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) 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.

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Why I Got Fired From My Language Translator Job

Via Heartiste

I don't get it.

Some guys talk like Marines or truckers and drop F-bombs the way a jet plane drops napalm and nobody notices. I do it - and I go to the woodshed! It's like that for everyuthing: I see guys out there literally getting away scot-free with everything up to and including cold blooded murder- and if I gob on the sidewalk I get billy-clubbed into submission and then thrown into a paddy wagon, HAR HAR HAR! ((I am not crabbing about my lot in life, I just wish other miscreants were punished the same way I am because misery loves company!) Keep in mind I will fink on you and rat you out at the drop of a hat if the opportunity permits!)

I don't care - sometimes I am overcome by badness and just have to act out! There are some bloggers I shouldn't play with because we will be very bad influences on each other. Chateau Heartiste is just one of many.

The Rat Pack

The Brat Pack

The Fudge Pack

Sorry folks. Sadly, this is what passes for humour amongst deplorable bigots and racists/fascists/homophobes/islamophobes/etc/ad nausem...

My Last Will And TestaMINT

A couple weeks back I sat down with world famous adventurer, author, and man about town - WL Emery - and we figured out my last will and testaMINT for the settlement of the vast Filthie Estate. We agreed that my earthly remains would be cooked to a cinder, and then loaded onto a drone copter. The ashes would then be flown over the next DNC convention and then dumped on the hordes of screaming stupid people below. Inhale that, Blowjob Bill! HAR HAR HAR!!!!! Or he can do that with the Liberal Party of Canada - just as long as it insults stupid people I am good with it!!! :)

That was easy! All it took was a quart of gin and some cheap malt liquor!

Other issues are a little more sticky. My life insurance is up for renewal and we had the beneficiary down as my daughter. We had a falling out about 7 years ago - the regulars know the gory details - and I haven't seen her since. It's a horrible thing to say but I don't think I want to see her again either. Yannow those idiot kids at the universities that want 'safe places' and think they have the right to abuse people that they don't like and disagree with? That's her crowd.

Long story short - I have problems leaving everything I've worked for in this life - in the hands of a feckless, childish kidult that won't grow up, has done nothing to earn it, and more than likely will just piss it away. I would like my meager leavings left to somebody that will do something good with it.

Are any of you familiar with the ins-and-outs of designating charities as your beneficiary rather than your children? It's an awful, morbid thing to talk about but I am one of those guys that rests easier knowing his affairs - all of them - are in order. I am going to sit down with a legal beagle at some point - I was just curious about the opinions of the experts! :)

Your two bits, as always - is sincerely appreciated.

Monday, 19 June 2017

Had To Walk Out Of Church Yesterday

Yesterday I went to church with the wife as I do from time to time.

They had a busy morning lined up: 4 baptisms (or dunkings, as they jokingly call them), a spiel on Father's Day, and a picnic afterward. It started out awesome. All the families were there and some proud parents took pics as their kids got submerged in God's holy wash and they were beautiful. They were mostly young daughters.

And then the Father's Day spiel started. The preacher started off talking about the father's duties in the family and I just wanted to crawl under a rock. I had failed as a father in so many ways. My in-laws pretty much stole my fatherhood and undermined it whenever they could - but it was me that let them do it. And here I was, in a house of God, on Father's Day, with fine strapping young men and beautiful wives raising beautiful daughters and sons that would make them proud - and I thought about my own  daughter ... and I just couldn't take it. I fled. I didn't belong there.

I went home and grabbed my friends and went to Dawg Island for a long slow walk. I wasn't worried too much about my wife; she understands the score and knows the ins-and-outs of it. But the people at the chapel? I hope none of them noticed. I love the people there, they are real Christians all the way through and my wife is too. Usually when the subject of my daughter or my in laws come up I start raging and foaming at the mouth but not this time. Lately it's just become a fact of life - 'get over it already' I tell myself. Everyone has baggage these days.

After I got back from Dawg Island with a couple panting hot dogs, I talked it out with the wife and she thinks I have a place in their chapel while I am not so sure. All I knew was that I didn't belong there yesterday and I knew it with a certainty that is hard to describe. Maybe God was talking to me, who knows.

Hold your kids close. Don't ever let them go, and don't let anyone get between you.

Sunday, 18 June 2017

And Now A Post About Responsible Habits And Finances

Back before the turn of the last century I decided to quit tobacco. I quit cold turkey and chewed gum and tooth picks and I looked like a druggie having the DT's for about a month or so. After that I felt like shit for a couple months and it finally went away. If you smoke - you should quit. Yeah, I love tobacco as much as you do and no bones about it. But - if Filthie can do it, anyone can!

I figured I would buy a fishin' boat as a reward for myself if I stayed on the wagon long enough to accrue the savings the way this woman advocates saving for a Ferrari. A year and a bit later I bought The HMCS River Pickle - a small dirigible boat with a 10 HP motor. I had visions of fishing on pristine lakes at first light while sipping coffee from a thermos... but didn't count on my fellow man. They had jet skis, water-craft, and boats with V8 inboards running speakers at decibel levels up there with jumbo jets! When they went by at speed I would almost capsize in my little rubber boat. I still managed to catch a few fish though.

Like an idiot, I started smoking and chewing again 5 years later and had to quit all over again in 2009. Been clean ever since. I don't give a hoot what the health Nazis have to say about tobacco - what got me was having to interrupt my day to go smoke. That, and the cost. Tobacco sales are a tax on the stupid and there's no bones about that either - I speak from experience! HAR HAR HAR!

I don't have a Ferrari or any other trappings of wealth. But nor do I have any real debt. Even my credit cards are paid off at the end of the month. I have a year to go on the wife's car and could pay that off now if I wanted but the interest rate is only 0.9%. I have a modest savings account and more goddamn guns and RC airplanes than I know what to do with. I also have TWO hoople-headed dawgs.

I dunno when it happened, but though I am not rich - I'm free. Actually, I do know when my emancipation occurred: it happened the day I decided to quit tobacco. If you can do that - you can do anything else you set your mind to.

Happy Father's Day

A Filthie Father's day: egg breakfast with a bottle of scotch,
and a soon to be repaired crapper.
It will be a day fit for kings.

Technically speaking I am a father; I have two dogs and they are both well adjusted and respectable critters. (What's happening to my nose? It's growing...!!!!)

This morning I got a bottle of horrible scotch (reserved for unsavoury guests like my fellow bloggers)and a toilet repair kit. The upstairs crapper went out of commission recently after a big steak supper. BW, Pete, and Mad Jack used it in succession and the load was just too much for the old Crane to bear, HAR HAR HAR! Today is my day, where I am king of the household. My wife installed the toilet repair kit and I may get round to a sip of scotch later today - or not.

For my dad, I am going over to Pop's to see his new trailer. Mom and Pop used to cruise around in those big behemoths and  then sold it off because they figured they were getting too old. They couldn't handle the down time, so they bought another trailer only much smaller and I am happy because it gets them out and about. I am going to dig out an armful of firewood and tie it up in a neat bundle with twine, throw in a bottle of good red wine, and my wife will make a card for Pop. That should be a good present for Pop - who will probly think our efforts are a bunch of nonsense anyways. (He is entirely correct, too!)

For you young fathers out there: never in the history of the species has your job been tougher than it is right now. Never in the history of the species has it been tougher to be a kid either. I wish I had something smart or some sage advice for ya - but I am obsolete. Keep your kids close, keep your eyes peeled - and God bless.

Happy Father's Day.

Saturday, 17 June 2017

This One Is Taken, Men...

Wirecutter and the boys often post stuff where beautiful women do wonderful things for their men like killing feral racoons with their bare hands, or reloading their ammunition or cleaning fish or gutting deer. And of course all those slobs perv out and make rude jokes in the comments.

I'll have none of that here. You rotters will treat my next wife with all due respect or suffer the consequences. (I am calling her my 'next wife' because one of these days, my current one will regain her sense of sight and smell and that will be that for our marriage! HAR HAR HAR!!!)

Oh what the hell - an old fart like me wouldn't know what to do with a young Amazon like this one anyways. If she had any sense she'd probly turn that axe on me. This gal will make a fine wife for one of you younger fellas though!

Caturday: Canadian Edition

I used to hunt these things with a passion but never with the intent to kill them. They're like ghosts. I think I may have seen them a couple times; I heard the movement in the trees and brush and maybe  saw the flicker of light and shadow that may have been a retreating cat - but only once did I get a clear, confirmed sighting.

It was cold as hell out, and only idiots would be out hunting in weather like that. But there we were, sharing the same space on this earth in a cold glade somewhere in the bush. It was windy and I figure the noise of the wind must have covered the sound of my footsteps and allowed me to get the jump on him.

I never took advantage of it. I just watched him through the rifle scope as he moused in the snow looking for something to eat. When I got up to leave he picked me up and just stared, perhaps astonished that a klutzy animal this large had managed to sneak up on him. He stared at me through those eyes that say everything and say nothing at the same time. It was almost like he knew I wasn't going to take the shot.

Am I the only one that thinks this is a really, really BAD

Some Thoughts About The Coming Civil War In The US

When all those kids in Manchester got shredded by a vibrant, culturally enriched nail bomb at a rock concert, London's fig farming goat feltching mayor told everyone to chill out because that's just life in the big city now. Hey Britain - you voted for it. Enjoy.

Here in the US when those guys at the charity ball game got sprayed with hot lead by some leftist nutter out to kill Repubs - a bunch of lefties have gone on the social media to tell us all to get used to that too, if we are gonna elect icky bums like Trump.

Now I am just a Canukistani hose head up north, and not an American in the slightest but maybe that gives me some perspective. Up here in the Peanut Gallery I may see things that you guys in the thick of things may not see yourselves.

If civil war comes, on one side you'll have the guys with all the guns and they've made no secret about their intent to keep them. Their women are pretty, dedicated wives and mothers. They've built communities and nations that last centuries.

On the other side, the women have the facial hair and the men have boobs. Those that manage to successfully mate tend to abort their children before they're born. If they do successfully mate, and if they choose not to flush the fetus down the crapper, their children tend to turn out like this:

Now, I'm no expert on military affairs, but if there IS gonna be a civil war... I don't think it will last long.

Have a good Saturday.

Friday, 16 June 2017

Don't Think Booze Is Gonna Help, Sport...

The USN Salutes Gynocology

Via Rodger Schlong (The Real King Of Fwance)

What the devil is this thing?

Rodge is in a snit and I don't blame him one bit! Aside from that, though - I am trying to get my head around this boat. I see a piddly 5" gun up front. Stealth construction, obviously. A flight deck the size of a postage stamp - you would have to be a crazed turd brained swabbie aviator to try and land on it - and what's all that water pouring out of it amidships? Is that a flow of Captain's logs pouring into the sea? Looks like a bunch of cowled ECM hardware in the antenna farm...

I know, 'a man of my obvious nautical expertise should know ALL about a ship like this...'. After all, for years I was the Captain of a 12 foot rubber boat with a mighty 9.9 HP outboard that was christened the 'HMCS River Pickle'.

Hmpfff. Memories:

During the christening, when the fat lady swung the champagne bottle against the hull, it bounced back off the pontoon and smacked her square between the eyes - and she was down and out like a light! My first officer, Fearless Flapz retrieved the bottle, drank it and then applied the booze to the hull after it had been filtered through his kidneys! Today I am a retired Rear Admiral, and Flapz and his son are in command of The Pickle. It is said the two best days of a fisherman's life is when he buys his boat, and when he sells it. I can attest to the truth of this first hand, HAR HAR HAR!

PS - if anyone knows what that boat above is for ... please let me know in the comments. Jeebers - that flight deck is too small for even a small BBQ party... perhaps they built that useless POS so that they could name it after some liberal dingle nut and not have to besmirch a real ship in such a way?

Thursday, 15 June 2017

Joke For The Gunnies

When you get proficient with archery or guns you get to the point where your muscle memory is tuned to the point that your gun or bow will actually start to "talk" to you. Back in the day I was the original 3D weiner of the local archery clubs. I was out pretty much every night and sent at least a hundred arrows off the bow in every session. I drew the line at 'race bows' that were pimped out with the latest and greatest gizmos and do-dads at first. I shot the same bow for 3D as I did for hunting - a Darton set for 70 pounds with standard hunting accouterments. The difference between my scores and the guys that won those tournaments was usually less than 5%. I wasn't out there for medals and prize money - I was out there to challenge the bum in the mirror and perfect my marksmanship for hunting. I gave up the sport when I forgot that.

I could tell in the split second that the arrow came off the string - long before it hit its target - that I had blown the shot. The stance, draw, anchor, aim process was easy - but everything hinged on the release. You can do everything else right but if you blow the release, you blow the shot. Those were the happiest days of my life: I was finished with school, I had free time and I ranged the province with guys like Stu The Jew, Byron Koobasaw, Skin Bag and other jack nasties shooting at local tourneys. Afterwards there was always beers, maybe a pig roast and plenty of bull flying round. I hung up my archery tackle over a decade ago. Can't seem to force myself to part with it for some reason. I had hoped one day maybe my daughter might become an archer like her old man but that just wasn't in the cards. I went back to banging away with guns but never got into the game the way I did when I was younger. Today I shoot for fun and that's it. I don't have a competitive bone left in my body. Don't care much what the bum in the mirror has to say about it either. :)

Fah! I digress: we had charts like the one above that explained the groupings and the common errors that caused them both for archery and for gunnery. Distilled to their essence, the one above can suffice for both sports I suppose!

Have a great Thursday!

Wednesday, 14 June 2017

Profanity: Taken To Task

Oh, hi everyone! Thanks for stopping by! Today I am in the woodshed awaiting my turn with the hickory switch - after which I will be dining on fine Irish Spring soap!

In my post below about the Mounties, one of my numerous moral and intellectual superiors takes me to task for my profanity and intemperance. I don't speak of Gorges facetiously; he's one of those Christians that walks the walk, and he talks the talk. He rightfully expects everyone else too as well. I suppose gentlemen don't talk like I do. Ever. My Dad would take over for Gorges on the hickory switch for when his arm got tired too. I only ever heard Pop come close to dropping the F-bomb once - when we were almost T-boned by an inattentive truck driver at an intersection. That one was so close that I dunno if he was swearing about the driver or the mess we made on our seats! HAR HAR HAR! Oh no! Those stains will never come out! HAR HAR HAR! No matter how mad Pop gets - he very seldom gets profane.

And that is precisely the problem we face, nowadays. We have liberals and proggies that want to limit your political free thought and speech - they're openly talking about it now and mobs are out beating people and hurting them over political rhetoric. Transgenders, pan-genders, homosexuals and other deviants have declared open war on morality, ethics, Christianity, and even your children. Up here in Canada, the folks in Morontario will send social services into your home to remove your children if you try and talk a seven year old out of sexual depravity like transvestitism. Guys like Gorges and Pop are gentlemen in every sense of the word, and men I deeply respect. It bothers me to disappoint them, but the day for such men is over. A bunch of such men got shot up at a charity baseball game today and the liberals and democrats are calling for gun control, and blaming everything from Trump to global warming for the massacre. Step aside, sirs - this is my cue: I have a message for those people.




And - if ya wanna get stupid about it, sure, a bunch of good men died today. You liberal assholes are next. We've done the soap box, we've done the ballot box, and for you liberal morons that don't know how that one goes - the next one is the cartridge box. Now would be a very good time for you to remember which end of the political spectrum owns all the guns. We can't be courteous with these guys anymore. We can't be respectful. These idiots seriously want to hurt us and they aren't smart enough to see that they will hurt themselves twice as bad. They have to see that line in the sand, they have to know what it means, and there is no nice way to do it anymore. It's a sad day when all that stands between the guns and ammo - is profanity. I don't think it'll do any good - but this is what they need to hear. In stereo.

Now then - can I keep my pants up, Mr. Grouse, or is this to be a bare-bummer? If so, I would like to apologize right up front for the view.


Jeez Louse, that hurts!!!! Sorry folks, no pic for this one!!!


A certain other reader who wishes to remain anonymous asks me questions about a certain reality challenged Rat.

"Have you driven to Nevada recently and stolen his meds? Seriously deranged posts today..."

I've swapped profanity with that guy several times and the ol' Rat makes Gorges' point about profanity better than he does! Anyone watching that particular exchange would conclude that both the combatants were idiots and left it at that! Were I able to stifle myself, onlookers would have correctly concluded that only one idiot was involved. HAR HAR HAR! There IS a time and place for profanity and vulgarity - but that was not one of them. For profanity to mean anything you can't do it when you're mad, and you positively can't use it on women, children, retards or animals - you have to be stone cold and in control of yourself and you have to mean it and use it sparingly for it to have the intended effect.

For the record, no, I pretty much avoid that stretch of the internet now. Last time I was over there the crazy old coot was experimenting with Buddhism and out-house spirituality. I looked in for a laugh and sure enough, he's raging at his former Wiccan friends and flower children - and shouting angrily at the clouds too. In order to ward off Gorges and his hickory switch - and mindful of how dumb I looked last time I got into it with him... I ain't sayin' NOTHIN'. 

No, I didn't steal the old fart's meds... but you would be correct to suspect it! HAR HAR HAR!

There, but for the grace of God go I.

Now... d'oh!!!!!! Who stole my meds?!?!?  &&& ^&*(@#^!!!!!

Good night everyone! I am going to bed without my supper! Might just flush my head down the sh...crapper a few times too!

So That's How It Works...

But... how would that explain Your Friendly Neighbourhood Garbage Man...?
Life's mysteries continue to defy and perplex me.

The Canadian RCMP

Back before the turn of the last century, Canada was wide open. There was hardly anybody up here. Even most of the natives were close to the American border - but further north...nothing except plains, forests, with the odd rivers and lakes and isolated settlements here and there.

It was great for bad guys too: you could murder a man in cold blood, disappear into the wilds, go on the lam - and turn up in some other remote settlement or town and continue on as usual. Or you might - were it not for these guys:

Legends, back in the day...

Oh sure, you might go out into the boonies for years - but eventually, sooner or later, somewhere - odds were you would get collared by these guys and find that one of them had been dogging your steps the whole time. And rest assured, you WOULD get your day in court; these guys were not glorified bounty hunters or vigilantes or Texas Rangers that played fast and loose with the laws of other jurisdictions. These men would haul your sorry ass into court, you would get your trial and only when the law pronounced you guilty, would you then be punished. These guys were law men. They were legends and heroes. They were also guys like us.

Time passed. I am old enough to have lived through the collapse of the RCMP. Whereas before, they hired the best and only those that could make the cut, recently they decided that the police force had to become more vibrant, diverse, and inclusive. Standards were lowered and thrown out. White males were told not to apply, and the force started actively recruiting women, minorities (visible and invisible, real or perceived) and implemented a whole pisspot of racist, sexist, and lunatic polices that only had one redeeming feature: they were politically correct. The result...

Jokes, today...

Every time ya turn around the Mounties are in the papers getting raked over the coals. The snowflakes they recruited are all the sobbing, wretched victims of racism, sex abuse and other institutionalized lawlessness. The 'victims' always win in court and are awarded cash and prizes. The victims of these internal department witch hunts were fired and/or released and/or forced to resign. Most of 'em are white guys. The entire force gets dragged through the mud. Every time.

Without exception all the brass in their upper management are anti-gun. (Most of them are anti-cop too, if we want to be honest). If they had their way, public ownership of firearms would be illegal in Canada. They are the fart catchers for liberal politicos and have assisted in prosecuting citizens that had to defend themselves with lethal force because they weren't doing their jobs. Decades ago in Calgary a shopkeeper that had been robbed at gun point 8 times in 6 months finally snapped. He was a Vietnamese import, trying to make his way in a new country with his tiny shop, but kept losing because he was getting robbed periodically by failed liberal social experiments. He put up the cameras. He installed the silent alarm. Each time he got knocked off, the redcoats showed up late, took his report and statement, and shrugged when he asked them what they could do about it. One day some prick with a shotgun came in to redistribute his wealth and the little clipper shot the bastard down as he tried to make his escape with the cash he stole. The redcoats showed up, took statements, arrested the shopkeeper and cleaned up the mess - and a long and messy legal battle began. They were going to throw the book at the shopkeep but the case hit the newspapers and citizens reacted with rage. A public defense fund was set up. The local department chiefs were flooded with threatening calls from furious citizens. Judges got anonymous death threats. It turned out the cops knew who most of these law breakers were, they were on surveillance camera footage everywhere - most with rap sheets a mile long and they did nothing about it. The judiciary wisely acquitted the shopkeeper. Perhaps they feared for their own skins. They damned well should have.

This is what happens now when justice prevails in Canada. When it doesn't, all too often you can lay the blame at the feet of arrogant, unaccountable activist judges and the loud, noisy liberal and progressive fart suckers they pander to. The Mounties toe their line too or they lose their jobs.

Today's RCMP squd car: festooned in all the frooty colours
of the rainbow...

Welp - you can just imagine how well these guys are doing against organized crime and terror groups. The biker gangs have infiltrated the force seven ways to Sunday and in Queerbec the force is a front for them. The bikers are money men and they'll be happy to put the force to work for you too if you have the cash and clout. Radical terrorists? Relax! They are all over that! Guys like Filthie and angry facebookers, twitterers and crabby stubfart farmers are taken into custody for writing threatening stuff like the dreck you're reading now!

It hurts me to say this. The local constabulary is out at my rod n' gun club doing their drills and qualifications all the time. I shoot with those kids. They give me their once-fired brass to reload for free. I chew them out for their shitty marksmanship even though I can't hit the broad side of a barn either. I love them. But:

FUCK THE R.C.M.P. (With apologies to the rank and file officers trying to do an honest job).

Or at the very least, fuck their management and the people they answer to. Nobody goes to jail in Canada and we have the crime rates, reported and unreported to show for it. The Mounties are now a political toy for entitled political morons that don't have to live in the communities being consumed by lawlessness. They don't have to live with the consequences of a neutered constabulary because they have their own security in their own exclusive gated communities. The vibrants there are carefully screened and the defectives are quietly removed when necessary.

Sanity comes from - of all places - guys like Irish

This guy is worth more to the CANADIAN citizen than the entire RCMP police department combined.
He tells it like it is, he lives in the real world and wants you to as well.

The world is changing and not the way the liberal multiculti morons expected. They may have done away with their racism, sexism and other politically correct '-isms' ... but the vast majority of the vibrants we are importing today have not. Nowhere is this more apparent than with moslems, whose "culture" means training their kids to hate and kill yours. Even a real law man like Irish's boy above can't address stuff like that. In a civilized society, if you have to pull a gun to defend yourself - all too often it's far too likely that you're already dead! By its very nature, our high-trust society gives low value ethnic trash the first shot, and they will gleefully take it every time.

Like our Sherriff I am a politically incorrect, but otherwise law abiding man and I am stuck in a quandary. Some people avoid it through denial but I (and most likely, you) - we're too smart for that. The plain truth is that our legal system does not know how to deal with terrorists, never mind common criminals. That's why Gitmo went around for so many years without resolution: how do you try and punish organized but in-uniformed 'casual' combatants? Are they just garden variety murderers? Or soldiers? How do you try them in court? That in itself is a legitimate boondoggle and conundrum that will likely never be solved. The libertarians and feral ACLU types scream about personal rights and liberties and how they must not be infringed. But sensible men like me know that the Constitution (and maybe the Canadian Bill Of Rights And Freedoms) are not suicide pacts that give moslem mongrels the right to kill our women and children without fear of reprisal. And let us be honest here: reprisal is all these mutts understand. We've tried everything and nothing works. We invited these dogs into our homes and been charitable beyond reason toward them - and they just keep attacking us. Yeah... I am beginning to re-think classical western law enforcement altogether.

And I hope most of you are too.

Like moslems, Russians know cowards when they see them.
And they know how to deal with them.
That is more than can be said for our law enforcement
and judiciary at the moment.

Have a good hump day.

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

And Now Ya Know...

Why Women Live Longer Than Men Part MCVLLXXXVVVV

Flapz was talking about this one today and we were roaring with laughter the way he described it. When we finished up and I got home to watch it on youtube it didn't seem that funny at all... but rather lame.

In any event - you've been warned. Fall for this one at your peril.

House Sitting

While world famous author and adventurer, WL Emery is on safari in deepest, darkest Africa - I am in charge of looking after his house and feeding the cat while he's gone! I am absolutely delighted that he's left the liquor cabinet unlocked while he's gone too! Not only am I in a position to inhale the finest gins and spirits - I can snoop through his stuff! Lookit this:

First things first. The first thing ya do with an old rifle like that is look it up on the internet and get an appraisal. Some of these guns are worth serious money. WL spoke half heartedly about shooting it - and again, you can't even think about that without a check over by a competent gunsmith. And if you do decide to shoot it - BLACK POWDER ONLY. If you put smokeless in that thing you will blow it up and possibly yourself as well! Were it mine, I would be torn between wanting to display it as WL does, and storing it safely away as a valuable monetary asset.

This gun was the high capacity assault rifle of its day. It loaded paper cartridges from the breech and was the pinnacle of percussion firearm development. This thing would have hit the battlefield the same way the semi-auto Garand did when the field was dominated by slower bolt guns.

Old percussion guns were all the same. You dropped a powder charge down the barrel, placed a patched round or conical projectile on top and rammed it down the barrel to seat it on the powder charge. It was slow, difficult work under live fire in battle. This breech loader could send 'em down the pipe as fast as you could stuff them in and set a cap on. If I remember my history correctly, not a lot of them were made and very few of them were involved in the Civil War - but I could be wrong on that. They were relatively short lived too - the Sharps company successfully made the transition from paper to metallic cartridges where this rifle really earned it's stripes as a buffalo gun. That is where the term 'sharpshooter' comes from - it was originally 'Sharps shooter'. It's a cult classic gun today, and the guys are buying Italian reproductions faster than they can build them. Anyone that watches Quigley Down Under wants a Sharps rifle afterward.

I always wanted the Sharps but the Italian repros just didn't fit me right. It broke my heart; but to me the balance and heft were all just wrong and I had to go to a reproduction of the Remington rolling block. My experiments in BPCR shooting have amounted to so much flubdubbery - but I will get there.

The good news is that if ya wanna shoot a Sharps, you can - without having to break into WL's house or paying him upward of $20k for a historical curio. The guys at Uberti have our backs, and if you ever see one - take the time to handle it. You won't be sorry.

Get your visa cards out, boys!

Must Be Getting Old And Soft Or Something

Saw this one over on Knuckledraggin the other day via Wirecutter. You'll never see stuff like this from the lickspittles and turd brains in the mainstream media.

Queers, trannies and progs are served notice:
Shit like this is why people hate you.

I gotta say I really admire that black kid. He had had enough, he rightfully stood his ground, and when the time came he let that sexually disturbed freak show have it right in the kisser! Creeps like that have the ear of our politicians - and worse - our kids are watching them get away with murder and act like monsters - and get portrayed as heroes in our fake mainstream media. I daresay that if that kid were white and not black - they would be tearing him to shreds right now. Life gets complicated for our proggy friends when their official victim groups collide.

I know exactly where that kid is at too. The queer in my family is much the same. It's xer way or the highway, xhe is right about everything, everyone else is wrong, and if you don't agree with xer it's because you are a racist/homophobe/sexist bigot with a hate-on for the LBGTQFUCKMYANUS crowd. Don't think being nice to 'em will help either - if you apologize to them they take it as an admission of guilt and they'll chit all over you with even MORE zeal. Eventually they will push you to the point where you can't back up either, you can't concede anymore and their lunacy has to be dealt with.

I should be happy, right?

I'm left with the same sense of hollow despair as when I had to deal with this crazy crap in my own family. When you cut loose and let those idiots have what they give, you draw your line in the sand and draw your guns - they're hurt and outraged. That in turn usually sparks MORE lunatic tantrums and bullchit. They can't equate actions with consequences. At the end of the day, that black fella essentially beat up a retard. Even though that boy had every right to stand his ground, even though he had every right to defend himself from harassment and abuse - a part of me feels sorry for the head case he punched out.

And that is what those guys will jump all over when they lay the guilt trip on you. Don't be surprised if that butt blaster is at it again soon. And don't be surprised if next time, instead of getting punched out, xhe gets a blade in the gizzard. Or worse. Xhe'll deserve that too. Sometimes that 97 lb. weakling deserves the chit and abuse he gets.

The degenerates that were 'born that way' like to chant 'We're here, we're queer, get used to it!' Welp... if this is how you intend to handle yourselves here - maybe YOU better get used to getting your lights punched out! Or worse.

It's a day of brooding introspection here at the Thunderbox today. Have a great Tuesday, and play nice out there.

Monday, 12 June 2017

Mincing Words

I am old enough to remember life before liberals and stupid people invented thought and speech crime. We had a black dog that we (and everyone else) called 'Nigger'. When a stray black cat moved in, she was called 'The Niglet'. Then somewhere along the line - everything became offensive to stupid people liberals and humour became a punishable crime. Red necks are nothing if not tolerant and flexible - and new slurs came up like 'bucket head', 'nine-iron', 'chug', 'push start, pull start and kickstarts', 'mudflaps' etc etc etc. Then those all became offensive too! If I recall correctly our famous feral Human Rights Commissions (composed mostly of fat old grey haired ladies and homosexuals) even came up with a crime called 'Inappropriate Laughter'. Just laughing at a rude joke could land you in hot water! I think everyone heaved a sigh of relief when Prime Minister Stephen Harper shit-canned the commissions once and for all. Those grievance mongering turd brains are still around but their legal clout has been largely curtailed.

Today the red neck tradition proudly continues. I like terms like 'vibrants' and 'mystery-meat-race-orphans'. The fuggin kids are even worse these days. When the big internet companies became vibrant, diverse, inclusive and censorious - the kids hijacked their names so that 'Googles' and 'Skypes' became racial slurs! HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Eeeeeevil joos are denoted by triple parenthesis with the name within: (((name))). I had to look that one up to figure it out.

I suppose I shouldn't laugh because a lot of our kids are turning into genuine REAL racists and to be honest - I don't blame them one bit. How do you tell a young man who has spent 4 years or more at university, done a good job and gotten good marks - that you can't hire him because he's white and male?  As I said in a previous post, I've been passed over because of my skin colour and reproductive plumbing a couple times too. Nowadays it's far worse than it ever was before and the kids are heartily sick and tired of it. I am either a leading edge Gen X or a tail end boomer depending on who defines the terms. When I read chit like this - I got choked AND saddened at the same time. I'm old enough to resent fags and intellectual poseurs like Vox Day whipping the kids up ... but I see where he's coming from and I understand the rage he and the kids are feeling. We've given their jobs and nation away to morons that don't appreciate it and are actively destroying it. Most of them are racist assholes too. There is no nice way to say it.

In the meantime, Ann is trying to figure out whether we should all be offended or not when somebody is called 'an olive-complected coil of rage'. HAR HAR HAR! I shouldn't laugh at Ann either; she's a lawyer and wording and phraseology are serious business for lawyers. It's my conviction that there is nothing wrong with lawyers and judges that can't be fixed with a fuggin baseball bat, and ol' Voxxie could probably use a few strokes with the clue bat too. Both articles serve to highlight the generational demarcation.

The more these idiots prattle and provoke, the more I become convinced that we are in for a reckoning of biblical proportions. Morons everywhere are looking for an excuse to fight and get violent. My survival strategy is to gun up, and sit off on the sidelines with a large supply of beer and popcorn. I will be most interested to see how these would-be tyrants, dictators and censors make out against a very large demographic that is heartily sick and tired of their bullshit.

We live in interesting times.

Anybody Out There Shooting 6.5 Grendel?

I am thinking of building an upper in this calibre. I've never gotten along particularly well with the 223 in black guns even with heavy barrels.

I'm thinking of building an upper with a heavy contour 20" pipe for my AR ... but Jeez Louise... That's looking like a $1700.00 trick!

AR15s are money pits.

Sunday, 11 June 2017

There's A Couple BW And Jenn Won't Get

Bah. Who am I kidding? Those two have been around the province 6 times already and twice again on Sunday!

A couple weekends ago I was out and about and pulled into this one. Can't remember which one it is, it was fenced off so I didn't go in. I strongly suspect this one is going to get renovated sooner rather than later - when you get up close you see the signs of age these old churches get. Yannow what's best about these old ones though? No parking lots! There was a community hall right beside it and it was grass all the way around it too! And it wasn't a soft lawn - I could ride my big bike over it with ease. Park your cruiser on it, or hobble the horses and let 'em start cropping grass! This one was Polish and if I recall Skaro was just a bit up the road and north.

I was gonna light 'er up and head back home and I had barely pulled outta that one - and found this one:

This is the Ukranian Orthodox out at Limestone Lake,
built in 1939. It's grass all the way around too.

Like the intrepid scooter explorer - I just headed out of town because I had to be somewhere else, I guess. Problem is I tend to forget where I went and how I got there! HAR HAR HAR! Sheesh! If a fella has to be somewhere, ya'd think he would at least know where he is!

Oh well, that's just the way it is for some of us. I don't know where I'm going, but I'll soon know where I've been.

I think.

That's what my hair looks like!!! :)

So Are Women Rational Adults Or Not?

This weekend has been pretty lame. We sat around binge-watching The Expanse.

As far as science fiction goes... it's pretty bad. About the only redeeming quality of the series is that they tried to put in a plot and a story amidst all the social justice preaching - and it was almost worth watching at points. I laughed like hell to see all the villains - fat old white guys for the most part. The heroes were all strong women with ghastly haircuts and mouths like truckers - and vibrants, of course! In the future the solar system will be run by pakies, chinamen and wogs with eeeeevil white guys (like Yours Truly) trying to mess it all up. HAR HAR HAR! Maybe it's just me but the women in the story stuck me as bitchy, unlikeable and stupid. Mind you if one looks at the publishing industry today - those are the kind of people running the business I suppose. The future is definitely looking empowered. Fellers, get your estrogen filters on or you'll sprout a rack of tits - and if that happens all you good-for-nothings will do is sit around and play with them all day! Yannow... if I live long enough and that storyline comes to pass as real life - I may find myself pushing ugly, bitchy women out the airlocks just to watch them die too! HAR HAR HAR! Good thing we all know where we're headed as a species, right?

I just wonder how we'll get there from here. Women are so vulnerable, dontchya know. So much so, that not even shit house spiritualism can save them from the cads that prey on them as they try to escape their personal crises. So women with eating disorders, or coming off a divorce, or having especially bad PMS cramps - can't fend for themselves? Or make mature intelligent decisions?  And not even the yoga studios can be considered a safe place anymore?!?!? Who knew?

In space, nobody can hear ya scream, chickie..!!!

I don't get it. The women that came west on the wagon trains with only what they could carry were strong women. The women that went to work in the factories during the world wars were strong women. I am sitting here looking at these empowered chubsters, fatties, lesbians, and chicken heads - and I wonder where these cankles came from...? And... why are we putting up with their shit? I think the future these cankle blossoms envision for themselves is going to be quite different from the reality.

Sorry folks, I got nothin' this weekend - as you can see it was a complete intellectual write-off! Maybe my Sunday church will redeem something. At least the womenfolk will be of the highest quality. If you are fortunate enough to have one of the good ones, you take a moment out and thank your Maker for that. And if ya can think of anything useful to do with the rest - let the rest of us know!

Have a great Sunday!