Up Up And Away

 

Perhaps you know the feeling, sometimes you have to get away because things get samey, and my solution was this. Fly to England with Ma LSP for a well needed break, which is exactly what we did. First stop, DFW Terminal D, next stop, Heathrow Terminal 3 followed by a fast train to Paddington.

Just Some Carousel

Take in the wonders of Victorian railway architecture then line up, in a weirdly long line, for a cab. Take that to the Farmers Club in Whitehall like a champ. Book into Farmers, most congenial, then set up in rooms overlooking the Thames and go from there.

"There", meant the NatLib, two doors down, and dinner in the club's monumental dining room. There you are, enjoying an autumnal menu under larger than life portraits of statesmen who shaped the world in their time. It's not hard to reflect on the scale and grandeur of the Empire in that setting, and by the same token, who are we now compared to them? Pygmies in the footsteps of giants.

Gordons is Awesome at Noon

Speaking of which, London's grown pretty gargantuan over the last 20 years or so, but has it grown better? Good question. There's certainly many more secular cathedrals of glass, concrete and steel rising out of the city's eastern skyline; St. Paul's is dwarfed in comparison, and I guess that's a sign of wealth. But are the people any richer?

Some are, obviously, no doubt about it, but lately London seems to lack the vibrancy of the mid '90s when you could feel and watch a tidal wave of wealth roll into the city, to say nothing of talent. Remember, ahem, Britpop? Still, the place is clearly running on multiple cylinders, to say nothing of hordes of Japanese and Korean tourists.

Ma LSP at Farmers

Regardless, the first week of the trip was all all about entertaining old friends, not least my Mother's, who are a step above, and then, after a weekend at the EIC (East India Club) and Mass at the Brompton Oratory, climbing aboard a train to idyllic Ludlow. This sits on the Welsh border and shouldn't be missed.

After several convivial days with SH and K, my brother drove in from Aberystwyth and off we went to the Welsh coast. It was good to be back in this rainy seaside resort and good to see my brother, who's a good man, but I only stayed a night, sadly. The next day I sped back to Town on a slow moving Transit for Wales train to meet old friends, setting up at an AirBnB in Soho on Frith Street.

The Jolly Old NatLib

Part of this may have involved a Techno Rickshaw around the storied streets of Soho, another part of it certainly involved a lot of Coach & Horses, French House and Bar Italia. One friend, we'd gone to dinner at the NatLib and immigrated to Soho, accused me of inverse Milton, "From Paradiso to Inferno, Padre!" Quite.

Then, Soho tomfoolery over, a sideways move to Bloomsbury and a pleasant little flat on Coptic Street overlooking the British Museum. Ma LSP joined me there for the last few days and we closed up with lunch at the Prix Fixe in Soho, followed by a glass or two at the French House and then, after a sensible rest, drinks and snacks at the Museum Tavern. And now?

Coptic Street

Back in the great state of Texas. It feels good. We may not have real bread, butchers, pubs, architecture to speak of, cobblers, butchers, fishmongers and clubs with imperial ceilings and portraits of Gladstone and statues of General Outram or Gordon. True enough, but we do have this, big skies, trucks, guns and NO NANNY STATE.

Rare LSP Tie Shot

So forgive the lack of comms, I've been busy. Stand by for further correspondence.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Nessie's Back

 

Do you remember the Loch Ness Monster? Sure you do, an historic cryptid if ever there was one. There it is, according to sightings for a solid 100 years, a sea serpent, perhaps a living dinosaur, in a loch, in Scotlamd.

Far out, I guess Nessie just paleolithic sea monster decided to beat its friends' extinction event by hanging out in the 230 meter depth of a Scottish loch, undisturbed. A sleeper agent from the Younger Dryas and beyond, sorta thing.

Ha, ha, how stupid, like the Anglican Church of Canada itself (ACOC) or its older brother, the dying Church of England (COE). But not so fast, punters. Unlike ACOC and the risibly rainbow COW Nessie shows signs of life. 

Seriously, some fisher persyns mapped out a sonar image of the beast. Like no fooling. What does this mean? At the very least that Team LSP has to foray into Scotland and get to the root of the matter. As in, see if there's a dinosaur in that loch or not.

In the meanwhile, our beloved rulers refuse to help Trump voting citizens in America despite spending billions on money laundered aid to the living monster that is Ukraine.

Cheers,

LSP

Look What Happens...

 

When you take a break from the hurley burley, a massive, catastrophic flood streams through Appalachia, destroying towns, houses and, most importantly people. What a total disaster. And what do the Feds do, the very same people who tax you. Nothing or very little. 

In fact it's worse than that. They're actively blocking civilian volunteers from giving aid to the communities and people washed away in the flood. Like no kidding, you fly in there on your private chopper or mule train to help these people, like a citizen, and we're gonna arrest you. Wow, we've sunk really low.

You can read all about it on the internet, while it's still legal in this country. In the meanwhile, don't forget FEMA is outta cash coz it gave all its money to illegal immigrants. Quelle horrible vote winning surprise.

Do you think, dear readers, that our beloved overlords really, really hate us? You know, all the way to the nearest Georgetown steakhouse. Let me put it another way. Do you think our rulers care more for our well-being, here in America, or for money laundering schemes in, say, the Ukraine? 

To help us in this simple thought experiment, ask yourselves which action leads to their, our rulers, enrichment. Some might argue we're dealing with outright traitors to their country and people. Gauge the consequence.

Yours,

LSP

SSC

There's this thing, a priestly fraternity bound by a common Rule of Life and by commitment to claiming catholicism for the Church of England and its heirs. It's called the SSC, the Society of the Holy Cross, Societas Sanctae Crucis. It's a good thing, which won its spurs in the slums of East London, still existing today to uplift Anglicanism to Catholicism.

That in mind, we met for a Provincial Synod in Dallas for the last couple of days and guess what, no wymxn priestesses, no guitar playing nuns and, mirabile dictu, no liturgical dance. Far out. No, just a series of Solemn High Masses, Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and, what can I say, true religion.

To that end, Fr. JJ was elected Master and Jefe of our province. What a good man, I support him 100%, as I supported the last Master, who was a shooting pal. So what can we say? Dig the pit for the Cross and remember, resurrection ain't far behind.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Defende Nos

 

St. Michael the Archangel, 

defend us in battle. 

Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. 

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, 

and do thou, 

O Prince of the heavenly hosts, 

by the power of God, 

thrust into hell Satan, 

and all the evil spirits, 

who prowl about the world 

seeking the ruin of souls. Amen. 

O glorious prince St. Michael,

chief and commander of the heavenly hosts,

guardian of souls, vanquisher of rebel spirits,

servant in the house of the Divine King

and our admirable conductor,

you who shine with excellence

and superhuman virtue deliver us from all evil,

who turn to you with confidence

and enable us by your gracious protection

to serve God more and more faithfully every day.

Amen,

LSP

Into The Sprawl Like A Hero

 

So what's up? You sip strong covefe on the back porch of your compound and watch the sun rise through pecan trees, casting golden light on dewy grass. Such is rural Texas at the end of September, not bad at all. Next?

Thank God for the beauty of it all, say Morning Prayer (1928 BCP) and steel yourself for the day ahead. Why steel, that sounds extreme and somehow absurd. Not so fast, punters, steel's the word because the mission ahead meant driving into the DFW Metrosprawl to a lawyer's office in a place called "Arlington." And let's make no mistake, driving into the 'sprawl from the country takes nerve.

I took the scenic route. I35 E towards Dallas, exit 287 to Midlothian, which has nothing to do with Gladstone, veer onto 360 Toll, exit I30 West to Fort Worth, hook a left on Collins, marveling at the sheer sprawl of the thing, and reach your target. Collect your box of documents from the law dog and drive back from whence you came.

Like wow. South Fort Worth is exploding with new apartment blocks, condos and mega churches. They look mighty flimsy, and I30 is insanely spaghetti junction. OK, all hail prosperity and Texas, but is this the best we can do? As in, "Why live in a city when we can live on a road." You''ll note, dear readers, that the latter turns us into a kind of hobo.

Anyway, made it back from the different planet that is Mega City DFW, it's the size of Connecticut btw, to the relative tranquility of the Compound. Mission accomplished. But hey, have to tell you, really pleased I'm back in the country; the 'sprawl connurb is a whole different thing.

Speaking of which, someone's turned up to mow the acre of so of compound/church yard, in the dark. Huh. Guess I'd better check on that mowop.

Cheers,

LSP

Malfeasant

 

What, our governance? No, just the upstairs AC, which is no joke in September Texas. Point in mind, I slept for a week on the couch downstairs, where the air works and it isn't 100+* But all that's over now, Greg turned up and replaced the malfeasant compressor.

He's a good guy and wears camo, which means you mostly can't see him. He also turned away from assorted wickedness to "follow Christ." Well done. Does that include assisting Mass? I've asked, many times. Not yet, apparently. Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day.

In other news, P Diddy's sharing a room with FTX Friedman, the totally not corrupt Mayor of NYC is being charged by the totally not corrupt DOJ and the fuel tanker which supplied a Middle East US Carrier Group apparently "ran aground." Far out, sure that wasn't a torpedo? You know, just throwing it out there.

Get off the couch, 

LSP

War

 

⚡️🇷🇺‼️🚨UPDATE FROM UGLEDAR FRONT, with video of what it currently looks like: 

👉Russian post: "The artillery guys who are now working near Ugledar are happy. The number of shots fired from a gun in one day exceeds even what was in Artyomovsk. They don't spare shells for the… pic.twitter.com/abLhhkNlRd

— SIMPLICIUS Ѱ (@simpatico771) September 24, 2024

The above shows Russian batteries demolishing Ukrainian held Ugledar. You can imagine what it's like to be under that bombardment and some of you may have experienced something similar. Terrifying. I haven't, thank God, and neither have the US Neocons who are driving this.

It seems the plan was simple, even elegant. Provoke Russia into an action against Europe's largest, best supplied, best trained, NATO allied force in Europe and then laugh as the stupid Russkies fell apart with corruption, idiocy, and incompetence as they dashed themselves against the new Seigfried Line of Fortress Europa. And then, as they reeled in defeat?

Putin would be overthrown in a lesbigay color revolution, and Blackrock, Microsoft, Rothschilds, Madonna, Taylor Swift, Prince Harry, P Diddy and the US political Junta would take over Russia by proxy. What an awesome plan, and it almost worked. Putin's initial SMO floundered and failed, notoriously. But now? 

Autocrat Putler didn't asset-strip and off-shore his country's manufacturing base, which means literally Nazi Russia can actually make shells, missiles, bombs, planes, ships and guns. Unlike us. Huh. I guess we counted on a quick victory, resplendent with rainbow flags pride triumphant flying over the Kremlin.  Not so fast, kids, hasn't worked out that way.

At the very least, pause for thought. Here's Armchair Warlord (ret'd US Artillery Major):

 

It's astonishing how many people, who had been held up as actual experts in the West before the war, came out with takes like this after things kicked off.

Our entire class of credentialed "Russia experts" turned out to be, almost to a man, frauds fueled by anti-Russian bigotry. https://t.co/73Z5d0rTF9

— Armchair Warlord (@ArmchairW) September 25, 2024

Point being, let's stop this. Why should anyone die, and they are in their thousands, so that Pelosi, Romney, Biden et al will become even moar richer than they already are. 

Cheers,

LSP

A Children's Choir

 

Lo and behold, punters, a children's choir in Georgia. That's right, a children's choir. Here in the West we'd be lucky if those kids could sing This Little Light of Mine, if they could sing any hymn at all, which would be difficult for them as they don't even go to church.

Question, who's more free? The Georgian child in the choir worshipping Christ or her Western, secular equivalent? The latter has all the freedom in the world to worship money, drugs, sex, plastic, drag queen story hour degeneracy and everything else our pseudo-culture holds up as divine. The former makes beautiful music to God.

A wake-up call. If their kids can do it, why can't ours. Serious point and question.

Your Pal,

LSP

Spotted At The Range

 

What a sensible T shirt!

Cheers,

LSP

P Diddy

Have you heard of genius pop mogul rapstar P Diddy, aka Sean Combs? Perhaps you have, Diddy's a big fan of the DNC, boosting Obama, the Magic 0, Hillary and, lately, Deep State Kamala. But here's the thing. Diddy, bless him, was apparently running some kind of supercharged celeb sex ring. Per Breitbart:

According to the Tampa Bay Times, the alleged parties, a.k.a. “Freak-Offs” or “F.O.s,” occurred at some of the swankiest hotels in Miami, Atlanta, New York, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. “Sex parties so brutal that the young women and men lured into attending them would often vomit and pass out from being drugged, beaten and raped, sometimes for hours on end,” the outlet described them as.

 

That's our Diddy. He's been denied bail and we have to wonder at the blackmail list. Behold your beloved rulers? Good luck. And of course Harry and Meghan aren't part of this, at all. Diddy's on suicide watch in gaol, go figure. Maybe the cameras will magically turn themselves off.

Don't say Epstein,

LSP

Just Relax And Take It Easy

 

That is all,

LSP