Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Thursday, 20 April 2017

Random Deep Psychotherapy: Let Us Go Back To My Childhood

When all possible plausible explanations fail, whatever remains, no matter how ridiculous - is the explanation that applies.

- some Greek or Roman Dude, 100 B.C.

Hmmmm. Looking at this particular homo sap, I would suspect
that his genetic ancestors did not descend from the same tree-dwelling apes
that our ancestors did.

100 years ago I used to shoot with a genetically defective hare-lipped retard we called Skin Bag. He was the ultimate Weekend Warrior and an even BIGGER gear queer than I was! When we went hunting Skin Bag would load out with milspec ass packs, knives, calls, range finders, ammo belts, camp hatchet - the guy was a walking junk yard. One day out on a goose hunt, he actually ate a 'Four Wheel Drive Killam Burger'. Killam is a town somewhere in Alberta (and is so obscure not even BW Bandy knows where it is) and the eatery there had a burg they made where they put four big meat patties on a specially made bun. If that didn't kill ya, there were fries and peas to go with it. You and I might buy one and split it with the wife - but Skin Bag ate the whole lot and was finished before any of us finished the regular plates! Later on that afternoon we were back in the goose blinds and trying to call the big Canadas in - and we all heard his stomach grumble. Lord, you could feel it through the ground under your feet! That boy was having a tectonic level event!

"OMFG' he wimpered - and then he was outta that goose blind and running hell for leather for some scrubby little bushes 50 yards away. I dunno why he bothered, the bushes weren't big enough to give him any privacy and me and the other gibbons hooted and laughed derisively at his expense as he started to lose structural integrity. He was literally seconds away from an explosive warp core breach - but was thoroughly buckled and belted into his britches n' skivvies by his alice pack, ammo belt, regular pants belt and the other junk he had hanging off him. In his desperation he pulled a blade and started slashing the straps because he didn't have time to fumble with them...

...and he still didn't make it.

Skin Bag almost set a world record that day for being The Oldest Man That Ever Pooped His Pants at the age of 34. It's a shame it happened in the last century because it would have been great to have taken a vid and posted it on the internet. We saw it all - and forever afterward Skin Bag was mocked from the gun clubs out in Dreadful Valley clear on up to the ones in Grande Prairie. Of course, The Oldest Man To Ever Poop His Pants remains Uncle Bob at the age of 67. Gorges Grouse tried to usurp Bob, claiming to have done it at the age of 215. Nobody believes him because he's definitely not 215 and the last time he went was probly back during the Reagan Administration.


Errrr....why am I talking about all this? The mind wobbles. Oh yes - Skin Bag had the exact opposite build of that buck in the pic! The crack of his ass was way up, squarely between his shoulder blades! I know, because there on that dreadful day - in the goose blind on some rural field somewhere in Alberta... I saw it.

The horror...

The horror.

Although the smell of victory is much different from the smell of defeat,
sometimes the difference between the two is purely conversational.

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