Moaning Markle

Some call her a victim, a poor put upon person of color, driven from her adopted home by vile, hate-filled, brazen racism. Others call her a venal, narcissistic, gold digging, c list, millionaire socialist hypocrite.

That's as maybe. Popularly known as "Moaning Markle," Meghan's leaving Great Brexit Britain for Canada, where she and Harry plan to make their own fortune as well as being paid by the British taxpayer for doing precisely nothing.

Moaning Markle would like to move to LA but can't, because Trump, so Canada it is. Perhaps Moaner doesn't understand that Canada already belongs to Kate? But not to worry, when pounding the icy streets of Halifax looking for voice over work gets tiresome, there's always Sweden.

You can sign on to the popular grassroots movement Give Kate Canada here.

Cheers,

LSP

Our Town MAGA 2020

"The sun's gone down on my town." Respect to Miss Dement, but that's exactly what we're working to turn around, putting an end to the asset-stripping gutting of our country by a transnational crew of elite Illuminati sociopaths.

The message resonates, which is why 45's filling stadiums and Groper Biden isn't. Look out, Virginia.

Watch my tracer.

MAGA 2020,

LSP

The Baptism of Christ and Other Epiphanies

We celebrate the Baptism of Christ today and find an epiphany, God is a trinity of persons, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. "This is my beloved son," says the Father as Christ rises from the Jordan and the Spirit, like a dove, rests upon him. But what of the baptism?

Jesus, taking sinful humanity on himself descends into the waters only to rise again to the acclaim of the Father, and the heavens are opened to him and the humanity he has assumed. We will see this again as our Lord descends to the dead from Golgotha and rises from the tomb at Easter. So we find another epiphany, Jesus' baptism at the outset of his ministry describes its salvific action. 

No wonder, then, that the Spirit rests on him like the dove over the waters of creation or Noah's dove flying over the flood to dry land. Jesus is the Spirit anointed Messiah who recreates humanity through his passion, death and resurrection, the dry ground in whom we find entry to paradise.

All well and good, but the epiphanies weren't over. I got back to the Compound to find Christmas decorations being taken down and new decorations being put up. There they were, snowperson statues with owls on every table of the church hall. Gifte Shoppe snowperson centerpieces. But why, for what?

"I don't even like snowpersons," said the exhausted tablepiece decorator responsible for these wintry idols. "Why don't you shoot them then," I suggested, "Do you have a gun? No? Don't worry, I've got plenty, bullets too. You can borrow them." She declined, "But I like doing it, parson!" 

The snowpersons and their owls remain, as does the great mystery  and Feast of the Baptism of Jesus in the Jordan.

God bless,

LSP

Wake Of The Flood

Everyone's asking, did this pastoral Texan haven survive last night's sound and fury, did it survive the flood? Yes, by the grace of God it did. 

You could see the after effects of the storm this morning. Pecans and the broken debris of modern life lying in the gutter where they'd been swept by the floods. Want a weave or a styrofoam Whattaburger cup? Take your pick, there's plenty.

Regardless, POCs were scavenging the detritus as I walked Blue Eschaton to the Pick'n Steal. Good for them, big money in pecans. And that was that, we survived yet another raid by our Old Enemy, the Weather on the brave Republic of Texas.

I know, you're cautioning against false complacency. A battle won is not the same as a war won and that, all of you ten readers, is why we're prepared. 

Come and take it,

LSP

Virginia

I was moved by this, via Borepatch:

For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it’s all in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even begun yet, it not only hasn’t begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin ...

                                  William Faulkner, Intruder In The Dust

Let's hope; deputization in the Old Dominion.

#2A Sic Semper,

LSP

Crazy Storm

Texas is big and so is its weather. When it's hot it's really hot, like an oven. When it storms it really storms and that's what happened tonight. We were at the Four Seasons, no, not that one, this is a different place, the one next to Internet, Sweepstakes, Fun Time, then crash, down came the rain. 

You could hear it pounding on the roof above the stained acoustic tile drop ceiling while sheet lightning lit up the sky beyond the Seasons' barred windows. There it was, our Old Enemy the Weather venting its fury like a thwarted Presidential Candidate falling on Mook with outstretched talons. 

The ride home down a black ribbon of half-submerged asphalt was dramatic enough but uneventful, I took it slow and so did everyone else. Smart, who wants to hydroplane in a near zero viz stormfront?

Still, it was good to get back to the Compound. I set up on the porch as lightning arced across the sky, rain sheeted down and tornado warnings flashed on the phone screen. Thunder's rocking the house now, Elite Hotel's playing on the jukebox.

Will anything be left of this town tomorrow, will it be washed away like so many futile Bloomberg millions in Virginia? Only time, and a new dawn, will tell. 

For now, we stand to, cleaning weapons, sharpening kukris, loading magazines and throwing last year's broken furniture on the fire.

#2A,

LSP

Melania & Satan's Ruby Ring

Here at the Compound we were delighted to receive a Christmas card from America's popular and glamorous First Lady. Thank you, Melania, for the work you do to keep America great and for being a faithful Catholic Christian. 

Are the two synonymous? Surely yes, Christ didn't start anything that wasn't complete.

Our Adversary, on the other hand, marches to the beat of a different drum and loves rubies, ruby rings especially. Have a look:

Satan's jewel crown? Emmylou sings:

God grant you a blessed and peaceful night, White Hats rule this town now.

Victory is assured,

LSP

K9 Genius

Do you get the impression that the Persian business is a kind of political theater? Speaking of which, some idiot savant's declared that America would need a million troops to invade and conquer Iran.

Really? A million soldiers to take out Iran? I put the question to Blue Battlegroup, who replied by way of snatching up a tennis ball and savaging it with his fangs. A message to Tehran, perhaps, which has wisely stood down to the tune of President Trump's message of peace and love.

Some call it the shortest World War in history.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

Rock On

It's all getting very geopolitical, so here's some TS McPhee to accelerate the mood. And while we're reflecting on the genius of early '70s rock, who was it that convinced the Democrats to stand on an "I love Jihad terrorists and hate America" platform?

Oh yeah, that'd be '45. I predict a landslide.

MAGA 2020,

LSP

Epiphany

We celebrate the great Feast of the Epiphany today and with it look to the Magi, the Wise Men, who in turn point to Christ and reveal his nature in their gifts. Gold for Kingship, frankincense for divinity and myrrh for embalming and death. The Christ child is our divine king whose throne is the cross. But what of the Magi themselves?

They were astronomers who followed a star, and some argue this was a supernova, a conjunction of planets or something else again, a miraculous event. Perhaps it was all of these, but the Wise Men were more than  astral calculators, they were "wise," they looked for the truth and they found it, Incarnate, lying in a manger.

I was struck by this, from Pope Benedict XVI:

They were "wise." They represent the inner dynamic of religion toward self-transcendence, which involves a search for truth, a search for the true God and hence "philosophy" in the original sense of the word. Wisdom, then, serves to purify the message of "science": the rationality of that message does not remain at the level of intellectual knowledge, but seeks understanding in its fullness, and so raises reason to its loftiest possibilities.

Loftiest possibilities? Heaven itself and the throne of glory, all to be found in the baby lying under a star in a manger.

God bless you all,

LSP

Greta Awesome - Not So Hot For Quds

Back in Texas and 2020's off to a good start, unless you're boss of the Quds Force & Co.

Stars save the planet.

Rods from God & MAGA 2020,

LSP

Happy New Year!

Here we are on the dawn of a whole new year and I can't complain about the closing days of the last. A pub lunch and darts at the Swan with the boys, an uplifting Solemn High Mass on Sunday, Ordinariate style, and I have to say it was good to see the old place so full of young families and children.

And what trip to Calgary and Inglewood would be complete without visiting Crown Surplus and the militaria shop? The Crown's changed things up a bit and now devotes most of its space to tactical gear, which is great if you're an operator or looking for neat backpacks, knives and tactical accessories for your Glock/Sig. I like the other side of the store more, genuine surplus at OK prices.

The militaria place is alright too, though not as good as it once was before it moved down the street 5 years ago. Still, if you're desperate for a Grenadier Guards tunic or a bust of Hitler it's your shop. I took a couple of pictures and got in trouble, they're afraid of memorabila thieves.

Walking Holly was fun too, she's a rescue dog from the rez, not sure which one, and we get on well. She's vastly excited to go on trips through the frozen wastes and alleyways of this part of Alberta's onetime cow town. And there it is for now, more reflections on the Great White North as they come to mind.

In the meanwhile,

Happy New Year!

LSP

Boxing Day And On To Canada

Christmas day was great, feasting and fun with friends and family, then it was Boxing Day. I strolled over to a diner with the Private for a late and large portioned breakfast, tasty.  And after a well needed re-org we headed to the airport, objective? The Land of The Ice And Snow, aka Canada.

As everyone knows, flying's pretty miserable but our flight worked out well thanks to not one but two upgrades on account of the Private being active military traveling with orders. Good work AA, USO didn't hurt either.

So we ended up in the first two seats of the plane with a bizarre amount of legroom, comp drinks in real glasses, a meal with metal cutlery and all laid on, thank you very much. A bit like flying in the olden days and I tell you, it made the trip to Calgary most congenial.

And there we were, as if faster than you could say Justine Blackface Beta Socks Trudeau, landed at YYC. 

It was good to be back in the Great White North; I like Canada and I especially like Calgary. Stay tuned as this snowy mountain town adventure unfolds.

Merry Christmas,

LSP

Christmas Presents

Via ZZ, hope you've had a beautiful and blessed day,

LSP

Merry Christmas!

Christmas is upon us like a Trump train steaming down the track to a 2020 landslide. So here's a couple of prayers to ground us in the mysterious joy and glory of the day:

O GOD, who makest us glad with the yearly remembrance of the Birth of thine only Son Jesus Christ: grant that as we joyfully receive him for our Redeemer, so we may with sure confidence behold him when he shall come to be our Judge. Who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end.

O GOD, who hast enlightened this most holy night with the beams of thy one true light: grant, we beseech thee; that we, who have known the mystery of his light on earth, may also attain to the fruition of his joys in heaven. [Who.]

With the beams of thy one true light. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

Wishing you the most joyful and merry Christmas,

LSP

The Shoot Before Christmas

"Up for a shoot, old chap?" The Private didn't need much prompting and sprang out of bed, eager to show off his skills. "I reckon I'll smoke you on the AR," he quipped in a merry two days before Christmas kind of way. 

"I reckon there'd be something wrong if you didn't," I replied in the famously understated way of irregular cavalry, "But first I have to walk the Blue." The Blue being a dog, obviously.

That done, off we went to the range with a couple of .45s, an AR, a 20 SxS, and a big box of bullets courtesy of CheapAmmo.com; thanks, guys, great result. And what a good day for it, the sun shone, the ground was firm, the air clean in a big Texan sky, and all was well. 

CZ 20

First things first, we set up a silhouette along with a few playing cards and warmed up on the .45s. I kicked off with a Glock 21 and pounded five rounds into an approximation of the X Ring. OK, for a rusty shooter. The kid followed on and did well with a PX4 Storm, the green terr was definitely down. We moved onto playing cards at 10 yards.

Hmmm. Rusty.

I know, nothing outrageously skilled, unless you're out of practice like me, but we put the paper beast back in its box and had plenty of fun to boot. Nice. Then onto the 20 and a box of skeet, which we hurled redneck style into the sky. They mostly got smoked. 

Go Army

Next up? AR, and disaster struck. The battery'd died and the helpful red dot was no more. Good thing the weapon had back up iron sights. We blasted away like good 'uns, mostly against steel plates which swang like fury at the impact of the small but forceful 5.56. 

Did the kid "smoke me on the AR"? No, but I feel he would've if the shoot had gone on much longer and he got the feel of weapon. More training, you see. But what a neat little beast, Hipertouch trigger, Bison barrel and lightweight furniture. Far better, thought the Private, than issue. Such, perhaps, is the value of being irregular.

Boom!

We finished off with .45s against steel plates and had a blast knocking the adversary about. Boom, off you go. And then it was time to head for home, mission accomplished.

I love shooting, I scorn the DNC. And thanks, CheapAmmo for making the whole day possible. Great result, and your bullets worked too, like fury. Result.

Gun Rights, 

LSP

PS. Look, they helped the Compound out so I want to return the favor. Check out CheapAmmo, they support our troops. Good, right?

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

Still recovering from solstice hi-jinx? Perhaps this will help.

God bless,

LSP

WINTER SOLSTICE!

Yes readers, it's that time of year again, the WINTER SOLSTICE. You heard that right, time to get down to the Stones and party down. Or not, but hey, your call.

Maybe you don't want to get down and dirty with a crew of thieving hippies in the English countryside, maybe you don't want to worship the Moon Goddess with a cocktail of cheap red wine, fake hallucinogens and Special Brew. Then again, maybe you do.

Here at the Compound we don't judge, knock yourselves out, just don't be surprised when you wake up in a ditch and your wallet's been ripped off by an unwashed emissary of Giaia.

Selene,

LSP

Because Awesome

Who gave AJ the truck?

Cheers,

LSP

Welcome Home!

The Private flew in from the Army in Georgia today, where he's doing AIT at Fort Gordon. He likes the Army a lot and finds it better than being a bassist in a Scandinavian Death Metal band, awesome as that is.

On the way from the airport to an RV with fast food, the youthful defender of the nation's freedom regaled me with tales of training and poured scorn on our country's enemies in Congress. Seems like the Army's for 45, unsurprisingly.

Then, multiple dollar menu items later we fell back to Ma LSP's redoubt and the kid took a well deserved sleep. The Blue guarded.

I tell you, I'm proud of my eldest son, he's come a very long way. We'll be flying to the land of the ice and snow, Canada, on Boxing Day.

Go Army,

LSP

Impeachment!

Whaaa?!? Trump's still President even though he's impeached?!? That's right, goonshow, 45's still President and I'll wager the fighting monkey he'll win by a massive landslide, 2020.

If you were a conspiracy theorist you might believe the Democrats were bought and paid for shills of Brad Parscale and the GOP.

Cheers,

LSP

You Nazi Fascists

Well, well. In yet another stroke of popularist genius, rabid leftists attacked a children's nativity play in Toulouse, France on Monday.

You've doubtless seen the news. A group of children dressed up as shepherds, wise men and the Holy Family to re-enact the nativity story. How sweet. 

No, not sweet if you're a radical commie satanist. The play was shut down by around 50 screaming anarcho-marxists, who hurled abuse at the innocent children, accusing them of being "Fascists."

Leaving aside the bravery of the commies in their bold strike against The Man in Toulouse we have to wonder. Why does the Left hate children? 

You know, kill it in the womb, chemically castrate it in a sex-change, destroy its prospects in a failed marriage, and all this to say nothing of giving the child who's survived thus far, remarkably, a rubbish education in a taxpayer funded school.

Why? Because the Left hates life, innocence and purity. As abortion's their sacrament, so the miracle of birth is ours. We create, they destroy.

That, in part, is why we will beat these beasts.

LSP

All Lit Up

It all starts off at the Tree Gulag, where captive conifers languish beneath the harsh glare of sodium arc lights. There they are, lined up for inspection and roll call as you stride along wondering at their short and spindly aspect. But we found one that seemed to have potential and took it home.

First things first, wrangle the liberated fir into a stand and move back to ponder it's bizarrely potbellied shape. Then put as many lights on the thing as it'll bear, around a 1000+ for a small tree like this. You may have a different method and that's OK, there's no system. 

Lights on, get the Angel up and ask yourself why this one from Germany holds a scroll of plainsong notation proclaiming "Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata  mundi." Gloria in excelsis Deo!, surely.

Leaving aside the hint of oddly wry Tuetonic humor, start decorating the tree and if you're me, recall  Christmases past when you've done the very same thing with the very same ornaments stretching back into childhood. 

Nostalgic, but of course some decorations get "old, tired, pathetic and depressing. Look, here's a plastic bag, throw it away." Thus spake Ma LSP, and she's right, what's the point of holding on to some piece of broken rubbish just because you've had it forever?

That in mind, some ornaments are better than others, which goes without saying, and you admire them the most, they inspire and uplift. Then it's done, an Advent miracle, the tree's lit up, the ornaments gleam, glint and sparkle and all's well in a raucously Victorian Christmas tree kind of way.

Well done, mission accomplished, pour yourself a glass of the right stuff. Maybe, for you, that's cocoa, a onesie and a frothing pumpkin latte, maybe it's something more fortifying. Your call.

Cheers and God bless,

LSP