Fall From Grace And Hit The Ground

Who knew that Hillary was seriously sick? Really sick, knees buckle, loses shoe sick. No fooling, maybe it's Parkinson's, or demonic possession, experts are undecided.

Her security detail wasn't short in acting to lift her spasmodically twitching body into the waiting SUV. They were probably used to it, train, train, train.

She emerged, later, from her daughter's $10 million apartment. Nothing quite like being a millionaire socialist, eh? And who knows, was there a secret medical team waiting in that million dollar facility?

For that matter, was the person who walked out of it Hillary, or some other thing?

Mind how you go,

LSP

Cooking With LSP, Smothered Dove

Cooking with LSP? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, you say with a snort of condescension, and I don't blame you, who'd have thought it. But there is a way and here's how.

Go on, Shoot Some Dove

Drag yourself away from Hillary Possessed By Satan! headlines, I know, it's hard, and go out and shoot some dove. Breast the birds and season with salt, pepper and Cavender's, which is made to an "Ancient Greek Formula." Who knew that the Athenians of old had Hydrolysed Corn Soy Protein? Well, now you do. 

Dove, Onion, Heavy Metal

Take time to stand back and admire your handiwork, thinking yourself fortunate that the kitchen's protected by a .38 Special, or a Glock, or a mighty .460 Magnum, or whatever. The gun's up to you.

Set it Aside!

Next step, fry some bacon in a piece of heavy metal, set it aside when crispy, and brown the dove in the drippings along with a chopped onion and some extra Ancient Greek Formula. That done, put the dove and onion aside with the bacon and congratulate yourself on a successful evolution. Good thing you've got that pistol, right? 

Random Dogs on a Rug

Add 3 tablespoons of flour to the drippings and stir it up, don't be scared, whisk away! As it starts to thicken, open a can of chicken broth and add that, too. Stir, and ponder the delicious aroma rising from the heavy metal. Congratulations, you've made gravy, just be sure you don't get it on your elitist inside-the-Beltway tasseled loafers.

Come Together

Reverie over, add dove, onion and bacon to the pot and stir it around. Cover and bake at 350* for an hour and serve with Yorkshire Pudding, or rice, or mashed potatoes, your call. Maybe include a vegetable of some sort, like carrots, it's up to you, there's no rule.

SOVEREIGN

When it's all together on the mahogany, fall upon your scoff and eat it it, like a Sovereign. And that's cooking, with...

LSP

She Lied, They Died, He Went to Jail

Hillary Clinton lied about the Benghazi attack, which left Ambassador Stevens, Sean Smith, Tyrone Woods and Glen Doherty dead. Hillary told the world that these men died because of a video, when she knew all along that it wasn't.

This is what Hillary told the Egyptian Prime Minister the day after the attack, “We know the attack in Libya had nothing to do with the film. It was a planned attack. Not a protest.”

Because of that lie, a Coptic Christian, Nakoula Basseley Nakoula, was arrested and sent to jail. Now he's destitute and living in a homeless shelter, while Hillary is rich and running for President.

What difference does it make? Quite a lot, if you're Nakoula.

Lock her up.

LSP

Satan Discards His Toy

All the world knows that there's something wrong with Hillary. She can't stop coughing, as though she's been hexed, and on 911 she had had to be carried, twitching and shaking, to a waiting van.

Well, Perfectly Well

Is she sick with "overheating," "pneumonia," "allergies," or some other thing, like millionaire Armani pantsuit socialism? 

Revolting

Is it the case that a demon is breaking its infernal contract and leaving her, twitching spasmodically, while it searches the wasteland for a new host?

The Djinn Looks On

Seriously, why would a person who advocates the slaughter of children in the womb, who is a ringleader for it, a cheerleader even, not be possessed?

Black Lives Matter, Hillary

Knees buckle, shoe lost.

Vade Retro,

LSP

Cast Away

Yesterday was blast, today was cast, and that's what the sporting life is all about, mixing it up, by land, sea and air. Well, lake, in this case.

After a slow start I drove out of the compound to catch fish with GWB. I wanted to show off the fun and success of the Weightless Worm Rig (WWR), so we headed to Lake Whitney by way of buying a couple of boxes of nightcrawlers. These were "imported from Canada," curiously, and I've been told that people in Alberta make a living from this.

Many Limits

Next stop, the lake itself and the limestone banks of Soldier's Bluff. At one point in time, soldiers must have looked down on the Brazos river from the rocky bluffs and before them, Indians. Not that long ago in the scheme of things, but today it was just the team, threading worms onto hooks and dropping the tasty morsels down into the depths.

Across the cove from us a solitary gentleman was sitting on a bucket with a line in the water. Was he a #BlackLivesMatter supporter? No, I doubt it, he was probably after catfish instead of a Soros grant. I watched a few rigs pull up behind him and out poured an army of young people, who clambered their way onto the opposing bluffs. They were going cliff jumping, big fun, but we were after fish, and they were biting.

Well, Well, Well

It started off in a competitive spirit, "Ha! Number 2, we're even," but that soon went by the by as fish after fish ran with the WWRs. I lost count, but GWB estimates a "good cooler full." We certainly caught that, though these Bluegills were put back to fight again another day. And not only Bluegill, I caught a decent little Crappie who was trying his luck in Sunfish territory.

Then the worms were gone and it was time to quit while the going was good. I'd say there's relaxing, innocent enjoyment in bank fishing, though it would've been nice to have some kind of boat to get out to where the Bass were were jumping, about 40 or 50 yards out.

Kindly Old LSP

Fishing wisdom: Go where the fish are and give them what they think they want; you'll catch an abundance. There's a moral in that somewhere, if you care to draw it.

Tight lines,

LSP

Mojo Rising

Life presents us with a series of options, or choices. For example, your knees buckle, you lose your shoe and you can come clean and say you're a sick old elitist drunk, or you can lie. Your choice. Again, you can sit at home whining like a sad old deplorable, or you can get out in the field. I chose the latter option and went out in search of dove.

We set up on the tailgate, in partial shade, and waited for the birds to come swooping down on the Mojo and associated decoys. A few came in, shots were fired and a couple of birds went down, though more got away.

"Once again," said GWB sagely, "this has been about learning. I've learned that I have to go to the skeet range." I agreed, "And I've discovered that if you actually aim at a bird you have a better chance of shooting it." Dove hunting wisdom.

Then, as dusk was falling, two of the feathered rockets dived down on the Mojo with a kind of persistent fury, attacking it with beak and claw in the light of the setting sun. It was like The Birds but more frightening, because it was real. I lined up a shot on the avian predators and... nothing! No round in the chamber, good work, LSP, and by the time my beat up pump had pumped they were gone.

Don't worry, birds, there'll be a return match.

Shoot the gun,

LSP

9/11 in Memoriam

It was a somber morning, for me at least, and we prayed for those who lost their lives in the 9/11 attacks, and continue to do so. I'll spare you my thoughts on the matter but Lincoln's words seem appropriate, via LL:

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Amen to that.

LSP

The Basket's Full

Here at the Compound we like to stay on top of today's fast-paced news cycle, and part of that means memes, yes, #BasketOfDeplorables memes. So here's a few, with respect to EBL and others.

The Tea Frog

The Witch

Scary!

Street Art

The Old Classic (let's see Hill and Bill's heads on this, Ed.)

Tears 

The Musical

And that's just a few. Send in your favorite #BasketOfDeplorables memes, before it becomes illegal.

Mimetically,

LSP

The Old Deplorables

The Old Deplorable

Rumors that "The Old Deplorables," an all arms mobile strike force (AAMSF), are moving in the direction of Martha's Vineyard under the leadership of an unnamed member of the intelligence community, are unconfirmed.

No sleep till the Vineyard!

LSP

Debt Star

Something cheerful, via ZeroHedge:

Mounting debt generates its own limit: insolvency. Demographics shaped by the transfer state compound the problem. Stealing the fruits of labor penalizes honest productivity and constricts opportunity. Faced with bleak prospects, many of the young opt out of the financial obligations of starting families, rearing children, or even supporting themselves. Birthrates have dropped far below replacement in most developed countries: fewer people to fund taxes and debt just as the number of putative beneficiaries skyrocket. Pension shortfalls around the world are the canary in this coal mine. The mathematics are inescapable. Present arrangements are unsustainable, but will continue until debt markets and taxpayers rebel.

They will face a counter-rebellion by dependency-warped recipients deprived of that which was never really theirs. Those who can but don’t honestly produce are both dishonest and unproductive. Faced with a cut-off, expect chaos and violence.

You have been warned.

LSP

ACoC Gets a New Liturgy!

Thanks to St. Stephen-in-the-Fields, Toronto, ACoC (Anglican Church of Canada) has a new liturgy, a special worship ritual to bless and acknowledge a person who's transitioned to another sex. 

The sex-change ceremony was conducted by Revs. Maggie Helwig and Andrea Budgey for Beck Shaefer, who started out in life as a woman but became a man. However, because ACoC didn't have a trans blessing liturgy, the parish invented one.

Helwig And Shaefer at The Baptismal Font

“We understood that this wasn’t a re-baptism,” said Helwig, “God always knew who Beck was in his fullness, and received him as himself from the beginning. But we also knew that this was a moment closely tied to the baptismal covenant, and Beck’s growth as a disciple.”

At the service, Beck declared that transgenderism was part of God's creation and that this was something to be lived "openly and authentically."

Helwig, Budgey And Friends

“God created me transgender, and calls me to live openly and authentically,” said Beck at the ceremony, “This is not a solitary path but rather a call that I am to live out in relation to others and as a member of the body of Christ.”

A Beautiful Rainbow Unicorn

Scientists have so far failed to find the elusive transgender chromosome, causing some to doubt the authenticity of sex-change procedures. "They're just blasphemous parodies of men or women," said one expert, on the condition of anonymity, "No one's fooled, especially God."

Good luck, ACoC.

LSP

Cooking With LSP, Friday Fish Fry

Just because you've cleverly caught some fish and filleted them doesn't give you license to stare at the things in slack-jawed, alt right consternation, like someone who's observing the Church of England's General Synod, or Hillary Clinton's truth disorder. No, you've got to eat them, and Friday's a good time to do it.

Watch The Temp Rise

That's because you're not supposed to eat meat on Fridays, as a small token of abstinence in commemoration of the Crucifixion. That said, the ten golden, crispy Bluegill nuggets didn't seem that abstemious, but hey, they weren't steaks. 

Don't Get The Plastic Bowl Hot. It'll Melt

I used the old beer batter method and invested in a candy thermometer to gauge the temperature of the oil in the cast iron pot. Keep it at 185* and get that fish moving! First, dredge the fillets in flour. I used a blue plastic bowl from Walmart which cost $1.00, but you might go for something more fancy and 1%. 

Blue Davos

Maybe a silver bowl or a handy bit of Waterford crystal that's knocking around; whatever, that's up to you, your call. Next, immerse the fish in batter (1 cup flour, 1 egg, salt, 1 bottle light beer) and put it in the pot. Watch the fillet boil and pop in the hot oil, then remove after a few minutes, put aside to drain, and repeat.

Ah Hah!

You can serve the fish with some kind of "side," like a deep fried Mars bar or a fried cherry pie. I chose onion rings, like a member of the ruling globalist elite, and didn't regret the choice.

After admiring your fry up, serve it with some lemon, or whatever else you like, and eat your scoff like a warrior. And I tell you this, it tastes better when you've caught it yourself.

And that's cooking, with...

LSP