Catastrophe Averted

 

It started off well, very well, totally according to plan. Roll into Dallas, check on Ma LSP's property while she's on vacation in the Old Country and make sure everything's sound for her arrival. Simple, elegant, achievable. What a great plan. Then everything fell to pieces.

First off, where's my laptop? Not in the overnight duffle, not in the rig.  No, it was sitting safe and sound in the kitchen of the Compound and useless, even with modern tech, to me in the 'Sprawl. Fail. Attention to detail, LSP, and what about personal admin? Double fail.

You Little Gusher

But no big deal, work from your cell phone, such is progress. Fine, until the next day when it was time to mow the overgrown lawn. "What's this?" I thought over the hum of Ma's nifty electric mower, "Why is the ground so wet, rain?"

Wet as in fixing to become marshland. Hunh. Then lo and behold, not rain but a mini gusher by the pecan tree. I stared at it, Bloody Mary in hand, "It's only a small gusher, maybe we can leave it alone." No. Error. Little gusher became big gusher and the yard began to flood. So I poured a stiff one, got the water turned off to house and got on the line to plumbers.

Problem

They/he came out yesterday and got the job done, fixing a split water line with Sharkbite fittings and capping off a redundant sprinkler system in the process. Good work Tribeca, prompt, personable and at a reasonable cost. Give 'em a shot if you need emergency plumbing in DFW.

Solution

Net result? Water restored to the house and catastrophe averted. Thank God for that, Ma LSP can return home to a place that isn't flooded and has running water. Result. My carefully constructed plan? Shot to hell but you know what they say, improvise, adapt, overcome. Problem? Solution.

Cheers,

LSP

Rest in Peace

 

She was, without doubt, the real deal, and with her goes the passing of an age. Rest in peace, your Majesty.

LSP

Just Driving Along

 

There we were, just me and the young soldier driving around town in the beauty of a Texan sunset.

For some reason it reminded of long ago in Detroit. There I was, pretty much fresh off the plane from London, and there he was, an older, hard-bitten looking Brit. We were at a sales meeting, eating and making oblique credential pitches.

"Good to meet someone from the Old Country," I offered, "Used to be in the British Army." He looked me in the eye, "So was I." I'd figured that, cleverly, "What'd you do?" He took a bite off a California Roll, "Sold beans to the Saudis."

"That's interesting," responded a very junior LSP, mind like a steel trap, "I left to become a priest, maybe now a Roman Catholic priest."

"You did, did you? Say the Lord's Prayer in Latin then." Which I did. After adveniat regnum tuum he grinned and admitted defeat, "That's enough, mate."

We closed that deal, for used auto industry exhibit booths, curiously. There's money in those woods, though it wasn't for me.

I file this random story under "anything else I care to think about."

Cheers,

LSP

A Jolly Medley

 

Alright there, boys

Junior

Hey now

Cheers,

LSP

Sancs A Lot!

 

Everyone knows how the money laundering scheme in the Ukraine will rake in billions for our beloved Elite Overlords. But what about you, the pitiful serf? Here's a helpful infographic:

Yes, you're better off now because you've been taxed moar. And by all means disagree, go right ahead, and get raided at 3 am by our loyal Federal Stasi. Speaking of which, do you remember how the Soviet Union banned prayer in its schools? Not like us, at all. Whatever, go on Great Britain, take one for the team.

All hail our Hellscape Overlords,

LSP

Jail Them

 

We're aghast, here at the Compound. Why are the traitor, extremist, brazen Fascists who dared slur the family of our beloved Leader allowed to walk free? Why haven't they been swatted, why hasn't there been a 2 am door kick-down?

Good question. Just look at them, those grey haired seditionists, literally standing there on a bridge in Dallas and waving flags as if they were patriots. How stupid and, let's be honest, evil. If they were patriots they'd be loyal servants of our rulers, obviously, but no, they willfully choose to ignore this like the extremists they are. Surely the Democrat Gestapo FBI will catch up with them.

Speaking of catch up, sanctions against Russia appear to be doing just that in the EU and the Sceptered Isle herself. Old Continent serfs, prepare to pay all your paltry income on electricity and gas bills, or eat, up to you. And as your industries shut, your shops close and you yourselves shiver in darkness, raise a salute to our beneficent rulers. 

Their money laundering demands your sacrifice. After all, those private jets, yachts and seaside homes on Martha's Vineyard don't come cheap.

Hail Biden,

LSP

ALL HAIL MOLOCH

 

Behold our Demented Overlord. 

And his sigil.

Remember, gentlemen and gentlewomen, it's all a larf 'til you wake up and a demon's eating through your pal's thigh, to say nothing of sitting in the Oval Office.

Doctor Dee forever,

LSP

LCS

 

That is all, and then some,

LSP

Mexicans On The Roof

 

Never a dull moment at the Compound. Today we had Mexicans on the Roof? Why? Because the roof over the church hall was rotten and had to be replaced and the Hernandez crew gave us the best deal. So off they went, crashing and banging and nailing from 0800.

Not that I'm complaining, those boys work hard, for a realistic price and sure enough, they'd removed rotten shingles and laid a new set by end of play. Of course they wanted a check for fiddy percent on completion.

Well, they'll get get that tomorrow morrow morning. And what a good gang, hard working, polite, quick and hey, they got the job done at a good price. Were those boys wearing gold crucifixes? Yes they were, and I like that too.

So here we are, new roof on and all the better for it. Beto, on the other hand, is suffering from MillSoc MonkeyPox. Count your blessings as you find 'em, eh?

Rule Britannia,

LSP

What An Epic Loser

 

what a rich dumbass

Yes, we're talking about Beto. No so much a politician as a failed faux/mex sandwich. Millionare socialist Beto, net worth $6,667,013, is sick with a bacterial infection, monkeypox?, and can't campaign no more.

no one's ever even liked you, Beto

Oh dear, what a disaster, said no on ever. Beto's famous for marrying money and then spending it on his pathetic, loser, dime bag attempt to seize power and get even richer. But zhe keeps on losing. 

here's Kasich, yet another sandwich fraud

Far-sighted readers may remember the Kasich, another two-bit sandwich attempt at power. Imagine the scene, there you are in some beastly suburb of Philly, "I'll have a Kasich lite anna Beto, hold the mustard." Checkout stops, a pause, "You wanna discount for your two losers?"

I rest my case,

LSP

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

 

No thanks to the beasts, Grant and Sherman. At the checkout counter, "Where you from?" Boy, "10th Mountain." Moment of reflection, "From the North?" Quick as a flash, "You calling me a dam Yankee?" Pause, "Nossir, but he's from England."

He looked at me, full of war, but we were at peace, "That's different," he grinned, and so it was.

Rise up Southron,

LSP

Go Green

 

How awesome it is to go green and save the planet! said every infantile 16 year old girl ever. But hey, good call, here's an infographic:

go green serfs

Europe deindustrializes? Hurray! Yes, back to the plow and the furrow. And how ya gonna heat your house? By chopping wood? How very heimat. But it's worth it because Ukraine. Don't get me wrong, by all means go back to hunter gather status but if you do don't complain when the Russkies and ChiComs rule.

shocking bad taste

Whatever. Curry here at the Compound while we still have electricity, light and meat, chicken. Then we'll go green, just like all those other seaside millionaires on Martha's Vinyard.

Your Eco Friend,

LSP

Sunday Sermon

 

Trads, try not to scorn me but we use the new-fangled three year lectionary in the missions, which means today's Gospel was Luke 14:1, 7-14. Here, Jesus is at a feast held by a ruler of the pharisees and he gives, on the face of it, a simple warning against pride.

When you're invited to a wedding feast don't go for the seat of honor lest you're cast down in shame to a lower place. Instead, go for the lower place and be invited up. He concludes, "He who exalts himself will be humbled and he who humbles himself will be exalted."

How that must have stung in such exalted company. Woe to you pharisees! You tithe and go for the seats of honor at the synagogue, you make long prayers and while you're at it devour widow's houses. "Ye are as graves," spiritually dead.

We can imagine the dinner party's host shifting uneasily as he's served five star from his slaves, and we can also imagine the Savior holding the man's gaze, eye to eye. The Word pinning the darkness to itself, and of course the pharisee can't complain; God abhors the proud, they are repellent to him, the Law and Prophets make this clear. Our Lady exults, "He has cast down the mighty from their seat and exalted the humble and meek." But why are the proud so egregious in the eyes of God?

Because they're ugly in themselves. "Look at me, I am so very, very important," said the junior British Army officer, fresh out of Sandhurst. to the platoon and the world. I know, a certain arrogance goes with the trade, but still, no one likes that man, not me, not you, not God. Again, pride is the start of sin, a well-head of wickedness. What evil will a proud, self-obsessed, exalted man not commit? More seriously, this deluded, luciferean attitude of heart and mind, of soul, is idolatrous.

The proud man sets himself up against God, he's forgotten "it is he that hath made us and not we ourselves." And therein lies disaster, you cannot go against God, reality itself, and stand. The math doesn't work. What a warning to the pharisees, what a warning to our present age.

Are we not at the xenith, the pyramid peak of rebellion against God? What would the spirit of the age, the zeitgeist look like if was a person? Hideous thought. I tell you, its head would be so swollen with self-importance that it couldn't fit through the door posts of the narrow gate which leads to the marriage feast, to heaven. 

Caveat in mind,  what a blessing that the people of the missions and all over the world came together in humility to worship God, to adore Christ as their sovereign King and Lord, to hear his revealed Word and be nourished by the Sacrament of the Altar in which we find union with the one perfect sacrifice of our Savior.

Domine non sum dignus

May God give us the grace to go out into the world and invite the "maimed, the lame, the blind," all those wounded by sin, to the Feast, to the heavenly banquet, even as we ourselves have been invited by the author and perfecter of our faith.

Ad Maiorem,

LSP

Clubs

 

Have you noticed there's this weird axiom or principle. Viz. Don't go to war against Russia."Ha, ha!" you say, "We are so powerful now that we can defeat that puny 13 time zone state, with its peasant ways and backwards obsession with artillery." Like how weird, here's a country which actually makes shells for its guns, how primitive and stupid.

Then there's Western Europe, which has gambled for decades on never, ever having to fight another kinetic war. You know, with guns and missiles and actual soldiers. Oops.

In other news, the Eagles are gearing up for an RV in London. This means, for me, revitalizing club memberships. Witch one? I hear the yuck Reform's going cheap. Then there's the nasty National Liberal Club. Abhorrent, but think of the reciprocity.

The Bangalore Club, the Bermuda Yacht Club, our very own Petroleum, and on across the world. And you get a beautiful Thames Embankment terrace, which we love. And reciprocal at the good old East India and the nasty Army club in DC.

Ad pursuit of happiness,

LSP

Tim Page RIP

Thanks to Wild I know that legendary war photographer Tim Page has died in his late 70s, may he rest in peace. Page was remarkable for his photography of the SE Asian conflict and I wish I'd met him.

But it wasn't to be, he was doubtless more concerned with other things, like moving to Australia, curiously. Brisbane aside, Page certainly shot the war, respect.

I first heard about him from Michael Herr's psychedelic book Dispatches, which had a deleterious impact on several levels. Regardless, Page's photography was outstanding.

May he rest in peace. In related news, a Gathering of Eagles is scheduled in London Sept/Oct, depending on Whitehall. See you there, Mandarins nothwithstanding, on the steps of St. Paul's.

Lee Ho Fooks,

LSP

SHIA CONVERTS TO CATHOLICISM

 

hmmm, note WHITE WOLF

Yes, we live in an age of miracle and wonder, Shia LaBeouf has converted to traditional Roman Catholicism. No, this isn't from the Babylon Bee, the Onion or the autists at /pol, Shia's actually done it, he's embraced the Faith. Far out, it wasn't always this way:

Lampooned in the pages of this popular mind blog and relentlessly attacked by 4Chan basement dwellers, don't say Shadilay, for being a two-bit millionaire socialist fraud, Shia found his life spiraling out of control. So to save his plummeting career and possibly his life, the actor accepted a part as St. Padre Pio in an upcoming movie.

wow

Moved by the Spirit and his experience living with Capuchin friars, to say nothing of learning the Latin Mass, Shia converted. I know, you couldn't make it up if you tried, but such is grace, here's Fox, via the NYP:

“I know now that God was using my ego to draw me to Him. Drawing me away from worldly desires. It was all happening simultaneously. But there would have been no impetus for me to get in my car, drive up [to the monastery] if I didn’t think, ‘Oh, I’m gonna save my career.'” 

While researching and performing the role, however, LaBeouf said he felt “tricked” by God.

“And when I got here, a switch happened. It was like Three-Card Monte. It was like someone tricked me into it, it felt like,” the actor recounted. “Not in a bad way. In a way that I couldn’t see it. I was so close to it that I couldn’t see it. I see it differently now that time has passed.”

There is, says the Good Book, more joy in heaven over one sinner that repents than over ninety-nine self-righteous prig hypocrites that don't. And note this, all ye doomers, if it can happen to him there's hope for us all yet.

Well done, Shia, keep it up, love you brother.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Under Glowering Skies

No foreign sky protected me,

no stranger's wing shielded my face.

I stand as witness to the common lot,

survivor of that time, that place. 

(Anna Akhmatova)

What remained after the flood? For us, we few survivors? A glowering sky for sure, that much is constant.

And shacks, somehow these too remain.

As does the Dojo. Kick 'em out, kids, before you too are washed away in the flood.

But trees still stand. What happens here is that roots destroy the sidewalk which no one walks on, so the Town in its wisdom cuts down the trees. Idiots.

So back again to the Compound, unscathed, frosty, our enemy the Weather threatening. But questions remain.

Have we paid too much Climate Tax, too little, or is this an issue caused by prayer? Pray for rain, God agrees, cause and effect. Problem, solution. But note how abundantly our Creator provides this. 

Do you detect judgment?

LSP

Climate Change Eschaton

 

This small farming community in North central Texas faced down ferocious storms on Monday, but it was nothing compared to Dallas. Our Old Adversary, the Weather, changed with a vengeance and flooded the Metrosprawl.

Like no kidding. Torrential rain turned suburban streets into raging torrents and shut down the Mix Master, an insane highway complex in the center of town which is a nightmare at the best of times. A woman died in Mesquite, caught in her car as it was carried under by the current. May she rest in peace.

Even the world famous Margaret Hunt bridge was threatened with disaster as the waters rose with primal, apocalyptic fury. Yes, the levees hold, for now. And it's a here and now issue because, apparently, that's not some kind of God-given thing. Work it out, Dallas.

In the meanwhile, Ma LSP's house rests on high ground and I'll be sure to swing by and make sure all's well, safe from marauding hordes of waterborne looters. On that note, smart people are investing in BOATS.

Row Jimmy row,

LSP

Monday Admonishment

 

Who do you love? Your truck, your money, the British Army, what's left of it, the ritual of the Mass itself?, the idea of Rhodesia and the Selous Scouts? How very awesome, until it isn't.

I tell you, readers, there's no luggage rack on the back of a hearse; so store up treasure in heaven, strive for eternal value. Which reminds me of all these young brokers in London, back in the day, "Value!" they'd shout, while hoisting yet another champagne bottle before they got busted for *dealing.

Gross, eh, picture the scene, all kinds of hi-spirits. That in mind, crazy rain here and we thank God for this. Providence, kids, is both loving and implacable.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Yet Another Sunday Sermon -- WARNING GRAPHIC

I'm not a contractor, never have been, never will be, just a humble LSP, but I do know this. 

Roddy walked into our South Ken office in '97, in tears, positively weeping, all 6.4 of him. Why? Because Lady Di had died and he'd just visited her multi-candlelit shrine. "Why are you crying, Roddy?" asked the Guv'nor. "Because she... she... died!"

Our boss paused, "But Roddy, you're a fkn arms dealer." And he was; tragedy meet mourner and, to be fair, what a neat guy. He sold missiles and drove a Porsche through West London while threatening to invite me to the Special Forces Club. 

Drive Safe.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

A Mercifully Short Sunday Sermon

“Lord, will those who are saved be few?” And he said to them, “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able." (Lk 13:22)

Strive to enter by the narrow gate. It grates against post-modernist Marcusian ears, against the culturally ascendant air we breathe  because "narrow gate" sounds dangerously like narrow-minded, and so bigoted, intolerant and hateful.

"After all," says our Ivy League uneducated friend, "I've got my truth, you've got yours. Coexist!"

What a broad path and it sounds alluring; so free and tolerant, so very narrative. But let's apply this logic to mathematics. Imagine a classroom full of young children, pronouns mixed. Their teacher asks, "You have two rainbows in the sky and you add another two rainbows, how many rainbows are there?"

An impetuous youngster raises zhir hand, "One!" A pensive girl, she/hers, utters "three," another adventurer exclaims four, another eight and an enthusiastic child offers up "eighty eight!" The teacher beams, "Children, all of you are right!" And each receives a delicious unicorn cupcake, don't say Lambeth Conference.

But look what's happened. In the name of freedom, these poor children have been denied the liberty of doing mathematics because they haven't been allowed to go through the narrow gate of correct addition. The logic of salvation's similar.

As with 2+2=4, there's one solution to paradise and that's Christ; He is the gate. Only He unites humanity to God, He alone is true God and true Man. He alone offers the perfect, sinless, atoning sacrifice to the Father for the forgivness of sins and He, and only He, rises victorious from the grave only to give His resurrected life to the faithful.

So to get to heaven, the end or τέλος of desire, we have to go through Christ, the door, the gate of the sheep, the way, the truth and the life. And we must strive to do so, to make the conscious, deliberate effort to conform our lives to His.

The Savior's grace, frightened and gentle readers, will supply the deficiency.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

A Civil Disturbance

 

Remember the Cherokee Nation uprising? I do, just, and part of our people goes that way, so. Speaking of which, did you know that some 80% of US combat arms are from Texas.

Food for thought,

LSP