Is our Beloved Leader an utter fraud, a fake? Have a look, here he is getting a "booster shot." Convincing, isn't it. Look, here he is "campaigning."
Compelling, right? And 81 million votes agree, the most ever in any election in our history, and all for Biden because he's so very, very charismatic and popular. Why, then, are people chanting this.
"Go On Brandon." Mystifying, eh?
Cheers,
LSP
For some weird, unfathomable reason pilots and air traffic controllers aren't too keen on getting the vax as commanded, mandated, by our Beloved Leader.
But EMS workers love being ordered to get the vax. Just kidding, they hate it. It's even rumored our troops aren't too happy about being ordered to get the jab or get a dishonorable discharge. Yes, it's bizarre, but they don't seem to like this.
What brazen, literal, treasonous, sedition. Our popular and loved rulers, who are sacrificially exempt from the vax, clearly have one option and only one. They must arrest these domestic terrorists. For the good of the people.
Be patient, this will take time. Our patriotic Stasi must first round up the January insurrectionists, and all so-called "parents" who dare question the authority of the State Schools. Be assured, all dissent will be crushed.
Seriously, we've come to this? No planes, 911 or military, to say nothing of nurses, doctors, police and firefighters all on account of greed, lust for power and political posturing? Apparently we have. But at what point will the political pandemic become politically inexpedient. Will our rulers back down or triple down?
You, the reader, be the judge,
LSP
The same people who love obedience masks, enforced vaccines which don't vaccinate you, trans bathrooms, labeling parents who care about their kids' education "domestic terrorists" and on, also hate Christopher Columbus, as they hate all our cultural heroes. This makes me want to love him.
He was, after all, a great explorer and navigator who boldly went where no man, pretty much, had been before. Piri Reis and Maps of the Ancient Sea Kings aside, Columbus was breaking new ground when he set sail. Not unlike, when you think of it, space exploration today. No small thing to sail an uncharted Atlantic. Bold stuff.
So here at the Compound we celebrated with lunch at Montes Mexican diner. The Specialist ordered a hearty plate of Pinta Brisket Gorditas and I stuck with traditional Santa Maria Huevos Rancheros. Tasty as you like and then some, all washed down with strong Nina Covfefe.
Then it was time to drive to Fort Hood and back again, a bold, courageous exercise in navigating I35 and the personally uncharted territories of Waco. A journey of exploration if you like, and not bad for it.
But seriously, put yourself in the place of Columbus, sailing off into the unknown. Driven by ambition and the hope of gain, yes; after all, who doesn't want to be Governor of, ahem, Cuba. But also by adventure, perhaps the sheer life and death risk of the thing. And for him, at least, faith in the Savior he served, albeit imperfectly.
That in mind, it's a good day to celebrate and if our trending tofu Maoists don't like it, too bad. They can speak to the monkey.
Cheers,
LSP
Lux
Miserere
Großer Gott, wir loben dich
God bless you all,
LSP
PS. Vastly looking forward to the powerful and needed return of Consistory Courts. Yes, I will take on this burden, with the help of LL as Vicar General.
"And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” (Mk 10:21) Says Christ to the rich young man, and note, our Savior "loved him." Why? Perhaps because he sought spiritual perfection.
Regardless, Jesus gives him the key. Be truly righteous, obedient to the Law, and give all that you have for the love of God and neighbor. And then you will have treasure in heaven as you follow Christ to Calvary and from there to eternal life. The man is grieved and walks away, for he had "great possessions."
And so to us; Christ looks down from the Cross in love and asks us to follow him. What holds us back, what earthly store of value locks us into the temporal at the expense of the heavenly? Is it wealth, literal cash with all the things it represents, is that where our heart lies? Remember, sinner, ye cannot serve God and Mammon. Or perhaps it's food, drink and beyond.
What aspect of the world, the flesh, and by extension the Devil, do we set our hearts on at the expense of life? To cut to the quick, who do we love, ourselves or God.
We must decide, and in that choice, that act of will, lies the difference between Heaven and Hell, life and death, salvation and perdition. I say again, on this choice hangs our eternal destiny.
Choose well, punters, in the power of the Spirit and by the grace of God, so that in following Christ on the way to the Cross we may be raised with and in him to everlasting life. And remember, it's harder for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven than a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.
Caveat,
LSP
We've come to this critical part of the evening where we're talking loadout. What can and should you carry when SHTF in an EOTW scenario or even, kyrie, actual warfare. What do you carry and how heavy should it be?
Current US doctrine says something in the region of >100 Lbs, plus water, ammo, helmet, yet more ammo, weapon and all the rest. Very, very heavy. Maybe as heavy as the fighter himself. So there you have all these guys humping at least 100 Lbs of stuff around. Nightmare, you're so heavy you can't operate, to say nothing of no knees in the future.
So whaddya do? Stash the unnecessary kit in a hole somewhere, a "cache," and march on with what you actually need. Point being, take what you need. Maybe that's just an FN and some stupidly short shorts.
All this in mind, no, I did not go running with an 80 Lb load the other day, but I did cook some delicious mac cheese. Yum. Caveat, fall upon your enemies and destroy them utterly.
Travel Light,
LSP
We beat back Mohammad's Sea Jihad today, thanks to the miraculous intercession of the Blessed Ever Virgin Mary and her Rosary. A huge victory, and Western civilization was saved against the demonic Moslem horde. Here's some poetry:
White founts falling in the courts of the sun,And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,It curls the blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips,For the inmost sea of all the earth is shaken with his ships.They have dared the white republics up the capes of Italy,They have dashed the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea,And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass;From evening isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun,And the Lord upon the Golden Horn is laughing in the sun.Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,That once went singing southward when all the world was young,In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,Don John of Austria is going to the war,Stiff flags straining in the night-blasts coldIn the gloom black-purple, in the glint old-gold,Torchlight crimson on the copper kettle-drums,Then the tuckets, then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes.Don John laughing in the brave beard curled,Spurning of his stirrups like the thrones of all the world,Holding his head up for a flag of all the free.Love-light of Spain—hurrah!Death-light of Africa!Don John of AustriaIs riding to the sea.Mahound is in his paradise above the evening star,(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)He moves a mighty turban on the timeless houri’s knees,His turban that is woven of the sunset and the seas.He shakes the peacock gardens as he rises from his ease,And he strides among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees,And his voice through all the garden is a thunder sent to bringBlack Azrael and Ariel and Ammon on the wing.Giants and the Genii,Multiplex of wing and eye,Whose strong obedience broke the skyWhen Solomon was king.They rush in red and purple from the red clouds of the morn,From temples where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn;They rise in green robes roaring from the green hells of the seaWhere fallen skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be;On them the sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl,Splashed with a splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl;They swell in sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,—They gather and they wonder and give worship to Mahound.And he saith, “Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide,And sift the red and silver sands lest bone of saint abide,And chase the Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest,For that which was our trouble comes again out of the west.We have set the seal of Solomon on all things under sun,Of knowledge and of sorrow and endurance of things done,But a noise is in the mountains, in the mountains, and I knowThe voice that shook our palaces—four hundred years ago:It is he that saith not ‘Kismet’; it is he that knows not Fate ;It is Richard, it is Raymond, it is Godfrey in the gate!It is he whose loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth,Put down your feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth.”For he heard drums groaning and he heard guns jar,(Don John of Austria is going to the war.)Sudden and still—hurrah!Bolt from Iberia!Don John of AustriaIs gone by Alcalar.St. Michael’s on his mountain in the sea-roads of the north(Don John of Austria is girt and going forth.)Where the grey seas glitter and the sharp tides shiftAnd the sea folk labour and the red sails lift.He shakes his lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone;The noise is gone through Normandy; the noise is gone alone;The North is full of tangled things and texts and aching eyesAnd dead is all the innocence of anger and surprise,And Christian killeth Christian in a narrow dusty room,And Christian dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom,And Christian hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee,But Don John of Austria is riding to the sea.Don John calling through the blast and the eclipseCrying with the trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips,Trumpet that sayeth ha!Domino gloria!Don John of AustriaIs shouting to the ships.King Philip’s in his closet with the Fleece about his neck(Don John of Austria is armed upon the deck.)The walls are hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin,And little dwarfs creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in.He holds a crystal phial that has colours like the moon,He touches, and it tingles, and he trembles very soon,And his face is as a fungus of a leprous white and greyLike plants in the high houses that are shuttered from the day,And death is in the phial, and the end of noble work,But Don John of Austria has fired upon the Turk.Don John’s hunting, and his hounds have bayed—Booms away past Italy the rumour of his raidGun upon gun, ha! ha!Gun upon gun, hurrah!Don John of AustriaHas loosed the cannonade.The Pope was in his chapel before day or battle broke,(Don John of Austria is hidden in the smoke.)The hidden room in man’s house where God sits all the year,The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.He sees as in a mirror on the monstrous twilight seaThe crescent of his cruel ships whose name is mystery;They fling great shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark,They veil the plumèd lions on the galleys of St. Mark;And above the ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs,And below the ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs,Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repinesLike a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.They are lost like slaves that sweat, and in the skies of morning hungThe stair-ways of the tallest gods when tyranny was young.They are countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing onBefore the high Kings’ horses in the granite of Babylon.And many a one grows witless in his quiet room in hellWhere a yellow face looks inward through the lattice of his cell,And he finds his God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign—(But Don John of Austria has burst the battle-line!)Don John pounding from the slaughter-painted poop,Purpling all the ocean like a bloody pirate’s sloop,Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,Thronging of the thousands up that labour under seaWhite for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.Vivat Hispania!Domino Gloria!Don John of AustriaHas set his people free!Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade....(But Don John of Austria rides home from the Crusade.)
Your Pal,
LSP
Hope you're all having a beautiful Sunday, worshipping God and having fun. What is it people do here, go out for Sunday brunch? How delicious and I'd enjoy it too but can't because of Mass #2. Oh well.
In other news, it seems China's occupied Bagram AFB, which we abandoned to our frenemies the Taliban. Via Zero:
Months ago, Bagram Air Base became center stage of the calamitous withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan. Since then, foreign policy experts have opined that it will unveil the next act of that tragedy in welcoming growing Chinese interest in Afghanistan. Now, the page has been seemingly turned onto that chapter. This morning, it appears the next stage of that plan may be unfolding following multiple confirmed reports of planes landing at the airfield across social media and mainstream outlets.
