I Say Again

 

And big thanks to LL, who helped make this not unimportant evolution possible. No small thing. There is hope, my friends, in our youth.

Your Tan Suited Friend,

LSP

The Students Are Revolting

 

Well Done That Man! Remove Hippy

Imagine, you're spending hundreds of thousands on an Ivy League degree in Trans Theater Studies with a minor in Tofu and, understandably, you feel oppressed, because you are, financially. And mentally. It's not easy being so very privileged and yet so very in debt with a real world skill set bordering on utterly useless. So whaddya do?

Attempt to reconstruct the Weather Underground, Play Power and all of that while larping as oppressed Palestinians. Whoa, good call, even though you don't have the Dead, the Airplane, Thieving Hippies Onna Boat CSNY, Ginsberg and Leary behind you. For goodness sake, kids, give it up. Like Techno itself, this thing's getting old, so stop sidetracking and concentrate instead on your Beloved Rulers who hate you and the nation you're a part of.

Buy Those Boys A Keg

But whatev, you'll have noticed the, ahem, hallowed halls of academe are in an uproar as gilded Marxist youth face off against frat boys. Well done, Phi Kappa, whatever that means, and you can read about it all here, on Zerohedge.

More seriously, there's this, perhaps you've seen it, via Lensman:

A Warning to America: 25 Ways the US is Being Destroyed | Explained in Under 2 Minutes pic.twitter.com/qwmBO8DmMt

— Western Lensman (@WesternLensman) April 22, 2024

Cheers,

LSP 

Back In The Hood

 

That'd be Fort Hood, of course, for my eldest's official promotion to Sergeant. It'd been a while since I visited the Great Place so first things first, go to the Visitor Center and get a pass, it's not hard, then check into one of the post's hotels. I chose the Holiday Inn Express, just around the corner from the main gate, and lo and behold, it was full of soldiers. It's also cheap, clean, and friendly, so there you have it.

Next step, set up by the pool of this former transit barracks (?) and enjoy a glass of wine while waiting for the acting Sergeant to arrive, and then go out for dinner and drinks. Easy. Or not. I'd foolishly thought there'd be a congenial NCO Club or some kind of restaurant open in the evening  on post where I could take the kid out for a pre-promotion ceremony celebration. But no, there wasn't. So we got an Uber to something called the Twisted Kilt, which is a kind of sports bar where the waitresses wear kilts and Killeen's ne'er do wells look for fights.

Still, it was fun, in a sports bar kilt kinda way and we made it back to the Hood safe and sound. Word to the wise, if you're going out for a drink or two, get an Uber as opposed to going through the Bernie Beck main gate in your truck and getting a DUI. This happens a lot, curiously.

Next morning, pull on a suit, I went two button, and drive over to Brigade for the promotion ceremony. It wasn't desperately formal but it was moving, at least for me. What happens is this: 

After a brief introduction to Company Command, "Fine body of men you have here, Sarn't," line up before the troops with the two men about to be promoted. Listen to valedictory acclamation from assorted leadership and then, when the time is right, face your son, take his corporal's hat off, replace it with one adorned with sergeant's chevrons and then do the same thing for chest rank. Take the old rank off, put the new rank on, and thump it in. 

For Goodness Sake, LSP, Stand Up Straight

As I understand it, the chest rank replacement used to be a bit of an ordeal because of actual, literal, metal pins. These days it's all about velcro, but you can still put the thing on with purpose. That done, stand aside before falling out. So there you have it.

Later that evening, take the newly pinned NCO out to Tanks because there's nowhere to eat and drink, apparently, on a Wednesday evening at the Great Place, huh. Stand outside Tanks and ask yourself, "What have we gotten ourselves into?" Damning the torpedoes you stride through the dark portal of this dive bar only to discover you can smoke there, great result, and that it's significantly better than the nasty Twisted Kilt. Not unlike Detroit in the mid/late '90s.

Tanks - I Recommend It

Pleased by this, we shot a few games of pool, which I embarrassingly won, enjoyed a few G&Ts and then headed back to Hood via Uber. All good, until disaster struck at the gate, "Do you have any firearms in your vehicle," asked security, sensibly, "Yes, a pistol," replied the driver, honestly. Hey, if you were driving Uber in Killeen you'd have one too. Whatever, he got detained, while the Sergeant and I walked back to the hotel through the long grass of Hood's fields. Well done, mission accomplished, and what can I say?

First: It's no small thing to take part in your son's promotion. Well done, boy. Second: I was impressed by the demeanor of the troops and command at B Company 57 ESB. Intelligent, well they are techs..., respectful, switched on and full of youthful vigor, patriots to boot. Third: This is very, very different than UKLF as I knew it, back in the mists of time.

Ahem, where's the starch, why is there not an hobnailed boot in sight? Why does a Platoon Sergeant have his hands in his pockets? Are there no rifles with shiny bayonets to Pre...Sent... Arms! Apparently not, and I brought this up with the boy over pool at Tanks. "Dad," he said, I know what you mean," he drilled with the Calgary Highlanders as a Cadet, "But, when this thing gets moving it's like an unstoppable machine." Hey now, I can believe it.

Huh, This Is Still Allowed

Back at the Compound now and all is well. Good work, son, proud of you.

Semper,

LSP

Don't Mess With Texas

 

Everyone's armed, so maybe some rainbow warriors outta DC are gonna take 'em away. Maybe you've seen the film, Civil War? Rock on, kids.

Stand Steady,

LSP

Excuse Me?

 

As you were, carry on, just some pop music.

Your Musical Friend,

LSP

You're Fired

 

Maybe you haven't noticed but Scotland's preposterous diversity hire's been fired, SNLR, services no longer required. That's right, the absurd  Humza Yousaf has been sent packing after a mere month of his pathetically outrageous DEI, Rainbow Globohomo hate crime law.

Well done, Scots, kick such net worth 5MN trash to the curb,

LSP

A Typical London Sunday

 

So whaddya do on any given Sunday in London, capitol city of the Sceptred Isle? Good question and there's many options, but here in LSPland we like to go down this route. 

Viz. Wake up, this is important. Then, ablutions complete, get dressed. Maybe this involves a Harvie & Hudson shirt, a regimental or club tie, and some kind of suit, two button, three button, double breasted. Your choice, there's no rule. Then polish your shoes, like a pro.

The Best Shirts? I Call Yes

Well done, you've got this far. Next step, walk with urgency to the nearest underground railway, picking up strong covfefe on the way. Two stops later you're in Knightsbridge, marvel at the hordes of tourists getting off at this stop and join them, where are they going?

Not to shop, because these are shut 'til Noon, so perhaps they're going to Mass, just like you. A few minutes later find yourself at the Brompton Oratory, right on time for the 11.00 am Solemn High, and guess what, this large church is packed with all manner of people. Young, old, rich, poor, English, foreign, you name it, there they are, all present and correct to worship God according to the Western Rite of the Mystical Body of Christ. But hold on.

Beautiful

Parse Western Rite as an oriented Solemn High with three Sacred Ministers, in Latin with English readings, and the order of the new(ish) Mass. In other words, an Eastward facing Solemn High Latin variant of the Novus Ordo, all set to beautiful music, think Tallis and all of that. Which, dear readers, is the way liturgical reform should have gone but didn't.

Well, the proof of the pudding's in the eating and the Oratory's packed while guitar playing nun, wymxn priestess churches aren't. So. Mass over, not that the sacrifice ever ends, stride out uplifted onto the Brompton Road. Gaze at Harrods on your right and reflect on the times you've been there since a child, but don't go in.

EIC - Most Congenial

Instead, catch a cab to the East India Club, it's not far away, just off St. James, and enjoy a drink before lunch. Maybe you want a Bloody Mary, a French 75 or a Martini, whatever, your call, then enjoy smoked salmon carved off the trolley, roast beef, perfectly medium rare, and a desert. My choice is this: A scoop of chocolate ice cream and a double espresso. You see, you can mix the coffee with the ice cream and it tastes like perfection, word to the wise.

Lunch evolution over, you can go upstairs to the comfortable and historic Waterloo Room or stroll over to the In & Out (Naval & Military) to enjoy the after party before heading back to SOHO. Yes, this is still a thing and doesn't seem to have changed so very much in thirty or so years. In fact, the place seems to be recovering after the UK's heinous COVID lockdown. 

Don't be Fooled, This Place is Always Packed

Whatever, Team LSP favors the FRENCH HOUSE and the COACH & HORSES. And that's how Sunday night finishes, mission accomplished, a job well done.

Cheers,

LSP

GODZILLA

 

This one's for AJ who finds himself in China right about now. Hey, fella, we're safe here in the North Central Texas Exclusion Zone (NCTEZ). Sayn'. See you at the East India or maybe the RSC in Edinburgh.

Don't Fear The Reaper,

Ever,

LSP

Behold Devil Witch - Big Sur

 

Devil Witch

See what I'm saying? Speaking of which, an old pal asked me, at the NatLib no less, "How could you possibly support Putin?" I looked him straight in the eye and asked, "Do you support Pussy Riot? Jarvis Cocker? The LGTBQ+ rainbow agenda?"

He told me he supported none of those things, and I replied, "P Riot, Cocker, the Rainbow, all going down,  Cossack style. What's not to like?" He replied a few bites later into a NatLib bar snack, "I think, LSP, it's time for you to grow up." I thought about that for a second, "I'm afraid, old boy, that that boat's already sailed."

Speaking of which, Ma LSP had a fur coat, seal fur, which everyone called Big Fur. You get the point.

Cheers,

LSP

BACK

 

So just what, exactly, are you back from, so-called LSP? I'll tell you, an explosive tour around the Old Country. In brief: Survive the Eclipse Event, enter a portal and land at Heathrow, set up in Whitehall, take care of business, stroll 'round the corner to the jolly old NatLib and go from there, London's your oyster, and what an oyster it is.

Typical Whitehall Street Scene

Yes indeed, not least the Brompton Oratory where they celebrate the Mass in Solemn High grand style and, let the reader understand, in good time. Yep, an hour and fifteen minutes from beginning to end, concert high. 

NatLib - Shocking Slack

After that, catch a cab to St. James Square and Sunday lunch at the East India, order off the trolley like a pro and then, delicious meal over, stroll across the way to the In & Out (Naval and Military) and take advantage of their beautiful courtyard.

A Brazen Goat

Brazen courtyard goat notwithstanding, catch a fast train to Edinburgh and stay at the Royal Scots, what a congenial club. Ludlow beckons next, an idyllic market town which is rightly famous for the Blue Boar. Stop there for drinks and snacks. Next up? Back to London and Soho.

Prix Fixe

Get off at Euston, thanking God you're wearing a stab vest, catch a cab to Soho and have fun from thereon in. Maybe that involves multiple Negronis. Last leg of the tour, fly into Calgary and marvel at one gallon of milk costing EIGHT BUCKS. No kidding, something better change. Rock on.

Your Expat Pal,

LSP

Eclipsapocalypse

 

This town has gone full eclipse,  right at the time we're going to London for a Club shoot out. Stay tuned. Airport tomorrow.

LSP

Wandering Around

 

So whaddya do on Easter Tuesday? Train El Diacono to say the Mass, well done. Then wander through the sylvan boulevards of Olde Tejas to the Square. Take that in, in all its Confederate monument glory, and note the Gold Nugget Pawn's new signage.

Well done, boys, long may you reign. But what's this? Texan Pride? Is that some kind of rainbow thing? No, it is not. Reassured, glance into the shopfront of "Alterations" and spot a pink glitter mushroom. Hunh. Some kind of disco scene perhaps. And next door?

The newly opened Ember Cigar Lounge, promising fine wines, bourbon and, of course, cigars. Now, I don't even like cigars, as a rule, but ventured in to see what it was all about. And, per Ember's marketing it was about "Tradition, Honor, Excellence." Bold call, did Hill County's first cigar lounge live up to promise? 

Sure it did, in a North Central Texan Exclusion Zone kind of way. Plenty of cigars, which are traditional for a cigar lounge, and I'm sure many of them were excellent and sold honorably, give or take, fair play. Overall ambiance? Not bad at all, with some big boys turning up half-way through, so I had fun for an hour or so. But will the "high-end-cigar-bar" concept take off on the town square.

Maybe it will and I hope it does, after all, there's plenty of lawyers congregated in the townsquare hub of this county seat and hey, we could all do with a civilized place to meet and drink in the center of town, such as it is. Whatever, the guys who run this new setup have a good vision and I hope it succeeds, we'll see.

In the meanwhile, I've promised them photos from St. James and Clubland next week.

Ad Solem,

LSP