Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Today's Rude Blonde Joke




You've Been Warned!



Dammit. Good help is so hard to find these days. I asked Pete to make me this sign, and as usual, he did a half-assed job!!! It should also have on it:
  • feminists
  • queers
  • fwenchmen
  • tax men
  • public (hork, spit) "educators"
  • union slobs
  • welfare slobs
  • cell phone zombies
  • people that fart like it's a crime rather than something to brag about
I am going to have to have a stern lecture with him about his work ethics.

I Am Going To Hell



Or maybe not. I am convinced that God has a sense of humour and no bones about it. And if He doesn't, I will plead His forbearance based on my numerous psychological and mental problems:



Making Himself Comfortable




Monday, 18 September 2017

The Real Reason For Women Only Fitness Clubs



Oh sure, they SAY it's because they just want to be out with the girls, do a work out and not have revolting men perving out and slobbering on them. And with creeps like Pete and Jack and Quatermain running around, it seems fair enough on the face of it.

But - I think I know why the womenfolk prefer to work out only amongst 'emselves:


It's only a theory at this point.

A Satisfying Day Dream: The Lawn Kraut


Awhile back I was enjoying a satisfying day dream brought about by a videeyah game I saw called Castle Wolfenstein. The premise in the story behind the game was that eeeeeeeevil Nazis invaded America back in the 60's and turned it into a swinging vacation spot for The Third Reich! I thought the trailer for it was relaxing as hell!

By contrast, it was a proggie's nightmare - KKK coneheads walk the streets and exchange pleasnatries with friends and neighbours and goose-stepping soldiers. The big rifles have the Luger-esque toggle link actions. Jet planes go over and the B2 bombers sport Iron Crosses and Swastikas. Elevator music wafts onto the street as 1960's crooners sing to beats and baselines that soothe the soul. There are no Black Lives Matter types chimping out and rioting, no bitchy women in vagina hats, and no faggots to be seen anywhere. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. Why would anyone want to spoil that? HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!!! I can see why the chit-libs would have problems with it!

But me? I'd fit right in, finer n' frogs' hair! "Excuse me, Gruppenfurher - but did you know that BW, Pete and Quartermain are JOOS? Somebody should make SOAP out of 'em!" I can just imagine shooting Scheisser machine guns at the rod n' gun club. For me, the war between BMW and Harley was lost long ago. I would WELCOME our new fascist overlords!  :)


Sweet!!!! A 6.5 HP Lawn Kraut!!!


I suppose I shouldn't jest about fascists in this day and age, in this political climate. But that is something that perplexes me. The history books are what they are, and I suppose they are subject to the same forces that have stupid people toppling statues and trying to erase and revise history today.

Dispense with all that. Dispense with what you know and were taught. As a thought experiment, go back to square one. Nazi Germany - a nation that went from rubber boots to jack boots in the blink of an eye. Out of nothing they created fighter planes, tanks, mechanized war machines that left everyone else in the dust. The socialists of Russia - drunks and cretins that couldn't even feed themselves. Fwance - craven cowards and incompetents. Brits - fierce enough, but like America, TOTALLY unprepared for WW2.

How did Germany lose? I know what the history books say. I look around and see socialists running rampant today and the results speak for themselves: Mizz U, Venezuela, North Korea.

Something, somewhere, doesn't add up.

Hell Follows With Them



Years ago I used to hunt down by CFB Wainwright and the arties would be playing lawn darts with the heavy ordnance. By the maps, I was about 8 miles away as the crow flies - and I could still hear it.

Does artillery make more noise on delivery or receipt? I hope to never find out.

A Game Of Porcelain Thrones





I think I’m in the outhouse again.

My parents aren’t talking to me. Again. I must have done something. Haven’t heard from Mom in some time, so I texted her a pic of some of the wife’s rogue flowers that refuse to grow in their flower box, and sprouted up between the paving stones out in front – like the weeds do. (Who woulda thunk flowers could be rebels, mutineers, and insurgents? HAR HAR HAR!) Usually she’ll come back with a text something like ‘Oh, that’s nice…’ or ‘when are we going to meet for coffee…?’ I know she’s ignoring me because she is just the world’s biggest social butterfly – she’s all over facebook and her phone, texting her friends and so forth. I shouldn’t be a wank about that either – she’s engaged and doing things and seeing people and that is good for her. But lately as she ages she’s started to play head games with me and when I forget myself – they make me crazy. I am getting old and stupid too; I seriously need a sense of humour and I am taking myself way to seriously as I get old. I let a lot of stuff piss me off that I shouldn’t. Hmpffff – or maybe I need to grow up? As Red says, “Ya can’t stay young, but you can always be immature!”

I know that Pop hasn’t spontaneously combusted and burnt the house down because I drive by on a regular basis to make sure. Pop farts like a race horse and one spark – and that whole block will end up in the middle of next week! But the house is well kept, the lawn is manicured like a putting green, and all is in order. My parents are obviously alive and well.

So what did I do this time? I’m not sure, exactly. I MIGHT have forgotten Mom’s birthday – I think as she gets older she takes them more seriously. But at the time, they were out of town camping, then we were, and the summer just got away from us. Could she have her nose out of joint about that? I coulda swore we got her a card and went over for coffee but that might have been Pop’s birthday. Birthday’s mean nothing to me whatsoever – I don’t even want a card on mine. But womenfolk can be difficult about such things.

The other possibility is that my Mom is a busy woman with a life going on, and has her hands absolutely FULL trying to keep her disobedient husband and dog in line – and somehow a text from her retarded son slipped under her radar.

So what should I do? My family life is a hodgepodge of power games, head games, and plot – where wins and losses turn on the slip a tongue, or a poorly worded rebuttal! Think, Filthie! THINK!   ;) One false move - and my fiendish brother will inherit the vast Filthie Fortune!!! With such incredible wealth - he'll be in a position to act for the Forces Of Evil and thwart me as I try to bring law and order to the world! HAR HAR HAR! ((Actually I intend to see that he inherits - it will serve him right!) Fact is I suppose we'll BOTH get the shaft; Pop has told us both he intends to leave us with nothing but his debts! Can't blame him, I would do the same in his boat!!!)


Here’s what I’m gonna do: there’s a combination greenhouse/restaurant north of town here called Greenland. I THINK it’s a chick thing – they have a greenhouse, a gift shop full of frillies and nicknacks and ornaments – and a bistro where the clucks can chatter and have a glass of wine. I figure if I invited ‘em out for dinner – and made sure to shave and bathe first – a lunch or supper out might improve some attitudes. I have to do something, lest my evil elder brother inherit the vast Filthie Fortune! HAR HAR HAR! (Actually, I intend to see that he does – it would serve him right!)

Comments, Gentlemen? Options? As always, your two cents are sincerely appreciated.

Saturday, 16 September 2017

A Walk In The Early Fall



No more shorts and tee shirts in the mornings. It's too damned chilly!



Up here the leaves are just starting to change, lots of green still left... but it's that 'baked' green; it isn't the healthy green of early spring or summer.


Years ago when I was at a fall rifle rodeo the kids were having a contest to see who could eat the most of these berries. I gave them chit and told them they were poisonous to make them stop - but kids understand me and gave me all the respect and authority I deserved - and kept eating... Then this old weird beardo came along and explained to the kids that they were cursing themselves and their ancestors. These berries are not meant for us; they are food for the dead and the spirits that walk the earth, and the children were stealing from them. The creepiest lecture on the doings of angry spirits ensued that left me and the kids whiter than the berries! Old people tell the best stories. I left these for the spirits with my compliments.


The dawgs wait impatiently for me to pick up the land mines and stop
looking at stupid stuff like berries.
There is dog shit to be smelled, rabbits to be barked at, 
and squirrels to rage at.

It's officially fall here I guess. Time to empty out the trailer, do some preps for winter and change some oil. Annnnnnd - maybe a stolen afternoon at the range, of course! See ya all tomorrow and thanks for stopping in.

Vestiges Of Old Alberta




Seen on the river down in the park at Ft. Mac yesterday...


Float planes used to be everywhere when I was a kid. Aaaaaaadmontin Alberta was considered the gateway to the north, and even back in the 60's, the sea plane base out at Cooking Lake was a big hub. All the wheeled aircraft landed at the Edmonton or International airports - and all the float planes and sea planes landed out by us at south Cooking Lake. 

Nowadays there's hardly any float planes around at all. It's all choppers and wheels now because every two bit backwater out in the sticks has an airport now. The float planes have moved further North I suspect. Perhaps the new gateway to the north is Yellowknife now. 

One of these days I shall have to go up and see.

Saturday Morning English Breakfast: Limeys & Kippered Currency



I've been enjoying and binge watching Junius Maximus YouTubicus for the past couple nights. I buy silver from First Majestic as a basic prep - not much, just a couple hundred bucks now and then. I would love to buy gold if I could afford it. I'm toying with the idea of other sources for silver and maybe enjoying the acquisition of coinage as a chit house hobby.

Junius makes an interesting point: as goes a gov't - so goes it's currency. Some interesting food for thought over a spot of tea and a plate of kippers... or maybe some faggots n' peas or spotted dick, HAR HAR HAR HAR!!!





Have a wonderful Saturday.

Friday, 15 September 2017

Cell Phones



Unlike other old farts I have a love/hate relationship with cell phones - or at least I did. I know Wirecutter over at Knuckle Draggin can be heard bragging from time to time about how he has an old 'dumb phone' he never uses. My dad is like that too - if he every blows up on the freeway and he can't get his vehicle rolling himself - he MIGHT use the cell to call a tow company. By contrast my Mom is all over smartphones, facebooking and texting and such... and I am somewhere in between the two extremes.

I use mine to text a bit, look at my work emails and put a few contacts in. Sometimes I'll look up a customer on the net to get a better sense of what he does and how I can fit my company into his. For the last decade I've had a company cell and with my job fluttering in the breeze lately I decided that I should go ahead and wipe all my personal stuff off it in case I have to turn it back without warning. I figure I am gonna get my own and that way I can look for new jobs, or make personal calls I may not wish my employer knowing about. In the past I just used the company phones because with my job I was always on call and figured if I was going to work after hours for free from time to time - they could damned well give me the odd personal phone call and data usage for personal business. I never really abused it and nobody ever said anything - but with our company fortunes in decline and our jobs in question? I will need my own phone - simple as that.

I was going to bite the bullet and get a Cadillac phone plan and then gagged on the prices - remember, I've never had to pay for a cell before. My wife has one that I am supposed to pay for but I have been spending all my money on guns instead ...errr... last time I paid for hers it was around $90.00 a month. Looks like one for me would cost about the same. And of course I did the math and pooped my pants. And of course, everyone just laughed at the old fart who lived under a rock having a kiniption about cell rates. Everyone I told about it snickered and chortled and had great sport at my expense! I'm STILL mad about it!!!



Keep laughing, Bungholes!!!!!


I'm up at Ft. Mac and had nothing to do after work except watch YouTube... and so far I am really liking Junius. It takes him 10 minutes to talk about stuff like this but for you to do the math takes about 2... 

He thinks like me - and I got my financial smarts from my late Grandmother and my wife. With our company teetering on the brink a lot of us employees are worried. I have it good; sure, we've spent a little money on good things like campers, dinners out, and toys... but we were always saving a bit too. If I lose my job I pay out my wife's car in cash (about 3 months left on it) - and we are effectively debt free. I have friends with big houses, fast cars, kids in expensive sports, big boats... and they have to have a job to pay for all this stuff. If they lose their jobs they are in seriously deep trouble - and these gold plated cell phone plans are just another way for you to lose financial freedom.

Except for the bills and taxes. I suppose a fella is always vulnerable - the gubbimint could raise my taxes and utilities rates - and there's not much I can do about that. Oh, I could go 'urban outdoorsman' and go off the grid - but I would rather not. For me personally, it seems like more work than it's worth. But a fella CAN prep. And prepping these days - at least to me - means cutting back your costs, saving your pennies, and dispensing with stuff you don't really need.

Looks like it's time to get smart with my money again. Maybe being smart means going with a dumb phone? HAR HAR HAR!

Have a good Friday everyone!

Thursday, 14 September 2017

Good Luck With That, Wendy...




I like the new look but no way am I eatin' there or at Arby's.
I yam a man of refined tastes n' sensibilities.


Americans live right. Why, I would LOVE to eat at a place called 'The Heart Attack Grille'. Wouldn't mind being wheeled out by some Naughty Nurses in a stretcher or a wheelchair either, HAR HAR HAR!!! This is what makes America great: ya take lechery and gluttony - put 'em in a burger joint... and something beautiful, and uniquely American results! HAR HAR HAR!

As my hero and role model, Rodger Schlong likes to say,"USA! USA! UAS!!!"

Holy Smokes! I Almost Forgot! Best Of Luck Hunters...!!!





Holy chit! Hunting season is open!!!

That's how old I am now. There was a time...was it really that long ago? I would be champing at the bit. My rifle would have been zeroed at 200 and anything under 300 was meat in the freezer. I passed longer shots up because I am lazy and don't like the idea of wounding animals.

My draws would have been a done deal by now. I could actually smell the fall coming. The camp gear would have been checked over at least three times, and I'd have blown my allowance on picking the perfect bottle of scotch for the campfire at night. A lot of you Yanks go to hunting lodges and leases and such. Up here, we still have a bit of back country and it's a piece of cake to pitch a tent or flop out in the back of the truck on some old seismic line or logging road.

One year I just had it all: we were living in our brand new house. I had gotten lucky and dropped a little mulie yearling and got back to the house - and the wife just took right over! She had me string it up downstairs, and she went to work, picking and choosing her cuts. All I did is field dress it and skin it and she did the rest. I had a shower and flopped out to sleep afterward. When I woke up, my in laws were over and my father in law was cranking on a meat grinder for all he was worth and having a ball. They were better times and we were better people.

I hope you got all your draws for the 2017 season, and wish you all the best of luck in the season ahead. Be it known to one and all that we like hunting stories round here, and especially the young hunters that tell them.  :)

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

This ... Is CNN




I hope all you hatey white a-holes feel ashamed of
yourselves for all the rotten things you've said about
Dindus.


Sadly, this little driblet of satire is right up CNN's back alley these days. I no longer follow the mainstream news and turn to my fellow bloggers instead. The commentary is much more intelligent.

UPDATE: Courtesy Of The Feral Irishman:



For My Next Bank Heist



If When I lose my job I think I am going to turn to a life of crime. And - if I am going to be a crime boss - I'll darned well roll like one too!



Oops! Maybe I'll be a patriot rather than a crime boss. Who in their right mind wants to be a politician anyway...?

CW Trumped: The Art Of Speed




Hmpfffff! The engine must be in the back....?

Manly Arts: Self Defence



Here at Uncle Bob's the retards Opportunity Students have been hard at work on their martial arts and have prepared a demonstration for especially for us.


First Aid is next on their list.

Hump Day Wind In The Wires...Errr...Trees....


I didn't fly at the RC airfield once this summer. Last year however - at the very corner of our field was one single, solitary, scrubby little pine or evergreen. It is the only tree ANYWHERE near our field - and yet it has managed to eat a surprising number of planes. Planes are attracted to trees whether they are our little RC jobbies or the real thing.


That one deserves applause. It's like the tree caught the plane and helped it down... Flapz has an uncle in BC in the mountains who crashed in the trees and it just messed him right up. He was in traction for months and they had to rebuild his skull - and as soon as he was able - up he went again!

How do they do it???

Got A Beating Over At WC's...

Hmpfffff.

I kinda sorta expected it and probly deserved it.

The other day I drank way too much coffee and my bladder was about to explode. With my back teeth swimming - I brought my truck hard over and raced down into one of Aaaaadmintin's river valley public parks. It's fall up here in Alberta, and the trees are turning and everyone is out with the kids or by themselves for a stroll in the spectacular leaves while they can. They'll be gone on the next windy day.

But I was now sweating and losing structural containMINT!

I pulled into a swimming pool parking lot and hoofed it inside on the double; I only had seconds to spare! I made it to the men's - and did my business and averted what would have surely been a personal tragedy. Sighing with relief I zipped up, washed my hands - and headed back out to get on with my day.

On the way out I noticed the people in the foyer - I literally didn't spare them a second glance on my way in, preoccupied as I was with my own problems. But all the swimmers were mentally handicapped adults. We aren't talking about the special kids here at Uncle Bob's - we are talking honest-to-God mentally retarded adults. And sprawled across the floor, almost so that I almost tripped over her - was a woman with no pants on.

For a horrible split second I was utterly gobsmacked. She just sprawled across the floor, mumbling to herself and lost in the world. She had obviously slipped her keepers. Why would God do that to someone, I wonder? I looked around and they were ALL like that - just folks that intellect had left behind. I question my faith and myself sometimes. One day I was on the internet and taken to task by an angry bedwetter for making rude jokes about retards and short buses; she called them 'emissaries from heaven'. Being a pig, all that did was set me and my fellow swine up for more rude jokes. That angry young woman woulda shot the lot of us for a dime after that discussion, I'd expect. We probably would have deserved it too.

Keeping a close eye on the lady, I backed around a corner and called her guardians over. I stayed until they had her up and ... composed ... again - and then just plunked my arse down on a bench and tried to get my head round it. Didn't get anywhere with that, of course. Sometimes stuff just hits ya out of the blue, yannow? And then it stays with ya for awhile and you can't shake it. Are these people sent by God to test us? Or by Darwin and Murphy to humble us? Or taunt us?

When I saw Wirecutter's Wiener Wagger I wondered if this wasn't the male equivalent to that young lady. Can you imagine having the regular sex drives of a healthy young man - and a vacuous intellect like that to deal with it? Surely it would have to be hell on earth. Something about that vid just hit me wrong.

NC Mike told me where to go and how to get there and maybe he's right - and maybe I should just STFU.


Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Forest Deployment Module: Camp Porn





I shouldn't look at stuff like this, at this particular time of year. It's gonna be a loooooooooong winter. I wish we could have afforded something like this when we were kids.

Chicken Mom RUINS Internet Porn Forever




Oh GAH! Emergency eye wash to the left - for those of you
that think it will help
Who woulda thunk anyone could ruin something as grand
as internet porn???

Not So...


When me and my retarded students go swimming and a few
floaters bob to the surface all
the women jump out like scalded cats.


I Can Relate To This




Turns out I'm a chit sammich. Who woulda thunk it?

(The Usual Suspects are admonished in advance to keep their mouths firmly shut).

Good Ol' Days...




Damn right. And I LIKED it too!!! And when I went to school it was uphill both ways, and I had to hop from cow pie to cow pie to keep my feet warm!!! And I had it good - I was eating mud pies while the poor kids like Jack were eating cow pies.

I often had coooooold friggin feet in the winter back in the day.

Tuesday Wind In The Wires...Errr....Sand???





Hmmmmm. Yikes, twin engine? Plus retrieval and salvage? How much, aviators? $200,000+ ??? Somebody just took a major financial hit! A lot of people don't understand aircraft. Sure, they know the principles of flight but they don't understand the transition the plane makes when it goes from being an airplane to a ground vehicle - and it does that in an instant. When the pilot lands, he essentially stalls the aircraft on the runway and his finesse in doing so is the measure of his skill.

If you have an engine out and you are going down on whatever is in front of you - you have a choice: go in hot and fast so that your control surfaces have response and authority - or go in slow, and 'belly flop' the airplane in a stall. Depending on the terrain it's a crap toss as to which is better and anything can happen. If you walk away from something like this it is because God loves cowards, fools and little girls.

When that jet crashed in the Hudson River years back and all the crew and passengers survived everyone wanted to shower the pilot with praise. I don't want to take anything away from the pilot or the crew - they did a text book controlled crash and deserve all the praise in the world for that... but the second that plane hit the water, the pilots were no longer in control at all, and everything from that point forward was in the hands of our Maker. A rogue wave, a smidge of error in the vectors involved - and that incident could have gone the other way in less than a heart beat.

Crashing takes a huge psychological toll too. Years ago my career as an ultralight pilot was cut short by a gentle crash in a field of standing Canola. I will never fly again. I can fly commercial but landings leave me sweating and exhausted as I try to hold my mud on the inside. I darn near pooped the theatre seat when I was watching a movie about Howard Hughes - who crashed at high speed in the worst places a couple of times.

A couple years back I took a discovery flight in a Cessna 174 thinking I was ready to get back in. I did a few turns and went up and down a couple hundred feet and the pilot asked if I would like to land it too. I lined up on the runway and let the instructor cut the throttles back a little bit and brought the plane half way in. Of course, the pilot took the yoke back a couple seconds before touch down. Afterward I was white as a sheet, soaked through in sweat - and the instructor was shocked. He thought I was a natural  because I had done so well. For me it was a sheer test of my mettle and nothing more. I have a phobic fear of flying now and it takes every thing I have to control it. The real pilots and aviators are the guys that can get back in the cockpit and do their jobs after an incident like that. For me though, the thrill is gone and has been replaced by fear.

It's probably for the best.

Cabin Porn - Bighorn Sheep Hunting Anyone?





Ready for you after a hard day climbing and glassing hills for that elusive trophy... just roll out a fart sack and let the silence carry you away...

Red Alert: Jack, Pete, WL & Quartermain To The Bridge! On The Double!!!



To arms, men! These bloody chicom bastids have captured Mort, my dawg! Who are these guys anyways? Chinamen? Norks? Vietnamese? They all look the same!!! They're probly gonna fry him up with rice, onions n' spices and...hmmmm. A little bacon would spice Mort up quite nicely...




This could go either way boys. Lock n' load - and maybe keep your mess kits handy in case the natives turn out to be friendly and hospitable...  :)

Monday, 11 September 2017

Ga-Dink-A-Dink-Ga-Dddleydink,..






Sorry about all the politics going on but I just lose my mud with liberal stupidity. It was bad 40 years ago and now it's getting downright lethal. Why am I so mad?

Maybe you Yanks remember when The Gay Mulatto told Joe The Plumber that he didn't build his little business - all the $5.00/hour winners he employed did, and it's only fair to tax the shit outta guys like Joe, and the friendly neighbourhood gubbiment slobs will 'redistribute' it amongst the Pore N' Starvin'. (And of course we all know how that works - the money goes to their dancing monkeys like the queers, union slobs and bag men - with hardly anything left over for the welfare slobs).

Well last week Turdo La Doo basically said the same thing and tells us he intends to act on it. He wants to do away with tax breaks for small business in the interests of fairness. The dumb chit is too stupid and clueless to understand that all he will do is make it harder to start a business and employ Canadians. And all this in an economy that is in full recession.

I gave a cheer and hoisted a glass when his effeminate father died; Pee-Aire was the same socialist piece of shit his son is and thanks to him a whole generation of Canadians watched their jobs and dreams die out west.

All I can do is shake my head. How do these morons come to power? And where do these idiots come from? Why are we doing this to ourselves and our kids?


Retard School Second Language Skills - Kraut Immersion


Iechst ze birchzcht de roggenzehagen everyone! Betcha didn't know I was bilingual didjya? It's german, and it means "Welcome to my shop, ladies and gentlemen, I'm so glad to have you here!" Errr... or maybe it means "pick my butt till it turns bright orange..." I'm still struggling with the language a bit... But I digress! Indeed I am bilingual, and I'm hard at work learning the happy li'l retards of Uncle Bob's School For Wayward Boys N' Retards everything they need to know about speaking German!

I know what you're thinking too: "Filthie, why are you teaching the slow kids German, and why did ya give 'em all Schmeisser machine guns, potato masher hand grenades and swastika arm bands?"

LOOK OUT!!! Great Ceasar's ghost - watch out! Quartermain you asshole - watch where you're driving you wisenheimer!!! Dumbkopfff! Don't you give me the finger, you little bastard! Bah - I'll deal with him later - Quartermain is going to park that Panzer tank over the sandbox. Seems like BW and WL had a little mishap in our improvised grenade pits and left nothing but a smear and a crater! I figure Quartermain can park the tank on top of the mess - and no one's the wiser! HAR HAR HAR!!!


Isn't she a beaut? Quartermain will drive, Pete and Jack will be on 
the guns and the cannon, and I
will ride in the hatch up top and sneer at the gutless fwench
swine when we invade Quebec.
It should be a most interesting field trip!

So - getting back to our discussion: why are me and all the other retards going fascist? Why - because everyone's doing it!!! All those creeps at Antifa? The ones that smell of death and excrement? They're telling us that if we don't agree with 'em and don't vote for creeps like Hillary Clinton or Turdo La Doo - we're fascists! Everyone knows that! Even up here in Canada you can't swing a cat without hitting a fascist! Canadian shitlib fartsucker former liberal big wig - Warren Kinsella was taking a dump in the boy's bathroom at the hockey arena years ago and found a swastika scribbled on the wall (Quartermain probly did that too, the little chit) - and even wrote a book about all the hatey fascists round here! 

I dunno why Warren is getting so worked up, really. Truth be told, he should probably be enrolled with all the other special ed kids here in my school!  :) Warren, like all liberals and stupid people, thinks that if you're conservative and sensible - you're a fascist too. For a sensible take on political left vs the political right and how fascism fits into all that - I heartily recommend some sane  discussion on the subject, served up as usual, by none other than the ubiquitous Z Man with this stellar piece - The Nazi Tar Baby. I really need to get him up on the Toilet Roll with the other blogger celebrities. He reminds me a lot of the late Uncle Bob.

So... what would Nazi North America look like anyways? Here is one artist's conception:



Why - isn't that great??? Can you imagine cleaning up
Detroit, New Orleans, and pretty much all a California
and even Morontario?
Aaaaahhhhhh... polite and courteous negro servants, clean streets...
And maybe a fashionable lamp shade
made out of Quartermain's hide...? HAR HAR HAR!!!


I suppose I shouldn't be a wank. It scares the morons and that probably isn't the best thing to do in today's volatile political climate. But this is exactly what gave rise to fascism: broken down communities, unemployment,  failing families, and hopelessness - the kind of things liberal morons are hard at work creating today out of sheer willful stupidity. And, as things get worse and worse, and idiots like Kinsella and his crew get ever more abusive and refuse to take responsibility - clean streets, order, and purpose become ever more appealing. I hope we're smart enough to avoid a repeat of that particular episode of history... but the situation's looking grim as identity politics take over.

I apologizr - this post went for a dump real quick, as things usually do when discussing liberals. Let us dispense with such unsavoury people and enjoy a reminder of a better time when we were all better people.




It's Sept. 11 today. For my American friends - be strong, be of good cheer,
and God bless America.
Never forget.

Sunday, 10 September 2017

Good Hunting There, Sport!






Up here in Canada we are much more heavily pozzed by political correctness than you ignernt Yanks down south. When I was a kid back in the 80's I had a job in a sweat shop diverse and vibrant workplace assembling electrical switchgear. We had 'em all: kikes, dykes, packies, wackies, chinks n' dinks, clippers, Dippers - in all your favourite frooty colours of the rainbow! HAR HAR HAR!

And of course - our multicultural shop works the way multicultural societies do: the packies stuck to themselves, as did the chinks and arabs. All the groups hated each other and any kind of serious team work was impossible.

One day I ran some paperwork up front to the office and spied some paperwork on the fax machine - and found a treasure trove of multicultural dynamite!

Today we have email jokes that get passed around and go viral. Back then the fax machine was a means for enjoying off colour and dirty jokes - but ya had to get 'em before the management did! On our fax machine, I found the Alberta Fish & Game 1985 Hunting Regulations - For Minorities. It was awesome. Some of the highlights:
  • It is unlawful, in the province of Alberta, to hunt or trap packies, chinks or other coloured minorities within 50m of a K-Mart
  • In the event of a road killed 9 iron, bucket head, clipper or chug - if approved by the Fish & Game Minister, you may keep the meat and the carcass but the province gets the hide
  • Trapping minorities with ethnic food is prohibited. Prohibited bait sources include (but at not limited to) curry, butter, sun-dried goat meat, and pemmican. 
... and it went on like that! It even had the Alberta Fish & Game letterhead on it! Well! Harumpfffff! Obviously, I thought, the best thing to do would be to post it on the employee bulletin boards round the building! So - I made some copies and covertly posted them up when the coast was clear.

Later that afternoon the chit hit the fan! The wogs went stark raving NUTS. They made copies and made sure the other wogs and wanks had them too. Our manager (who was a complete prick) was getting roasted over the coals! The packies accused the chinks. The chinks accused the arabs. EVERYBODY was pointing the finger at everybody else! Even back then, the political racial climate had gone from the ridiculous to the sublime. Somebody had to be punished!!!! Feelings had gotten hurt!!!! Who was responsible for this hatey-hate-hatred?!?!?

I got busted, everyone knew it was me but nobody could prove it. I think what gave me away was that I was the only one laughing while everyone else was losing their minds. A year later I was dismissed without cause from that sweat shop "because I wasn't fitting in with the staff...". I think they did me a favour because a couple months after that things started to get violent. They accidently hired a sikh and the rest of the pakies were hindus - and one of 'em went at another with a power drill. The white guys were getting tires slashed and their vehicles vandalized. A year later, the manager that fired me - was fired himself. There is such thing as a toxic work environment, and the proggies and social justice warriors know how to create it.

I was about 20 years old when I did that, maybe 21. Would I be so stupid as to do something like that again? 

Well - given the same people and the same horrible work environment - in a fuggin heartbeat! HAR HAR HAR!!! Contary to many, age does not instill wisdom.

Hinterland: Who's Who



We don't have racoons in Alberta - or if we do, I have never seen one.

Come to think of it we don't have crocs either - except for the ones that old geezers (and Yours Truly) wear.

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Gun Philosophy





Some years ago some gun blogger twit was bragging about how he took a course in AR15 carbine management. A couple of 'em did. One of 'em - a gun blogging ditz I don't personally care for, bragged that she fired 1800 rounds in 3 days! And guess what?!?!? Nothing broke!!!!

GAH.

When I saw how these 'courses' worked on YouTube all I could do was shake my head. It's no wonder that people think gun owners are idiots sometimes. The 'students' shot at targets that were impossibly close, as fast as they could pull the trigger. They wore 'battle belts' or bandoliers holding a dozen 30 round mags. They were loaded out with more ammo than a friggin Marine. I am sure they will be quite good at handling themselves if they ever find themselves surrounded by a mob of homicidal Brownies or girl scouts...! Transition to yer pistol, pin heads! HAR HAR HAR! 'Tactical Carbine Training Course' ... my rosy red ass! HAR HAR HAR!

If they're that close, and that mean - you won't last long enough to dump one mag, never mind several. A couple years back some failed liberal social experiment went to a church picnic with the idea of slaughtering a bunch of eeeeeevil Christians with his black guns. He waded into the thick of 'em, dropped his duffel - and pulled out his gat and got a couple shots off - when some lady pulled a revolver and shot him twice in the chest and killed him. (No, you wouldn't have heard about that one, because none of the mainstream rags thought it newsworthy. Body counts were probably too low or something).

Does the bayonet still have a place on the battlefield? I dunno, I'm just asking because I am NOT an operator, and I don't think those strutting tactical poseurs are either. I would think that rather than learning how to dump 130 rounds into a human sized target in 30 seconds from 5 feet away, a fella would be far much further ahead - tactically speaking - to learn how to use a bayonet and maybe how to treat shock, trauma and other gun shot wounds.

But whadda I know? Today I am going to re-zero my M1A as I needed a new mount for the scope, and I will be starting my love affair with a new AR15 precision gun. If you want to learn something USEFUL about the AR15 and want to enjoy it as a gentleman's pastime rather than a child's toy - Johnny will be happy to get ya going. Be sure to hit the like and subscribe - he is doing top notch work and putting a lot of effort into it. Fact is, his work is so good I just might send him a few bucks to help keep him going. Yeah - he's that good.



Shoot straight and have a great Saturday.

Retard School Gun Club




Friday, 8 September 2017

My Gracious Employers...

... just informed me that, effective Sept. 1 - I would be taking a pay cut. What it will amount to is anyone's guess because I don't know how they figure the sales commissions. I know for a fact they are a playing 'hide the salami' with the sales and the books but I don't care - I know what I'm worth and if they don't want to pay me for my time I won't work for them. Ordinarily I would just reduce the amount of effort I put into my job to correspond to the pay cut - but I am caught between a rock and a hard place: I love the owners of the company, I love their dad and a number of my customers have become friends and frenemies.

But I am not a charity; I put out a resume today. The owners are all elderly and/or getting on so maybe it's a good time to move on. Been thinking this for quite awhile now.



Thanks to my wife and my Maker I don't walk alone.
But I have made up my mind. It's time to move on...

Have a good Friday. Get out there and enjoy the fall leaves.

Friday Wind In The Wires -Canadiana Edition: The Avro Arrow


Canadian patriotism is an act of sheer grit and effort and has been for most of my life.

Our celebs are untalented CBC hacks that couldn't cut it in the American entertainment industry. Our football teams are filled with negro cast offs from the NFL and if any talent DOES surface in the CFL - they get poached by the NFL. Our universities are empty, flyblown intellectual wastelands. There's nothing really going on up here except liberal virtue signalling as things slowly get worse. You Yanks know the drill after 8 years of the Buckwheat Administration I suppose. Our liberals make Obama look good.

And - our military. JFC. Not many people are aware of it in these days but decades ago Canada had a respectable military for its size. After WW2 ours was the 4th largest navy in the world. Granted, most of our ships were light frigates, support vessels and destroyers - but if our allies ran into trouble abroad they could count on us to get to their side, and project our force with theirs to protect our interests. Contrast that with today: when a token show of force was required from Canada in Afghanistan - we had no way to get the squaddies there. They had to hitch a ride with the Yanks. When they got there they had the wrong camo and stood out in the desert like sore thumbs. When their vehicles arrived they were not able to function in the desert environment. More bumming and borrowing. I almost shot my TV set two weeks after they arrived in the theatre. General Rick The Dick Hillier was posing for the cameras and the slobs at the CBC when he proudly proclaimed that it was 'MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!' in Afghanistan! Canada saved the day! Then I wanted to shoot our idiot Prime Minister, Paul Martin. Ol' fartin' Martin gave The Dick a big grin and a thumbs up and they had themselves the usual liberal circle jerk for the cameras and flattered and praised themselves. Thankfully the liberals got kicked to the curb after that and Stephen Harper came in and started addressing some of our military's shortcomings. When those vets came home from Afghanistan, their jumbo jets were smartly escorted by functioning CF18 fighter jets. They had to do two turns around the city before they were allowed to land, and for me it was a tall drink of cool water. There is still some things to be proud of here.

In a similar fashion our aviation patriots cling to the myth of the Avro Arrow. To take exception to any part of that narrative will draw angry rebukes.


If you listen to Canadian fan boys the myth goes like this - this experimental aircraft was light years ahead of anything else in the world and decades ahead of it's time. It was faster, more maneuverable and could haul heavier ordnance loads and probly even had air conditioning, tilt steering and beverage holders. But - because of some CONSERVATIVE political flubdubbery the program got cancelled and the prototypes of The Best Plane In The World - got scrapped. Apparently the thing only flew a few times and there's no real, actual proof of what this thing could do - but that doesn't deter the fan boys to this day. The CBC even did a crockumentary  ahem, *docu-drama* on it starring Dan Akroyd if I remember correctly. It was riddled with fictional 'composite characters' and was the usual, predictable liberal hit piece on Chief Dief - who was portrayed as an irritable and senile old man who had no business being in the Prime Minister's office.

I was so intrigued by the topic that I researched it for myself - and started uncovering snippets and facts that make more sense. As always, context is key. Consider the flap currently going on about the F35 - and how much money was spent getting it into production, and how much more money will need to be spent to make it a functional tip of the spear in both our militaries - it boggles the mind of both liberals AND conservatives. At the time of the Arrow, Canada had a standing inventory of all the old birds like the Starfighters and such. Engines could be swapped in 8 hours. Parts were available. Crews knew these birds inside and out - and the Arrow just did not make tactical or financial sense at the time. Getting the Arrow into production would make the finances of today's F35's look tame. Our enemies in the third world had a handful of MiG17's and old prop jobs. Another nail in the coffin of the Arrow was that Canada's spoiled baby boomers were greasy hippies and pacifist children at the time, and they hated the military with the heat of 1000 suns. Canada's formerly respectable military was in their sights, and any excuse to cut their funding and free up money for pork and welfare was eagerly embraced. Even if the fan boys were right about this bird being decades ahead of it's time - there was no way this bird would ever Stand On Guard For Thee. It may have been a great plane - but it was conceived in a time with lots of other great planes and nobody wanted to pay for them, either!

Today it's even worse. Smart munitions have almost made manned aircraft obsolete. Drones and missiles can blast fighter planes to smithereens half a world away right in their hangars. It's hard to make a case for the fighter plane at all.

The times, they are a-changin' but unfortunately some things stay the same. I see a day when all these grand war birds collect dust in museums for the kids to boggle and shake their heads at - and I am not sure whether that will be a good thing or not.

The Filthie Prepper


I follow the prep and subsistence bloggers as they find ways to prepare for hard times and stretch a buck till it screams. One of the keys to survival in tough times is to make the bad guys think twice about mugging you for your food supplies and there's a number of ways you can do that. Sure, ya can gun up as I did... but how about this...?




I was gonna invite Jack, Pete and Quartermain over for supper
tonight but they all seem to be busy.


Moochers and muggers alike will think twice about trying to raid your stash of supplies if they're confronted by foods like these. About the only people you'd have to worry about are the fwenchmen - but they're all pussies and can be dispensed with by a good bitch-slapping.

Keep prepping everyone!

Thursday, 7 September 2017

In Coopville, YOU May Be The Road Kill




Those new mercenaries King Charlie hired
are not to be trifled with.
:)

New Addition To The Arsenal






Well my armourer at Tons Of Anarchy called me up and told me my new AR15 upper was ready for a test spin. Used to be that guys went into exhaustive, grinding detail about every single component and why it was better than anything else and dropped names like Noveske, LaRue, etc etc.

I'm not gonna do that; suffice it to say it has a 20" air gauged match pipe, a match trigger module and the rest of the components are mostly top shelf. Not sure if I like that buttstock. Ya see, I like front-heavy guns ... or at least, my body seems to like them because I shoot them better but I just hate the feel of them. NYUK NYUK NYUK - "I yam not comfortable in my own body!!! Everyone feel sorry for me!!!" HAR HAR HAR!!!! But that is the way of it: my esthetics and ergonomics are old enemies in the shooting game, if that makes any sense. This gun is very front heavy so if the pattern holds I should be able to shoot it well. The lightweight buttstock has a lock that cinches it up right tight to the buffer tube so it doesn't move - so that's good I suppose.

My shit house practice load for my gas guns in .223 is a Nosler 50 gr. Ballistic Tip sitting on 24.6 grains of IMR 3031. I buy the Noslers in bulk boxes of 1000. During the test ride off the bags at 200m yesterday, it produced a 2-1/8" group and I may have pulled one of those a bit. I have Caldwell shooting bags and I really need to get rid of those friggin things. The best shooting bags are those made at home by my wife, out of the pant legs of old jeans and filled with lead shot. I have some tweaking and load development to do, but I don't have far to go to get under 1 MOA accuracy.

After I got off the bags and the bench I set the range on fire. The 6" gong at 100m is a piece of cake off the bench, but you would be shocked at how many people can't do it offhand. I smacked that thing 4 out of 5 times offhand and pooped the bed with the one that missed. From the sitting position I did another quick 4 out of 5 and pooped the other side of the bed with one miss. When the Marines miss, they call it 'flying Maggie's drawers'. When Filthie misses his mark - he chits the bed, HAR HAR HAR! Sadly, this is what passes for humour amongst elderly washed up marksmen.

She's going back to the armourer today as I wasn't getting enough gas to cycle the gun and I suspect that will be a minor tweak too ... and I will see about getting a mount or a stud for a bipod. I am not a big fan of bipods, as they encourage slob marksmanship if they aren't used with the right mindset.


Retard School Practical Joke


JFC! Gotta be Quartermain again! Using fun and wholesome school art supplies for the Forces Of Evil? This one has his name all over it! The class is in pandemonium: WL's eyes are glued shut as are BW's nostrils - and jeez louise!!!! Pete is quaffing the last of the jug!

Just another day here at Uncle Bob's School For Wayward Boys & Retards...

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

I KNEW It!!!!





That's why I always refer to it as Queerbec!
HAR HAR HAR!

Vintage "I Think She's Taken Men"




Excellent shooting Ma'am.

I personally will not shoot the big cats. The foremost reason is that I never see them. I've come across plenty of their tracks in the snow so I know they're around... but the damn things are like ghosts. I think I saw a bobcat once but he disappeared before I could make a positive ID.

When I was a kid one of the local big wheels, Al Oeming - owned a game farm/zoo with exotic animals and he had a couple of Siberian Tigers. Back in the day stuff like that put him on the map. They were well fed and cared for and even had a pool to play in. Unlike regular cats, Al's Siberians loved water and one of their favourite games was to try and drown him as he struggled and gargled as they held him down. They always let him up but apparently he had a few close calls.

I'm going from memory here but I think he got shut down when a little girl got away from her mom, went under a cordon and put her arms through a cage and got mauled by a leopard. People have problems with that; these critters may act like furry buffoons the same way your house cat will - but they'll also kill you if they take a notion to do so. They are not domesticated and people just don't seem to grasp that. I've seen gaggles of fuggin chinamen in the national parks taking pics of bears and elk right up close and I just cringe.

It's a stupid way to get hurt.



Gabba gabba weebeejabba!
That's ethnic for "Celebrate Gun Diversity!!!"

More Wise Words To Grow By (Stolen, Without Permission From WL Emery)

Hmpffffff!

Harrrrumphhfhfhffff!!!!

It seems like world famous adventurer, author and man about town - WL Emery - seeks to one-up me on counselling the young men that rely on us as role models to emulate. Of course, the wretched novelist didn't even look twice at my scholarly advice to young men - and instead came up with his own:

Rules For My Son1. Never shake a man’s hand sitting down.
I remember my father mentioning a man who was singularly lazy, and wouldn't even go so far as to rise from his chair to shake hands. That's how I learned to stand up when meeting someone.

2. There are plenty of ways to enter a pool. The stairs ain’t one.
I'd just jump in, feet first. I'm not a good diver.

3. The man at the grill is the closest thing we have to a king.
Which gives me no clue at all as to why I was often chosen to be the grill man.

4. In a negotiation, never make the first offer.
The expanded version is: He who speaks first, loses.

5. Act like you’ve been there before. Especially in the end zone.
Something I've never been able to get the hang of.

6. Request the late check-out.
Always, always request late check-out, and make sure the sign on your door is turned to 'Do Not Disturb'; the reverse of this little sign is 'Maid Service Requested'.

7. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
Make sure the person who confided in you will never tell anyone else that you knew.  In other words, I won't tell, but do not ever tell anyone else that you told me.

8. Hold your heroes to a higher standard.
These people are heroes or heroines for a reason. Don't make exceptions, and don't let them get away with anything by saying 'I'm only human'.  Our elected officials fall into this category, as do the police, fire, and EMS personnel. 

9. Return a borrowed car with a full tank of gas.
This should be obvious to everyone, but it isn't. The first time I did this, the owner of the car acted like I'd given her the moon.  It's also a good idea to run it through the car wash, if that's possible.

10. Don’t fill up on bread.
Even if there isn't anything else to eat.

11. When shaking hands, grip firmly and look him in the eye.
Be firm, but be careful.  Never give someone a bone crushing grip, and never shake like a dish rag. Make sure your hands are dry, and be certain you look the other person dead in the eye.

12. Don’t let a wishbone grow where a backbone should be.
Meaning that morals are important. The people I admire most are my Quaker ancestors, who were a part of the Underground Railroad. They had faith like bedrock and a backbone just as straight as a Winchester barrel.  They put everything on the line to help the runaway slaves.

13. If you need music on the beach, you’re missing the point.
Being forced to endure someone's radio on the beach ruins the entire experience for everyone. Leave the music at home, or risk losing your radio to the ocean.

14. Carry two handkerchiefs. The one in your back pocket is for you. The one in your breast pocket is for her.
Make sure the one in your breast pocket is something you can easily live without - she'll ruin it, but she'll thank you for your kindness and generosity.

15. You marry the girl, you marry her whole family.
Truer words were never spoken, and if you want to know what your wife will look like in 30 years, take a hard look at her mother. Meet the future in-laws over a meal, and go out drinking with the men. Make sure you can get along with all of them, because if you can't, you're looking at an iceberg dead ahead.

16. Be like a duck. Remain calm on the surface and paddle like crazy underneath.
Don't let the other folks know what you're thinking.

17. Experience the serenity of traveling alone.
I've done a lot of this, and by a lot I mean a significant portion of my life. Learn to get out and explore, meet new people, try new things. Live a little.  You'd be surprised at the number of people who have never learned to be comfortable inside their own skin.

18. Never be afraid to ask out the best looking girl in the room.
Just make sure she isn't in a relationship already.

19. Never turn down a breath mint.
Should be obvious.

20. In a game of HORSE, sometimes a simple free throw will get ’em.
Free throws are never simple.

21. A sport coat is worth 1000 words.
So choose your words carefully.

22. Try writing your own eulogy. Never stop revising.
I've never done this and have no urge to try. I suppose my inscription might read, 'While alive he surely lived'.

23. Thank a veteran. And then make it up to him.
I've always made it a point to thank men in uniform for their service.

24. If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.
This is another thing I've never done, nor do I intend to. I've enough headaches now, why ask for another?

25. Eat lunch with the new kid.
I ate lunch with the new kid, and it turned out that the new kid was an exceedingly dull introvert who was trying to find a pastime, but who was too young to take up drinking and not smart enough to play chess.  Slapjack was a challenging game for him.

26. After writing an angry email, read it carefully. Then delete it.
I've done this several times, mainly because it would serve no useful purpose for the recipient to read the missive.

27. Ask your mom to play. She won’t let you win.
We did.  Mom and I invited the Becker family over for dinner, then played a game of Pente afterwards. Mom won twice, out of three games. We all had a great time.

28. See it on the big screen.
Depending on what it is. Star Wars, for certain sure. Annabelle:Creation (2017), not so much.

29. Give credit. Take the blame.
Always give credit where credit is due.  Always include the others who helped.  That said, never tolerate someone who takes credit for your work - such people exist.  As for taking the blame, if you broke it, you make sure it's put right, and don't hesitate to tell the whole story.

30. Write down your dreams.
Go back and read them ten years later, and ask yourself what you mihgt have been thinking about at the time.


To which I will add:
31. Treat everyone you meet with consideration and respect. That means everyone, from the beggar outside on the street to the CEO in the palatial office, from the minister at the pulpit every Sunday to the frantic co-worker who has just made your life more difficult.

32. At least half of communication is listening, yet I observe very little of this in any given meeting. People interrupt, which is rude and inconsiderate.  People raise their voices so that they may be heard above everyone else - who are all talking at the same time.  Instead of talking, listen.

33. Most people think about themselves 90% of the time and other people 10% of the time. Reverse this.  Watch what happens.

34. Learn to say 'Thank you' and 'You're welcome'.  Thank people who help you, such as the waitress when you're being served.  When someone thanks you for any reason at all, say 'You're welcome'; refrain from saying 'No problem' or 'Not a problem'. The implications are different.

35. Be gracious when you win.


Being the contrarian dipchit that I am, I am going to take some exceptions and make some clarifications as I see fit - at least in my world. Your mileage may vary... but all in all, this is a stellar piece of work.


EXCEPTIONS AND CLARIFICATIONS

4. Negotiations are all about talking and forging partnerships for mutual advantage. I've been peripherally involved in those, and resolving customer disputes and claims. Like my mentor, Lesiure Suit Larry - there are times while I'll flap my gums at 100 MPH as I feel a client out and try to get a sense of his position. There are no rules in negotiation; both parties will walk away if there is no benefit to them. My best, most profitable customers are those that I can afford to take a hit for, and vice versa. As a team, with certain clients - we've scored projects and jobs that left the big boys scratching their heads and wondering how some little pissants managed to steal their lunch, HAR HAR HAR! I've run into cut-throat negotiators and if possible I will walk away from them. I am here to do business and have fun while doing it - having to watch my back around some shit heel cut-throat usually ends up with two guys with cut throats. Go in with a good attitude, be upbeat and positive ... and see what happens. Sometimes ya just can't make a deal work and you walk away with no hard feelings. Howie Meeker remains correct: Keep your eye on the man, not on the puck.

5. Act like you’ve been there before. Behaviour like can smack of and lead to arrogance. Folks like that dare the fates and the gods at their peril. Accept a win, and try to draw as many friends and adversaries into it to share it with you. See what happens and proceed as required. Many will reciprocate when they win. Be yourself.

15. You marry the girl, you marry her whole family. No. Hell no. Chitf***no. Families aren't icebergs - they're minefields. Or they can be. For 32 years my in laws punished me for daring to get their precious daughter knocked up and for marrying her. They undermined me as a father, and it's debatable whether they had a hand in destroying my daughter. In their senior years my in-laws started chipping away at my marriage. I love my wife with all my heart, but I will not trade my soul for a marriage to people like that.
You shouldn't either. Establish boundaries between yourselves and the in-laws because good fences make for good neighbours. If they won't respect that nice white picket fence - throw up a wall and keep them out. Your family must respect your gal too. If they don't, get in their faces and back them up. YOU are the head of your family.

That's my two bits, from my perspective on life from up here in the peanut gallery.  Otherwise, have yourselves a great Hump Day and be good to your sons.

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

Tabacca Road




I quit smoking on April Fool's Day, 2009. Last weekend while sprawled in front of the camp fire I smoked about 4 of Flapz' cigars and sipped whisky. And Lord - were they wonderful. I inhaled those stogies and blew out smoke and watched the northern lights dance across the sky.

And it was the DUMBEST thing I've done in quite awhile!

This is how the demon named Tobacco works. Ya quit - which involves major suckage and no bones about it - and then, years later - ya just have one.

Just one.

And ya think, "No problem! I can handle this! Maybe I'll have another one..." and BOOM - you're hooked on the weed again! Like an idiot! I'm okay, thank God - I will smoke again, maybe next year, maybe not... but NO WAY am I going near tobacco again for quite awhile.

It's my conviction that to enjoy a cigar you have to inhale it. You light it from a stick in the camp fire and ya need the right scotch or bourbon to go with it.

And ya do all that, knowing full well that you are nothing more than a hairless, foolish monkey playing with fire. If ya smoke - quit! If you don't - don't start!

A Meme Thingy - I'll Go First





The Punisher

Leave yours in the comments if you're so inclined!

Pre-Season Scouting


Labour Day weekend is a good time to finish off the summer and start thinking about the important stuff in fall - like deer season. I gave up hunting a few years back because my back decided to stop working and I became close friends with chronic pain. But the chiroquack started chipping away at the problem, I started eating right(er) and excersizing a bit more - but I have a long, long way to go. This weekend was a write-off, health and welfare-wise; I gobbled too much good camp food and drank too much too.


Our hosts this year are gazillionaires that own a couple sections of prime hunting land. They gave us permission to set up camp in the back 40 where we could drink, stink - and poke around to see where the animals are moving.


Mort and Macey are old hands at camping now. They ate and probably drank too much too. They ate bacon, beans, and a pile of other stuff they shouldn't have, and they did the dishes as well. When night fell the coyotes started singing and my damned dawgs started to as well! Then the drunks started yowling too and we didn't hear any coyotes after that.


It's hard to see 'em in these crappy cell phone pics, but the northern lights put on a show for us and danced across the sky. I had always thought that was a winter thing, but apparently not. M used up most of our firewood that night - she had decided the night called for lots of wood, lots of booze and lots of good cheer - and nobody could argue with that.

The next day the land owners showed up and I loved them the minute I met them. They are upper class types that own all the land we plan to hunt and camp on, plus properties down in the US and elsewhere. They don't fit the stereotype of the snooty upper class - he was a talkative gent who loved the idea of us camping and hunting on his land, and she was a happy, regal mature woman that loved her daughter and son in law and was happy to chat with the wife too.


That's a $70,000.00 Lexus (2017) in the background.
Never been scouting for game in one of those before.

The old boy took us round to see the sights and get the lay of the land. He had bought this patch back in the 70's where as before, it was all homesteader land. We saw the home of the people that sold him the land - a slowly collapsing, sad old relic from days long gone.


This cabin is slowly being reclaimed by the forest. The story is that 10 years ago some other hunters were out on this patch - an 82 year old and his son in law in his 60's. The old fella was parked at this cabin while the son in law went around to drive some deer out for him - and the old geezer shot him in the leg and he bled out in minutes and died. We were sternly told that we would be in deep chit if we pulled a similar stunt ourselves. I'm not worried, I learned ya don't shoot until you're absolutely sure of what you're shooting at.


When we got back to camp the ladies had a cut throat game of Ladder Ball going and M's mom cleaned house on the rest of us! That game is tougher than it looks - at least for me. I won't play it anymore because I am real good at profanity now and don't need any more practice.



I guess the neighbouring land owners saw all this mayhem and decided to check us out, and the old neighbours just seemed to move into our camp and take over. I was delighted to just sit back, sip my beer and listen to them BS about the old homestead days and people long gone. I was over at Gorges Grouse's blog this morning and he said something that just seemed to capture the weekend for me: "Family is where you find it these days." Welp, for one night - the first in a long, long, LONG time - I had a family. The seniors provided the entertainment for free, the wives cooked over the fire and kept our glasses full, and all was well with the world. I hope to see them again, it reminded me of better days and better times with my own family.

The next morning I got up to take the hoople heads on patrol and we discovered cows. The dogs barked them up and then we moved on and found a little chapel hidden down the road.



It's a very rough, rustic building that is still hanging in there... but it is going to need work soon. It has a sad little graveyard - I suspect that most of the people that built this church are probably buried there. It was an odd yard - I found a stone with what appeared to be rhunes. I have seen lettering like that associated with Vikings but what do I know of such things?

All in all I had a fun but unproductive weekend. I never did get round to scouting the lie of the land other than noticing a few minor game trails. I have a lot of prep to do before hunting season so I guess I had better get cracking. Good lord I'm old - 10 years ago I woulda had the scopes zeroed, the hunting rounds made (chit I still have to do that), and been champing at the bit for opening day!

Old farts is gonna fart about I suppose.

Have a great Tuesday.