Did you watch Biden's scripted, stumbling, lying, fakey, fraudulent, unconvincing, pathetic, weak, pale, corrupt, inconsequential, China scripted attempt to debate Trump? Remember the sinister Urfa Man?
Wow, that's your boy, Democrats. To say nothing of Alpha meets Beta.
E Pluribus,
LSP
OK, now that I've experienced the awesome enjoyment of shooting successfully out to 1000 yards I've decided that I love it with a passion and want more of it. The appetite, as it were, has found the thing pleasing and wants to enjoy it. This means getting a long range, precision rifle and associated optics.
Is this amor amicitiae ("the love of friendship" or of willing the good of the other for its own sake) or amor concupiscentiae ("the love of fervent desire," and of a good for the beloved)? Both, surely. You apprehend the beatitude of long range shooting and the good, in this case an awesome rifle, to make it happen. And all because, according to Aquinas, you first love yourself.
In recognizing something's good for you, say long range shooting, you see it as good in itself and want the best for it. Its value is your value and so you give yourself to it, in a movement of the heart and mind which is paradoxically the reverse of egotism. Or something like that, such is love. But what about that gun, eh?
Good question. J came by the manse and I asked his advice, "Maybe I should get one of these out of the box precision guns, like a Ruger or a Bergara or something like that?" His answer was, "No, they don't hang with a custom build. What you've got to do is look out for a used one. You can save hundreds of dollars."
Interesting and I think it bears a means test, which is this. Get a reloading press and associated kit, probably a Rock Chucker, and see if I have the commitment to get into precision ammo. Because if you don't, you probably don't have the commitment to invest in a precision, long range rifle. The shared value or commonality isn't there.
Does that make sense?
Gun Rights,
LSP
Love, says the Angelic Doctor compactly, consists in willing the good of another. God is this, in perfection, in himself (1 Jn. 1:18). We see the truth of revelation in the Trinity where Father, Son and Spirit live in an eternal dynamic of infinite love. But what are we to this?
Nothing in comparison, though we're commanded to love God with all our heart, soul and mind. Where does this take us? To nothingness again, which paradoxically becomes something, namely our true selves. We see the thing casually; the person who forgets themselves in conversation is more entertaining than a faked-up fraud.
I found this helpful, by Peter Kreeft:
Nothing is ours by nature. Our very existence is sheer gift. Think for a moment about the fact that you were created, made out of nothing. If a sculptor gives a block of marble the gift of a fine shape, the shape is a gift, but the marble's existence is not. That is the marble's own. But nothing is our own because we were made out of nothing. Our very existence is a gift from God to no one, for we were not there before he created us. There is no receiver of the gift distinct from the gift itself. We are God's gifts. So the saints are right. If I am nothing, nothing that is mine is anything. Nothing is mine by nature. But one thing is mine by my free choice: the self I giveaway in love. That is the thing even God cannot do for me. It is my choice. Everything I say is mine, is not. But everything I say is yours is mine. When asked which of his many library books he thought he would have in heaven, C.S. Lewis replied, "Only the ones I gave away on earth and never got back." The same is true of our very self. It is like a ball in a game of catch: throw it and it will come back to you; hold onto it and that ends the game.
And Farrer as always is beautiful:
Even today, when we pray, the hand of God does somewhat put aside that accursed looking-glass, which each of us holds before him, and which shows each of us our own face. Only the day of judgment will strike the glass for ever from our hands, and leave us nowhere reflected but in the pupils of the eyes of God. And then we shall be cured of our self love, and shall love, without even the power of turning from it, the face that is lovely in itself, the face of God; and passing from the great Begetter to what is begotten by him, we shall see his likeness in his creatures, in angels and in blessed saints; returning at long last the love that has been lavished on us, and reflecting back the light with which we have been illuminated. To that blessed consummation, therefore may he lead all those for whom we pray, he who is love himself, who came to us at Bethlehem, and took us by the hand.
Love not hate,
LSP
Speaking of which, early voting data shows a large surge for 45, not least in Texas, and no wonder. The corporate sponsored Democrat Communists have made the killer virus that hardly kills anyone part of their platform.
So guess what, all their people are too scared to get out and vote, the virus will kill us! And on the other hand, they can't be bothered to go to the polls because the Biden/Kamala ticket's so incredibly rubbish. Who wants to vote for that? Then there's the hugely popular riots. Yeah, what a winner.
Good electoral strategy, guys. Seriously, who's responsible for the K Street genius PR firm? That in mind, I stood in line and cast my vote against Marxism and the corrupt, opportunist crime families who push this odious ideology.
Then it was back to the Compound and its grill. Smoke ensued, meat was added to heat and all was well with the world. Burgers were close to perfect, too.
Your friendly Old Pal,
LSP
Rare, colourized footage of a member of one of Clodius' political gangs, circa March-May 58 BC. pic.twitter.com/ditN5JPwb0
— Andrew James Sillett (@andrewsillett) October 18, 2020
Rather good, eh? In other news, the religion of peace beheaded a teacher in Paris for daring to show his class a drawmo. The peaceful member of TROP was shot dead by police.
Here in the US, the seething mass of corruption that is our political elite continues to unfold, don't say laptop, and more seriously, Old NFO has published a moving sermon. Read it here.
Nunc Dimittis,
LSP
"Hey, LSP, why not come over and join us for a shoot on Friday at 8 am on the 1000 yard line." I thought about it for a moment, a thousand yards, would I make a complete fool of myself in the face of these expert, experienced and scientific shooters? Probably. "Sure, I'm in, see you there and thanks a lot."
So I rolled up to J's 1000 yard setup and looked down the lane towards the targets, a series of metal plates, gongs and a silhouette named Jihad. Did I see the targets? No, I did not, far too far away. But that changed when we got up on the stand with Nightforce optics and a spotting scope, I forget the brand. Then the targets came in loud and crystal clear. It was time to shoot.
J went first, to see if the guns were on, an M40 and a custom 300 Win Mag. They were, and N followed with some hits on steel. Well look at that, you can, actually, shoot that far. Exciting, eh? But of course J was guiding the show as a spotter and he knows his stuff.
Then it was my turn. Huh. By way of full disclosure, I'm not a particularly good shooter and hadn't shot out to 600 yards, even, for years. So I wasn't expecting to get on steel at this range but hey, money on the monkey and devil take the hindmost.
Line up the crosshairs of the beautifully clear Nightforce glass on the plate. Observe the mirage roiling at the base of the sight picture. The wind is moving at what, 5-8 mph? J calls "hold fire..." the wind dies down, "Hold center." You breathe, shoot. A massive winmag explosion ensues, mitigated by the awesomeness of the rig.
And lo and behold, you're on steel. "Hit!" I was amazed, this thing works. And so it did for the next few shots. The gun was on, along with the spotter and, amazingly, the shooter himself. We moved onto the Jihad and scored convincingly.
The M40 was more tricky, with a lesser scope and its round more prey to the wind. Still, the beast got on target to good effect. And then it was over, all too soon.
Wow. Shooting at 1000 yards and lots of sub moa to boot. What a lot of fun. Of course, for me, none of this would have been possible without a guide getting me onto the target. Big thanks go out to J for making it happen, at every level. And now look what you've done.
Looking at ballistic charts, equations and far more math than's sensible. And optics and guns and spotting scopes and... Hmmmm, I feel an obsession brewing.
And what a great morning.
Shoot straight,
LSP
What's going on, in politics? Good question and hard to tell because you're wasted on crack the news cycle's moving so quickly, like one of those abhorrent windmills turning at full tilt. Still, here at the Compound we've crunched the numbers and spun up the algos.
Here's the result.
You can vote for deep state pay to play, crack pipe Moloch. Then get millions of dollars and go to Hell. But what shall it profit a man to gain the whole world?
Or you can vote Life and go to Heaven.
Which way will you choose? Think carefully and reflect. This call is all yours and it's all important, what's it to be? Remember, the destination of your immortal soul hangs in the balance.
So call the shot.
No pressure,
LSP
PS. Is Hunter in hiding? Asking for a friend.
Totally re-addicted to shooting now and guess what? Can't get any ammo because the commies have gone hog wild in a Dem electoral ploy. Thanks a lot, Bolsheviks. Bridge of sighs.
Speaking of which, I always used to like this song. Turn up the volume and listen to the electric wind blow. Breezy!
In other news, Biden's Crack Pipe is shaping up to be a neat cartoon character.
Cheers,
LSP
RHT drove over from the DFW connurb and we headed off to J's place to try out some weaponry. All well and good, and then disaster! My rig sank into the sand of an ancient seabed on the way to our objective and had to be pulled out by a handy tractor. Obstacle overcome, we set up at 200 yards and shot.
J knows how to shoot
I went first with an Aero Precision AR10 firing 168 grain .308. Would it work and more to the point, would I remember how to shoot?
Watch out kids, don't bet the monkey, but I did, just, and ended up with a decent group in the 10 ring, which should've been in the X. RHT followed up with a Hogue stocked .308 Howa and a Redfield scoped M1A. They shot well, very well.
Good Call
Now, all of the above were great to shoot and made considerably more accurate by RHT and J's hand loads. I don't reload or cast bullets, unlike these two very friendly competition shooters, and was struck by the difference. Wow. Speaking of which, RHT and J's Howas were X-Ring on the money for a ridiculously low price. I want one.
Do Not Scorn This
Back at the range it was time for RHT to roll out an 1872 Remington .50-70 and an 1873 Trapdoor Springfield .45-70. For me, this was the high point of the shoot. There's something about firing these now exotic and antique firearms which appeals. Is it the history of the thing, their provenance, or the nature of the guns themselves? There they are, muskets turned into rifles.
RHT on his awesome M1A
We finished off with some AR action, J stealing the show with a series of X-Ring excellence. 3 shots, left to right touching on the X. A testament to Geissele, the barrel, Nightforce optics, the loads and the shooter himself. Seriously, a lot of people would've been pleased with that group at 50 yards with a .17 HMR. Good shooting.
Random LSP guns
Joe Biden is, in all practicality, senile, and delinquently senile. My wife has Alzheimer’s — I know the symptoms,” Lydon said in the BBC interview.
Who knew Phil Lydon aka Johnny Rotten had such wisdom? He joins erstwhile leftist pop icon Morrissey, who loves Trump and hates open borders and NWO oppression.
To be honest, I always scorned the appalling "Smiths." You'd go by some student's room humming Urban Guerilla like a good 'un, and there was a kid lying on his bed with a hand over his his eyes, listening to Meat is Murder. Pathetic.
Well said Mr. Rotten, and previously despised Morrissey. Let's see 45 become 46.
Rock on,
LSP
1945 aside, the Compound's neighbors, Eduardo, Maria and friends seem to have forgotten Columbus Day is an evil homage to racism. That's why they've been partying for two days solid, and I'm not complaining. Music fills the air along with the delicious aroma of constant BBQ, doubtless cooked up in some kind of underground kiln in their backyard version of the homestead south of the border. Nice.
Columbus' Tomb
Speaking of the evil of this incredibly evil day, I like this, from the White House:
Sadly, in recent years, radical activists have sought to undermine Christopher Columbus’s legacy. These extremists seek to replace discussion of his vast contributions with talk of failings, his discoveries with atrocities, and his achievements with transgressions. Rather than learn from our history, this radical ideology and its adherents seek to revise it, deprive it of any splendor, and mark it as inherently sinister. They seek to squash any dissent from their orthodoxy. We must not give in to these tactics or consent to such a bleak view of our history. We must teach future generations about our storied heritage, starting with the protection of monuments to our intrepid heroes like Columbus. This June, I signed an Executive Order to ensure that any person or group destroying or vandalizing a Federal monument, memorial, or statue is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Good work, speechwriters, and thanks Mr. President for standing up for the country you lead. Seriously, it's about time we stopped apologizing, pandering and kowtowing to the people who would tear us down. There's a lot to celebrate about the West, not least its current standard bearer, America.
Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World.
I love that,
LSP
Did you know mathematics is racist because it "inherently carries human bias"? At least that's what the Mathematical Association of America thinks. Reflect on this homely, perhaps familiar scene.
There you are at the local pick 'n steal where you've been charged the outrageous sum of $8.60 for a pack of Marlboro Lights, and a coffee refill in your indestructible Yeti 20 Oz Tumbler. You hand over a $10.00 bill.
So far so good, but thanks to your inherent racism you expect a sturdy Fascist $1.40 back in change. Whoa, El Jefe, Generalissimo! But you can't help it, it's the way you've been raised by white supremacy. So when you're given $1.00 back in change you'd better suck it up, you unrelenting, literal Nazi.
And why? Because according to rainbow logic people of color can't do math. If you think that's somehow racist you'd be right, which brings us back to the old axiom, Viz. Everything the Left attempts to effect produces the exact opposite of its intended result.
When a demon (δαίμων) plans harm (κακά, let the reader understand) against a man, he first damages the mind of the person he plots against. Or in military and concise Latin, quos deus vult perdere prius dementat, those whom god wishes to destroy he first makes mad.
Listen, if you can, to the beating wings of the Harpies before they dive into silence.
Your Classical Buddy,
LSP
Thanks to an influential art blogger everyone knows about Harpy Eagles. Harpy Eagles circle above places like Surbiton and swoop down on XR vegans, literally carrying them off to their eyries in Epping Forest.
Harpies watch, then they dive in for the kill, gripping their tofu-chewing prey with razor sharp talons and ferocious beaks.
Harpy Eagles scorn wymxn priestess figures too, and don't even bother to take them back to their forests for food. They just attack, savagely.
I know this jingoistic and shallow mind blog's mostly about the glory that was the British Empire, rodeo and the perfidy of the Left, but step back and consider this excerpt from a sermon preached by Austin Farrer at the end of World War II:
‘May they rest in peace, and may light perpetual shine upon them’ - those millions among whom our friends are lost, those millions for whom we cannot choose but pray; because prayer is a sharing in the love of the heart of God, and the love of God is earnestly set towards the salvation of his spiritual creatures, by, through and out of the fire that purifies them.
The arithmetic of death perplexes our brains. What can we do but throw ourselves upon the infinity of God? It is only to a finite mind that number is an obstacle, or multiplicity a distraction. Our mind is like a box of limited content, out of which one thing must be emptied before another can find a place. The universe of creatures is queuing for a turn of our attention, and no appreciable part of the queue will ever get a turn. But no queue forms before the throne of everlasting mercy, because the nature of an infinite mind is to be simply aware of everything that is.
Everything is simply present to an infinite mind, because it exists; or rather, exists because it is present to that making mind. And though by some process of averaging and calculation I should compute the grains of sand, it would be like the arithmetic of the departed souls, an empty sum; I could not tell them as they are told in the infinity of God’s counsels, each one separately present as what it is, and simply because it is.
The thought God gives to any of his creatures is not measured by the attention he can spare, but by the object for consideration they can supply. God is not divided; it is God, not a part of God, who applies himself to the falling sparrow, and to the crucified Lord. But there is more in the beloved Son than in the sparrow, to be observed and loved and saved by God. So every soul that has passed out of this visible world, as well as every soul remaining within it, is caught and held in the unwavering beam of divine care. And we may comfort ourselves for our own inability to tell the grains of sand, or to reckon the thousands of millions of the departed.
And yet we cannot altogether escape so; for our religion is not a simple relation of every soul separately to God, it is a mystical body in which we are all members one of another. And in this mystical body it does not suffice that every soul should be embraced by the thoughts of God; it has also to be that every soul should, in its thought, embrace the other souls. For apart from this mutual embracing, it would be unintelligible why we should pray at all, either for the living or for the departed. Such prayer is nothing but the exercising of our membership in the body of Christ. God is not content to care for us each severally, unless he can also, by his Holy Spirit in each one of us, care through and in us for all the rest. Every one of us is to be a focus of that divine life of which the attractive power holds the body together in one.
So even in the darkness and blindness of our present existence, our thought ranges abroad and spreads out towards the confines of the mystical Christ, remembering the whole Church of Christ, as well militant on earth as triumphant in heaven; invoking angels, archangels and all the spiritual host.
I came across it while preparing an obit and found it helpful, I hope you do too. Farrer was a genius and a holy man.
God bless,
LSP
