And let's not forget Creedence. Thanks, WWW. Rock on, my friend.
And this one's for Ed. Set those controls.
For LL? The dark side of the Moon.
I like this, just 'coz.
And this. Highway Star.
Well done, kids. Requests welcome,
LSP
Hard to tell, the climate's been strange lately, thanks to its Czar, Wooden Top, and this confuses the fish, so anything was possible. To be honest, I wasn't expecting much. But what am I saying? How much more do you want than an early afternoon under the free Texan sky?
As it was, I caught a drum and a couple of perch. Not bad, and all good action on a light rod. Then it was back to the Compound to recoup before jukebox action and tracking the Shiba on various charts. Stay tuned and regardless, a good day.
Fish on,
LSP
Cooking with LSP? That's not only stupid, it's dangerous, and what's that, a vegetable? Yes readers, a vegetable, asparagus, and here's how you do it. Wrap those green beasts in bacon.
It's not hard. Trim the warlike spears, toss in olive oil and black pepper and then wrap 'em up, three or four spears to a bundle. A bit like Fasces but without the axe. Then sit back and behold your handiwork, all this asparagus wrapped in bacon.
Important research over, take the bacon wrapped green aggressors out of the oven. Serve with steak. I chose a Rib Eye, you may prefer a different cut, like a New York Strip. Hey, your call, no rule.
Then fall upon your scoff.
Like a warrior,
LSP
Musk celebrated the deal by posting a photo of a Space X rocket on the Moon. Zoom in on the astronauts at the bottom of the image and look at their furry faces. Space Shibes?
The Peoples Currency is bizarrely hodling its own, I was ready for a plummet, at around .26 following a retracement from an all time high of over .40. Not bad, given this week's crypto exuberance and subsequent correction. But who knows how this Wild West Moonshot plays out. Stay tuned.
Ad Lunam,
LSP
Pentagon spokeswoman Susan Gough stated, "As we have said before, to maintain operations security and to avoid disclosing information that may be useful to potential adversaries, DOD does not discuss publicly the details of either the observations or the examinations of reported incursions into our training ranges or designated airspace, including those incursions initially designated as UAP."
Other UFO sightings verified by the Pentagon include three unexplained craft filmed by a Navy pilot in 2019, near Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia. Known as the Sphere, the Acorn and the Metallic Blimp, some speculate that the objects are balloons or foreign drones.
In related news, the US Navy holds patents on inventions that claim to change the "fabric of reality." Are these strange unexplained aerial phenomena off-world alien tech, visitors from another time or dimension, our own, or something else again?
Your call,
LSP
Space is deep, a void we have to travel, said the Shiba, nonchalantly settling into the Captain's chair for a well deserved nap. I couldn't blame him, he'd run well. I checked co-pilot's instruments for course setting. Yes, we were on target, for the Moon and Mars.
Will we get there or disappear in smoke? Not a gambling man, but vote the former. In the meanwhile...
LSP
Will everyone's favorite Shiba continue to soar today, go sideways, or turn around and run back home? Who knows, it's pretty crazy out there, in space. Stay tuned.
LSP
So how's Blue's pension fund performing, cryptically named 'LSP'? Good question. Short answer? Really well. DOGE$ surged to record highs this week, climbing from .07 to .20 at time of writing.
This week's astounding dog run started Tuesday after two months consolidation in .05 land rising to .07. Expert techs saw a bull pennant with breakout potential if the People's Crypto broke through resistance in the upper .07s, or something like that.
Lo and behold, it did. Ma LSP was resting upstairs after implant surgery in her upper jaw when I checked Shiba value. Huh, .086, not bad. A scyfy short story later I checked again, not being obsessive, and what? .09. Time for a glass of wine.
That poured, check again, .010. Wow. Bear in mind experts were saying that'd be year end price. And the next thing you know, the pup's charging through .11, .12, and .13, hitting an all time high of >.14. What?!? Reddit seemed stunned. I went to sleep expecting the popular dog-faced crypto to crash. But it didn't.
Wednesday saw consolidation at .13 and the promise of another run with higher highs and higher lows as the pup rose between parallel lines to reach the point of an ascending triangle. Would it break above and repeat Tuesday's stellar performance? Sure enough it did.
The playful Shiba was clearly bored with .13, unlucky number, and decided to run again, maybe just for the fun of it. Boom. .14, .15, .16 in a matter of minutes. I looked at my handheld computing device in shock and awe, what's going on?
It didn't hurt to have massive PR in the form of big celebrity endorsement from Elon Musk, Mark Cuban, Guy Restaurant Person, the Kiss dude, Snoop Dogg and the media, see WSJ, Forbes and all the rest.
Also, COIN (Coinbase crypto exchange) had a good IPO on Wednesday, lifting crypto credibility. Add that to the growing and fanatically loyal meme coin following and you've got growth. In this case explosively. Think GME but affordable and at minimal risk.
So Blue's happy his retirement fund's at .20 and rising. If it crashes and burns like a Focke Wulf going down on Prinz Albrecht Strasse? Well, he won't know the difference.
Ad Lunam,
LSP
I don't care about Willie's bizarro hindoo theology. Drop of rain, again and again and again? Really? I just like the tune.
Cheers,
LSP
Then saith he to Thomas, (in the upper room) Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. Jn. 20:27
Thomas wanted physical proof of the resurrection and got it, the risen Christ was touchable, tangible. He had risen bodily from the tomb and, on reflection, anything less doesn't cut it.
What dies when we die, the spirit? Hardly, it doesn't have any physical parts to decay and return to the dust from which they came. The body, notoriously, does; we don't bounce like we used to, to put it mildly. So what has to be resurrected? The body, rejoined to the spirit, between them both making up the whole person.
Without this, we're left with spirit only or in other words, a shade or ghost, and the rising becomes a haunting. This is not the case in the upper room on the 8th day, the Sunday following the Resurrection. On the contrary, Jesus stands before Thomas, the whole man, body and spirit, risen from the grave.
In an explosion of divine power, Christ had taken humanity to a new dimension of existence, a new mode of imperishable, glorified being. No wonder Thomas fell down and worshiped, he touched the Glory, "My Lord and my God." And note this.
When Christ appeared to the disciples on Easter Sunday, the "doors were shut" for fear of the same people who'd crucified Jesus crucifying them. For fear of death. With the reality of the resurrection upon them, made concrete on the 8th day, the fear was gone. And so they went out and died in the proclamation of the Faith, knowing they would rise in and with their Lord.
What hope! As opposed to the dismal, wretched, con-trick despair of our disbelieving age. God grant us the faith, hope and love of the disciples in the upper room, and with Thomas the grace to fall down and believe, "My Lord and my God."
Christus Surrexit,
LSP
Did you know that the Confederacy's first military chaplain was a Jesuit priest, Fr. Darius Hubert? I didn't until recently, thanks to Katherine Jeffrey's excellent biography, First Chaplain Of The Confederacy. Hubert served with the Army of Northern Virginia throughout the war and was present at the major battles in the eastern theater as well as, curiously, seeing chaplaincy aboard the ironclad Merrimac.
He was known for outstanding pastoral devotion to the men he served and rose above denominational differences to work alongside protestant chaplains as "brothers in Christ." A remarkable man who bravely followed the call of God regardless of danger to himself, whether on the battlefield or in the hospital wards of those dying with Yellow Fever.
Hubert was a believer in the Cause but graciously so, urging reconciliation and healing after the conflict. He carried a Yankee bullet on his person, which had failed to kill him, as a sign of God's providence and protection. He died in 1893 at the age of 70.
We need more priests like him.
God bless,
LSP
A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.
It's Easter Week and you're in Dallas, so what do you do? Grill, go to Hunky's for delicious burgers, help out with yard work, and then ride into the great Metrosprawl. Which is what I did, arriving at the Preston Center in an unmarked white F150. Comms are important, so I texted GWB in Georgia.
"Sometimes what I do is I go to the Orvis store then stop at Half Price Books before strolling over to REI."
"What?!? The way of the Ninja."
"Exactly. I'm outside the Rolex store right now."
"I wouldn't mind a stainless sport Rolex."
"Same. It'll go with the Lambo."
Waxy mission accomplished, I drove down Northwest Highway to Half price Books, a great barn of a place, full of books and empty of people. A kindly old gentleman told me to put a mask on as I entered the warehouse of cut price books, and I did, not wanting to cause a scene, "Oh, thank you! I forgot!" Whatever, no one was there because Covid, and I walked unseen, ninja style, to the scyfy shelves and bought some books. Result.
Next stop REI, which is conveniently next to HPB. There was a special Covid decontamination unit in front the great outdoors industry co-op, and I ignored that because a. it's stupid and b. ninjas don't do that. Speaking of Lao Tse, I bought an REI shirt, which is white and made in Thailand. Yes, it was expensive, but shaolin doesn't come cheap.
Then back to Dallas HQ and the important task of re-waxing my wax coat. It's not hard, just rub the wax into the cloth and let the beast bake in the sun for a few hours. You can and probably should make your own wax mixture, which I've done, but I bought convenience. Ma LSP looked at the refurbed coat and remarked, "That's pretty old timey," And so it is, I like that.
God bless,
LSP
You know what it's like. Roll up to the familial homestead for Easter festivity and there it is, one of the guests has a "prays well together" sticker on their car. Really? When was the last time you offered one up at the local mosque while sacrificing to Kali?
Being a polite and hospitable LSP, I didn't say that and resisted the urge to sharpie in some runes on the offensive signage. Still, you can imagine the scene, "What, you don't pray pray well with Armanen worshippers of the Victorious Sun? Maybe you need to be more inclusive." You get the point, but she wouldn't have done, because all religions same. Like, we all pray! And I want world peace!
So let's test the theory out, here's some Aztec worship. Have a look:
Cortez and the gang felt they had come across a nation of devil worshippers and perhaps they had, the walls of Mexico City's great pyramid dripped with the blood of an estimated 20,000 human sacrifices, annually. They ate the victims too, coexist with that.
Point being, all religions are not the same and given that everyone has one, better choose wisely as opposed to pretending that none of it really matters.
Christus Surrexit,
LSP
Here we are, on Holy Saturday, and the body of our Savior lies in the tomb, the fourteenth station. Consider this, by George Herbert:
Oh blessed body! Whither art thou thrown?
No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone?
So many hearts on earth, and yet not one
Receive thee?
Sure there is room within our hearts good store;
For they can lodge transgressions by the score:
Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door
They leave thee.
But that which shows them large, shows them unfit.
Whatever sin did this pure rock commit,
Which holds thee now? Who hath indicted it
Of murder?
Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee,
And missing this, most falsely did arraign thee;
Only these stones in quiet entertain thee,
And order.
And as of old, the law by heav’nly art,
Was writ in stone; so thou, which also art
The letter of the word, find’st no fit heart
To hold thee.
Yet do we still persist as we began,
And so should perish, but that nothing can,
Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man
Withhold thee.
Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee.
Herbert was a country parson, as am I. There's clearly a lot to live up to, eh?
Light v. Dark,
LSP
The Tabernacles are empty, the Altars are stripped, and Christ lays in the tomb. It seems as though Satan has won, and he must have thought so. You can imagine the infernal ecstasy. Imagine, too, the horror of the Adversary as Christ rises from the dead, demolishing the calculus of the Pit.
Consummatum est. It is finished, the perfect sacrifice is made, man is reconciled to God and the powers of Hell cast down, only to rage in fury as they descend into the Lake of Fire.
They take their followers with them, the followers of the False Prophet Caiaphas, who on the sixth hour of the sixth day stamp their foreheads with the mark of the Beast crying out, "We have no king but Caesar!"
We follow a different King, the Lord of Life, who reigns victorious on the hard wood of the Cross. Satan and death have no power over us.
Rejoice in that and stand firm.
God bless,
LSP
One of the things which happens on Maundy Thursday is that the priest gets to wash peoples' feet, as Christ washed his disciples' feet. My MC doesn't like it because he thinks it's "hokey," which perhaps it is. That in mind, most definitely a lesson in humility.
Regardless, there I was, about to wash a rancher's right foot, and there on a sock next to his boot was a compact S&W(?), a 9 or 40 I think. So I looked at the pistol, looked at the foot and did some quick math.
Should I bless the pistol and make it part of the rite or not? I chose the latter path, deciding to store up value for a later a date, a churchwide blessing of guns. Go long and hold, went the arithmetic.
Later, at the Pax, I told my friend, "That was the safest footwashing I've ever seen." He replied, embarrassed, "Padre, I just forgot it was there, in my boot!" He needn't have worried, "Brother, next year we'll make it mandatory."
And that, all five of you readers, is the story of that. A short tale of God, country life and guns in Texas.
God bless,
LSP
In between cleaning all the guns that I don't have and watching scenes from Tombstone on continuous loop, I look forward to Maundy Thursday with it's double mandate, do this and love one another as I have loved you, the former realized in the Eucharist, was ever a command so obeyed?, and the latter signified by Christ washing the feet of his disciples.
The connection is clear and lies in the Cross, from which Jesus washes away our sins in his supreme act of love. And it's precisely this sacrifice that's made present to us in the Sacrament of the Altar. The extent to which we receive the grace offered, think Parable of the Sower, depends on our obedience to the commandment to love.
Benedict XVI reflects:
In it (Confession), the Lord continually rewashes our dirty feet, and we are able to sit at table with Him.
But in this way, the word takes on yet another meaning, in which the Lord extends the "sacramentum" by making it the "exemplum," a gift, a service for our brother: "If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another's feet" (John 13:14). We must wash each other's feet in the daily mutual service of love. But we must also wash our feet in the sense of constantly forgiving one another. The debt that the Lord has forgiven us is always infinitely greater than all of the debts that others could owe to us (cf. Mt. 18:21-35). It is to this that Holy Thursday exhorts us: not to allow rancor toward others to become, in its depths, a poisoning of the soul. It exhorts us to constantly purify our memory, forgiving one another from the heart, washing each other's feet, thus being able to join together in the banquet of God.
Holy Thursday is a day of gratitude and of joy for the great gift of love to the end that the Lord has given to us. We want to pray to the Lord at this time, so that gratitude and joy may become in us the power of loving together with his love. Amen.
Amen to that. We must and should hunger and thirst for righteousness, swords about the Cross. But by the same token, there is no place for the poisonous serpent of hatred within our hearts. It is the hallmark of our Adversary, Satan. And remember, though it seems counter-intuitive, the enemy's lost and lost hard.
Be on the side of Light,
LSP
Just another typical day in North Central Texas. Make of it what you will.
Wild West,
LSP
If you lost all your guns when the canoe capsized on the Brazos you don't need to worry about cleaning them because they're gone, lost to the waters of the deep. But say, hypothetically, you were able to retrieve some of the firearms, perhaps with rope and magnets. Well then, you'd clean them.
Otherwise they'd be filthy, dirty, beasts and wouldn't work properly, and what's the point of a gun if it doesn't work? Speaking of dirty, I like gas guns a lot, they're fun to shoot, but they do get fouled up and take time to clean.
Thanks a lot, "gas impingement." Still, it works, and I like the low recoil of the .308/7.62 AR as much as I dislike the weight of the thing. Is it a deadly assault rifle? Good question, it's certainly black, so perhaps it is. Who knows, maybe it'll learn to take a thermal and assault the nocturnal porcuswine.
But that's in the future. In the meanwhile, I'm waiting for ammo prices to drop from their currently obscene heights; 50 cents per round for .22LR, really? Over a buck for a round of 5.56, what? And that's if you can find it.
Not that it matters, I lost all my guns when the skiff hit a reef in Lake Whitney and sank beneath the waves. What. A. Catastrophe.
#2A,
LSP
Shoot some pool, fire off a few darts, have a pint or several and spin some tunes on the juke. Yes, it's Jukebox Monday and here's Juliette's choice, Copperhead Road. Great choice.
Infidel takes us to a contemplative space, with Stella Blue. Let's hear it for the Dead:
RHT recommends Stevie boy.
And here's some country from Jim.
Me? I just like Thunderstruck, because it's awesome. Check it out:
Rock on,
LSP
Sometimes the old tunes are the best tunes, and this one's for WSF, who knows Death Metal when he hears it. Enter Sandman:
Well, there's genius and there's genius.
Your Pal,
LSP
