Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Sign Of The Times

Staying connected and still missing out...

So far I have avoided cell phone addiction. A lot of my younger friends haven't though. You'll be talking to them and their faces go blank, they'll haul out their cells, and keep yammering with ya as they type with their thumbs at 700 MPH. They do it at work, at home, everywhere - even in the most beautiful settings.

Try That Shirt On Again Ten Years From Now

I see cats and lonliness in your future, Miss.

Is that gal pretty enough to wear a shirt like that? I dunno, I'm just asking. I know it's a joke but I am seeing red flags and alarms all over that gal.

The Art Of... Of... Hmmmm

I was gonna say the 'Art Of Speed' but I don't think that puppy is as fast as she looks for some reason.

Tie rods? Disc brakes? This beauty was surely ahead of her time.

Monday, 20 November 2017

Filthie's Fine Figurines

I call this one 'Chicken Mom'.

When We Were Kings

Uncle Bob Lives

Speaking of krauts...


I've been getting tetchy of late. It's the time of year; I loathe the overcast skies, the short days, the desolation and the cabin fever that grips my soul with a firmer grip every year I get older. There's crap at work, crap in the family and my patience for people and their bullchit is pretty much non-existent right now. Spiritually, emotionally - I'm about half past dead. What is to be done about it?

Why - go out and see people, of course! Or at least, that is my wife's thought. Were it up to me I would close the curtains, tuck my .45 under the pillow and go into hibernation until the spring comes. But we had been invited to dinner by E, a little old lady the wife befriended at church. Gah - I had visions of the typical old women of my family - an excruciating night of them talking about their house plants, or themselves, or their health, or what they saw on day-time TV, or... oh God, kill me now!

But E was not like that at all. Although she's in her 70's she's sharp as a tack. We got invited in and E was making potato pancakes for supper. She and my wife chattered like birds - and it was INTELLIGENT chatter! I'm serious. JFC - the oldest women in my family are at least 10 years younger than E, but by the way they conduct themselves, ya'd think they were in their early teens.

E was born, near as I can tell, in what is now Romania. Before WW2 there were all kinds of borders and countries re-defined as Hitler ramped up and rebuilt the Axis powers. In those days, troopers routinely tramped up the road, booted the peasants off their lands to reassign them elsewhere - and every second Euro of the time was a refugee of some sort. (I believe the jargon of the day referred to them as Displaced Persons, or DP's.) During her childhood they were run off at least two properties, and she lost her father when he was conscripted to fight in WW2 for Germany.

I snuck a pic of E's kitchen. Lookit the high tech push button
stove control panel. :)
She is the original owner of this house, built about a mile 
away from my mom and dad's first house.

As the war ran it's historical course E and her family were tossed about on the tides of history in a way that guys like me only read about. The eastern front had collapsed, and the Russians came roaring out of Russia, hell bent on revenge for the beating they'd taken in their own lands. E's family found themselves on the run again, and desperately fled west, barely ahead of them. Eventually their road ended - stuck in some east German city. Somehow her mom had gotten them all to the train station together - only to be refused passage. The last trains were pulling out, there was no room for them, and this was the end of the line. Mom and her young family were now at the mercy of the fates and things didn't look good for them at all. 

"You want to tell me there's no God?" E challenged us in heavily accented English, "I can tell you that there certainly is." E's hands are knarled and crooked from arthritis and hard work and they shook like leaves in the wind as she poured coffee. Whadda they call that? Palsey? I dunno - I see all kinds of old folks with it but E paid it no mind - she got most of the coffee into my cup and topped up the wife and continued with her tale.

E's mom was at the end of her rope. She was stuck in a city that was about to be either over run by murderous Russians, or pounded into rubble by Allied carpet bombing. She gathered her children together and wept. All was lost.

A soldier ambled up and said, "Momma - why are you crying?" and E's Mom explained her woe. The trains were full. There was no room. She and her children were finished. She didn't know what to do.

The soldier would have none of it. He dragged the lady and her kids onto the train, bellowing orders for everyone to scrunch up and make room - or else! Thanks to that soldier, E and her family made it west - away from the Russians. That afternoon, after the train left, Allied bombers incinerated that small east German city with white phosphorous bombs. Firing an entire city with phosphorous is as evil a thing as nuking it; maybe worse. First you get the blaze going in the city center, good and HOT. As the heat builds, the firestorm sets up it's own weather system: hot air rises and draws in cooler air from the surroundings in a demented, hellish forced draft blast furnace that can reach temps so hot - steel will burn. The town was literally reduced to cinders and the Russians had to hold off and let it cool before they occupied it. The melted asphalt roads were a gooey mess.

Life improved for E and her family after the war. Somehow their father found them by asking after them wherever he went. He asked about family, he asked about friends and chased wild geese hither and yon as he searched for his kin. Eventually they reunited and they emigrated to Canada in dribs and drabs. With no education or skills, E's mom did crappy, low paying scut work to get by and set up a future for her kids. When E married her husband, he started up a small machine shop and they bought the house we were visiting in - in 1967. As you can see from the pics - it was an opulent palace that E's mom would have heartily approved of.

After supper the girls had the plates and table cleaned off faster
than it takes ya to think about it.

"So what about you two?" E asked. What is your life story? HAR HAR HAR! All the wife and I could do was look at each other and gawp and stutter. We've never been cold, we've never been hungry, and we certainly never had to run for our lives. "We met in high school, got married...and here we are," I stammered. "We're...we're boring," I chuckled. E seemed to approve of us and our marriage that has held up through some seriously odd times.

Before I knew it, it was 9:00 and I had to get home to let the dawgs out to pee. When I got home I kicked them out and opened a beer and shook my head. I've been so caught up in my own troubles of late, that I've lost perspective at a time when I need it more than ever before. I figured I would need at least a beating at the hands of Quartermain or Pete to get my head on straight - but all it took was sitting back and listening to a couple wise women chat.

It's odd how events go. The women in my family, and those in the news and in the entertainment industry have made a chauvinist of me. I regard the modern empowered woman with contempt and disgust that defies even my best efforts at chivalry. But right here, right under my nose, in the midst of a raging gender and culture war, a tanking economy and uncertain times ... I find these two gems. And I'm married to one of 'em. There are times I think I should sue Tom Hanks and Forrest Gump for character infringement. Sometimes I don't get what I want - but I always seem to get what I need, whether it's a boot up the ass from one of my retarded peers, or a ring side seat at a living history lecture with truly powerful, intelligent women.

Along with all that food for thought, we 
discussed food to eat!
I once dumped a jar of kraut out at hunting camp and
even the magpies and whisky jacks wouldn't touch it.
Apparently that wasn't 'real' sauerkraut - the good stuff
tastes like this stuff in the pic.
E was right - if you make kraut right - it's mighty fine stuff.

Hope your weekend was good - and be sure to have a good Tuesday tomorrow.

Sunday, 19 November 2017

Cats Get Christmas

They totally understand it. Mine would open gifts early, knock the ornaments off or walk around the house with strands of tinsel hanging out of their arses. That is our public service announcement for the day - if you have cats - don't put tinsel on the tree! Cats think that if it's shiny, and can be eaten - then it SHOULD be eaten. I am at a loss to explain why Darwin did not dispense with them eons ago.

It HAS To Be Sexism

Last time I had a "garment failure" I got thirty days in the can!
Mind you some a the boys developed
PTSD and psychological problems as a result, HAR HAR HAR!!!
I think lewdness laws are applied
harder on old farts too - MORE discrimination...!

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Breakfast At Jack's...

Hmpfffff! I got an invite for Sunday Brunch at Mad Jack's place and everything was going swimmingly: all the li'l retards were behaving themselves and getting most of their food into their mouths and we had one minor food fight. Once we sorted that out and got back to our meal, Jack started choking and gagging and the next thing ya know - the old bastid dies right there at the breakfast table! How bloody rude is that?!?!

Ya think somebody poisoned him? One of my vicious tards, maybe? This is a job for Captain Sweatpants - The Crime Fighting Velcro Shoe Detective!

At first glance, nothing suspicious.
Can you spot the clue?
The murderer slipped.

Do I have to do everything for ya??? Where is Jack's whisky? A Texan? Breakfast without Bourbon or Whisky? Was it poisoned and then removed from the crime scene during the confusion? Or is some of the food tainted as well?

The game is afoot! I call dibs on the steak and the tater!

YOU have a good Sunday - take the old lady out for brunch! That's an order! :)

You Should Be Proud!

That's prudence and critical thinking worthy of a grumpy old man!
Good job, kiddo!

This child shows more sense than most women in their 30's these days, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I always wanted to do that at the bank because I've seen so many Hollywood secret agents and gangsters do it: they walk into the bank and open up a safety deposit box - and start scooping out bundles of $100.00 bills in rubber bands and then they'll pull out a Beretta .32 or a Walther, rack it and put in in a vest pocket... and then who knows what kind of mischief they get into after that!

Letting It Go

I've been through the wringer with this past week. It wasn't that bad, really - it's just that I've been carrying a shit-ton (tonne) of baggage with me for a long, long time. Thanks to new-age politics and ... ahem..."changing moral climates" (PBBFBFBFFFFFFFTTTT!!!!) - my family burned down years back. I won't re-hash it; those scars have healed over enough for me to get by for the most part, but earlier in the week... I had my moment out on the morning Dawg Patrol. I'm probably on the verge of losing my job, my family's in shambles and I may or may not be looking at some tough times... but honesty demands that I acknowledge that I am responsible for all of it - and I've been getting squished under a load I was never fit to carry. I couldn't do it anymore. I am not an overly religious man and can count the number of times I've fired off a serious prayer on one hand... but I knelt down in the snow on Dawg Island and dumped the whole kit and caboodle on my Maker. I can't do it anymore.

I have to forgive some people who've hurt me, and apologize for hurting them in return. I fired off an email at my estranged daughter and did precisely that. I dunno if she will even get that email, if I'll ever see her again or what will come of it. All I know is that I have to forgive her before I can forgive myself. It was a big load off and a big deal for me. It's taken me 8 years to get here. Who woulda thunk that getting rid of a load like that would be so hard? In an age where tolerance and sin are in bed together I don't know how to handle the predicament I'm in.

In any event I was over at Turdie Beach's at The Fourty Five and pooping in the comments and surfing around and came across the blog of one of his readers. (Careful boys, there's a little too much estrogen going on over there if ya catch my drift, HAR HAR HAR!) But the womenfolk had an interesting topic up - just what the hell IS forgiveness anyways? When ya do it, are you surrendering? Does it mean you have to open yourself up for more shit and abuse? And accept it? 'Forgiving someone' means different things to different folks by the look of it.

When I forgive - to me it means 'cease fire'. No shots thrown, no lumps received - let us try to get along as best we can. Our family feud got really, really nasty really fast. I know the people involved in that did some awful mean things and if they did 'em once - they're certainly capable of doing it again. They know I am too. I will forgive - but I will never forget. Is that really forgiveness?

I suppose I'll have to throw that one at my Maker too.

Perhaps it's a good idea to lighten up a bit. It's a thoughtful, introspective day here at Firebase Filthie, but I still have time to work on weapons of unimaginable destructive power!

See the little one in front? I just finished it! Latest generation flight controller
with the F4 coprocessor. I have
very fat fingers and getting around in the guts of that thing
with a soldering iron is an exercise 
in frustration. That little bugger will easily do
60 MPH. Boys are gonna have to be REAL quick on their 
12 bores, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I don' want to see any rude jokes in the comments about my Crapcopters either. Just lookit:

No animals were hurt in the making of this film - only
a few expendable retards. There's more where they came from.

HAR HAR HAR! Have a good Saturday!

Friday, 17 November 2017

Uncle Bob's Filthharmonic Pops: The String Section

Sometimes when me and my students go on a bender, we like to mix premium scotch with Toilet Duck. The results can be spectacular or disastrous. The other day I woke up in a snow drift wondering where my special needs kids had gone - but they were safe and sound. The nice fellas in the white coats even sent me a videeyah. Who woulda thunk Quartermain, Pete and Jack would have such raw talent?

Don't say nothin' - but I can see how those boys give themselves the creeps too.

Davie 504 has probably been mixing my scotch with anti-freeze. I'm glad my eyes don't look like that; when I come off a bender they look like pi**holes in the snow.

Sometimes Davie gives US the creeps too!

Our trio of Special Musicians ends with this idiot savant child prodigy. 

Clap clap clap clap....

Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen, for choosing to share your evening with us. Hope ya have a good weekend lined up.

Whadda Week

Well the national sales manager came out from Queerbec to shit on us this week and I was ready for him. The second we were alone and he started blaming me for everything wrong with the company, the economy and the world - I told him bluntly to get a pink slip for me and a lawyer for himself because I thought he was a dishonest abusive prick and I was sick of his shit.

Then the shouting started.

And I shouted right back at him. FFS - half our staff defected a year ago to go into business directly against us - and here he was treating their replacements AND the employees that stayed loyal to him... like shit. So go ahead, chief - lay me off. I had a few problems with HIS incompetence, stupidity and misconduct, to be honest - and if this was going to be a dog fight we would finish it in court, in front of our employers where he couldn't abuse his authority and cheat.

After I finished with him I dropped him back at the office and the boys said his attitude changed and he started acting civilized. I think sometimes people get wrapped up in themselves and don't really listen to what they're saying and how people around them receive it. He practically fell over himself to be polite with us after that. There comes a point where negative reinforcement just doesn't work anymore.

Who knows. I may get a pink slip for my troubles yet - but he seemed sincere. They are even jumping on getting my new salesman a new truck because his is half in the bag.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Time For A Rude Joke...

Must be that racist booger, BW Bandy.
I am no racist, I hate everyone equally.

Monday, 13 November 2017

My A-Hole Sales Manager

Told us to meet him first thing on Monday morn. So in we went, on a stat holiday Monday - to meet with the jerk. We waited around for two hours and he never showed up. We left and went back home in disgust at 10:00.

Sure, I coulda phoned him or texted him but when we talk he accuses me of incompetence and misconduct without any proof, and refuses to listen when I try to explain to him why he's wrong, or why we do things the way we do, or why our customers do their thing the way they do. If I insist, he starts shouting and pounding tables. He's done the same with our new sales guy and our new manager and they are sick of his shit too.

This is why you get unions. I personally hate unions with the heat of a thousand suns but I can see why they set up and why they are so militant.

I think we're going to have to have a discussion with the VP that essentially goes along the lines of "Do you expect us to take this clown seriously? If so - could ya lay us off so we can at least qualify for EI while we look for a real job? Because we would sure hate to have to lawyer up and discuss the company's problems with misconduct and incompetence..."

It's not a discussion I am looking forward to.

Sunday, 12 November 2017

It's A Wonder They Got Any Films Made At All...

...considering all the rapin' and pillaging that seems to be going on in Hollywood these days.

Just sayin'...

But yannow - who needs Hollyweird with it's homos, pedos, group circle jerks and dimwittery? Tomorrows celebs are gonna be way better people and they can be seen for free right here at Filthie's Speakeasy or over on YouTube if ya can't stand the smell here!

Davie and his gal have a NON-perverted threesome
with a bass guitar...

In other news BW is whining that one of the other li'l tards ripped off his prize bass guitar. Don't anyone tell him where it is - I think it is in better hands.

Have a great Sunday.

Saturday, 11 November 2017

The Out House Sniper: It's About Compromises

Precision rifles are all the rage right now amongst the peasantry of Gun Geek Forest. I personally detest the precision rifle, or pretty much any gun built for one purpose, and one purpose only. I am a Rifleman: I need to be able to sling up and take that quick shot on the coyote at Sunnybrook Farm as well as defend my turf on the firing line from snipers like Mad Jack, Pete F and the boys. Precision rifles are deadly accurate, big, heavy... and expensive. Precision and quality are mutually exclusive, and ya get what ya pay for. A very accurate hunting or truck gun can be had for a good deal less.

Awhile back I bought a Remmy SPS Tactical in .308 when I caved into the peer pressure coming from the bad kids. These guns are shoddily made, and are a shit stain on the American industrial working man. That Big Green would let shite like these leave their factory is a testament as to how far American icons have fallen. When I was a kid, Big Green made rifles for men like me right out of the box - and they still do, kinda-sorta... and you pay through the nose for them. PBFBFBFBFFFFFT!

The savvy rifleman knows and understands this. My remmy 'tactical rifle cost $750.00. You buy them, pull off the barrel and stock and trigger - and keep pretty much only the action and rebuild the gun from the ground up. Out of the box, with a stock heavy contour barrel I could barely get under one MOA. Most went 1.5" at 100. I shouldn't bitch; for an Econo-Rifle I suppose that's not bad. I wanted better.

Stock Remmy/Hogue overmolded stock, Swarovski 3x9, Shilen air gauged
heavy contour stainless match barrel - and Bob's your uncle - instant 
precision rifle!  0.5 MOA all day on the range yesterday in high winds
and -16C.
Total investment: around $1500.00. Can't remember
what Rotten Rod charged me for the re-barrel job.

My idea for this was to build a light sniper/precision gun... but now I dunno how far I want to go with that. She's doing 0.5 MOA as she sits in the cleaning cradle right now. Yeah, I could turn case necks, weigh cases, manually trickle the charges, etc etc etc ad nauseum... but that stuff gets old really fast. I am not anal retentive enough to enjoy that.

But, if I want to play the long-range game I pretty much HAVE to do all that, and go whole hog with the rest of the tweaks and farkles on the gun itself.

If you are gonna shoot at long range, premium scopes, pillar bedded barrels and actions, 
adjustable triggers and all that jazz become critical.
This is the precision rifle and most good ones can come in around
0.3 MOA. How much accuracy do ya need, anyway?

You don't want to hunt with a rifle like that one above. She's heavier than WL Emery's 4th ex-wife, she'd be overkill in the bush where the deer hide out, and even my rifle, as it sits, is getting a little chubby for work like that - but she'll do it in a pinch.

Another money pit beckons I suppose. I think I'm gonna pass. I have enough gun to deal with the deer and bipedal featherless turkeys running around at my rod n' gun club, thank you very much!

I have to throw out a product endorsement here too. I do this as a gun club stubfart - these guys don't know I exist, and they don't give me any money for saying what follows. I say what I say as a happy customer:

That is the magnetospeed chronographs that tells me how fast
my bullets are going.

Unlike old school chronographs these things strap on to your barrel and hang out front like a bayonet. There's no more of this BS about shooting a batch for groups and then shooting a batch over the chronograph. You do both at the same time and there no futzing with the damned screens, rods and other junk! Using it, I was able to confirm that my rifle starts to sing at 2700 FPS with 168gr bullets! Trust me, if you are a reloader and you take that seriously, and you seriously want to get into precision shooting - you need one of these.  I suppose I shouldn't be premature - I've only been out once with it but it was a pleasure to work with. 

The nonsense at the rifle range continues apace - have a great Saturday!

Thursday, 9 November 2017

Someone Stole My Idea...

A treat machine for old farts!!! And someone beat me to it!!!

Hmmm. I still might be able to salvage the idea: how about a couple of these?
One for pickled eggs, another for pickled koobasaw, and another one for
Brussel sprouts?

Empowered Women, Alberta Style

Gah. At least Hillary tried to do her make up and comb her

I caught the whole shebang over at Small Dead Animals. Ol' Rach is looking a little rough around the edges these days. She's Alberta's premier and like most socialists, she is a career snivel servant. She is a former public school teacher as are most of her cronies. It's scary to think that people like this are allowed to teach children. The late Uncle Bob used to say that "public schools should be burned to the ground, with the teachers trapped inside - and afterward, the earth upon which they stood should be salted..." Rach is powerful evidence of the correctness of Bob's position.

Minus all the drama I see two issues here: first, the eeeeeevil Christians want the freedom to teach their own kids about stuff like same-sex marriage, homosexuality and probably regular healthy sexuality too. Marxists obviously don't want people thinking for themselves on subjects like these, as most of them are degenerates and perverts themselves and hate the church with the heat of 1000 suns.

Also a big part of it - but carefully not said - is the fact that homeschoolers and private schools are producing students that can wipe the academic mat with publicly schooled kids. Most parents would be horrified at how dumbed down our public school curriculums have become. As a man that tutored his own daughter I can tell you that if your kid is failing at school - the problem probably isn't the child - it's either you, the teacher, or both. They won't tell you that, of course. It's easier to blame a child for his failures than it is for a parent to admit his - and no way will a union slob take responsibility or go the extra mile to solve a problem. Homeschoolers and private schools make Rach and her gals look bad - and we can't have that!!!! The fact is our teacher's unions are out of control and they have a choke-hold on our provincial gubbimint. They are going to do to us what we've done to our kids - and it'll serve us right in a lot of cases.

I will let Uncle Bob speak for me on matters pertaining to public schools, their teachers and their unions. When it comes to matters of morality and ethics - there is no way on earth I would let any snivel servant have the last word on teaching them to my kids. As a father of a militant lesbian social justice warrior and an adult cry-bully - I can tell you honestly that the Christians have the right of this. My opposition to the left's sexual degeneracy is rooted in common sense, health and wellness. These trannies and queers are not nice people, and they aren't healthy or happy. Most are miserable and unhappy - and they want to spread it to others as much as possible. I have no time for them anymore.

But - now that I'm an old fart... none of this is my problem. It's pretty clear that I will be looking after myself when I am 75 because our kids probably won't be able to look after themselves, never mind their geriatric parents. HAR HAR HAR! My retirement will probably be a quart of whisky, a fine cigar and a Colt .45! HAR HAR HAR!!! (I am leaving all my worldly assets to Quartermain so you guys can have a party when I'm gone (and please don't let Jack or Pete defile my corpse(and I peed in one of the bottles in my liquor cabinet - you guess which one, HAR HAR HAR!!!)))

While our leaders have all gone effin nuts - it doesn't mean we have to. Keep yer stick on the ice and have a good Thursday.

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Shut Up, Racist, They Explained

Filthie's Garage

My crapcopters are held together by these things and they're funny animals.
I've seen them hold in crashes that shake the ground from 20m away...
and I've seen others snap with a dirty look.
Zip ties are a lot like people in that regard.


It's a Great Blue Haired Land Whale, Don.
If I were Trump, I would give Twitter the finger and go on Gab. It would
force the leftwing howler monkeys in the media to follow Trump
in a medium that actively hates them and social justice warriors.
They would have kiniptions and it would serve them right!

The Hawaiian Libertarian has an interesting one up about how people live in altered states of reality. The people that hired that blue haired fatty, above - live in an unreality bubble where such people can be considered rational and competent. I can tell just by looking at her that she has more than a few screws loose. After the last 20 years my take on affirmative action is that the only thing it has accomplished is to put inferior people in positions they can't handle - thus justifying the very stereotypes the perps were hoping to dispense with.

Former President Obutthole and the First Sasqwatch?
Come to terms with their racism and bigotry?
It can't POSSIBLY be a photoshop!

IBefore he was elected, I read one of Obama's books...'The Audacity Of Hope', if I remember correctly.. I had to - because although I can take black people of merit in stride, one at a time - as a group I hate blacks. I'm just being honest here - I don't like their victim politics, I don't respect the way they refuse to take responsibility for themselves, and if some idiot can't tell the difference between talking in generalities or talking about individuals - screw them. Obama's book was ALL about race and that's it. If a white guy wrote dreck like that, he'd be laughed at. But I had to read Obama's books to make sure my own biases weren't preventing me from sizing the man up fairly. I got halfway through his book before I threw it in the garbage. I had hoped I was wrong about him, but sadly I had him right down to a tee. In his bubble, EVERYTHING is race. You had your fun with affirmative action in the Whitehouse, America - now would be a good time to wake the hell up.

I refuse as much as possible to live in bubbles if I can. I'll eat a Big Mac knowing full well that Rotten Ronnie is trying to kill me with it for fun and profit. I have no illusions about it. I can drive and talk on a cell phone and do all the time. People that rail against smartphones have a point but it only goes so far - those damned things have so much functionality now that guys like me don't have to carry around briefcases anymore. Between my cell and computer I can effectively manage a client base of over 3500 customers. No day timers, no business card indexes, no note books. 

I signed my mortgage knowing full well I was signing up for serfdom for at least 5 to 10 years. We bought a house we could afford, knowing that we would want to retire some day and that our home would not be part of our retirement savings. That $120K mortgage kept me awake at nights too - and most people today would laugh in my face at my paltry debt. Today, though my bills are largely paid. I am not rich, but I am free.

I try to see my world around me and not only that - extrapolate: where is it headed? I do not see The End Of The World As We Know It - is see shit hitting the fan. It may knock the fan over, and everyone near the fan may get sprayed with shit - but it ain't the end of the world. Ya get out the mop and pail, ya clean up the mess - and try and set the fan someplace safe and chase the dung throwing monkeys outside. Most of us will survive - I am, and remain an optimist. 

All's well that ends well!
Have a good Humday!

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

Humpday Day Dreams


When We Were Kings

What is that? I don't think it's a roughed grouse. I know it isn't a Gorges Grouse... a Sharptail, perhaps?

I may just hunt them again next year, if I take the notion - but it would have to be done right: a 28 or .410 double barrelled shotgun (side by side, of course) - a flask for the chill and a pocket full of shells, to be used only once the quarry has taken flight! When you're my age, the method of taking the game becomes far more important than filling bag limits. 12 and 20 bores are too big to make for good sport with accomplished wingshots like us, HAR HAR HAR!

The best bird I ever ate was a grouse that Skin Bag shot with a club .22. He wrapped the bird in foil, threw some soaked corn on the cob (still in the husk) on the BBQ and we ate like kings. That was almost two decades ago! I went down that road where he shot it, a couple years back - it's no longer a beat up gravel road in the back country; the yuppies moved in and it's all fenced off ranchlets now. 

Funny how a fella remembers taking a grouse with the smae fondness and clarity that he takes a trophy buck. They're all trophies, and that is something the competitive youngsters need to keep in mind.

A Perfect Day To Pick On Swabbies: USN Swabbie Blown Down


Back To The 80's

I sometimes forget how bad the 80's actually were. The ladies did okay with their designer jeans and tailored outfits but fashion wasn't kind at all to us guys. Remember the mullet...? Gah!

Needless to say, nothing was sacred for these edgy guys, and so it was they crucified one of my childhood heroes without remorse or mercy. I couldn't help but laugh at this guy.

I am probably the only guy in the world that never liked Robin Williams. I found him to be talentless and unfunny, much like Woody Allen. I would have fired them both out of a cannon for two bits and given you change, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Robin Williams should have been shot for this.

The 80's was a time when we started fixing things that weren't broke - as we did with our childhood cartoons. There's a time and a place to leave things alone because they can't be improved upon - and any effort to try will only make them worse.

Here is Popeye The Sailor, the Hamburger Fiend, and the Irresistible Damsel starring in a flawless 1936 rendition of "Sinbad The Sailor". 

It's okay - be a kid again. Tell the boss I said it's alright! And have a great Tuesday.  :)

Monday, 6 November 2017

Marines Address Their Anger Management Issues

Well it beats the hell out of walking around in women's high heel shoes...

A Frooty Rainbow - In Black And White

Hmmm. That looks like a Russian PPsH sub-gun....a kraut helmet...and a British motorcycle...?


As An Albertan - I'll Have What the Yanks Are Eatin...

If there's one thing I loathe about Canada - it the liberals. They want to turn Canada into a mirror of Europe. Just drop by The Glob And Snail one day and you'll see the stuff they get bunged up with - "Ban Sugary Drinks!!! Lesbian Black Woman Offended: Trump Administration To Blame! Gun Control - The Answer To Canadian Crime Problems!!!" They're like lice!

Heard about the latest shooting down in the US. I will skip with the usual 'thoughts and prayers' bullshit; I've had enough of that effing crap to last a lifetime. The blood dancing faggots will be along with their teddy bears, flowers and candles shortly - I will leave the ham acting to them. Goddammitalltohell - why wasn't somebody carrying? Gun free zones are fuggin shooting galleries for failed liberal social experiments. How many times do we have to see this? That shitbag should have had two in the chest and one in the pan after his first or second shot!

A couple years back the same scenario played out: some child prodigy with a single parent with a double-barrelled last name went to a church picnic with a duffel full of guns and the idea of sending some Christians to hell. He had more guns n' ammo than Rambo. He pulled his gun, got off a shot or two - and a lady calmly shot him twice in the chest and put him down. With no blood dance in the offing the local liberal media shit shovellers gave the story passing mention and forgot all about it.

We need a death penalty. We need a judiciary that has the stones and responsibility to use it. (The fact is we could stand to hang more than a few judges too, as far as that goes).

For the love of God - you guys have the Second Amendment. USE IT.

Sunday, 5 November 2017

Tim Hortons

Good on them, I suppose.

I am a coffee addict and the damned stuff does nasty things to me. I can easily dump two black extra large cups of this swill a day - and then I can't sleep at night. I get up and read on my iPad and next thing I know - it's dawn and the dawgs want to go out.

On Friday I drove past Tim's and resisted the temptation - and slept like a log all night long. Did it again yesterday too. Gawd, it feels good to have energy during the day again!

Take Your Lumps And Die Like A Man

I don't face book or Twitter or Tweet. You never know who is going to read your facebook and how they are going to take it.

Sunday Showboat Scientists

And lookit! They're politically correct, ethnically diverse and just chock full a vibrance, dontchya know!!!

Aren't they adorable? They're scientists - and they're politically correct and ethnically diverse too! They simply vibrant!!!!

HAR HAR HAR! Ignernt honkies like me would never be allowed to debate such scholars in the real world - especially when they're baiting Christians - but over here in the outhouse of the internet - why not?

Neil makes the point for me, were I to argue this: yes, the genetic lottery is cruel beyond belief. Yes, the cosmos could wipe us out any second - pulverize our planet to dust, bathe it in lethal radiation - what have you.

But isn't that an argument that Someone might be looking out for us?

There's a reason why you're here, and why you are the person you are. There is a purpose to your life, your pain, and your memory among those you leave behind. God doesn't talk to me, I don't speak for Him  - but sometimes we have to. Tell a 5 year old with terminal cancer that there is nothing for her beyond her illness, Neil. Tell her mother that her child lost a random genetic lottery and that The Universe was only gonna kill her anyway.

I suppose I shouldn't tell anyone what to think. Your place on this earth is yours, to make the best of as you see fit. Be careful of who you take your advice from.

Saturday, 4 November 2017

Campcraft: A Trip To The Outfitters

One of the depressing things about getting older is that going to the outfitters isn't like what it use to be. I go in there and see a steal of a deal on binoculars and would love to buy them... but I don't hunt anymore. I tell myself it's because of back pain but to be honest I would just get out there and wonder what the hell I was there for. Hunting is for younger men; I've had my time in the field and it is my time to move aside and let the next generation take to the field and stream. I hope they take better care of it than my generation did... but it ain't looking that way.

I catch myself all the time too - holy crap!!! Lookit the prices on snow camo!!! Oh man - what a beautiful trout knife... sure like that Scandihoovian axe... sob.

But there's still some fun for old farts to have at the outfitters! The other day I broke down and bought it: A Canada Goose parka:

These look like cheap work parkas but they are built
for the outdoorsman. I've wanted one of these for years.

My dawgs are air cooled and they don't stop for weather. If it's -30C out they still want to go and smell the pee and poop left behind by the squirrels, chipmunks and their buddies. There is nothing better than going out to the rifle range in temps like that and having the place to yourself too. You can have all kinds of fun in weather that terrifies the pussies - if ya dress for it. My old coats had the bun and I couldn't even donate them so I pitched them and bought this one.

So I bought the coat and then went to eyeball the other stuff like the rifles, BBQ's, fart sacks and such.

Hmmmm. It's a camp kitchen table! Might have to run that one
by the wife...

Hork, spit! Now that we 'camp' in an RV the game's changed. Weight means nothing, and the name of the game seems to be to have heavier gizmos and gear, and more of it than the next guy, HAR HAR HAR!!! If the wife likes it, we'll buy it; if not we'll run with what we have. I am not one of those gear-queers that has to have the latest and greatest gimmicks and gadgets to enjoy himself.

What the hell is this!?!? I WANT it!!!!!

Oh man, is THAT ever cool: It's a super-heavy duty Hibachi!!!! I thought they stopped making them years ago! Pop used to buy them for camping but they were cheap pot metal crappy ones ya threw out at the end of the season. These are heavy cast iron... oh, be still my beating heart!

It's like an Easy Bake Oven - but for old farts!!! It's big enough that it might cook one big 'Mad Jack' sized Texas T-Bone steak - barely. But once we burnt his steak and got him off the grill, the rest of us could go to town! I would sit there, drink in hand, feeding small sticks n' twigs through that heavy hinged hatch - with maybe an industrial super sized can a pork n' beans on it! Baby!!! Off to the side I would have a couple pieces of koobasaw or some dogs burning to perfection. While I prepared the food I would of course be snacking on pickled eggs and red-lining my cholestoral levels. 


No... I didn't buy it, it was $200.00 for what is essentially a toy... But maybe one day I will. Maybe going to the outfitters is still just as much fun as it ever was. Sure made the winter seem less bleak for awhile!

Have a good Saturday!

Friday, 3 November 2017

The Toy Box Explained

A Cheerful Friday Rejection

I've never been called a 'scrub' before.
What a great way to get shot down though.
Women these days are more liable to use martial arts, improvised
weapons, lawfare and even handguns
to reject men they want nothing to do with, HAR HAR HAR!!!

I dunno about you but when I was a kid in highschool I had an innate distrust of the gorgeous girls and the good lookers. (Of course they had even less interest in me so that one worked out well all the way around). They always seemed embroiled in soap operas, and being a dumb farmkid - I never understood what was going on with all that. Their boys often fought and sometimes hurt each other badly. Even at that age I knew I didn't need any of that bullchit. Looking back on it I was either wise beyond my years, or an idiot similar to a broken clock - he's absolutely right...twice a day! HAR HAR HAR! A lot of those haughty-hot-hotties from those days are now fat old grey haired cat women living alone. It's sad.

With all due deference to our lovely young ladies - am quite good with being an old scrub, happily married to a regal queen who can see past my sordid squalid scrubbiness. 

Have a good Friday!

Thursday, 2 November 2017

Car Shopping

Z is in the market for a new sports car, possibly.

Like many, he finds car shopping stressful and perplexing. He's not alone, my wife does too. The only thing more contemptable than a car salesman is a politician or a lawyer - maybe a kiddie diddler... HAR HAR HAR!!!

I'm a sales guy too and a fair to good one depending on who ya ask - so I know what kind of games those chitbirds play and I am right at home going into the boards with them and high sticking it. It's all bullshit, of course, they know it, I know it, we know each other knows it - and we do it anyway! How DUMB is that? But honour must be satisfied I guess.

Buying a car is nothing to get stressed or bent out of shape about. You want a car, the sales guy really wants to sell ya one - what could possibly be easier? Here's how ya do it:

1. Select your model and do your homework going in. Don't kick tires, don't waste the salesman's time. He's a pro and you need to be too! Act like one! You should have an idea on sticker prices, and you should know the players you are going to deal with when ya buy. The sales guy will ask you when you intend to purchase - tell him you are going to buy today and MEAN it. Don't try to BS him, he's better at it than you are. Don't get emotional or get your ego in it - the idea is to work out something that works for both of you. In the real world he has to make a buck just like you do.

2. You're going to see at least 3 dealers - maybe more. Tell the salesman up front that price is gonna be what makes or breaks the deal and no bones about it. Tell him you are going to see his competition for price quotes and let him know you'll be making a decision once you've checked them out. Don't be discouraged if he doesn't want to play - if he does that, walk out and don't spare him a second thought.

3. Try to buy from a dealer that you've dealt with before. Being a repeat customer carries big weight with those guys. Go see them first and tell them you would like to give them the last shot at your business once you've checked out the competition - AFTER you've beaten them up for the best price you can get.

With the wife's little Rav - there was hardly any room for any dealing. We got a quote from our home Toyota dealer and went shopping. Two or three shops gave us minor discounts off the list, one wouldn't deal at all - but we didn't hit pay dirt till we went into the Toyota shop on Whyte Ave. It was run by packies and chinamen and lord - they were SLEAZY. The rag head I was dealing with tried to tell me he wasn't gonna play the game with me but got antsy and stressed when I got up to leave - and brought the sales manager in. This guy was a big chink and he figured he could bully me into a buy and got rude as hell about it. I just smiled - which goaded him even further! Next thing we knew he was pounding his desk and waving his fists around and shouting - and my wife literally fled. I just smirked at that idiot and followed. "I can't believe it," I heard him raging, "The guy got up and left...!!!" Jeez...who woulda seen that coming, right? HAR HAR HAR!!!

That afternoon we were about to go see our dealer in town where I would pull down my pants, bend over and sign on the dotted line - when the phone rang. It was the raghead, and he gave me a price that was only about $700.00 off list. That was better than any of the others would do! So I went down to the local shop, told the sales manager there I would pay list - $700.00 and that was that - did he want to do a deal or not? He called me a few names but I think he just did that to stroke my ego and make me feel good... but $700.00 is $700.00.

That was in 2013. The car buying game seems to be changing. I've heard pros try and do what I did and get nowhere - especially with the imports. They're price fixing, the bastids - and the guys at Honda are the worst! I dunno how to take that - 'the price is the price and if ya don't like it - sod off'? That's one way to take the stress out of buying, I guess...

Be of good cheer when you buy. Take control, and don't feel bad if you have to walk. You can always come back later.

Buying a new car should be fun.

When Kings Go To War

Winston reclines on what's left of Hitler's chair...

Never understood that one. Fascists are the popular bogeymen today. The proggies and liberals live in utter fear of them and see them under their beds at night. Yet socialists use the exact same tactics the fascists do, they've killed far more people deliberately, and millions more out of incompetence - and every university in north America is cranking those morons out like sausages.

I hope to be in a picture like that - maybe sitting in the Dean's chair at the UofA once it has been bombed into rubble, the commies rounded up and shot, and the vibrants death marched out to BC and off the end of a short pier, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I keep thinking the winds of war are blowing but things just keep shambling on. I hope I am wrong about all that - but it sure doesn't hurt to be prepared.

All The Frooty Colours Of The Rainbow

They're for the commie SKS rifle, I think. 

For awhile some of the cool kids went rogue in the firearms community and thought they were impressing people by hating on the AR15 and cuddling up to the commie guns like the SKS and AK47. The rest of us mostly laughed and kept shooting our AR's but you still see the odd tard saying that the AR is useless "because ballistics" and they'll ream off the usual bullchit that all the commie fan boys do.

I laugh at that too. As a kid I shot a few soft targets in the hunting fields and I saw any number of other guys do the same. Guys that play the ballistics-on-paper game have NO CLUE about what a bullet does when it hits meat. If you get hit by a .223 round inside 300 yards - you are gonna be in a whole WORLD of hurt and you will sure as hell want to get out of the fight and under cover. Most commie guns can't hit the broad side of a barn at half that distance! Of far more importance in any engagement is tactics. 

Commie guns were built by peasants, FOR peasants. If I am ever in a pickle where I am facing nasty people like that I would rather do it with the best battle rifle on the planet today: the AR15!

I am told you can get it in frooty colours too, but I am not a little girl or a faggot so I will pass on those.  :)

Blue Birds Of Happiness

These blue birds of happiness won't fly up your nose, 
but they're liable to drop one down your shorts if ya piss them off!

The Blue Angels are swabbies, right? Up here in Canada our show offs precision flying team is the Snowbirds. They fly trainers. Planes that look like something the Velcro Shoe Gang at my RC airplane club might fly - that is probly them in the background in the pic above. Screw them - I wanna see heavy metal at the air shows - I LOVE fighter planes.

Gotta say I'm really disappointed in my favourite service people on this issue - the United States Green Bean Fuggin Marines! They should have their own team too. What would they fly? Probly fully loaded out Warthog A10's ... and likely as not they'd probably unload on the crowd for gits and shiggles, HAR HAR HAR!!!

A gratuitous pic of my favourite military bird. If Mohammed Ali floats like
a butterfly and stings like a bee, it could be said that
the A10 flies like a pig, and I dunno
how the rest of that one would go...

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

When We Were Kings

Back before the invention of 'cougars', bitter lesbians, barren cat ladies... when
a wank could make a rude joke about cockpits 
and not get sued for it...

Getting the right answer requires that you ask the right question. Perhaps the question should be 'Where have all the good women gone?' I would propose to answer that one thusly: They're all happily married - to good men like Yours Truly!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I don't travel much by air any more and that's probably a good thing.

I've Done Stuff Like That

Get Out Your Candles And Teddy Bears Everyone!

Time for another candle light vigil, where the usual sanctimonious f-tards tweet out about how we will not be divided and love trumps hate and the usual leftist shitbaggery. That was the only headline in my daily newsfeed about it: Trump Demands Extreme Vetting.

Uh-huh. "Ohhhhhh that awful, awful racist!!!!"

Yesterday I got the very hell of it from Brent at work. He's a former bank manager that came to work with us a few more years before he was ready to retire. He's there to keep his hands busy, he's a nice guy - but he is a shitlib all the way. He came by my desk yesterday to brag and gloat about how Trump is going to jail over this Russian thing the Donks are going on about. I just shrugged and said I'll believe it when I see it. Far as I know the Hildebeest is in bed with the Russians much more than Trump was but whadda I know? I don't trust any of those vipers, and I sure as hell don't believe anything I see in the media anymore. THAT sent Brent into a hissy fit! "The New York Times is one of the most prestigious news agencies because of their honesty and integrity...." and he was serious.

I couldn't help it - I just started laughing and poor old Brent lost his mud! "Nobody's going to jail, Brent. If Bill Clinton can rape interns in the oval office, lie about it, and get away with it, if Hillary Clinton can lose thousands of sensitive documents and emails on illegal servers... you can bet Trump or any of his pals will go to jail either...". Brent stormed off in a rage.

Brent's a nice guy and I took no pleasure in any of that afterward. Everything's political now, and it seems to me that the more poisonous the liberal ideology becomes - the more they demand and insist that everyone drink it. Even up here in Canada people are a hair away from having serious fights about it.

Have yourselves a very non-political Humpday.