Transgender Empire

 

Have you noticed how everyone's trans all of a sudden and wondered how this latter day Mengele madness swept through the Western world? This short from Christopher Rufo gives a synopsis of our current, and I'd argue Satanic, Frankensteinian trend:

From Pritzker billions to the slums of Detroit with cultural Marxism at the beginning, middle and end of the Godless project. Imagine the damage, physical and mental, to the victims of this nihilist abhorrence and the mighty profits which accrue from it.

You'd think, in the face of such demonism, that the Church would stand up and be counted but no. Mĕnēʾ mĕnēʾ tĕqēl ūpharsīn, מְנֵא מְנֵא תְּקֵל וּפַרְסִין‎, you've been weighed in the balance and found wanting. God's writing on the wall has, perhaps the weight of a curse, certainly divine judgement.

Out demons out,

LSP

Do Yourself A Favor

 

Word to the wise. Do yourselves a favor and watch Sound of Freedom in a small country movie theater or anywhere, but a small cinema in a small town may well be best. We still have a few, a very few, in this part of Texas and I went to one this evening, the Cliftex, with some kind church people.

Here's Prodigal's review:

Just returned home from watching "Sound of Freedom" at the Cliftex Theater in Clifton, Texas. Was built in 1916! $5 ticket!!!

Outstanding movie! Multiple times you could have heard a pin drop. Such a gut-wrenching reality. And it was done in a very mature manner. Not just an "appeal to the emotions" movie.

The level of perverseness and utter depravity that this, dare it be said, industry sinks to is heinous and wicked and demonic. There is no pit in hell deep enough for these haters of humans and humanity. Archangel Michael will usher all of them and their devil daddy to hell soon enough.

May God's Name be hallowed and praised. We beseech Him for strength to bind the strong man.

And use our prayers to frustrate and bring to naught the machinations of the ungodly. 

 

Right on and thanks, Prodigal, for the ticket. On theme, watch Nefarious too, maybe the best demon possession movie I've seen, very "Hostage to the Devil." 

Libs hate, despise and scorn both these excellent films, can't think why.

God bless,

LSP

Fear And Loathing

 

That is all, well almost all.

You can almost feel sorry for the poor fellow.

Lars Porsena,

LSP

Sound Of Freedom

 

Look, it's too hot to think so I'm asking you, the reader, to help me out. Why are California Democrats blocking a bill to make child trafficking a felony? Likewise, why are mainstream media and film critics ignoring or rubbishing Sound of Freedom?

Perhaps you've heard of it, an indie box office smash hit detailing the very real, very serious and very evil scourge of pedo sex trafficking. It's based on real life LE experience and details, in suspenseful form, the utter evil of the thing.

The people love it, it's a very popular film. The critics and most media hate it. I say again, why? Why does Rolling Stone, which somehow still exists, hate it so much? Because, they say, the movie fosters a right wing conspiracy theory. Viz. Thousands of children are sold into sex slavery every year.

You see, there is no organized child-sex slavery operation, it's a figment of Nazi Fascist, tinfoil hat conspiracy crazies. That's what they say, there is no large scale pedophile trafficking going on in our country or around the world. It is, you stupid redneck Nazis a figment of your imagination. Listen to the science. No. Children. Being. Sold. For. Sex. Gettit?

No, I don't get it, because pedophile sex-slavery and torture is real. Just ask Jimmy Saville and Huw Edwards. You'd think, all ye champions of right over wrong, that this would be a bipartisan issue. Stop child sex-slavery even if the threat was remote, stamp out even the mere rumor of such a thing. But no, the Left chooses to ignore it and worse, castigate those who fight against it. 

Why? As you reflect, people who champion killing babies in the womb are capable of anything. But your call, it's too hot to think.

Out Demons Out,

LSP

Hot

 

So what's going on, LSP, apart from vaguely unhinged ranting on our evil transnational elite and Europe's schizophrenic war lust. You know, bay for war, clamor for combat, but don't produce any ammo or tanks or planes or ships or guns. Of course that's hard if you've offshored your industry to China and rely on cheap Russian gas. That aside, what's going on?

I'll tell you, heat, extreme heat. It's like a preheating oven out there and it's getting to the point where the very air itself might ignite, thermobaric style. Imagine driving under a scorching Texan sun, the fields around you bleached by its light and someone carelessly flicks a spent cigarette out of the rig's window. Boom, ignition as mesquite dust, pollen and chaff explode. Terrifying.

typical Texas hat

In the old days, I'd think nothing of getting out in the field in the midst of it all and ride, shoot, fish in the heat of the day. Now? Not so much, it doesn't seem so attractive to slowly boil under a 107* Heat Dome. That in mind, we have to wonder at the sheer toughness of the people who pioneered this place. Remember, they had Commanche as well as the heat to deal with, and most definitely no AC.

Speaking of which, the Compound had a wrap 'round sleeping porch up until the '80s when it was sadly destroyed to make way for an extension. Error. Maybe we need to fix that mistake, the upstairs AC's barely cutting it. But such is the War on Weather, no one ever said it'd be easy.

Don't melt,

LSP

Marine Le Pen On Fire

 

Listen up, all ye heathen, Marine Le Pen's on fire:

Ask yourselves, since when did being a patriot, and a country having borders equate with Fascism? 

Follow the money to the root of the issue, our beloved, transnational, elite, insatiable great replacement rulers. Hint, dear readers, who benefits from massive immigration? Labor, or its private island owning boss. Ponder that, reflect on it, rainbow unicorn style.

In related news, Germany's donated 20,000 HE artillery shells to the Ukraine out of its stock of, ahem, 20,000 shells, but at least they have 15 nukes. Does this mean European defense policy is equivalent to some guy walking around unarmed with a dynamite vest? You get the issue.

Regardless, and as always, your call,

LSP

Just Taking It Easy

 

Huh, relaxing. Then there's Hawkwind

Hall of the Mountain Grill, or something like that. Here at the Compound we're whistling Dixie. Just taking it easy, until the next time.

"The time has come for you to choose, better get it right." 

Your old Pal,

LSP

Poetry Monday - Lepanto

 

It's everyone's favorite day, Poetry Monday, and here's Chesterton's Lepanto in full. You recall the battle, in which a Catholic fleet destroyed the Sea Johad and ended Moslem domination of the Med:

White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,
For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.
They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,
They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,
And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,
And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,
The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;
The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass;
From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,
And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.

Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,
Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,
Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,
The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,
The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,
That once went singing southward when all the world was young,
In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,
Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.
Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,
Don John of Austria is going to the war,
Stiff flags straining in the night-blasts cold
In the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold,
Torchlight crimson on the copper kettle-drums,
Then the tuckets, then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes.
Don John laughing in the brave beard curled,
Spurning of his stirrups like the thrones of all the world,
Holding his head up for a flag of all the free.
Love-light of Spain—hurrah!
Death-light of Africa!
Don John of Austria
Is riding to the sea.

Mahound is in his paradise above the evening star,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
He moves a mighty turban on the timeless houri’s knees,
His turban that is woven of the sunset and the seas.
He shakes the peacock gardens as he rises from his ease,
And he strides among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees,
And his voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring
Black Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing.
Giants and the Genii,
Multiplex of wing and eye,
Whose strong obedience broke the sky
When Solomon was king.

They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,
From temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn;
They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea
Where fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;
On them the sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl,
Splashed with a splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl;
They swell in sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,—
They gather and they wonder and give worship to Mahound.
And he saith, “Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide,
And sift the red and silver sands lest bone of saint abide,
And chase the Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest,
For that which was our trouble comes again out of the west.
We have set the seal of Solomon on all things under sun,
Of knowledge and of sorrow and endurance of things done,
But a noise is in the mountains, in the mountains, and I know
The voice that shook our palaces—four hundred years ago:
It is he that saith not ‘Kismet’; it is he that knows not Fate ;
It is Richard, it is Raymond, it is Godfrey in the gate!
It is he whose loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth,
Put down your feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth.”
For he heard drums groaning and he heard guns jar,
(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)
Sudden and still—hurrah!
Bolt from Iberia!
Don John of Austria
Is gone by Alcalar.

St. Michael’s on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north
(Don John of Austria is girt and going forth.)
Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shift
And the sea folk labour and the red sails lift.
He shakes his lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone;
The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;
The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyes
And dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,
And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room,
And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,
And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,
But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.
Don John calling through the blast and the eclipse
Crying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,
Trumpet that sayeth ha!
Domino gloria!
Don John of Austria
Is shouting to the ships.

King Philip’s in his closet with the Fleece about his neck
(Don John of Austria is armed upon the deck.)
The walls are hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin,
And little dwarfs creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in.
He holds a crystal phial that has colours like the moon,
He touches, and it tingles, and he trembles very soon,
And his face is as a fungus of a leprous white and grey
Like plants in the high houses that are shuttered from the day,
And death is in the phial, and the end of noble work,
But Don John of Austria has fired upon the Turk.
Don John’s hunting, and his hounds have bayed—
Booms away past Italy the rumour of his raid
Gun upon gun, ha! ha!
Gun upon gun, hurrah!
Don John of Austria
Has loosed the cannonade.

The Pope was in his chapel before day or battle broke,
(Don John of Austria is hidden in the smoke.)
The hidden room in man’s house where God sits all the year,
The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.
He sees as in a mirror on the monstrous twilight sea
The crescent of his cruel ships whose name is mystery;
They fling great shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark,
They veil the plumèd lions on the galleys of St. Mark;
And above the ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs,
And below the ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs,
Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines
Like a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.
They are lost like slaves that swat, and in the skies of morning hung
The stair-ways of the tallest gods when tyranny was young.
They are countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing on
Before the high Kings’ horses in the granite of Babylon.
And many a one grows witless in his quiet room in hell
Where a yellow face looks inward through the lattice of his cell,
And he finds his God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign—
(But Don John of Austria has burst the battle-line!)
Don John pounding from the slaughter-painted poop,
Purpling all the ocean like a bloody pirate’s sloop,
Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,
Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,
Thronging of the thousands up that labour under sea
White for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.
Vivat Hispania!
Domino Gloria!
Don John of Austria
Has set his people free!

Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade....
(But Don John of Austria rides home from the Crusade.)

Years ago, decades ago, an old friend would recite this in his library study in London over glasses of port. Moving, as is the poem.

Domino Gloria!

LSP

Princess Louise of Prussia

 

You may not like it, all ye Libs, but Princess Louise of Prussia was equally at home at court or as Hon. Col. of the Death's Head Hussars. Here, look at this:

The troops love her, understandably.

Because she lifts everyone's spirits, a force multiplier. She was the only daughter and the last child of German Emperor Wilhelm II and Augusta Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein, and a great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria through her father. Born in 1892, she died in 1980.

Some say, foolishly, that women shouldn't be allowed into the martial profession. That's clearly an error, see above. Others argue that Melania should be and in fact is Hon. Col. of the DLC (Dallas Light Cavalry). Prestigious unit, what?

Ride on,

LSP

A Sunday Sermon - The Fatherhood of God

 

Mountebanks, frauds and imposters such as the current Archbishop of York don't like the word Father applied to God. It's "problematic" for them because of peoples' negative experiences of fatherhood and "patriarchal oppression."

Alas, the all-prevailing, systemic scourge of patriarchal oppression. Quite the blight on our age, such as it is. But leaving aside the inherent apostasy involved in denying Dominical revelation, imagine if you can that the Yorkine prelate has a point, that people do have bad fathers and live in an oppressive, criminal patriarchy.

Think of Hunter Biden's disowned son, not even allowed the family name, while the Big Guy, the Patriarch rakes in millions while sucking down ice cream on vacation in Delaware, wherever that is, and directing the fate of the world. There you have it, bad dad, oppressive patriarch. So can we refer to God as Father or was Jesus wrong?

I'll spare you my homily but here, at the risk of length, is Benedict XVI, addressing the issue:

It is not always easy today to talk about fatherhood, especially in the Western world. Families are broken, the workplace is ever more absorbing, families worry and often struggle to make ends meet and the distracting invasion of the media invades our daily life: these are some of the many factors that can stand in the way of a calm and constructive relationship between father and child. At times communication becomes difficult, trust is lacking and the relationship with the father figure can become problematic; moreover, in this way even imagining God as a father becomes problematic without credible models of reference. It is not easy for those who have experienced an excessively authoritarian and inflexible father or one who was indifferent and lacking in affection, or even absent, to think serenely of God and to entrust themselves to him with confidence.

Yet the revelation in the Bible helps us to overcome these difficulties by speaking to us of a God who shows us what it really means to be “father”; and it is the Gospel, especially, which reveals to us this face of God as a Father who loves, even to the point of giving his own Son for humanity’s salvation. The reference to the father figure thus helps us to understand something of the love of God, which is nevertheless infinitely greater, more faithful, and more total than the love of any man.

“What man of you”, Jesus asks in order to show the disciples the Father’s face, “will give his son a stone if he asks for bread? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Mt 7:9-11; cf. Lk 11:11-13). God is our Father because he blessed us and chose us before the creation of the world (cf. Eph 1:3-6), he has really made us his children in Jesus (cf. 1 Jn 3:1). And as Father, God accompanies our lives with love, giving us his Word, his teaching, his grace and his Spirit.

As Jesus revealed — he is the Father who feeds the birds of the air that neither sow nor reap, and arrays the flowers of the field in marvellous colours, in robes more beautiful than those of Solomon himself (cf. Mt 6:26-32; Lk 12:24-28); and we, Jesus added, are worth far more than the flowers and the birds of the air! And if he is so good that he “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” Mt 5:45), we shall always be able, without fear and with total confidence, to entrust ourselves to his forgiveness as Father whenever we err. God is a good Father who welcomes and embraces his lost but repentant son (cf. Lk 15:11ff.), who gives freely to those who ask him (cf. Mt 18:19; Mk 11:24; Jn 16:23), and offers the bread of heaven and the living water that wells up to eternal life (cf. Jn 6:32, 51, 58).

Thus, although the person praying in Psalm 27 [26] is surrounded by enemies and assailed by evildoers and slanderers, while seeking the Lord’s help he invokes him. The witness he bears is full of faith, as he states: “My father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me up” (v. 10).

God is a Father who never abandons his children, a loving Father who supports, helps, welcomes, pardons and saves with a faithfulness that surpasses by far that of men and women, opening onto dimensions of eternity. “For his steadfast love endures for ever”, as Psalm 136 [135] repeats in every verse, as in a litany, retracing the history of salvation. The love of God the Father never fails, he does not tire of us; it is a love that gives to the end, even to the sacrifice of his Son. Faith gives us this certainty which becomes a firm rock in the construction of our life: we can face all the moments of difficulty and danger, the experience of the darkness of despair in times of crisis and suffering, sustained by our trust that God does not forsake us and is always close in order to save us and lead us to eternal life.

It is in the Lord Jesus that the benevolent face of the Father, who is in heaven, is fully revealed. It is in knowing him that we may also know the Father (cf. Jn 8:19; 14:7). It is in seeing him that we can see the Father, because he is in the Father and the Father is in him (cf. Jn 14:9,11). He is “the image of the invisible God” and as the hymn of the Letter to the Colossians describes him, he is: “the first-born of all creation... the first-born from the dead”, “in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins” and the reconciliation of all things, “whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross” (Col 1:13-20).

I can't add to such excellence. In Christ we see the true face of the Father and of fatherhood itself, infinitely powerful and sovereign, and infinitely compassionate and loving. The apostates ironically defraud themselves by throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

You'll notice that "these things," the mighty works of God and the nature of our heavenly Father, have been "hidden from the wise and understanding." (Mtt 11:25-30) Yes indeed, and revealed to "babes," to the little children who turn to Christ in purity of heart and humility of spirit.

Take note, imposters, wimmyxn and everyone else, he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, * and hath exalted the humble and meek. (LK 1. 51-52)

In the meanwhile, we'll continue to pray as Jesus taught us.

Pater Noster,

LSP

The Lord's Prayer

It was bound to happen and now it has. The venerable if shrinking Church of England's second in command, Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell told General Synod that the Lord's Prayer was "problematic." 

Why would that be? According to Cottrell, it's because some people have had difficult relationships with their fathers and others again "have laboured rather too much from an oppressively patriarchal grip on life."

Space Aliens

There you have it. Jesus got it wrong, he condoned abusive, oppressive patriarchal imagery and, per Cottrell, it's about time we changed all that. But if Christ got it wrong, what kind of God is he? Not much of one if at all and that's just it, these people don't believe in the God they pretend to worship.

You old frauds

Same thing, come to think of it, on wimmyn priests. Not ordaining them was unjust and evil. Jesus didn't ordain them... I leave you, the reader, to complete the unholy syllogism.

Ave Atque Vale,

LSP

Kulture

Our Vice President Kamala Harris leapt upon the philisophic stage last week at the Essence Festival of Culture, whatever that is. De essentia in mind, a moderator asked Kamala, our second most important ruler, about the nature of culture. She replied:

Culture is, it is a reflection of our moment and our time. Right? And present culture is the way we express how we’re feeling about the moment and we should always find times to express how we feel about the moment. That is a reflection of joy. Because, you know, it comes in the morning (laughing).

We have to find ways to also express the way we feel about the moment in terms of just having language and a connection to how people are experiencing life. And I think about it in that way, too.

 

Just having a language. You'll recall the godless pride of Babel was confounded, and I'm reminded of a time many years ago in seminary when an overweight young man complained about children being given rosaries in Sunday School.

"I don't like it, it looks really cultic." I looked my adversary in the eye and said, "No culture without cult, look it up, I dare you." Of course he didn't. And here's the thing, get rid of the cult, the worship and belief which undergirds, sustains and propels the people of the West and by extension the world, and you're left with barbarous gibberish or even worse, tyranny.

We've pretty much destroyed our worship here in the West, 2000 years of it, of the beauty of holiness, and behold the result, the confusion of the Pit, which when asked of culture says, "That is a reflection of joy. Because, you know, it comes in the morning (laughing)."

Quite, maybe she was high.

Ad Altare Dei,

LSP