Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Old World Solutions To New Age Sewage Problems

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

"Churchianity"...?


At first I fell in with much of the banter of the so-called 'Manosphere' because in it's early years it was pretty much common sense. Yes, men are being pussified and emasculated in modern society. Yes, feral women were destroying their families and workplaces in search of dreams and goals that weren't what they thought they were. Yes, they are being pushed into non-traditional roles and they are failing far more often than they succeed. The responses to these societal pressures were good too, in the beginning. Stoicism (in the philosophical sense) was an excellent way to deal with these unhappy developments. Minimalism was essential to the divorced man that suddenly lost half his income and had his bills double. Some men decided to check out of the mating/dating game and just hop on the motorcycle and see where it went - by going their own way. I think that is just the medicine for a broken heart and a great temporary way for a man to get his head on straight once he's been deeply hurt by a woman. Once you DO have your head on straight - get back in the game then.

But over time the Manosphere went bad. Pick up artists, chads and scammers got into it to sell books that'll learn ya everything ya need to know about women and how to take advantage of them: find 'em, finger 'em, **** 'em and forget 'em! THAT'LL learn 'em REAL good! The guys going their own way went - and the younger men that were too craven to even approach women appropriated the term. These were the kind of young men (kids) that gave up on women before even giving them a chance. They are an object of scorn and contempt today in the Manosphere, but a part of me feels for them. They've seen their fathers or brothers go through the meat grinder of family court and divorce, or the vileness of the hook-up culture... I can see and even sympathize with them a bit.

Now I'm seeing a lot of shit like this.

The church is being run by a bunch of castrated cuckholds that are dominated by feral women! Christianity is an assault on your manhood!

GAH.

So toxic has the Manosphere become - that these kids don't understand that humbleness is one of the manly virtues. They see a man deferring to his wife, or getting reamed out by her or getting his ass kicked - and they respond with contempt or derisive laughter. Those kids don't understand that women have shitty days too and sometimes - you back off, you let them vent, you let their rage blow out...and then you start to reason with them. A man will do that with his friends, his customers and even his kids.

Example: For me - most of my adult life, my in laws walked all over me. They undermined me as a father and a husband and they wouldn't respect me one iota. I had those shit birds walk into my bedroom. They even walked into the crapper once when I was using it! Boundaries between families? Fah - the mother in law was the head of our family and that was that for that. A few times we clashed and it ended in a draw simply because my wife and kid loved them...and I loved my wife and kid. For decades, for the most part - I backed down.

I hated it. I loathed it. My blood still boils when I think of my smarmy bitch of a mother in law and her idiot of a husband and the shit they pulled in my family. But every time they pulled their shit and got away with it, every time they walked over me... I took their shit because I loved my wife and daughter. The church is very big on family and it is hard as hell on men because in their eyes, the head of the family is the man and whatever happens to him and his family - it's on him. For me, being a family man was an incredibly difficult task at times. There were times I just wasn't up to it and only my wife helped me through it.

These days there's churches that actively promote everything from sodomy to feminism to satanic worship - screw them, they're diseased parodies of the church and only idiots will say otherwise. Classical Christianity holds that men are responsible for the family and men cannot act against the interests of their family. This is exactly what liberals do - and that is why their families fall apart. The hairy chested feminists of the 70's and 80's are all lonely cat - woman now. When they ask where all the good men went - I think it was Unca Bob that said "They're right where you parked them when you left them back in the 80's...". Their daughters are unlikeable lard asses, their sons are faggotified boys that haven't grown up. If you want to tell me that liberals are happier for all their social engineering - I'm not seeing many signs of it myself.

Sure, churches are aimed squarely at women - as they should be! When you are at work earning a buck the old lady is in charge of the family... and these days she has to earn a buck too. The mother has to make sure her kids know right from wrong and the church is one of the last places that is actually making an effort to help kids with that. It only makes sense that they help Mom with that too.

I've never had to take any shit off my wife. Oh sure, she's committed the odd justified homicide or two but I always recover and we always get over it and move on. Once we've dealt with whatever the problem is - the 'shit' just disappears. When our family disintegrated she fell in with the church and I think that was the best thing for her. She's got friends there, she helps the elders, harasses the children and she has a community.

I myself am not a Christian - but I know who my friends are and consider myself a loose friend of the faith. I may not share the faith they have - but I can tell you this from personal experience with progs and the virtue-signalling social justice warriors: their communities and families are superior to the alternatives that liberals push today.

It might be an idea for the alpha males of the Manosphere to shut their gobs and maybe open their ears. The church is about family and they've been building them for 2000 years. I think that in that time they might have learned a thing or two that might have eluded the cellar dwelling boys of the Manosphere.

Monday, 29 August 2016

A Capital Idea

WL has offers an excellent suggestion for some serious morale building.


Yeehaw! It's Monday!



Fuck these guys. Gawd, I hate chipper people on Monday
mornings.

GAH! Sorry everyone, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Sometimes when ya got a crappy day ahead of ya, the best thing to do is just bear down and chug through it as best ya can. I'm going to go stick my head down the toilet and flush a few times in hopes of improving my attitude - and then do just that. Have a GOOD day, everyone. That's an order.

True North


I've never seen it but I've heard of it: Extreme Couponing. If I understand this social phenomena correctly, it's where the prick in front of you at the grocery store wheels up to the cashier with a heavily laden cart full of goods - and a bloody fistful of coupons that the poor check out girl has to go through and verify. I've heard that sometimes it got so bad that people stood in line forever - and then finally walked away from their carts and left them rather than continue waiting in line. Seniors were typically the worst offenders although chronic cheapskates come in any age group I suppose.

I hate the modern department store with the heat of 1000 suns. Walmart is the worst - I hate the greeters, I hate the customers, I hate the $5.00/hour morons that work there and I hate their management. Up here in Canada, Ukranian Tire is probably the least offensive of these warts on the ass of Canadian society. But still - Crappy Tire money just pisses me off! If ya spend $25.00 there, they always give you those fuggin notes and usually it comes to about 15 cents.

FIFTEEN CENTS!!!!

So, what kind of bunghole is gonna tie up the till, the cashier and then the paper pushers further up the totem pole with shit like this? Just to process that transaction is gonna cost at least 20 bucks! Whine to me more about how cut throat and competitive the retail department store industry is, guys. And - while yer at it, pull my other finger! It has bells on it!!!

If I ever overthrow the gubbiment and take over, I will make it my first order of business to round up all the extreme couponers and their enablers - and send them to concentration camps where they will be killed as inhumanely as possible, and then turned into something useful like soap or lamp shades.

Sunday, 28 August 2016

The Filthie Overdrive


It's based on The Skateboard Principle dontchya know...

Sunday Scribble: Anathema


Ol' faggoty Fred has had a politically incorrect epiphany. Unlike most I don't have much respect for Fred. Awhile back the old fart was trolling his readers by trying to discredit race realists based on the exceptions to the rules. Whatever. Suffice it to say that stuff like this is anathema to most easy going liberal Boomers. "What now?!?!?" the old fart gobbles in fright, "WHAT NOW???"

And right on cue - another elderly Boomer steps up to comfort faggoty Fred and offer solutions. Ummmm... yeah. Like that's gonna happen. I like Peter, the good Pastor has a heart of gold but the boy's a little soft in the head. He's got a lot more faith in the human animal than I do.

What now, boys? Why - violence, Fred. Don't listen to the Pastor, he thinks people are capable of common sense and unfortunately common sense ain't that common. Stock up on guns, supplies - and popcorn.

Consider: we now have entire generations and communities addicted to welfare. Because liberals think work is unfair and cruel punishment - they couldn't do productive work if their lives depended on it. They have been brought up without work ethics (or ethics at all!) and often in an environment where rule of law is not available. How are you going to take a black vibrant and throw him into an environment where he has to be productive, accountable and responsible? Combine that with an average IQ of 85... and there's no nice way to say it. America has a nigger problem and it's spreading to other races and communities too.

This is just summer entertainment. What do you
think will happen when you stop feeding these animals, Pastor?
They won't buckle down and go to work
because they don't know how.

So...what now? Sporadic race wars - possibly a full blown civil war. For now, that is as far as I would plan. The real question is going to come after the Darwinian culling is done.

What then? Apartheid? Slavery? Indentured serfdom? Seriously - I'm asking! What do you do with people that can't read, don't want to work and won't improve themselves or their circumstances? Vote for Hillary Clinton and find out, I suppose.

Saturday, 27 August 2016

Saturday Speakeasy



A sultry singer with a velvet voice. Seedy negro musicians. The incomparable Post Modern Jukebox!



Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong time and wrong place. Maybe I watch too many gangster movies. I dunno - but I think there would be nothing cooler than running a seedy speakeasy in 1930's Noo Yawk Focken City - or NYFC as the Internet used to refer to it. I wouldn't eat - I would drink scotch and smoke all the time. In addition to racy entertainment provided by disreputable negroes and unsavoury musicians - all my customers would be high rolling low lifes with whom I could always count on for a little side business. I would bet on the horses and ball games with creepy bookies. Whores and sinners would provide the hotties for my establishment and I would buy and sell bath tub gin to sleazy politicos and corrupt cops. Anyone that pissed me off would end up in the river wearing cement shoes. Gotta problem with it? Foygeddabaddit!



Whadda you focken polookas lookin at? Geddadaheah!

I must say the quality of our gangsters has gone straight to hell here in the last 50 years or so. The mafiosos had class. You can work with guys like that. At least there's a choice - the carrot or the stick! Play ball, keep your nose clean - and everyone wins. Be a dick...and take your chances.

But these filthy Russians, ethnic Vietnamese and other turdies - they have no class at all. They operate on fear and terror and the only way to deal with them is to dispose of them. Their business model is contagious too. You'll never see those creeps building swanky billion dollar casinos, or setting up posh night clubs. Those mutts have their hands full with trashy meth labs and scabby addicts. If I ever became the POTUS or Swine Minister of Canada - first thing I would do is reach out to the mafia and put a hit on the feral triads and imports. Hmmm... probably have the Clintons and the Turdeaus whacked too - and then I'd absorb their crime syndicates - after a good bloody purging, of course!

There is no reason that all things, up to and including crime - can't have at least a modicum of class and civility.

Pieces Of ... Eight


When I was a kid on the farm Pop and his grandkids watched a lot of WWF wrestling. When the kids dragged in a stray cat Pop named him UW after their favourite wrestler - the so-called Ultimate Warrior. He had no tail so Pop figured he had lost it to coyotes or frost and that must make him one hard-ass tough cat! A knowledgeable neighbour politely informed Pop that the cat was actually born that way. The grandkids loved UW and he tolerated them but hated Pop and I. One day Pop was lounging in his chair as UW sauntered by and the old fart gave him a playful boot up the arse - and the cat opened him up for his troubles and made him BLEED. Pop was furious - he looked like he had stuck his foot in a Moulinex afterward. He griped and bitched about it but Mom had no sympathy for him and figured that if ya boot a cat - even in play - anything the cat does to you in return is fair play. It was ruled a justifiable homicide and Pop just fumed.

Later in the spring I had gone over to dig my motorcycle out of storage in Pop's shop. We had lunch and then headed out - Pop was going to do some garden work and I was gonna grab the bike and go. So the old fart steps up to his pride and joy - a big Case tractor with power everything - and spies a big pile of cat shit on the driver's seat. He turned beet red and then just sighed..."you got any guns here ya haven't taken home yet, Glen?" I laughed like a loon at Pop's plight - and then went over to grab my bike. And there, on the saddle - there was a big pile of cat shit there, too. UW had punked both of us. I could've sworn I had left a .22 round the farm for Pop... but then I did the same as he did - I just brushed the shit off onto the gravel floor of the shop, gave the seat a careless wipe with a shop rag and forgot about it.

When Mom and Pop sold the farm and moved into the city UW went with them. A couple months later he disappeared and we secretly hoped he had gotten run over by a steam roller. But it turned out that he had had enough of Mom and Pop and had gone to live with a little girl that lived in the house down the street and round the corner. The old bastard is prolly still there.

Pop made a point of keeping the garage door and the doors of his vehicles firmly shut - for theft prevention, dontchya know.

Didn't Expect THAT....

I've been going back and forth about work lately. A lot of our senior people have bailed recently, some leaving for better opportunities, but the majority leaving because they've just had enough of the bullchit. I'm an odd duck in my company in my role as senior sales. The company's middle managers hate me because I have no respect for them and when we clash I always win. I am very careful not to ask for unreasonable things of them - but I expect them to do their damned jobs when I need them to and when they try to cut corners or flummox me - sure, I'm up for a fight if that's what you want. Two years ago they tried to get me fired on charges is harassment - I got written up for being abusive with the employees and was ordered to sign a document acknowledging and apologizing for my abuse and another promising never to do it again. I told The Crack and his harridans to shove it (and actually DID get abusive then, now that I think of it)...and said I would see them and the company in court first. Since then, one of the office girls involved was fired for incompetence, the others quit, and the manager who orchestrated it was demoted and is on very thin ice with the company now. He's one bad day away from a pink slip, and I am training a new branch manager. He's good but he's having teething problems. He will come around. When it comes to inside baseball, power politics and childish office politics - you leave me out of it or I will damned well make you regret it. Word seems to have gotten around so now the pikers and wankers leave me alone for the most part.

I've always been up front with the senior execs in these childish conflicts too - we're all adults here, we don't have to do anything we don't want to - and if they want me out, I will go skipping out that door with my ten years experience, my knowledge of their customers, their pricing, their corporate strengths and weaknesses - and I WILL apply that knowledge to MY benefit if that's the way they want to go. The CFO flipped the first time I did that and reminded me that I signed a non- competition clause upon hiring on. I bet him a c-note that he couldn't enforce that one in a court of law and dared him to be stupid about it. I've been in his gun sights for eight years now. Screw him, we are all better off friends rather than enemies and I make sure they know it... and that they know that I know it too.

The problem with me is that I've been a money maker for them and I act as an insulator between the clients and the admin/clericals. It shouldn't be a stressful position... but for the infuriating childishness of our office/admin/clerical team. Our senior salesman burned out a month ago and left.
He took the brunt of the bullshit and now - I'm getting it. Thankfully we're getting some better people in key positions but recovering from a decade of incompetence - during an economic contraction...   suffice it to say we have our work cut out for us.

On Thursday I was told I was being given a raise to my base. $10k a year. It sounds like a lot of money, doesn't it? But really...40% of that off the top (taxes) leaves $6000.00.  $500.00/month. But factor in the aggravation and my declining commissions...GAH. Errrrr... Maybe I don't want to think too much on that one. In these days where 30% of Albertan oil workers are unemployed, any raise should be good news.

Think I'll celebrate with  dog picnic this weekend. A couple apples, a jug of water, two hoople headed  K9's, and maybe my lovely lady will grace is with her company too. I think the secret to happiness may be found in celebrating all life's little victories.

We'll chalk this one up as a victory and roll with it for now.

Friday, 26 August 2016

Friday Wind In The Wires

Anyone new to aviation is almost always going to be smitten by the gyrocopter. I know I was. In a strong wind these things are airborne in 10 or 20 yards. If you land into that same wind - they roll out at 10 or 20 yards. If care is taken during construction they can be trimmed out to fly virtually hands off.


Here's a bargoon over at Barnstormers...

The first time I saw one of these things was as a kid back in the late 70's. Ken Brock was the legendary rotorhead that made these things go mainstream in the US. If I remember correctly he flew the gyro in The Martian Chronicles. The gyro was a natural for the dystopic loons of Mad Max too.



The swashbuckling Gyro Captain

The mode of operation is simple - the drag induced by the main rotors carries the bird aloft. These machines are marketed as being immune to stalling, insensitivity to cross winds, superior VSTOL performance, yadda yadda yadda.  To the noob they are fascinating machines as are the eccentrics that like to fly them. They are often touted as a great way for noobs to get into the game and I couldn't disagree more. The machines are incredible, there's no doubt about it, and they can do some remarkable things that fixed wings cannot - but they are very, very high maintenance. You have to be all over the maintenance on these birds and watch your fasteners like a hawk. The hangar rats call it "the Devil's wrench". Excessive vibration can loosen any nut and bolt and it can induce metal fatigue. When these birds fail they tend to do it catastrophically and usually...somebody dies. Everything has to be torqued. Everything has to be balanced. Inspection is critical and you can literally die even when you've done everything right.

12 years ago I set out to build one and downloaded the plans off the Internet. The Gyro Bee is a common home built especially in the USA. I even got in contact with the only certified flying instructor in Alberta who agreed to help me out in checking the bird over, and learning to fly a gyro. About a week after I started my build he was killed in a mishap - testing another aviator's gyro.

These are rare birds up here in Canada and finding the expertise and support you will need to become
a good pilot - will be an up hill battle.

Finally: Creationism Reconciled With Evolution


Works for me. Personally, even with a Christian wife and all, I am with Darwin on this one. I don't suppose it matters, when your number's up, it's up and it doesn't matter who's behind the counter - whether it's God or Darwin - when ya cash out.



There Was A Time

When this was the stuff of a dirty joke.

More Senior Delinquents

I had to shake my head at Flapz. That boy is an endless source of consternation for me and I've decided to make it my responsibility to see that he grows up right! HAR HAR HAR! So far I've failed miserably!

Anyhoo, he comes home from vacation (the fag towed his Harley out to Vancouver to ride it because he was just too much of a pussy to ride it there). After he puts his crap away the first thing he does is check on his womenfolk. Flapz is single and lives alone, but his mom, sister, and grandmother live in a large opulent home nearby. Grandma is widowed and mom and the sister are single.

When he checks in he notices grandma isn't moving around that well. At 96 she is still mentally aware and reasonably mobile - she's a warm, intelligent woman whom I have met a couple times. When he goes to take her hand she pulls away protectively and Flapz commences to smell a rat. It turns out the old bird had broken her pinky finger. It hung down at an odd angle but she got all huffy and pissy when he tried to say anything about it. "If I just hold this hand in the other hand - it doesn't hurt!" The lady is warm and polite, but she's as tough as nails too. How did this happen, Flapz demands! Well...Grandma fell when she was getting into bed... and Flapz snaps. He bundles Grandma out to the clinic where they set the finger and do an exam - she has a broken hip too - but it's not as serious a break as most. She'll recover on light duty.

Flapz is furious. He sets her up with one of those 'Life Sign' pendants where if you fall and can't reach your beer, you push the button and the ambulance is on the way. He's looking at in-home care and assisted living for her and dreading the idea of getting her into some kind of home. The old bird is ferociously independent and won't go easy either...

So I look at all this drama going on over there and think about how I've been down with bronchitis...and I'm shamed. I've been sleeping like a log and dragging my ass at work - while Flapz' Grandma shows everyone how it's done.

I guess the lesson here is yer never to old to learn something, and yer never too old to teach either!

Thursday, 25 August 2016

True North




You don't see snow like that in Alberta often - with the exception of the mountain regions I guess. In the flatter forests we get too much wind and sun for that kind of accumulation to stick around very long.

True Nor.....SOUTH!


Bravehearts...

Folk Medicine

I am in the home stretch with a bout of acute bronchitis. Last week my lungs were filling up with fluid and I couldn't sleep because it was like trying to breathe through 6 layers of clogged filters. This week all that crap is trying to get out - so when I lie down to sleep, my lungs try to empty themselves and I hack and cough all night. I have another couple nights of this BS and I'll be fine. I lost a little bit of weight which is good too - maybe I'll keep that going once I'm better. I am far too smart to be as heavy as I am.

My grandmother was either a visionary rocket scientist or a senile demented loon - depending on what she was talking about. That old bird could walk into any garden and make it bloom and produce with a dirty look. On finance and home ec stuff she was a sorceress. I wish I knew as much about solvents and adhesives as that woman did.  On health matters she was a little eccentric. As kids my brother had problem with acne as many teenagers do. Grandma "cured" it with rhubarb. No chit - she baked up a bunch of revolting rhubarb pies and my brother (who shared the gastronomic preferences of sea gulls, billy goats and trash cans) gobbled them down with gusto. His skin cleared up almost overnight. Pop and I thought it must have been a placebo effect going on or something. Her other thing was vitamins. Every day she took vitamin C, D, and E - saying they prevent the common cold and flu. I never thought much of it myself. Grandma had some dismal medical beliefs too. Later, when she had passed, we were cleaning out her apartment in the assisted living complex - and I found her stash of vitamins. I grabbed 'em, took them home and started taking them. Every day - that's the key! Lo and behold - I dodged flus and colds that took out everyone at work and in the family! Everything went fine until I ran out - and then I just shrugged and thought that was interesting...and then caught a mean flu that laid me out for two days! I started taking vitamins again.

Think I might go down and get a flu shot this year too. I've always thought that was a pant load too, but who knows.

Gawd I hate being sick. I want to go to the airfield, ride my motorcycle, and beat up my dogs...just another couple days...

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

True North


There used to be a beer commercial about 'Patio Season'

When I was younger and able to sink beer by the keg I always looked forward to Patio Season. In Canada, being able to eat and drink on the patio is a big deal because you can only do it in real comfort for a couple months out of the year. We lived like kings: Flapz, Baloney Bob, Skinbag and maybe some other goofs would go shoot up the trap and skeet club in the summer - and then pack off to some place that had a patio to eat, drink and BS afterward. Skinbag and I would often squabble like children over something or other while Flapz and Bob lazily watched the girls and waitresses, or we would harass any guests foolish enough to join us at the rod and gun club and drinks after. At the time I regarded it as a great way to kill time waiting for hunting season to roll around again. Bob was our high roller and would order a bottle of expensive wine and the rest of us guzzled whatever was on tap. I couldn't do much of it, it was very expensive and we were merciless about saving...but it sure did blow the dust off the brain.



Today of course, I'm deep in Heart Attack Country and have to start watching what I eat. If I drink more than a couple of beers I'm hung over the next day and good for nothing. It's funny how sometimes you're having the best time of your life without even realizing it. I don't mind growing up or growing old - the patio scene gets old and is best left for the kids anyways.

Do kids even do the patio these days? If they do I hope they enjoy it as much as I did.


The BW Bandy Device





I would not be surprised at all if a future commercial variant of this thing may one day find it's way into the hands of the internet's most intrepid two-wheeled explorer.

Me? I need an entire SUIT that does that!

Mind Rotting Videeyah Games

The Feral Irishman has this treat over at his blog that I recently enjoyed. The story is no screaming hell or even vaguely original - but it is never the less well done. The first time I read a very similar yarn came from science fiction's BOLO series of short stories about sentient machines - in this case, fully autonomous tanks equipped with artificial intelligence.






I was born between generations. I can play some video games - just not well. People a few years older than me can't play them at all - they're just too complicated. People a few years younger than me can kick my arse on them and often get impatient when I can't keep up with them. I get mired down with the sheer splendour of some of the graphics and details. Most of my elders are disgusted with video games and don't see the art and cleverness in them. I like what are called "FPS" games or First Person Shooters - you become an actual character in the story. The story will unfold and drop you into a setting that will basically require you to run and shoot. Once you've successfully done the map - you are rewarded with the next part of the story that will again force you to run and shoot in order to progress to the next part of the story. Once the fun and novelty wore off on running and shooting though - I got bored with them. But I can see how kids get hooked on them - these are not mind rotting games. The players have to use tactics, solve puzzles, work together and overcome obstacles. People that blame video games for violence among youth have no idea what they're talking about. The better video games offer art, story and interaction that can entertain for hours.

It's like anything else though. In art, you will have some pervert wipe his ass on a bible and call it art. In videeyah games - you get stuff like this. (I'm sorry, but I laughed like hell at this one and can appreciate the marketing effort that they made). It's a zombie game, and in all likelihood - probably WILL rot the user's minds out.  :)



I need a toupee. Chicks dig rugs.





Monday, 22 August 2016

Maturity

This is a real tough one to write about.

I laugh when somebody farts. I will split a gut at an offensive, off colour joke and I'll laugh even harder at the social justice warriors when they get offended about it. If BW slips and falls face first into the mud I will howl with glee. As long as nobody gets hurt (too badly) it's all good to me. I'll take a good gut-buster joke anywhere I can find one, these days. I will actually give bonus points to 'clean' jokes because in today's society, being clean and funny are almost impossible. But I digress - what can a guy that laughs at pooh jokes have to offer on the subject of maturity?

Flapz works for The Big Corporation in the Cubicle Farm. His boss is a harried, micro-managed corporate cog that will be ground into dust The Machine if he dares to think outside the box. Apparently the man has an impossible job with impossible demands, impossible schedules and deadlines... and is the stereotypical middle manager: snapping alligators below, and a slipping grip on the corporate ladder above. He in turn micromanages his employees of which Flapz is one. The Beardo is one of Flapz' coworkers and is your typical NDP howler monkey. He's a commie, a social justice warrior,  and he looks like your typical Gen Y douche. (I've seen cell pics of the dude, and I wouldn't hire anyone that looked like that). He and the boss are at each other's throats. The Beardo fired the first shot by being openly disrespectful and insubordinate of the boss. The boss has lost his chit, and has told The Beardo that not only does his work have to improve; if he ever wants to get ahead in the company he'll have to do something about his attitude, grooming habits and make an effort to be presentable. The Beardo went on Facebook and opened fire on the boss there; and things escalated. When it started Flapz laughed at their antics - but it's not funny any more.

Or, maybe it is, depending on your viewpoint. A corporate HR Inquisition has been called for. A team of adults are being brought in from a branch in another province to sort this out. Apparently The Beardo sent out an SOS saying he didn't feel safe at work and was being threatened by management! All the people involved are in their 40's and 50's. The HR team will be accommodated in a business like manner at local hotels for a couple days while they hash this out.

I hear the usual suspects mouthing off about globalism, crony capitalism, banksters, eeeeeevil jooos/corporations/rich people/insert-your-bogeyman-of-choice here. But really, here's the take away, folks. THIS IS WHY YOUR JOBS ARE GOING OVERSEAS. This is why many of you can't get a friggin job at all. You want nanny gov't and you want nanny corporations. Don't expect the corporations to work any better than the gov'ts is all I can say. It's a sad fact that poverty and stupidity go hand in hand.

Contrast: The former CEO of my company was a WW2 vet. When he was 19 he was one of the first Canadians to arrive on the D-Day battlefield by parachute. He started my nation wide company when he got laid off in the late 70's at the age of 54. Out of the back of his car! He retired last year at 91 but still comes into the office to hassle the shit out of his kids running the company and chat with the guys out on the shop floor.  Once I found out Ol' Jim Sr. was a  distinguished vet - handling him became a piece of cake. Whenever I was having problems with the childish antics of the kidults at work, or the idiot that was supposed to be managing the place - I threw it on Jim's plate. I even presented it like a Marine to his Gunnery Seargent. Nature of the problem, sir! Efforts at resolution, sir! People involved, sir! Phone numbers, emails, and incriminating documents for same, sir! He always handled it the same too: "Thank you very much Filthie, I will deal with this." I wouldn't square up my shoulders, snap off a salute and dismiss...but I always gave him a flawless, regulation "Very well, sir". I had been to the woodshed once or twice with Jim Sr. when I first started and once I learned the ropes - the old bugger slowly started to trust me. But the cardinal rule with him was that you did your job, you didn't screw with him and if there was a problem with professionalism - HE would deal with it and Lord help you if you were part of that problem. Ol' Jim could solve the problem Flapz is having with a phone call. All he cared about was that you were making an honest buck for the company in an honest way and being fair and honest with your coworkers. It's what adults do. Children (and sadly, too often, women) - will turn the workplace into a political mine field. Jim would round those meat heads up - give 'em all crew cuts, make 'em wear pocket protectors and bow ties and the hell of it is that everyone would be happier for it, even the perps driving all that nonsense!

Today Jim Sr. has lymphoma in six of his organs (or so I've heard) and even though he makes it in to the office from time to time - he sleeps a lot. It is with some trepidation that I poke the kids from time to time to ask about his welfare and health - but they keep me in the loop. I like his kids too. His 'children' are in their 60's and are as feisty and scrappy as their dad. Will they hang in like their father did? Somehow, I doubt it.

We have no means of producing men like Jim Sr. anymore. I'm about as close as you're gonna get - and as I said, I laugh at pooh jokes. Our universities, however, keep punching out pasty faced millennials like The Beardo with their participation diplomas like they were sausages. Yeah, every generation thinks the one preceding it is worth less than a hill of beans - but I think we are seeing history here. It isn't my imagination, Gen Y men, by and large - ain't worth a hill of beans. Hillary Clinton is counting on those types. There is a big societal 'reset' coming... and knowing the human animal... that usually involves a healthy cull too. There's gonna be some awfully soft people growing up awful hard and fast - and not all of them are going to be youngsters.

Friday, 19 August 2016

Woman: Stifle Thyself

Wirecutter is at a loss to explain the behaviour pattern of these two females and has asked the learned wise men among his readership for an explanation. Behold, a rare thing of beauty in this age of obese feminists, pink-haired she-twinks, and sexual freaks shows:

It brings a tear to the eye...sniff...aren't they
beautiful?

It's Saturday afternoon. Your world is complete: a bowl of chips on the coffee table, a good movie on the tube or a game, the dogs are piled up on the floor nearby. You lie in stately repose upon the couch - and maybe fart or scratch your ass, and sigh with contentment.

And then the old lady comes in and spoils it all with some bullchit about how the lawn's gotta be mowed, or she wants you to get up and go shopping or it's time to walk the dogs...and the next thing ya know, your peace and contentment are ruined by the dogs chimping out and the old lady's out-gassing making any snoozing impossible.

Somebody, somewhere, has finally created the Self Stifling Woman - and she is a creature of beauty. These two ladies will make excellent wives for some lucky young men. For any of you ladies aspiring to self improvement - these two young lasses can show you the way.

Thursday, 18 August 2016

I Don't Care If It Is Bacon...


I ain't eatin' it...

Knuckle Dragger Spotted



Since guns frighten liberals and stupid people the only people that carry guns in Canada are criminals and cops. As a result, I don't know the first thing about concealed carry of firearms nor have I had to contend with the issues of actually wearing one for extended periods of time. In the movies the characters just shove a gun in their waistband and off they go - but I can tell ya right now that wouldn't work for me.

Now that I turn my formidable intellect on it, I suppose if I were to carry, it would be something like this:


I would be like that guy on the Matrix - first I would pull my two pistols out of the ass holster and shoot up all the bad guys and when they ran dry - I would just throw them away and pull a couple Uzis from inside my trench coat and then go to town with that! HAR HAR HAR! And once they ran out I would flip out a sawed off 12 bore for any cleanup required.

Whoever has the most toys when he dies wins!


Shooting From The Lip

Good lord.Who woulda thunk that being offended is so much fun?

I know that I'm a little rough around the edges. The people I work with are generally triple digit IQ types that are too smart for the bullchit of political correctness and they are capable of a sense of humour. Most of my customers are warm and informal and won't hesitate to take a cheap shot or let the opportunity for a rude joke go by - so long as there's a good laugh in it and it's all in fun.

The other day I was out at one of the project sites dropping off some equipment and BSing with the clients as we checked the items off on the paper work. And lo and behold, a discrepancy popped up. No big deal, we noted it, and both signed off on it and I told the client we'd send him a corrected copy of the paperwork shortly.

I put it all on an email to both my client and my inside guy. "Bill, please correct the following order to include pump no. XXXXX, serial no. YYYYY. Darrell - sorry for the gong show, Bill will have the corrected paperwork for us shortly." Cordially yours, yadda yadda yadda - and I thought nothing of it.

Well.

The morons in the office FREAKED.  "Gong show? GONG SHOW?!?!?" Our admin bint is a scrawny, neurotic harridan that just lives for melodrama and conflict. And then our new idiot manager started ripping a strip off me for being unprofessional and portraying the company in a bad light with the customers. I just laughed and told him to relax - it was a thoughtless quip that the client would think nothing of, nobody was mad - settle down. Well - he lost his shit and got even madder and started giving me a sanctimonious lecture on how to treat clients. I listened until I had had enough and then told him: I let the clients set the tone when I'm dealing with them. If I am in a room full of suits I am every bit the politically correct and proper speaker, and professional all the way through. If I'm on site with the guys in hard hats and the tone is light and cheerful I will joke and josh with them as I see fit and if the children in the office can't handle that - I could care less. Don't tell me how to do my fuggin job!

I know he's a new manager. I get it. Quite frankly, he's in over his head with the economic forecasts and looming oil bust but I see exactly how this guy is going to handle it: he's going to stick his nose up the senior management's ass, tell them exactly what they want to hear and when he runs the branch into the dirt - they're going to point the finger at the sales guys. That's what I suspect, and I've already decided I will not stick around for that. I will quit first.

I can't afford to retire yet. But I have saved some money and could sure use a holiday. I don't have to do this. The only reasons I'm still here is that I love the family that owns the company, I love the clients and until this idiot manager showed up - I was left to do my thing without interference. I hate micro-managers and I HATE political correctness. That was another reason I took the job - but now the office scolds and tattle-tales type are moving in... and I just don't have time for this shit.

I suspect I may be having a word with the owners about their middle management flunkies soon, and possibly a pink slip too.

Maybe it's time to turn the page on this chapter of my life and move on.

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

The Fort Mac Fires And An Economic Report


Earlier this year Fort McMurray (in Alberta's Tar Sands region) was devastated by a forest fire that destroyed many homes and businesses. It was just another kick in the back side the town didn't need with the slumping oil economy.

I don't know if you can say they've recovered yet... but things are moving up here again. Hwy 63 is busy both ways, and people are getting on with business. My customers are pretty much flat - but there has to be some work going on round here judging from all the traffic. The burned out forests are a grim sight but what astounds me is the proliferation of greenery in all that. The undergrowth has already recovered and is 2~3 feet tall in places.

On my street back at home, one house has gone up for sale, and the townhouses round the corner...well, there's 5 of them up for sale. Young people are good economic indicators, in my opinion. They are starting to sell property - is it because they want to move up? Or get out from under the mortgage? I'm not sure - but I take the proliferation of starter homes up for sale as a negative economic indicator, myself. The commies in gubbermint are going to bring down a bunch of carbon taxes on the oilpatch and I suspect that when that happens - younger people and those overextended will start to walk away from their homes.

But it's not all bad. The union slobs, the snivel servants and the gubbimint workers will do quite well for themselves. They always do!


Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Senior Delinquents





I know these things look cool. Rotorcraft have come a long way but I regard these things as aerodynamic abominations. I dunno what the point of this was, but I fear that this little clip may inspire others to take up with the homebuilt gyrocopter - and that is a really, really bad idea. These things vibrate and you have to be right on top of them with your maintenance. Loose bolts have literally killed dozens of people that way.

This guy is damned lucky he's not dead. I hate Obama with the heat of a thousand suns, and if he were assassinated today I would buy rounds for the house tomorrow - but I would feel sorry for the poor sap that pulled the trigger in a moment of doubt and popped a stupid, senile old man. That's a guilt trip nobody needs. The security guys already have it bad enough defending that black baboon from the fate he deserves - but who needs crap like this?

As it is, he just demonstrated to every terrorist whack job that you CAN get within striking distance of the nation's capital. What's to stop the next moslem mutt from doing the same thing with a copter loaded with Semtex or thermite?

Put that old bastard in the can for 30 days!

Sheesh.

I'm In Love With Stacy's Bum


I've developed a penchant for this group. The kids seem to love what they do and put 110% into it. These guys though, have the look of boys that are in love with each other's bums if ya catch my drift. Sigh - never the less: Scott Bradlee And his incomparable Post Modern Juke Box doing "I'm In Love With Stacy's Bum"!



But they have some smoking hot entertainers too. These post modern synthetic retronauts have captured the late 40's with this one.


Scott Bradlee's hands caught fire and had to be extinquished after this
number

In other news, I've forgotten my hearing aids at home on this business trip. Bummer.


Monday, 15 August 2016

A Happy Hoople Head


I'd be grinning too...

Blogger Water Slide Olympics




9.5     9.6     9.6     9.8     10.0

CM from Coopville is headed for the Gold!!! I say she
went supersonic but PP and WC say I'm
full of beans. Screw them,
I know a sonic boom when I hear one.


I guess water slides are the next big thing. This one here is tame - they've got ones several stories tall and they are the stuff suitable for the BARF files. People are doing them the way they used to do roller coasters: the bigger - the better! Vertigo is it's own reward!

I dunno why my computer does it but it keeps putting MSN as my homepage. I hate MSN with the heat of a thousand suns - reading that site is like getting trolled by a retard - but in there with the click-bait was an article about some kid that had managed to behead himself on a water slide. What a stupid way to kill a kid and take the fun out of something that should be good and wholesome fun for them.

Now if you'll excuse me - I've got a speed record to break! I've shaved my legs, slathered myself with Mazola oil, and have thrown away my speedo! Filthie is now a high speed, low drag bullet that will put Team Coopville in the bush leagues! It was 29 C up here in Ft. Mac today and even a hair raising ride down a killer water slide has it's merits today... ;)

A Text From Uncle Bob


I knew I shouldna given him my cell number.

Bohunks: Skaro, Alberta

I went on a recent excursion deep into Alberta's Koobasaw Country - where Bohunks can still be seen in their natural habitat. "Bohunks" is a slang racial slur for the rural Ukranian immigrants that settled the Alberta frontier back in the late 1800's. I'm on thin ice here because I'm going on what I heard from a very UNRELIABLE source - my friend and mentor, Baloney Bob! Baloney Bob taught me how to shoot - really shoot - and hunting with him produced some of my most cherished memories that I have today. We used to hunt around here and a little further east a hundred light years ago. Baloney Bob was a third generation Bohunk but you wouldn't be able to tell - he's as Albertan as much as any of us. His relatives and family out this way though... still have a lot of the Old Country left in them. It's a good thing too, believe it or not.

According to Bob (so take it with a couple grains of salt), ethnic Ukranians revere the memory of their ancestors and even have a national/religious holiday to celebrate them and remember them - called Probodan - I may be misspelling that too. During this holiday the Ukes pack up the family, go to church and clean house. Once they've done that and been preached at, they go clean up the grave sites of their departed loved ones. A formal dinner with plenty of booze finishes off the day. People think the fwench are the culinary masters of the world and I am here to tell you that is utter hooey - the Ukranians can wipe the culinary matt with them and no bones about it! Ukranian food is the best there is.



"In 1897 Panko and Anna Yurko left Yaroslav, Ukraine to settle here, at Skaro. In 1910 the family of Dmytro joined them. All were the sons of Iwan and Anna Ohywko. On August 2, 1997, we, their descendents, commemorated our centennial in Canada. This rock symbolizes the great burdens they endured for our benefit. Forever honoured in our thoughts and prayers."
There's more but it's written in Cryllic and I can't read it.

There's at least three generations - possibly four buried here. I stayed out of the graveyard out of respect.




There's two churches here, this was the smaller one...

This is obviously hallowed ground so I had to tread very carefully and lightly. I stayed a respectful distance away from the buildings and especially the graveyards. The grounds are immaculate - the lawns are manicured and cut with all the care the pros put into the greens on the golf course.

This is the other church, almost right beside the one above.
The grave yard and community hall sits between them.

The only parking lot I could see was the one for the community hall. The worshippers must have to walk from there to the church. The buildings are in superlative condition too.

There's only a drive way in front of the big church.
I suspect it's there for maintenance vehicles and
for especially elderly worshippers that might have to struggle
with the walk over from the community hall.



Luxurious facilities are thoughtfully provided for the passerby.
This one was filled with dead leaves and detritus and I used it...
but recommend extreme caution. The floor's
rotting out and ya might end up in the basement
if you're not careful.


If I'm not mistaken BW might have hit this spot too - if so you will find far better pics at his site.

THIS Is Why You NEED An AR15!


It's usually the retarded old ***** that say it. 9 times outta 10 they're so old they've haven't picked up a gun in years. In the shooting community we politely refer to them as "Fudds" - stupid old men that will say "You don't need an AR15 to go hunting....!!!!"


If this idiot had an AR15 Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny would have
found themselves on his dinner plate ages ago.



THIS is when you need an AR15.
End of argument!
Hmpfff - this is prolly a good argument for
full auto too...! HAR HAR HAR!

Marital Rape: An Argument For Stupid People

Ye gods.

Ya gotta wonder what kind of upbringing these two morons had. It's stupidity like this that makes lawyers rich. The article reads like two morons trying desperately (and failing) to sound smart! Let me simplify it for ya, kids: when a man and woman get married (and yes, marriage can only occur between biological men and women - anything else is a sick parody and the LBGQT crowd be damned) - they agree to take care of one another and their needs. Putting that in language those two dolts can understand: yes, sweetie, there are times you will have to put out when you don't want to. Yes, buckshot, there are times the old lady needs her space and you will have to respect it. If spouses don't take care of each other's needs - and that includes sex - then you don't have a marriage. It's that simple. Of course those two get mired down in legalities and trivialities...and something simple, beautiful and elegant like marriage becomes stupid, complicated and convoluted. Personally I wrote the courts off long ago - the judiciary can go fuck itself with a chainsaw as far as I'm concerned, I'm an honest man and will not let corrupt scum have any authority over me whatsoever.

Good grief, these idiot feminists want the nanny state to intercede in their domestic disputes and referee the antics in the bedroom now! I've said this before and I'll say it again: liberalism and feminism are grounds for divorce. They are also grounds for heart ache and sorrow and if you marry a person of either ideology - you probably deserve what you get.

Sunday, 14 August 2016

Lucky Monday!

People get all pissy and whiny on Mondays and it's time to dispense with that bullchit once and for all.

The Great And Powerful Glen Filthie hereby proclaims that today is YOUR day, and everything will fall your way - or else! Does ANYONE dare to risk me bisk?



Good work boys. Carry on!


Seeing as how Bob was acting on my orders -
and he already has a Lotus sports car...
I think he should park this one in my driveway!


So? What are YOU lookin' at? Get out there! That good fortune isn't gonna happen by itself!


Filthie's African Wild Kingdom

...starring Uncle Bob and BW...!



Relax. Neither of them got hurt. Much.
A quick blood transfusion, a couple of sutures and stitches...
and they'll be good as new!
I think the footage was worth it!






An African bacon heist!
Oogah boogah!

Yannow with all this savagery going on it makes sense that the non-expendable members of the cast and crew be properly armed for the vicious predators that live in this region. Some helpful suggestions are posted below.


A couple of knockabout safari rifles in the ultra-manly .577 Nitro Express!
Once they recover BW and Bob will
be in a great position to dish out some payback on those lions...



These guns are literally hand built, often with
dental tools for a magnificent wood-to-metal fit.



And of course, if anyone gets a hankering for my famous parrot flambe or my
patented Buzzard Burgers - I'll be ready to
step in and procure the critters with my trusty 12 bore side-by-each shottie!







Mind Your P's and... and Peas!



Yesterday I was out patrolling for agricultural malfeasance and rural crime. The heat of the day had driven the city's senior delinquents indoors for the a/c - so it was time for Captain Sweatpants to head out into the countryside!

I promptly got lost on the backroads and could only tell that I was north east of Aaaaadmontin and south east of Fort Sascratchmybum. It was hot, sunny, and idyllic. I parked the bike at the side of the road, pulled out a water bottle and started guzzling. Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhh..... I was gonna unzip and take a quick leak when I heard the distant rumble of heavy metal machines. A LOT of heavy metal machines! I cracked my knuckles, flexed my mighty biceps and loosened up for a fight!


Oh shit. It's the dreaded Tractor Gang!


Large Marge was in the lead. With this many super-villains I didn't
dare start a fight!


Cheeto Man wisely gave me a wide birth... he's fast
and deadly but I could take care of him
handily in a fair fight and he knows it!!!


Infuriating! Mustard Man gave me a friendly wave just like we
were old buddies!
Super Villains and Hubris are old friends...


This is one of those mysterious Alphalpha Males the Manosphere
keeps prattling about. Keep drivin' buddy and
ya won't get hurt!



It was a tense situation as all those miscreants rolled by! HAR HAR HAR! PP over at the smallhold is probably their ring leader!

They must have been off to a parade somewhere, and I sat there basking in the charm of old world Alberta machines even after they were gone. Sometimes God just gives ya a gift out of the blue, I suppose.... but I had places to be too. I found a neat little place called Skaro and will have to consult BW... He may already have posted better pics on his blog over there.

Anyhoo, it's a short weekend here, I gotta go up to Fort Mac. There's my next week ruined... have a great Sunday, y'all.

Saturday, 13 August 2016

BARF


GAH! Jesus! When did BW start wearing yoga pants? That's just friggin GROSS!
Oops - sorry everyone! I need a new prescription
for my glasses! False alarm, that's not BW! Ya know what they say about eye sight: the
eyes are always the SECOND thing to go!
HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I'm Not Worried One Iota



We like to keep up with appearances here at the Thunderbox in order to maintain our reputation for refined taste and sensibilities. Since you are judged by the company you keep I often find myself in the company of exceptional men like Stackz O. Mags, Uncle Bob and even a distinguished author - like WL!

Seems he has some piffling security issues with locks. For liberals and stupid people this would be a very big deal that would fill them with PSHS -  or Pant Shitting Hysteria Syndrome as real men prefer to refer to it. I took the opportunity to crap in the comments and harass the distinguished author about his choice of armament - but all that is, is the stuff of rude jokes. Any criminal faced with a man holding a .357 revolver on him has two choices: surrender, or prepare for a trip to the hospital...or the morgue. A solid hit in the boiler room with a respectable .357 Mangnum load is almost certain trip to the morgue. There's any number of other handgun calibres that will do it too - provided you can put the metal on the meat!

There's a lot of turd polishing that goes on about guns and ammo for home defense and 95% of it is utter bullshit. Unless you are extremely disciplined and motivated (think Navy SEAL or pisslamic terrorist) - a hit to the chest is the end of your day. A villain under the influence of really nasty drugs might be able to keep going after a solid hit. Everyone else - is either going down or turning tail and running. Use a reasonable calibre in a gun that works for you - but the big thing is to HAVE A GUN.

You don't need machine guns, grenade launchers or high capacity magazines to defend yourself from Obama's Children That He Never Had. (But you WILL need those guns to defend you from The Buckwheat Administration that fully intends to dispense with your rights and liberties. The Three Percenters and NRA types are not paranoid: there are those in gov't that would be more than willing to put you in chains and would if they could get away with it).

I would like to make a bigoted, snotty comment about how all REAL men have guns - but these days, home security is becoming an issue for our ladies as well. Just as the cops can't defend them 24/7/365... neither can us fellas. It's getting to be that our women need to be able to defend themselves and the kids, it's just as simple as that. Hell, Obama's chillun are shooting at cops now - they have their own problems with self defense - never mind us.

Around here the lives of vicious black criminals are of little to no concern.
Just sayin'. Black people are always welcome round here...
but niggers will wanna keep their hands where I can see 'em.


Perhaps the distinguished author should hand that .357 over to the Missus - and arm himself with a more manly revolver in .45 Long Colt - the calibre of God, the saints...and Glen Filthie!



Mild, patty-cake .45ACP loads for paper work, and stoked
hot .45 Long Colt loads for social work!
This little Ruger is my revolver but if it doesn't work for you - find one
that does and we'll see ya on the range.
Be mindful of the paper work... shooting for fun and recreation
is going to be 99% of what you do, God willing.

Friday, 12 August 2016

Friday Wind In The Wires




I still think about it sometimes. I still remember the first solo I did on my flexwing - you open the throttle, the bird surges forward and as soon as it starts to move it wants to fly - you can feel it. It's in the rumble and bump of the seat, it's in the control bar... but you keep the bird on the runway to build up some serious speed so that when you finally do let it into the air - it flies well. Air speed means control to the pilot and you want as much as you can safely get when you are flying. When the aircraft lifts off it literally leaps up and ahead - and it's the biggest rush a fella can ask for. I got my star-crossed start with flex wings, but this was where I really wanted to go after I fell out of love with the Airbike:


That's a Chinook, (or a Shit Hook as the hangar wanks are prone to call it). It's a two place that flies well on the industry standard Rotax 503 or the 582.  (I flew a flexwing trainer with an old Rotax 582 Blue Head and the damned thing was a rocket ship. It scared the chit out of me at the time...).


This is the pic I really like. This bird used to be made in kit form through a company in Vernon, BC. The world's best light sport aviators hail from that area, where the mountains create some interesting conditions for the intrepid light flier. A fella could do some serious ice fishing with a rig like that.

The company had a customer testimonial from none other than the National Geographic Society. Apparently they took one up north and because it is so small and easy to assemble - it fit into the ship's hold. Once they got within spitting distance of the north pole they dragged the airplane out, assembled it - and started flying the dauntless explorers and scientists hither and yon with it. It's the stuff of high adventure.


And - it's a tail dragger!


There's a company in Ontario that will build you one now for $30,000.00. I am going to see if I can sell one to BW. This is just the ticket for an enterprising explorer like him - it can land and take off grass and dirt with aplomb. Typically these planes only need about two or three hundred yards to land or take off so dipping into an abandoned church yard would be a snap. That guy gets into some interesting terrain and some air shots would be spectacular - especially in the fall.

Maybe he will buy me one too.