Saturday, February 13, 2016

Follow The Unicorn

The unicorn is a cuddly, velvety beast, full of rapturous promise and delight. "Follow me, over the rainbow of dreams," whinnies the playful creature and off we go in search of a glittering crockfull of utopia, led on by our scampering, frolicking, horned friend.

And what a crock it is. "Disband your armies and there will be no war," promises our frisky playmate; "Abolish private property and everyone will be rich!" neighs the winsome quadruped; "The more you're taxed the richer you'll be," assures our plush pal with reverent surety, "It's settled science, and haven't you heard? The best thing about debt is that it never has to be repaid, ever!"

Off we go, gleefully climbing the rainbow to a paradise on earth, where Islam is a religion of peace and everyone will be able to get a sex-change gratis on the State because the Government is Your Best Friend Forever. So hand in your guns and there'll be no more crime, the Unicorn said so.

It's a beautiful dreamlike journey. But the problem with the Unicorn is that it's a sociopath nihilist with a nasty habit of destroying everything that it's drumming little hooves come into contact with, to say nothing of its horn, which invariably stabs its enchanted followers. 

Disband your armies? Too bad no one remembered to tell Hitler. Abolish private property? Go right ahead and ask a Kulak, except that you can't because the Worker's Paradise killed them all. More tax? Of course that'll make everyone richer, working on the good old principle that the less money you have the wealthier you'll become. And debt notoriously never has to be paid, unlike the Government, which never has enough. 

Still, at least you'll be free to get gender reassignment surgery while the peace-loving followers of Islam rape you in Cologne. And don't even think of trying to defend yourself because that would make you less safe, obviously.

Notice how the logic of the Unicorn produces the exact opposite of its intended result. It promises peace, freedom, prosperity and happiness for all and gives the reverse. It is a peddler of lies, warfare, tyranny, misery, hatred and destruction. 

Follow it, by all means, but ask yourself if it's really a unicorn you're chasing and not some other horned god. And when you get to the crock at the end of the rainbow, don't be surprised when you find out that it contains something other than gold.

Your Old Friend,


Don't go to a Liturgical Dance, Ride Instead

You wake up, it's a beautiful day and you think to yourself, "I know, I'll go to a liturgical dance!" Resist that temptation, and go for a ride.

Goofing Off

Liturgical Dance is goofy.

Horses Scorn Liturgical Dance

Riding is not goofy, mostly.

Bad And Weird

Liturgical Dance is bad.

Good Horse

Riding is good.

Blasphemous Nonsense

Liturgical Dance is blasphemous.

Don't go Liturgical Dancing, Fool

Riding is not.

I hope this short educational post helps all of us to keep a better, more disciplined and holy Lent. Remember, when temptation strikes, as it so often does, don't go liturgical dancing! Go for a ride instead, it's better for mind, body and spirit.

That is all.


Friday, February 12, 2016

Satan's Storm, Kopperl Texas

Perhaps the most startling remains of the storm was in what had been the cotton patch at Pete and Inez Burns' farm. The cotton was about knee high and a 'lucious crop' the day before, according to the couple. The next morning all that was left were carbonized stalks peeping out of the ground. The corn fared little better.

That was caused by a freak storm, which broke over the small town of Kopperl, Texas, shortly after midnight on June 15, 1960. Within minutes, temperatures climbed to 140° Fahrenheit, brought on by superheated winds gusting at 75 miles per hour as a dying thunderstorm collapsed over the rural community. Locals called it Satan's Storm.

Who knows why, or on account of what wickedness, Satan was allowed to strike Kopperl and not much remains of the town today. A hardware store sits abandoned and slowly falling into ruin across from the train station, and a fire truck rusts in the morning Texan sun. All stricken, I imagined, by the superheated wind of Satan's Storm.

The town was named after Galveston railway tycoon Moritz Kopperl and founded in the 1880s as a Bosque County shipping point on the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe railway. At its peak in 1904 the town boasted 394 souls, it has some 200 today.

There may not be a lot to see in Kopperl and maybe there never was, but you can hear the birds sing and the air is clear.

God bless,


Thursday, February 11, 2016

Country Life in Texas, Part Something or Other

Things started off well. Get up with the dawn, walk the dog, drink some coffee, say Morning Prayer and then go for a ride. That meant driving out to my friend's ranch near Aquilla and meeting up with him and two youngsters. I met them riding down the ranch road and told them I'd catch up, and that's what happened. Tack up and gallop.

As always, it was beautiful to ride out in the morning sun and I enjoyed myself weaving in and around the mesquites and going through the gaits. The kids had fun too, though at a more sedate pace. Thanks a lot, RP, for the riding hospitality.

Ride over, I stopped to get some coffee on the way home and learned that a churchperson was very sick in hospital. So I made a swift turnaround and drove to Waco, but not before taking a picture of my neighbor's peacock. It's one of several and likes to roost in the trees when not shrieking with a high and crazed insanity.

The day finished appropriately, with Stations of the Cross, and that's just the way it is.

God bless,


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Shrove Tuesday

As faithful Christians were gearing up for Lenten penance, Hillary Rodham Clinton was getting a shriving in New Hampshire, handily beaten by a 74 year Communist, Bernie Sanders. 

The GOP establishment took one in the face too, with celebrity real estate mogul Donald Trump dominating the Republican Party field. Sorry, bow tie and tasseled loafer brigade, you lose.

So what does it mean, we asked ourselves over pancakes at the Missions. A Bern v. Trump shoot-out for the Presidency? A return to the good old days of better dead than red or vice versa and devil take the hindmost?

One thing's sure, if the old commie keeps up at this pacemaker it's going to take a whole lot of flying monkeys to keep Hillary in the running, and out of jail.

Don't forget to go to Mass tomorrow, it's Ash Wednesday.


Monday, February 8, 2016

Scientist Unlocks Mystery of Junk DNA

Scientists have long been puzzled by what appears to be "Junk DNA" that doesn't code like normal human DNA and appears to have no real purpose. But startling new research may have found an answer, Extraterrestrials.

Sequence The Code

According to Professor Chang of the Human Genome Project, Junk DNA is evidence of an ET "programmer" who "grew" beings in the same way we grow bacteria in a Petri dish. 

“Our hypothesis is that a higher extraterrestrial life form was engaged in creating new life and planting it on various planets," stated Chang, "Earth is just one of them. Perhaps, after programming, our creators grow us the same way we grow bacteria in Petri dishes."

However, Chang believes the alien programmers' motives are unknowable, "We can’t know their motives – whether it was a scientific experiment, or a way of preparing new planets for colonization, or is it long time ongoing business of seedling life in the universe [Sic].”

Junk DNA. The accidental debris of evolution, or proof of space alien bio-engineering.

You be the judge,


Putin Gives King Beautiful Stallion, Gets Sword

Russian strongman and former KGB Colonel, Vladimir Putin, gave the King of Bahrain a stallion when the monarch visited Russia, and received a sword made from fine Damascus steel and precious metal.

The horse is called Khadjibek and is an Akhal-Teke, a breed known for speed, endurance and intelligence.

In 2010, Russia gave Barack Obama a Blue Ray disc set mounted in a wooden display box, and is now in control of Damascus, unlike Obama, who isn't.

Many argue that Vladimir Putin is the New Constantine.


Happy Mondays!

Here's a cheery thought to brighten up your day:
Via ZeroHedge -- The political class has completely disrupted the American structure of production, made American workers uncompetitive, snuffed the life out of entrepreneurs, and burdened the entire nation with a debt obligation the size of Jupiter. The US economy is not the strongest and most durable in the world — it is an unskilled thirty-two-year-old waiter crashing at his parent’s place and trying to pay down an $80,000 international relations degree.

That makes me want to go out and shoot pistols, but then again I don't need much tempting.

Gun Rights,


Sunday, February 7, 2016


Today's the last Sunday of the Epiphany and Jesus appears in the Gospel, transfigured and standing between Moses and Elijah, as the fulfillment of prophecy and the law. I preached on that, emphasizing the spiritual ascent of the faithful up Mt. Tabor, culminating in our own transfiguration.

Easier said than done, of course, as we fall back down the mountain from time to time. "The Devil made me do it the first time," I told the congregation, "the second time I done it all on my own." 

Some say that a sermon's only half a sermon if it doesn't include at least one line from Waylon Jennings.

Enjoy the game,


Saturday, February 6, 2016

Shoot The Turkey

It's a sad fact of life that in this vale of tears we have enemies. My enemy is an ancient steel turkey and I took some time off from visiting the sick to take care of unfinished business.

We faced off at 100 yards, just me, the metal bird and a Ruger American .22. To be honest, I had an ulterior motive. Viz. To improve the recent abysmal standard of my off-hand shooting. So I shot away and while my marksmanship was nothing to write home about, it wasn't too bad either. Take that, turkey.

After a string of satisfying plinks as the .22 rounds hit the bird, I shifted to clays at 50, 75 and 100 yards. A bit more of a challenge than the turk and it's neat to see them shatter when you hit them. A couple of aggressive tin cans found themselves in trouble too. Breath, squeeze the trigger and watch the can fly up in the air. Neat.

Shoot over, I headed back to the Compound and the prospect of large steaks for dinner. There's nothing quite like doing your best to break personal stereotypes, I always think.

Your Old Pal,