was a right medieval warren of a place back in the day. 

It's less so now, perhaps on account of Old Town's Quality moving to New Town in the 18th C. This, readers, is perhaps the finest Georgian set of buildings anywhere on the planet and, to be fair, it is beautiful if windswept.

In related news, many witches were burned here and some Scots MP wants them pardoned. A barrister pal questions this, "Should Major Weir be pardoned?" Good question, eh? Well, he's waiting for an answer. In the meanwhile, the venerable if shrinking COE's gone pretty much full gay. 

Good luck with that, 

LSP

Great Result

 

"So where've you been, so-called 'LSP'?" you mutter askance. That's a very good question and the answer's simple, in the UK. Object being to take two Sundays off and have some fun in the Sceptered Isle. So far so good with a week in London and attendant serious clubbing, let the reader understand, and now Edinburgh.

The high point? Going to mass on Sunday at St. Peter's London Docks (SPLD), one of the founders of the Anglo-Catholic Movement as we know it today. Tract into act sorta thing, and they did just that, ministering heroically to the cholera stricken poor in the 19th century.

That in mind, Sunday's Mass was outstanding. Hordes of kids, 13 Confirmations, a full church, great sounding choir and sparkling wine after Mass. Totally all good and uplifting in every respect. Well done, SPLD, you're bucking the trend and showing the world that real religion, as opposed to its ersatz rainbow simulacrum is the way forward.

And what good people! America take note, the UK is home to some pretty switched on punters, no kidding. Happy with that, I strolled through the streets of East London after Mass with an old friend, and today? 

Rode the rails to Edinburgh and the Royal Scots. More on this adventure as it unfolds.

God bless,

LSP