Random Gun Ramble

 

Get A Better Bipod

Waved the young, ahem, gentlemen off to the range via Chevy Trailblazer this afternoon and off they went with various weapons. A ChiCom SKS, a CZ SxS 20, a no-name Italian O/U 12, a Ruger American .22 and an Aero Precision AR 10, all very 7.62.

Boom, and what could possibly go wrong with this scenario? Good question, and I asked one of the young men if he was a shooter. "Not really," came the reply, "Just some time with 9s and .22," so I fixed him with a steely eye, "Just make sure you don't shoot your buddy, alright? That's a no-no." He then rattled off the rules of marksmanship and I felt marginally reassured.

Random Hallway Weapons

Well, all you parents out there, perhaps you get the concern and in case you think me somehow "micro," "helicopter" or "nanny state," consider this.

The man who owns the range, it's part of his farming empire, loves to shoot and he took his only son out to the place for some plinking enjoyment. All good, until the kid shot himself in the groin with a .22 and bled out on the way to the nearest hospital. It's a larf, right, until it isn't.

Clean the dam pistol, LSP

That in mind, the boys did well, didn't shoot each other and returned back to HQ in good style following an unreformed diner burger at Campbell's(?). Looks like a shack, is pretty much a shack, but serves great diner burgers, rock on.

Message to market. Enjoy firearms, blast away and be free, but respect the weapon for what it is. Does that sound sententious or preachy? No, just solid common sense.

Shoot straight,

LSP

This And That

 

Get a haircut, fool

Well yesterday was fun, all about a standing rib, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes and carrots, delicious gravy and all of that. A young soldier and his Canadian pal approved of the feast. 

But today struck with a dead battery and headlight bulb in the kid's car and I tell you, removing a battery and replacing a bulb in an '04 Chevy Trailblazer isn't as easy as you'd think. Canadian friend likened it to "heart surgery." He had a point.

Big Baby

Then the kids went fishing and drove off to Austin to hang out with some Polish people and, I guess, hippies, it being Austin and all. I did not go to Austin but stayed at the Compound, where it's safe, and RV'd with some Mexicans at the church.

What good people, who set up the church's "sound system" for the new Spanish Mass this coming Sunday. I do not use a "sound system" because I kinda hate them in church, but for them it's important. So hey, carry on and el Senor sea con ustedes.

That aside, I find this... hypnotic, perhaps you will too:

Cheers,

LSP

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Have a great day! Getting all up in the crystal and silver here at the Mess as we prepare to pound the mahogany. And 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.

 

God bless you all,

LSP

Well What Have We Here

 

Well what have we here. Just the Vicar of Christ on earth inviting a busload of tranny whores to the Vatican. I know, a facsim of Christ welcoming sinners, well done, but where's the admonition to "sin no more"? Stunningly absent.

Then there's Cosmo advertising Satanic ritual abortion, the Rainbow Bridge at Niagra has been targeted by Leaf extremists, a senior Pentagon official's been arrested for "pandering" in a sex sting, and Tucker's busy sending rounds into the X-Ring on social media. Here he is:

Always trust your gut. If you feel like they're lying to you, they are. pic.twitter.com/zkKYtRUbrf

— Tucker Carlson (@TuckerCarlson) November 21, 2023

A little long and maybe get a voice coach but wow, right there over the target. Tell the truth, kids.

Veritas,

LSP

Viva

 

Years ago, back before the TSA existed and life seemed simpler even on the Maryland ghetto side of the DC border, I prayed fervently for a voluntary Spanish speaking assistant priest. No small order but lo and behold, a man turned up and built up a mighty south of the border congregation. It was a big thing, literally, and the hideously lib TEC diocese couldn't shut us down because racism and all of that.

By way of example, bishop figure John Chane tipped up for an, ahem, episcopal visit in my last year there, complete with a seminarian from VTS (Virginia Theological School) seminary. Of course the young man was wearing a bow tie (What? Yes, it's true) and asked me superciliously if "we had any programs" while I was setting up the High Altar.

"No," I replied, adjusting a missal stand, "I don't think we do." Bow tie sneered at my recidivist High Churchmanship and sat down in a pew, waiting for Mass. And then the church started to fill up and there was VTS boy sandwiched between several crews of homies and cabrón all 'round. He seemed rather scared, sensibly; you'll forgive my welcoming grin.

I tell you, after 35 confirmations there we were at the end of the Mass, singing the Regina Coeli at the Guadalupe shrine at the back of the church, six deep and standing room only my friends. You see, they couldn't drop the rainbow boot on such a thing, the fighting monkey waxed too strong.

Fast forward to today. Again, I've been praying for a Spanish speaking assistant priest/clergyman and what's happened? The diocese, in its abundant generosity, has sent one, a deacon and a good man. We'll hold our first Spanish Mass at Mission #1 on Sunday, the Feast of Christ the King.

In the meanwhile, I'm furiously practicing liturgical Spanish and would appreciate your prayers.

Viva Cristo Rey,

LSP

Take The Money And Run

 

Hey now, don't discount the butcher bill. Just take the money and run, eh?

What are we, helpless?

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Sunny Southern Weather

 

One day it's Albertan ice and snow, and the next? Balmy autumnal Texas where everyone's enjoying porchlife in the temperate 70s, beautiful. Well, enjoy it while you can before the New Ice Age kicks in. Speaking of climate catastrophe, say a prayer for Linda, whose homestead's threatened by a seriously aggressive weather front. In other news, I found this uplifting, via LL:

 

“There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also isn’t an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag, and this excludes the red flag, which symbolizes all wars against liberty and civilization just as much as it excludes any foreign flag of a nation to which we are hostile. We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language, for we intend to see that the crucible turns our people out as Americans of American nationality and not as dwellers in a polyglot boarding house. We have room for one sole loyalty, which is to the American people.” — Theodore Roosevelt.

 

Granted, I fly several flags, not least the Bonnie Blue, but still. Then there's the NSA, which has fallen in love with the pernicious rainbow. Why, because national security?

 

Let’s start here with the Daily Wire. The NSA’s 34-page glossary defines hundreds of social justice terms, including “white fragility,” “transmisogyny,” and “settler colonialism.” If you don’t buy into the bullshit, you shouldn’t work there. “But the agency, which has been sharply criticized for its mass surveillance operations on American citizens, goes beyond openly endorsing the extreme tenets of Critical Race Theory with its glossary — it pushes queer theory as an approach that ‘critically deconstructs and challenges binaries such as male and female or heterosexual and homosexual.'”

Just think, readers, how much more secure we are as a nation for actively deconstructing binaries, you know, like "right and wrong." Awesome, now the NSA can spy on everyone with gay impunity and our beloved rulers can do whatever they want, do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law, sorta thing.

So who's in charge here, a gang of satanic Crowleyite Lao Tze Maoists? Asking for a friend.

Cheers,

LSP

Dixie

 

I wish I was in Dixie and hey, so does a massive chunk of California, Alberta and everywhere else. But what am I saying, I am in Dixie and thank God for that. But what do you know about Dixie, so-called "LSP," if that's your real name, which we doubt, aren't you a Brit?

Yes, famously, but not so fast, loyal Sons of the South, Ma LSP's people helped settle Denton, Jagoe style. Is Texanicity determined by... female bloodline? Yeah it is, everyone knows this, and you can imagine raised eyebrows when she married a Yankee and went to England on the Queen Mary France. Think, back when travel was civilized.

turn it up

Speaking of which, I recall an afternoon at the Denton Country Club. There we were, sitting in some kind of attractively unreformed 1950s anteroom, full of club diners, nice. And what does Pa LSP do? Announce loudly, mas gusto, I think I'll vote Democrat. Per the fickle beast of memory, you could've heard a pin drop.

My, what an old terrorist! And he confessed, over whatever offerings the DCC happened to serve up on that teak paneled day, "The parties have reversed." Right on, Pops, good late '90s insight, but he was smart, Canon Theologian and all of that, he saw Dixie was right.

I won't bang on, all hail the WEF and its NWO satraps.

Your old Pal,

LSP 

Zadok

 

I feel we need this,

LSP

Nutcracker

 

You no sooner get home to the mobbed mayhem of DFW's Terminal C than you notice Target, yes, Target, America's family store supermart, is up to its old tricks. That's right, they're pushing POC rainbow "Nutcrackers" and a POC Santa in a wheel chair, paraplegic Santa. Look, here He/Him is:

Wow, what a cutting-edge marketing strategy, picture the scene at Target Corporate, "Seriously, ths brand is tired, Target is yesterday's suburban mall has-been, like JC Goddam Penny, Sears or that supermarket no one even remembers, what was it? Yeah, Kroger and Piggly Wiggly. We need to shine or we go down into the trashcan of history."

Enter Erik Thompson, Target's Senior LGBTQIA+ Segmentation Strategist & Pride Lead, who goes by the username "gaycruella" on Instagram, "Time to whip out the ... Glitter & Hellfire ... flamethrowers and rip that old world to shreds darlings."

Round of stunned applause in the conference room and net result? Nasty Christmas ornaments which appeal to a tiny fraction of the nation and offend "that old world" which Target so badly wants to sell to and, apparently, "rip apart." Target must feel it's riding the rainbow unicorn wave of a revolution all the way to profit. But here's the thing.

Why hasn't the Old World, call it Christendom if you like, stood up to this risible affront to Christian sensibility, to say nothing of common sense. Lack of nerve for sure and more to the point, outright apostasy, and could it be that our major stores are run by the rainbow? Surely not, as if.

That in mind, if everyone who goes to church on a Sunday in North America were to boycott Target they'd be even more sunk than they are already.

Have at it,

LSP

Climate Change

 

Here's the thing, the land of the ice and snow was more like the land of t shirt and shorts for most of the past week. Obviously someone remembered to pay their carbon tax, and then they didn't. Yesterday dawned grey and chill, with the cold seeping into your Arctyrx fleece as a harbinger of things to come, Winter.

the climate has changed

So I took the young 'un out for an enormous burger at the Inglewood Diner, tasty, and prophesied, "Son, it feels like snow." He agreed, and sure enough that's exactly what happened. A biting wind kicked in at around 6 pm and white supremacy fell from the sky, indifferent to the fate of the oppressed.

random Canadian fridge magnet

"Look, Dad," exclaimed Junior LSP, "A winter wonderland!" And so it was, "Welcome to Narnia, Son." We spent the rest of the evening watching John Wick movies along with superlative Chinese food ordered up from Chinatown. Big fun.

brrrrr

Today dawned clear, crisp and bright, beautiful. Climate Change, you see, has its benefits and to celebrate this I shoveled the sidewalk and scraped ice off the car. Then SL's rig pulled up from High River and off we went to the airport, mission accomplished.

Stay Frosty,

LSP

High River BB Gun

 

Drive about 45 minutes out of Calgary and you get to High River, which is "a vibrant, People-First community and the back door to the Kananaskis." Marketing aside, it was fun to get out of the city and visit family within sight of the mountains; there they were, at the very end of the road, and you can imagine the toughness of the people who pioneered this place, in the winter. Like Texans but Brits and Scots in the snow for months.

what a daisy

War against the Weather aside, I was knocking about in the backyard, watching the grass grow, when all of a sudden I spotted a Daisy lying nonchalantly against a wall. Yes, it was loaded, and there was a tin can.

Put two and two together and what do you get? No, not maths racism, but a backyard shooting range, so I set to, practicing abominably rusty off-hand with the little BB monster. Big fun, watch that can pop around the lawn. It brought me back to my youth and an air gun, a BSA pump, in Oxford. Sorry, birds, I genuinely apologize.

gotcha

No sooner were hundreds of BBs exhausted than feminine cries echoed from the kitchen, "Please, please get us Poutine! It's just at the end of the street!" Huh. Off I went to the end of the street and there were the mountains, most majestic, but no poutine shop, so I recced around, miraculously found the place, and all was well in High River.

note horse totem

Maybe I need to invest in an air gun when I get back to Texas, just for backyard plinking and keeping the eye in, sort of thing. Shooting is, well, shooting, eh?

Cheers,

LSP