Let's Invade Russia

 

And then there's this.

Paulus went on to live in a palatial villa in East Berlin, the same Paulus who broke Germania, at Stalingrad. What utter catastrophe. And now they're trying the same gambit again, but with far less men. Whatever, here's some inspirational music. Perhaps you're getting ready to enlist? You know, to defend NATO.

Zu Befehl.

LSP

Stardust

 

Let's calm right down.

There you go, sleep tight.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Democrat Convention 2024

 

Weirdly Empty

Some of you may remember the Democrat Convention in '68, when Mayor Daley's enforcers sensibly beat up hippies in the windy city. I remember it, just, but not the DNC's anointed figurehead, Humphreys, who lost to Nixon. Flash forward to today and see how history rhymes, with an estimated 100,000 leftist protestors heading to Chicago to stick it to the Man.

Remember when Kamala Harris showed up drunk at one of her rallies? pic.twitter.com/SUhxkseN4F

— Allan🇮🇱 (@Smashg11) August 18, 2024

Well, not the Man as such, because that would be mysogynist hate speech terrorism, see the UK, but most certainly the DNC's Israel supporting leadership. Killer Kamala, chant Transexuals For Palestine as masked up Pantifa beat their shields whilst larping the Yippies of yesteryear. Who knows, maybe they've been reading Play Power along with Mao's little red book.

So let's see how the DNC Elite and their Overlords resolve such cognitive dissonance, such disturbance in the force. For that matter. will the chosen figurehead of Strength Through Joy remain sober enough to give a speech. Perhaps, dare I say it, she/hers is influenced by the Kremlin?

Cheers,

LSP

Behold Your Beloved Rulers

 

Does this fill you with confidence? Well it should, because Joe Biden got the most votes of any presidential candidate in the history of history, a solid 81 million ballots and he didn't even bother to campaign. Why would he, he's just so popular.

Vacant, Vapid, Vacuous Zombie Puppet Shill

And it's weird, the most popular, successful, talented, loved president in US history has passed the torch of his blazing popularity onto Kamala, his worthy successor. Kamala, like Joe, is so popular that she didn't even have to compete against other candidates in the Democrat primaries. Why would she bother, she has Rehoboth Beach Joe's backing and with it, his invincible popularity.

You Fraudulent Huckster

Speaking of which, have you been to Rehoboth Beach, Lesbian Capitol of the World? I have, and used to enjoy crab legs there, so tasty, right by the boardwalk and all of that. Would I go there now? No sir. You'd have to pay me a whole lotta Burisma cash, Kursk salient dollars for that laundry gambit. Ahem, waiting.

Cheers,

LSP

STRENGTH THROUGH JOY

 

Why don't you post anything positive and uplifting, so-called "LSP"? you ask in that complaining kind of way as you hoist a mint julip in derogatory salute. Good question and you know the slogan, "Train Hard, Think Positive, Fight Easy." Think positive. So let's set the record straight.

One of the first positive things I think when I think about La is joy, about her joyful laugh, her joyful day drinking at the pool vibe and her, above all, joyful message. There she is, smiling, drunk, laughing, kacklin' with unrepressed joy, because she's so totally joyful. And isn't that what our great nation needs so desperately, joy?

Of course it does, and our entirely free, objective, independent cadre of truth seekers in the Press, that envy of the modern world, agree. Here, have a look.

You see? They all agree, which is why we know it's true, follow the Science. So here's to La and Kuddly Koach Walz, the very harbingers of joy, and not just to us, to the whole world.

At the risk of being extradited, yours joyfully,

LSP

With Apologies To Our Lady

 

Have the people had enough? Maybe not quite yet, but you can feel the simmering discontent as prices continue to rise and the richest amongst us, our Beloved Rulers, grow moar richer than they already are. Is greed like an addiction, as in can't get enough?

Speaking of which, have you noticed the Church of England's dropping the word "Church" from its profile? Well, if the shoe fits.

With apologies to the Blessed Virgin,

LSP

A Lament

 

Like all true patriots I was going to post memes of Harambe tonight, along with not so subtle references to the UK's NHS screening men for pregnancy, Two-Tier Kier locking people up for mean tweets, and the bizarre apotheosis of Kackling Kamala. Or "La," as she's now known on Joy to the World Leftist agitprop media like the View. Yes, that's what I was going to do, but we're in the Octave of the Assumption so here's something altogether more serious, a Lament:

In the wrackes of Walsingam
Whom should I chuse
But the Queene of Walsingam
To be guide to my muse?

Then, thou Prince of Walsingam
Graunt me to frame
Bitter plaintes to rewe thy wronge
Bitter wo for thy name.

Bitter was it, oh to see
The sely sheepe
Murdred by the raveninge wolves
While the sheepharde did sleep.

Bitter was it, oh, to viewe
The sacred vyne
Whiles the gardiners plaied all close
Rooted up by the swine.

Bitter, bitter oh to behoulde
The grasse to growe
Where the walles of Walsingam
So stately did shewe.

Such were the worth of Walsingam
While she did stand
Such are the wrackes as now do shewe
Of that so holy lande.

Levell, levell with the ground
The Towres doe lye
Which with their golden, glitt'ring tops
Pearsed oute to the skye.

Where weare gates noe gates are nowe,
The waies unknowen,
Where the presse of freares did passe
While her fame far was blowen.

Oules do scrike where the sweetest himnes
Lately wear songe,
Toades and serpents hold their dennes
Where the palmers did throng.

Weep, weep O Walsingam,
Whose dayes are nightes,
Blessings turned to blasphemies,
Holy deedes to dispites.

Sinne is where our Ladye sate,
Heaven turned is to helle;
Sathan sitte where our Lord did swaye,
Walsingam, oh, farewell!

 

What pain in those lines. The purity and innocency of the Faith, exemplified by Our Lady; think Piers Plowman and Urban, the first Crusade, and the Lament itself, this had been trampled underfoot by evil men. 

You see, what had happened was that a syphilitic despot needed money, he was short of cash, both for himself and to pay off and create an aristocracy loyal to him. Problem. Solution? Sack the church, not least the holy shrine of Walsingham, England's Nazareth, and rake in the loot. Which is exactly what he did, and make no mistake, there was plenty to loot, over half a millennium of continuous giving and associated endowments. Rich pickings.

So, well done, Henry, you got your Field of the Cloth of Gold and created a whole new class of millionaire who waxed fat off of Church lands and went on in the next generation to cut of Charles' head. Bad enough, to say nothing of the catastrophic effect on England's piety. 

England's piety, consider that. A country which had been known as Mary's Dowry, the most Marian realm in Europe, became a place where even the Rosary was illegal. Imagine, a land whose people had the greatest devotion to Mary, the Mother of God, Theotokos, were banned from asking, publicly, for her intercession. As in, how dare you, traitor. Now we're going to draw out your entrails, and burn them as you hang. Traitor to the State.

Yes indeed, Sathan sitte where our Lord did swaye.

Fast forward. We're reaping the rewards of Henrician blasphemy now, Godless despotism and Satanic degeneracy masquerading as tolerance and love; endless deceit barely covering bestial profiteering, see Ukraine and everywhere else. But surely, LSP, you go too far, how can Walsingham's ruin count as our own?

In every way. One of the civilized, Catholic provinces of the Western Empire gave itself over to ruining the Church for profit, and from there to giving its weight to a Reformation which without her would've been still-born, a confusion of Eastern Germans. With her, it became a powerhouse as England expanded on her late Medieval genius and went on to rule the world.

Industrial Revolution, anyone? And with that, what Vigo Demant called "the greatest disaster ever to befall the world," (I remember him intoning the Angelus at the end of Mass at S. Mary Mag's, Oxford) exported her disbelief around the globe. And you will note that the same country whose Puritan army smashed the monasteries, convents, iconography, altars and windows of its churches, which banned devotion to the Mother of God, doesn't believe in Him anymore. The whole Reformation experiment, powered by the great Catholic Medieval Power, England, poisoned Christendom with disbelief and every kind of vice. And all, at root, for cash.

We're suffering from it here, when you think for half a second on it. Problem. Solution? Pray for the powerful intercession of the Immaculate, Ever Virgin Mother of God. Her seed, you'll recall, will crush the serpent's head.

END.

LSP

Choktaw Bingo

 

Per Wild, "It's a stone-cold miracle that Ray Wylie Hubbard has lived as long as he has." Good call, Mr. Wild. Me? Go, RWH, even if you are a nasty old hippie and a Dallas boy to boot. So how, like RWH, did Waylon get to live? Mirabile dictu or in other words, I dunno know, miracle.

Still, serious question; many of my pals didn't make it and they were fractions of all the above. Maybe they simply lacked the strength. Whatever, rest in peace kids, and may the blessed Ever Virgin Mary intercede for you, ad aeternum.

Then there's Oklahoma.

Salve,

LSP

The Feast Of The Assumption

 

It's the great Feast of the Assumption today, in which we honor Mary, the Ever Virgin Mother of God. Now, some people think that's idolatry, others don't think about it at all, but exorcists tell us with unerring consistency that the demons hate, fear and loathe Mary. For them, an Ave (Hail Mary) is like a "blow to the face." No wonder, her purity and faith stand diametrically opposed to demonic filth and disbelief.

No wonder, again, that she is Our Lady of Victories, not just at Lepanto but against all evil. Ask for her powerful intercession as we fight, and the fight is increasingly simple if not easy; it's Good v. Evil, Light v. Dark, Heaven v. Hell. A ferocious, heavenly struggle and Our Lady is our ally, and the Christ whom she bears to us is Life, Light, Good and Truth.

If you stand against that, which you're free to do, you will be relentlessly destroyed, like the Moors in Spain. Mark my words.

Ave,

LSP

Devil Went Down To Georgia

 

But, dear readers, perhaps you're not convinced? Here's a musical infovideo, check it out:

Well ain't that the case. You'll be curious to know Brian Kemp's net worth is an estimated 8MNUSD$. Hey now. Get. It. On. All hail the Rainbow path to unlimited Uniparty wealth. What an utter traitor.

Your Pal,

LSP

The Devil Lives In Dallas

 

Yes, we do requests. Thank you, Wild. Does the Devil live in Dallas? Not at my Mother's Compound, there is that, but elsewhere? Sure he does, aplenty. Perhaps you doubt me, and that's fine, just go out yourself and see if Rusty Wier ain't right.

Your Old Buddy,

LSP

Utter Disaster Averted

 

You drive back from the mighty DFW Metrosprawl and get to the Compound a little after noon, and what do you see? A veritable river heading down to the street by the side of the house. What? Is the AC exhaust going turbo, is there some kind of mains leak? 

Good questions, so you exfil the rig to have a recce. Sure enough, water is bubbling up outta the ground, right where the boys installed a couple of clean outs. You stare at this, entranced by the cool water flowing up to water the earth. How beautiful, but this isn't some blessed, newfound aquifer, no, it's an aquatic disaster. Just picture, if you will, the mains meter spinning out of control, as if USGOV debt. 

Problem. Solution? A neighbor drives up in his lifted Chevy, "What's up, man?" and you point to the watery adversary. He takes this in, a plumber, and says, "I'll dig that up and fix it. First I'll turn off the water at the mains with my cut off," which he did.

Some 30 or 40 minutes later we'd located a burst pipe, hose attached to PVC and split at the joint, and D produced some relevant SHARK BITE fittings, right sized PVC tube, and fixed the line. Utter disaster averted, and I asked, "How much do we owe you?" He replied, "Nothing." I shook his hand, "Appreciate you, brother," and that I do; you'll be glad to know I let him park his rigs in the church car park, gratis.

At the time of writing, this line holds. And there is a moral in this short story of country life in Texas, if you care to draw it.

Your Old Pal,

LSP