Detroit Gets Goats?

It's no secret that America's onetime automotive capital, Detroit, has fallen on hard times. Over 60% of the Motor City's population has left since 1950, leaving behind some 677,000 inhabitants and between 20 and 40 square miles of vacant land.

Yes, somewhere between 20 and 40 square miles of vacant land. So what do you do with all that land where houses once stood and the remaining 677,000 suffer from what's euphemistically referred to as "food security"? Simple answer, you turn some of that empty space into farmland and you change the city's ordinances to allow livestock.

If upcoming code amendments pass the city's Planning Commission, Detroiters will be able to farm with livestock, including chickens, goats and rabbits. Imagine, you're driving down Gratiot and there's a goat, on the rubble of a collapsed crack house, next to a field of wheat.

Good idea, right? But there's a catch. You see, farming's racist. According to Kathryn Lynch Underwood, a member of Detroit's Planning Commission:

“You have people that may have come from the South and don’t necessarily have good memories of their experience in the South, so the whole agriculture, animal thing reminds them of something they wanted to get away from.”

The curiously named Lynch Underwood is black and so is around 80% of what's left of the Motor City's population. How many of these will be able to shake off their memories of being slaves on southern plantations and return to the land, is presently unknown.

Maybe hunger will help solve that dilemma.

Way to go, Detroit. You're obviously coming back, or not.

LSP

Dust to Dust

There was a burial this morning, out in the country and the hot Texan sun. While we were waiting for everyone to arrive I talked with one of the gravediggers. He had a shamrock tattooed on his wrist and I asked him if he was Irish.

"Yes sir, I am," he replied, sounding entirely Texan, "I used to have red in my beard, but now it's grey." We had something in common. "My hair used to be brown, "I told him, "Now look at it." The gravediggers thought that was funny and stomped about laughing.

What can I say, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, but let's not forget the sure and certain hope in the resurrection. After the burial was over and everyone was leaving, an elderly gentleman told me he'd shot five Cottonmouths in the last few weeks, but he hadn't seen a rattler.

RS, rest in peace and rise in glory.

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday, Knives!

Bushcraft is an an art, the art of surviving in the field, possibly on your own and without modern conveniences, like the Nanny State and its herd of rainbow unicorns. More than that, it's a craft, and like any craft it demands tools to get the job done.

One of those essential tools is a good knife, which you can use for skinning, cleaning, prepping and eating food. Or for turning into a spear, which you can throw at the opposition when your AR15 is out of rounds.

Here at the Compound, we hope you find this infovideo as helpful as we do.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Divine Humor?

According to the UK's left-leaning Guardian, churches in Europe are experiencing growth from an unlikely quarter, converts from Islam.

A growing number of Muslim refugees in Europe are converting to Christianity, according to churches, which have conducted mass baptisms in some places.

Reliable data on conversions is not available but anecdotal evidence suggests a pattern of rising church attendance by Muslims who have fled conflict, repression and economic hardship in countries across the Middle East and central Asia.

Complex factors behind the trend include heartfelt faith in a new religion, gratitude to Christian groups offering support during perilous and frightening journeys, and an expectation that conversion may aid asylum applications.

At Trinity church in the Berlin suburb of Steglitz, the congregation has grown from 150 two years ago to almost 700, swollen by Muslim converts, according to Pastor Gottfried Martens. Earlier this year, churches in Berlin and Hamburg reportedly held mass conversions for asylum seekers at municipal swimming pools.

Well, you can't blame them, especially the women, and I'd imagine Christianity would be liberating after Mohammedanism. But perhaps there's an element of divine irony at work here, with the very people you'd most expect to destroy and supplant the Church riding, against all the odds, to its rescue.

No one, either on the right or the left of the Christianity v. Islam debate, has predicted this or would even dare to; it seems too implausible and upside down. But so does the Gospel, in  which death is overcome by death and the last are first.

Let's Have This Back

There would be a kind of divine justice, perhaps humor, in Christianity's perennial enemy, Islam, turning out in the end to be its lifeline, at least in the enfeebled churches of the West.

I hope this encouraging trend continues and let the reader understand, Muslim converts are known for the fervency of their faith. I'll resist the temptation to comment of the Church of England's Bench of Bishops.

God bless,

LSP

At The Range

Do you remember Day of the Triffids, in which alien plants, Kudzulike, overwhelm their terrestrial counterparts? It was like that at the range, though the plants were Texan, and who knew what was lurking under them. Watch out for snakes, shooters.

The snakes didn't appear though two Ruger American .22s did. One with a 4x Hawke Optics scope and the other with Ruger supplied iron sights. Both rifles performed flawlessly, picking off shotgun cartridges, steel plates, a Sprite can and an old kettle.

Now, you may scoff and look down upon this scene with smug condescension, while you chamber another round in your .375 H&H Magnum before cranking off a few rounds with a 45-70 bear rig. But before you turn away in scorn, read this about bolt action rimfire shooting:

There’s something cathartic about deliberate fire punctuated by a short-travel bolt cycling the next round into the chamber. Remove recoil from the equation entirely, and you have a great gun for working on those rusty fundamentals, or for teaching a new generation the finer points of marksmanship.

And here's the Shooting Times on the RAR (Ruger American Rimfire):

Who would have thought a new bolt-action rimfire rifle could be a game-changer? I mean, everything is all about autoloaders nowadays, right? But a game-changer is exactly what the new Ruger American Rimfire series is, and it’s positioned to become as dominant in the rimfire bolt-action world as the Ruger 10/22 has been for so long in the rimfire autoloader world. Maybe even more so.

You can read about the gun's specifics, such as its adjustable trigger, patented bedding, modularity, sighting options and more in the above reviews, but I'll throw my Guinea on the bench and say this. The RAR has excellent fit and finish for the money, it's accurate to minute of shotgun cartridge at 30 yards and, with a wood stock, has a satisfying aesthetic for wood and steel enthusiasts. A great little rifle. If you're looking for an affordable rimfire bolt-gun, get a RAR.

GWB Likes Ballistol. It's Green

A 525 round value pack of ammo and a lot of fun later, it was time to head for home. A good day was had by all.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Getting to The Range

There's not been a lot of shooting in LSPland lately because of our enemy, the Weather. Seriously, it's rained so much that the places I like to shoot at have been pretty much off-limits. But that's changed, at least for now, with a few days of heat and sun.

So I drove down to the range with GWB and a couple of wood stocked Ruger American .22s, a value pack of ammo and a mind set on a few hours of firearms fun. Make up for lost time, I thought to myself, and blaze away in the clean country air. Right on, get out and shoot.

Then disaster struck. Thanks to the Weather, part of a tree had fallen and was blocking the way into the range. It was a significant obstacle and there was no way it was going to move without a chainsaw and there wasn't one.

"We need a saw," said GWB, thoughtfully, and I agreed, "Yes, and there isn't one." I optimistically tried a bit of telekenesis on the fallen timber; maybe staring at the branches would shift them out of the way. No, it didn't, and then it came to me, GWB had had the foresight to bring a multitool. "What about your Leatherman?" I asked,  "That has a sawblade, a surprisingly good one."

Sure enough, the Leatherman Wave's handy saw made quick work of an offending branch and we were able to drive around the road block. Moral of the story?

Don't underestimate our enemy the Weather, it can throw some nasty punches. Also, be prepared, have the kit you need to reach your objective. Most importantly, when things go wrong you can sit there in your pajama onesie, whining into your coco as you wait for the Government to step in and save you, good luck with that. Or you can take matters into your own hands and find a solution.

That's what happened today. We cut through the wood and drove on through, to the other side.

Thanks, Leatherman Wave. You work.

LSP

D Day And The Fighting Monkey

It's the 72nd anniversary of D Day, when allied forces made their momentous landing on the shores of Nazi occupied France and began the work of rolling back the Hitlerites. Here's an excerpt from President Roosevelt's D Day Prayer:

Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our Nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity.

Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard. For the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces. Success may not come with rushing speed, but we shall return again and again; and we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph.

They did triumph and we should thank God for that. 

A Fighting Monkey

Now, I'm not a betting man, but I'll wager any eight, yes, eight, of your womyn priests against my fighting monkey that  it'd be inconceivable for a US president to make that prayer today.

God bless,

LSP

Tight Lines

Sure, you can sit around in slack-jawed amazement at the state of the Worldwide Anglican Non Communion (WANC), or you can get out and fish. I chose the latter option and RV'd with GWB, somewhere in Texas.

The Bass were biting in a small way and before too long I had a couple on the hook and reeled in; so did GWB. Then the the action was on. A monster of the deep took GWB's lure; tap, hookset, and out played the drag. 

Nice Fish, GWB

Big fun and a big fish. Good result. That Bass tournament was won by GWB. But then the sun was setting, the wind died down and the water smoothed out into a golden glassy stillness. Time for topwater.

Twitch that Torpedo and in fairness, a Bass exploded on my lure like a senior womyn clergyperson angling for a pointed hat. It was a close run thing, but the fish got away. Then it was time to get on the road and head back to the Compound.

And that was that, a good time was had by all.

Your Friend,

LSP

Torpedo Los!

Here's the thing about the Torpedo. It works. I don't know why, I'm not an expert, but perhaps it's the spitting noise of the propeller, combined with a slow twitch retrieve. 

Tiny Torpedo Topwater Lure

Maybe it's the color of the lure and the way it rolls in the water that triggers the aquatic predator to strike and strike hard. I don't know, perhaps it's all these things and more. But one thing is certain.

The Torpedo Works

The Torpedo works and works well. My Baby Bass variant has caught more fish in a month than I'd usually catch in a year. Granted, because of our enemy, the Weather, I've been fishing more and riding and shooting less.

Random Photo of  Jeffrey John

Still, the Torpedo is a lure to be reckoned with, and they're cheap. Get yours at the local Walmart and catch some fish. I doubt you'll be disappointed.

Tight lines,

LSP

Super Spook

A lot of people are saying that the Team's gone off-mission. They think that the primary objective of fighting the War on Weather, building an ARK (Advanced Rescue Kraft) and fishing has been forgotten. Forgotten and replaced by theological reflection. I understand, it's a concern, but you can do both. 

Look What The Weather's Done

To prove that, I went Lake Whitney and deployed a Super Spook. No, not a well known member of the Intelligence Community, but a topwater lure. To be honest, I didn't think I'd catch anything, as the lake was choppy and well above its normal water level, all thanks to our enemy, the Weather.

Spook Caught a Fish

Still, I figured the Spook might be large and noisy enough to attract any Bass that were lurking under the waves. So I cast off, and bang, a Hybrid hit the lure like it was going out of style, then another slammed into it. Well done, Spook, you work. 

Those in Peril on The Sea

But so too does our enemy and its not been idle, sending torrential rain down onto the Lone Star State in an apocalyptic display of power. You could see that today on lake Whitney, which resembled a turbulent inland sea.

A Typical Texas Streetscape

Smart Texans are moving to high ground, building ARKs and improving their fishing skills.

Fish on,

LSP

The Miracle of The Widow of Nain

There's been a momentary lull in the War on Weather, giving us all time to reflect on the miracle of the widow of Nain, which is the Gospel reading for Sunday. In it we find two processions.

One is a procession of death, led by the grieving widow who has lost her only son. The other is a procession of life, led by Christ. At the point of contact, Christ is moved with great compassion and love. "Weep not," he tells the woman, and in power summons the son's soul back to his body and restores him to life. 

The widow and her son are, of course, types or figures of ourselves and the Church who are met, loved and given life by Christ. I found this reflection helpful, here's the conclusion:

The story of the widow of Nain is a wonderful story. It reminds us that the Gospel, like the Christian life itself, is seamless and perfect. The demands made on us are no less than the demands of love and of faith. As the Apostle John said, God is indeed love. And He responds to us, to the Church, as we in faith and in love cry out to him. For ourselves, for each other. For the living; for the dead; for the entire world. We cry out for mercy and for love and always – always – God responds. It is for this – faith and love – that we will be held accountable at the dread judgment seat. Nothing else. Not buildings, not numbers, not visible success. Faith and love. This is our life in the Church, it is our life in Christ.

You can read it all here, and if you think, in a fit of brazen, stiff-necked, secularist nihilism that it's all a load of pious nonsense, consider the reverse of the qualities of faith and love and see how far they get you.

God bless,

LSP

Thunderstruck

As this small kebob stand on the information superhighway is now all about the weather, it's only right to release this powerful version of the AC/DC classic, Thunderstruck.

By Finns. Let the reader understand.

That is all,

LSP

Storms Rock Texas

We were warned by our Commander-in-Chief, yes, warned, but took no heed. Texas refused to pay its carbon tax and play its part in the life and death War on Weather. Complacency slipped in, and this is the result.

The Commander

Thunder, lightning, incessant, relentless rain and fierce winds, all combining to make this the storm of the century. 31 counties have been declared disaster zones by Governor Greg Abbott and still the water continues to rise.

The Bricks

Rain is set to fall all week, bringing not only record breaking floods but also a plague of snakes, insects and floating trash.

The Road

Here, in this small farming community, we watch from high ground and the roofs of our homes as the rain pounds down, and stand ready, razor sharp kukris in hand and shotguns chambered, for the snakes.

The Dam

Lake Whitney dam holds, for now.

LSP

It's Bushcraft Wednesday!

Bushcraft isn't simply about surviving without the aid of modern conveniences like supermarkets and the Nanny State. Sometimes it involves ethical decisions, perhaps even dilemmas. 

When a monkey gets shot, is it murder?

You be the judge,

LSP

Sweden Gets Raped

In 1975, Sweden was what you'd expect it to be, a peaceful, law abiding, Scandanavian haven of prosperity. It was probably dull; in between listening to Abba singles and fishing the fjords, Swedes probably didn't do a whole lot, so the government decided to change it up. How?

By importing over a million mostly Muslim immigrants from the Middle East and Africa, and what happened? Lo and behold, Sweden became the rape capital of the West and nearly the world, second only to Lesotho, with 53 rapes per 100,000 people.

That's an increase of 1,472% on 1975, when 421 rapes were reported to the police, as opposed to 6,620 in 2014. During the same period, violent crime increased 300%.

Surely the increase in sexual attacks against women in Sweden and the rest of Europe has nothing to do with, you know, massive Muslim immigration. It's not like the Quran sanctions sex slaves or that Mohammad owned a couple, or anything. Except, of course, that it does and he did. Go ask ISIS.

In the meanwhile, well done multicultural Swedes, you're getting up there with Lesotho in the rape leagues. And where's the feminist outrage? Oh, there isn't any.

That'd be Islamophobic.

LSP

The Mighty Brazos Crests at 54 Feet

The Brazos river crested today at a record breaking 54 feet, leaving homes in the Houston area flooded and whole neighborhoods surrounded by a swirling dystopia of snakes and suchlike waterborne trash. 

Typical Houston Street Scene

What caused this aquatic catastrophe? Failure to pay a carbon tax to our globalist elite overlords; refusal to ride the rainbow and turn the state's schools into a rainbow-riding, trans free for all? Or maybe divine displeasure at Houston's Pink Stasi Mayor?

A Proper Little Fighter

I drove to the Brazos to find out. It was in full flood and I cast off into the torrent via the rain. Three Hybrids and one small Widemouth later, I still wasn't any closer to winning the War on Weather but I was holding my own against the fish.

Shoot The Monkey

In related news, a monkey threatened to kill a child at a zoo and was shot. Some people are calling this "murder." Those people are clearly insane.

Your Friend,

LSP

Isle of Man TT With The Morecambe Missile

Some people ride unicorns over the rainbow, others, like the Morecambe Missile, John McGuinness, ride bikes and they ride them fast on what's possibly the most dangerous race of its kind in the world, the Isle of Man TT.

That's going on right now:

Held over a 37.75 mile course of closed public roads on the sleepy island tax haven in the (Irish) sea between Britain and Ireland, it is considered one of the most authentically original, spectacular and most dangerous sporting events in the World with average lap speeds approaching 133 miles per hour through the 380 bends and 1500 foot climb and fall the road makes on the Island’s mountainous topography. Riders in the races on ‘the Island’ are considered specialists in the art of ‘real road racing’, a sport restricted to small parts of Europe in these very safety conscious times, and are willing to risk everything (literally) to be crowned ‘King of the Mountain’. They certainly don’t do it for the money, as there is very little...

One reader described it neatly, "This sport's not for wussies." I'd be inclined to agree and note McGuinness' humility in the video. That's a virtue.

Say a prayer for the riders, they don't always make it.

God bless,

LSP

Memorial Day

From the first Memorial Day, then called Decoration Day, address in 1868:

I love to believe that no heroic sacrifice is ever lost; that the characters of men are molded and inspired by what their fathers have done; that treasured up in American souls are all the unconscious influences of the great deeds of the Anglo-Saxon race, from Agincourt to Bunker Hill. It was such an influence that led a young Greek, two thousand years ago, when musing on the battle of Marathon, to exclaim, “the trophies of Miltiades will not let me sleep!” Could these men be silent in 1861; these, whose ancestors had felt the inspiration of battle on every field where civilization had fought in the last thousand years? Read their answer in this green turf. Each for himself gathered up the cherished purposes of life—its aims and ambitions, its dearest affections—and flung all, with life itself, into the scale of battle.

And now consider this silent assembly of the dead. What does it represent? Nay, rather, what does it not represent? It is an epitome of the war.

You can read the whole thing here. Remember those who gave their lives. May they rest in peace and rise in glory.

God bless,

LSP

Basschaton

There we were , somewhere in Texas, fishing for Bass, and they weren't biting, until they did. Clamp! Vise-like jaws snapped shut on an alluring dark plastic worm and in came a fish, an apocalyptic leviathan of a Bass.

GWB soon caught up with some swift action, and after an hour at the lake we were neck and neck at 3 fish each. By then the sun was setting, the lake was still as glass and it just seemed right to try out the Tiny Torpedo topwater method.

A small strike, almost more of a gulp, later and kaboom! A big fish was on, leaping and fighting, playing out the drag as it stormed and thrashed out of the water. Excitement wasn't in it, this was a serious fish.

As if on cue, lightning flashed through the thunderheads, right there, at the Basschaton.

Tight Lines,

LSP