Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 25 June 2017

Gone Fishin'

It's an early day today. Dawgs are walked, senior delinquent crime has been thwarted and it's time to light the afterburners on a beautiful day!



Hope you're out on the water early as I am. Have a great Sunday.

Saturday, 24 June 2017

Oh Fer Gawdsakes - Will Somebody Please Buy This Already?!?!?



I'm going nuts.

I have more damn guns than I know what to do with. I am seriously considering an AR build in 6.5 Grendel. I need that like a hole in the head too.

But lookit what they have for sale down in Cow Town:




6.5x284 Norma! Targets at 1000m anyone? Deer at 350? Coyotes at 400? Or more?


Ye gods. Before firing a shot I'd take that right over to Karl or Rotten Rod and have him hone the trigger. A set of RCBS dies and some Lapua brass... and your rifle of a lifetime awaits.

Back in 2000 I bought one of these in .25-06 and it was all the gun I needed for years! I dunno how many pounds of 4350 and Nosler BT's went down that thing's gullet. People would see that gun shoot and try and buy it off me. Ian got so pissed at me he went down and bought his own - and then started collecting them in other calibres. He went bonkers trying to find one with that heavy bull barrel, they were like hen's teeth at the time. One day my accuracy started falling off. The velocities did too... and I knew what was coming. I took it down to the smith and he bore-scoped it and pronounced the barrel dead. I was literally in a funk after that. I dunno how many hunting trips it went out on. Or how many nights it leaned up against a tree as we sat round the camp fire telling lies. I even got a few animals with it. It had become one of life's milestones in a way.

Lotta people will tell ya that ya need a repeater for hunting. I am here to tell you they're full a beans. Guys that take marginal shots need repeaters. Sportsmen like us that shoot for meat and fun only need one. You prove your marksmanship on the range, not in the field. Get close, put them down in one and make it a positive experience. There is nothing worse in the world than wounded game.

Once it's ready to roll, this gun is a smidge longer than your average 30-30 lever action bush gun. It will shoot on par with bolt guns wearing 26" pipes and weigh less than they do.

I want you gunnies to pay attention boys: this is me doing you a huge favour here. If you've ever been tempted by these handsome rifles the varminters are the best of the breed. If I had the room, if I still hunted - that thing would be in my gun cabinet yesterday.

She's all yours... and don't say I never done nothin' for ya.

Friday, 23 June 2017

Your Right To Destroy Yourself And Your Family Will Not Be Infringed



The flubdubbery is flying faster n' hot lead at a turkey shoot! Everyone is taking stupid pills and lots of 'em! Think I'll slam a few myself!

"Coroner Kent Harshbarger estimates that ... the state [of Ohio] will see 10,000 overdoses by the end of 2017 — more than were recorded in the entire United States in 1990."


Summarizing BP's thoughts on the war on drugs:


That's one take, I suppose. I am not disparaging BP or Pete because those guys are smarter than I am and I know it - let's get that out of the way right up front. But... I have misgivings about this. You ask me? This isn't what losing the drug war looks like - this is what cultural suicide looks like.

I may have a unique perspective on this. Because I live up here in Canada I am surrounded by liberal meat holes  turd brains progtards kidults ... polymaths and intellectuals - cough cough cough - that know more about druggies n' turdies n' derelicts than you ignernt Americans ever will! Such people are the largest demographic in their power base. We're legalizing weed, dontchya know!

In any event they conducted a staggeringly stupid spectacularly successful social experiment in inner-city Hongcouver to address the rampant drug problems there. They set up 'safe injection sites' where zombies and derelicts could go shoot up on illegal street drugs under the watchful eye of a 'medical professional'. All at the expense of the friendly and eager tax payer!  And of course it worked like a charm - gubbiment studies proved there was a massive 'harm reduction'. They even improved the program, if I remember correctly - by sudsidizing the habits of users that couldn't afford a fix or clean needles! More drug related crime averted! We are led by gods up here in Canada! Druggies stopped spreading Hep C and AIDS by sharing needles; and today inner city Hongcouver is a paradise.

Of course the idiots in the RCMP had to disagree. Off camera, off record they claimed the problem was still worse than ever. Children couldn't play in the playgrounds because addicts were leaving needles in the sand boxes and lying in the grass. But what do those law enforcement assholes know? All they want to do is abuse people! Then the moron first responders chimed in and said they are still picking up bodies of OD victims at the same rate they were before - only maybe more so, lately. Some slob of an ambulance driver said something to the effect that addicts will shoot up anywhere, anytime with whatever is available whether there is a safe injection site around or not. But the progs wisely tuned them out - what would any of those morons know about lofty enlightened social experiments?

I grew up in Mayberry as a kid. In my community, drugs were something found only in the gutters, and used only by degenerate ethnics and negroes. One day we were in the midst of a pitched dirt lump fight when an ambulance came screaming down the street and pulled into Tommy L's place. Tommy was a hero to us little kids: he was sixteen, he had just started driving and he was the coolest big kid of them all. He made us sling shots and zip guns, he broke up fights and gave us his pop bottles, and his word was law amongst us little 'uns. We were shell shocked when the two ambulance guys carried him out on a stretcher. A cop car pulled up and an officer got out to disperse us. By then we were in a full blown panic - what had happened to Tommy? The Mountie shooed us all over to one of the moms - and she was caught flat footed trying to explain the concept of street drugs. OD's and drug culture - to 4, 5, and 6 year olds. The Mountie was a tough bugger too - yes, he would throw us in jail if he caught us doing drugs and he fully intended to do so to Tommy. Yes, he would tell our parents and make sure we got The Strap if  or when we got out of jail. No, it was very possible Tommy would NOT be alright. That was how the war on drugs started in my world. Later at parties as a teen I would take a polite toke on a joint as it was passed around - but I never touched drugs in a serious way. I told my kid that if she got mixed up with drugs - that would be grounds for a justifiable homicide. I will not have shit like that in my home and that's all there is to it.

Here's the problem with stats and studies being done on shit like this: people look at a number like 10,000 OD deaths and say 'HFS!!! The war on drugs just isn't working!!! It's a waste of time!" The users jump in and readily agree - no way would they be dissuaded by mere law and law enforcement! Their drug issues are a matter of personal rights and freedeoms! Talk to any of his friends - the squeegee kids, the pan handlers, the street people, the homeless... none of them are even fazed by the dire laws and punishments set out by the authorities either! It's open and shut! How much more proof do ya need?

Here's my question: What about the winners in the war on drugs? Nobody sees them. Nobody does a study on them. Nobody listens to them either. I won the day I saw Tommy carted away in an ambulance in the late 60's. I won when that Mountie read us the riot act on drugs and used Tommy as a poster boy for the losers. He'd probably get sued and lose his job for doing that today. Our teachers started teaching us that drugs were bad and civic messages in the new cable TV Saturday morning cartoons reinforced it. By the time I was 7 I knew that I would never do drugs because the punishments were too severe. As a young adult I quickly saw that the consequences of drug use were the real punishment. It's a matter of perspective: the druggies aren't winning, they're losing, and we are losing with them. If we enable and encourage drug use we are going to lose MORE. In Hongcouver they're doing it already but to say so is to be politically incorrect. They have a thriving poverty and welfare industry going on there and you will too if you let them sell you their koolaid. Seldom mentioned are the tax rates in BC. They're on par with those in California and Massivetwoshits.

10,000 overdose deaths by the end of 2017. Boys - this isn't about drugs. It's not about personal freedoms - FFS, what kind of freedom is there in addiction? 10,000 guys have decided to say to hell with their responsibilities, to hell with their family and obligations - to hell with themselves - and let you, the tax payer - pull their weight until they either hit rock bottom (where you will pay for their rehabilitation) or they die - where you will pay their funeral costs. Do you think surrendering the drug war will reduce costs? HA! Just wait until that new bureaucracy sets up and starts generating profits!

The drug war may or may not be futile - but if you think surrendering to these derelicts and zombies will make things better - you should move to downtown Hongcouver and soak up the Utopia there.

Just my two cents. Have a wonderful Friday and keep a sharp eye on your kids. They are going to be on the front line of the drug and ethics war next. Hopefully God grants them the wisdom He's denied us on the issue.

Thursday, 22 June 2017

Manly Matters




When I was a younger man up to my ears in labs, assignments
and midterms I dreamed
of a life like this - on the water with the sky and the fish
and maybe a pant load of blarney
for company.
Not even boys have more fun that Red Green.

Canadian Sniper Sets World Record For Confirmed Kil.



And somewhere some hapless rag head goes to pick his 72 raisins.


The gunnies are all doing a standing ovation and as they should, I suppose.



Carefully not being said is the amount of random, chit house luck
that played into the shot.
Carefully not mentioned are the ethics of the profession.


As I get older and think more, the more I tend to try and look past the cheering of the mob. Or their rage. When I do that I see things they don't - or won't.

In the real world the effectiveness of these guns starts to fall off drastically at around 1200 yards, give or take a bit either way depending on what cartridge and ballistics we're talking about. Range and wind estimation become absolutely critical when bullets go subsonic. Even with the miniscule amount of error inherent in today's laser range finding technologies (probably somewhere +/- 0.1% of reading)...at 3400 meters that's enough to produce a clean miss. Air density has a huge effect on accuracy at extreme range and if you take the readings for your density off the best instruments possible - you have another induced error large enough to produce a miss. And so it goes - microscopic instrument induced errors are multiplicative, not additive, and they should have produced a miss. Add in the unseen  whorls and eddies of winds as they set up lenticulars around objects and terrain - and making a shot like this, even for the best marksmen - becomes the same proposition as winning the lottery. I'm not trying to take anything away from the squaddie, I am trying to put this shot in a realistic perspective.

I was fortunate enough to have grown up around some Canadian vets of the world wars as a kid. My wife's grandfather was one of those Canadian kids that hit the beaches on D-Day and slogged his way across Europe for the remainder of the war as a medic. During idle chatter one day I told him I would have loved to have been a sniper in that conflict (hey - I was still a kid back then) ... and I was astonished when his face darkened. He was ordinarily a happy and chipper man but my comment just ticked him right off. 'You would NOT have wanted to be a sniper," he said. It almost took a crow bar, but I eventually got his take on it: snipers kill men like kids with a 22 kill gophers. They are hated and loathed by the infantry with the heat of 1000 suns. Pretty much anyone that comes under fire from a sniper learns to hate them too - for obvious reasons. They shoot from hidden positions and kill without any honour whatsoever - if such a thing is possible in war.

Accurate shooting is not hard. It's merely a matter of practice and training. Both the Russians and Israelis have produced female snipers that can take most of us fellas to the woodshed. The rag heads are training children that can do it. The trick in sniper work is not making the shot - it's in getting away afterward. The Wife's granddad told me that if he and his squaddies ever caught a sniper they would gun him down in cold blood and leave him for the crows - rules and regs be damned. I saw that man's face when he said it - and I believe him.

I would like to congratulate our marksman along with everyone else. I love the squaddies whether they are United States Marines or Canadian Princess Pats - so I want to add some apologies along with my congrats.

I'm sorry that we had to put you and your comrades in a situation where you had to do stuff like this, kid. And, for gawdsakes - the moral and ethical problems that go along with what you did lie with we the people, not you the soldier. I say this not to ruin your day - I say this because one day you will be an old fart that thinks too much too.

God bless.

Clarissa Gets One RIGHT For A Change



To me Clarissa is the face of what's wrong with the modern liberal woman today: she's an academic, you see, which makes her right about everything and anyone that disagrees with her is wrong. (Or a rayciss/homophobe/sexist/etc/ad nauseum). She's spoiled, bratty, and a shameless intellectual poseur... but she has been finally showing some small signs of maturity and intellect - be they far and in between.

In any event; now I have seen it all!

She's bang on the money. Depending on which side of that food fight you're on, people are either high-fiving, back slapping and cheering that election or they're pouting petulantly. None of that is good for anyone including themselves.

I have always regarded liberals and democrats as enemies. My take is that everyone has a right to make a living whereas they feel everyone has a right to a living and I am obligated to pay the freight of those that can't or won't pay their own. We all know where that goes too - today's Marxist slobs intent on redistributing your wealth will eventually find their own 'redistributed' as well. It's starting to happen all over the place which is why we are seeing more political incivility and even violence. Parasites will fight to defend their meal tickets too.

In point of fact we could all benefit from powerful, relevant liberal political parties. Choosing your representatives should be a matter of evaluating choices and opportunities - not 'picking the lesser of two evils' as it is now.

As far as liberal women go, cunned stunts like Clarissa are about the smartest of the lot. Let's hope that she continues to grow up and can lead the rest of those lemmings in a positive direction!

Wednesday, 21 June 2017

Is It Caturday Yet?



Years ago we had a little black bastard of a cat that we named Coffee. He was horrible. As a kitten he often pounced on me while I was sound asleep and would flip out with the fighting and biting as I awoke with a pamper full of fright! He had me timed down to the microsecond too - just as I had gathered my wits and was awake enough to throttle him - he'd scamper away.

Back then, down in the man-cave, my shop was cleaner than a Green Bean United States Fuggin Marine's M16! All my tools were hung on a peg board. My work bench was always uncluttered and often even clean.

And that was when the little bugger would strike!

I would be working away with a wood carving, possibly plugged into an ipod listening to music... and the little bastard would explode onto my bench and start knocking stuff off onto the floor! If he was really fast he would start knocking tools off the peg board too. And - by the time my reflexes kicked in - he would scamper away - usually through the neatly stacked scrap lumber - which he would knock over as he passed. The noise, pandemonium and my rage were like a tonic for him.

One day I was sitting in the middle of my freshly cat-bombed out shop. The little bugger had squiggled in behind the freezer where he could wait for my rage to subside in safety. I remember picking up my HK .45 (which he had thoughtfully pushed onto the floor)... and picking up a few shells from a dumped ammo box. Absently, I racked and locked the slide and dumped the mag... and started thumbing a few shells into it. Would the neighbours hear the shot? Would my wife call the cops? I smiled to myself as I pondered a long slow caress of the trigger, with Coffee's face lined up nicely in the sights ... and was clobbered by a 2x4 that went over when the little swine broke for the stairs. I got a good sized Barney-Rubble lump on the noggin from that one. But I DID get an idea.

A couple mornings later I was working at the bench with half an eye turned to the stairs. Sure enough, the little fink came slinking down the stairs, bent on mayhem and violence. He stealthily snuck up to the opposite side of the bench... and I smirked and reached for my new FP (Fisher Price) water pistol. When he hopped up to attack he got it full in the face with an icy jet of water! HAR HAR HAR! Take that, you little bugger! HAR HAR HAR!!!!

He ran behind the freezer but soon discovered that I could get him there with the water gun too! By the time he escaped upstairs he was soaked to the skin! :) :) :) I heard the wife shriek in disgust upstairs - no doubt the little turd had hopped into her lap hoping to suck up! :) :) :)

Coffee's been gone now for - holy mackaral - 6 years? Seven? Today I have dawgs and love them with all my heart but I miss the crazed antics of that demented cat. I can just imagine the hell he would wreak today with my shop being the cluttered disaster that it is.

You and I will meet again, Coffee. In the meantime - give the devil my regards.