What Have We Done

 

A Typical Baltimore Street Scene

Nothing good, American cities didn't used to be the urban hellhole wastelands they've become. But maybe you doubt me and think "it's always been this way." No, it hasn't, here's a few before and afters:

Good work, Kansas City!

And well done, Council Bluffs. Now everything's better.

Yes indeed, Birmingham, you score high.

Yet more awesomeness from Kansas City.

And McKeesport's made some startling improvements! NICE.

But why, Milwaukee, live in a city when you can live on a road?

But I won't go on. Look up pretty much any US city, do a before and after search and you'll find they've been gutted and wrecked. And the point is this, we don't have to live this way and we shouldn't. Our cities and towns should be beautiful and they're not. Problem. Solution?

Kick out the degenerate nihilists who've captured our schools and teach that some excrescence by Damien Hirst's just as good as a Rembrandt. In other words, reclaim objective aesthetic value, and we don't have to reinvent the wheel. Form, proportion and all of that have been worked out long ago, return to this.

Just Look How This City Was Improved

Likewise, remembering the simple maxim that roads are for travel, cities are for living, plan accordingly. For example, Waxahachie has a pleasant, enjoyable center, such as it is for a small town. Why? Because the City Fathers in their wisdom rerouted industrial traffic out of down town and, lo and behold, this now flourishes.

Again, back in the '70s, the urban planning genius patrol in charge of Calgary, Alberta, were fixing to drive a highway along the Bow river through Inglewood. They were stopped, and Inglewood's now a congenial place to stroll around, albeit hideously overpriced thanks to Justine Trudeau.

Random Educational Meme

So, let's take our towns and cities back and make them beautiful again. We should not have to live surrounded by the brutal ugliness of Hell, and you'll note: The Left, in its rage against bourgeois oppression tore down its architecture, and the result? Now only the rich can live where everyone else once dwelt. There's a moral and an axiom there, if you care to draw it.

Architecturally Yours,

LSP

Stand Up Tall And Salute

 

Staaaand.. UP!

Your Buddy,

LSP

Happy Orthodox Easter!

 

Wishing a happy Easter to all our Orthodox brothers and sisters. Well done, unlike the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC) and the Marxist Climate Controller in the Vatican, you've resisted the urge to go rainbow gay. 

God will bless you for it and one day, perhaps, when the West returns to sanity, we can restart true ecumenism and the Church will speak again with one voice. In the meanwhile:

Χριστὸς ἀνέστη, and we know how this ends:

Bless you all,

LSP

Club War Shootout

 

OK, so here we are, jousting with Gospel imperatives. Viz. Which of these five clubs is the best club? Namely, the NatLib, the East India, the In & Out (Naval & Military), Farmers, and the loyal and true Royal Scots. Quite the shootout, who's most in the X Ring?

For sheer Jules Verne grandeur and scale it's gotta be the NatLib. I mean for goodness sake, the place is home to Europe's largest freestanding marble staircase and its minimum ceiling height competes with Mt. Everest. Hey, those Victorians thought big and the NatLib's got one of the best preserved Victorian interiors in London. All this to say nothing of  a great Terrace and good food and drink at a very reasonable price, right there at No. 1 Whitehall. Respect, but it doesn't have rooms and's shut on weekends, also, its dress code is shocking slack. So.

The East India's smaller, better run (?) and more trad, more of a gentleman's "home from home," perhaps. It also has rooms, nice, a wildly historic location, think Waterloo, and an excellent Sunday lunch. Yes, this club's open on Sundays and is perfect for Brompton Oratory after-Mass. It does not, however, have a commanding stairwell or a Terrace. Huh. Why not let members enjoy the balconies off the Waterloo room? Too dangerous, apparently. Said no one ever in 1816.

Then there's the In & Out. You can go there after lunch at the EI on Sunday because, guess what, it's actually open on Sunday, albeit in a limited capacity, and enjoy smoking in the club's beautiful courtyard while you have a sip of the right stuff. Also, its stairwell is well put together as is the club itself. I like this place, not least for its brazen goat.

Farmers? Cheek by jowl to the NatLib lies the Farmers Club. Unpretentious, most congenial, with a lovely terrace where you can smoke and drink, this outstanding club not only has rooms in Whitehall at a ridic decent price but's also open on weekends. You can hang on their terrace sipping Bloody Mary's as you gaze at the scrum over yonder at the NatLib. Nice. It's ceilings, however, are only about 11' and it has no stairwell to speak of. 

The Royal Scots does, and I have to recommend this place. Stay, if you visit Edinburgh, at the RSC. Get a double room overlooking the park, which is opened by real keys, and enjoy the congenial, country house vibe of this beautiful club/hotel. If you're a member you get discounted rates and access to a library, sitting room and recip rights all over. Seriously, I like this place. It's regimental, think Pontius Pilate's Bodyguard, it's civilized, not pompous, overblown and awful, it's well run and has outstanding recip rights. DM if you like.

So there you have it. Which club's best? NatLib for architecture, for sure, EI for put togetherness, I&O for courtyardery, Farmers for central London congenial at the right price, and the RSC for sheer tartan awesomeness. But of course they're all good, beacons of light and civilization in a world fast descending into darkness and barbarism.

Speaking of which, the NatLib has good overwatch. Will it become, ironically perhaps, a strongpoint? Who knows. In the meanwhile, I award the Royal Scots victory in this 5 Way Club Shootout. Feel free to disagree.

Your Most Clubbable Pal,

LSP

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