Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Saturday, 23 June 2018

Why Filthie Got Beat Up At The Rifle Range: Reason 1007

WL has already sealed my fate: I am going to load up some black powder rounds and slip 'em into the ammo stream of my arch enemies at the rod n' gun club and laugh like a loon when they get the big heartybasso BOOM and the smoke and unholy stink of the Holy Black instead of the faggy report from their unmanly smokeless propellants. But - after I get beat up for that... I am going to get pounded for this range box above.  HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! AWESOME.

I was gonna get a Shiloh rifle when I turned 55 but it appears life and my Maker may have had other plans for me and my unsavory gun habit. Now it's looking like my rifle will have to wait for my 60th trip around the sun - but that's alright. I got time. And if I don't get the rifle in this life, I'll get it in the next one.

Behold perfection: The Filthie Rifleman!
The Montana Roughrider in .50-90 Sharps. Half round, half octagonal
barrel, matte finish, standard wood.
There'll be no money spent on fine engraving or embellishment;
this rifle will have the bulk of its investment in precision
Vernier sights.
The rifle will exist for one purpose: to punish enemy marksmen on the range
like Borepatch, Firehand and ASM.

While our friends at Shiloh are most certainly in the rifle business - they know what's what about the married man and have cleverly arranged a diversion for the ladies whilst us fellas take care of business when specifying our rifles. Even that is good for us guys - it is my scholarly opinion that women look better with sapphires than diamonds - but whadda I know?

All this talk of beatings, Sharps rifles, and women wearing sapphires - leaves me feeling good, bad and ugly! Perhaps some inspiring instrumental music is just what's needed on this fine Sunday morn!

Have a great Sunday folks.


Well she's been a busy day. I loaded up some vintage blackpowder ammunition for the retirement rifles this morning - and then set about prepping for the long weekend coming up. I think it's Pakistan Canukistan Canada Day or something next weekend. The vibrants all drive around with the maple leaf flying on their cars and the rest of us go camping!

I went down to the liquor store and was just disgusted with the scotch section. Oh, there's tons a scotch and different varieties - but they're all 'special bottlings' now in fancy bottles. The problem now is that because all of 'em are special - none of 'em are! Does that make sense? Even the crappiest scotch on earth - Famous Grouse - had a phony special offering called 'Black Grouse'. I bought a 48 of Bud and called it good. Last year at this time I bought a box of 30 and I am just finishing it off now. Dunno why I felt the need to buy the 48er but I did.

Next stop - the cigar shop! I've been waiting for this all year! I quit smoking 9 years ago. But once a year I indulge my love for tobacco. I could start again but steadfastly refuse to let it become a habit. Last year I smoked some stogies. I did feel the twinges of the old tobacco cravings but it was easy to subdue them. I am going to smoke this year too. Smoking is something very, very special and dear to me now - not the costly, mindless habit of an addict.

I bought two big gaggers, one for Flapz and one for me - and then a bunch in a tin. I want the tin because once I smoke all the cigars in it, I will use the tin to store cleaning patches for the retirement rifles.

She's gonna be a good weekend; preparations continue apace. Hope y'all have something fun lined up.

Silver Rivers

This bullet casting thing is a mystery to me. I don't get it. I bought a high end set of handles and spent top dollar for moulds and the goddamn things throw crappiest looking bullets you'll ever see - they are frost looking and look like they were cast by a hare lipped retard. (Shut it - don't even think of saying it!!!) HAR HAR HAR!!! But... they shoot just fine.

By contrast, my El-Cheapo Lee moulds throw bright, shiny cast lead pills that are suitable for shooting spooks, hobgoblins and vampires with! The bullets that fall from those moulds look like they were cast by a pro.

I should content myself; looks are only skin deep in this sport and all that counts is what happens down at the target - so I guess I am doing alright for now.


I am a man without mission. When I was younger I had several. Pay the bills, try to hold the family together, show up for work, do a good job, pay the bills, pay the bills, pay the bills. Now, my bills are all paid. Family's gone their way, I've gone mine.

It's been a hell of a ride. I found a faith that was not what I was led to believe it was. It allowed me to look at my fellow man in ways I never seen him before - and it gave me a sense of freedom that was staggering. Why am I here? What am I supposed to do with the freedom I worked toward all my life?

The question was answered this morning at 4:30 am. I was rudely rousted by a couple of four legged hoople heads, dragged around the walk at Centennial Park, and got eaten by mosquitoes. We saw a coyote and Mort immediately went into DEFCON 1 and planted himself between the critter and me. When it loped away he ran up front, herded Macey back to me and then took the point on the walk himself. A rabbit hopped out on the trail once the coyote was gone - and Mort didn't give it a second glance. He was in Threat Mode and his mission was to protect his pack and no bones about it. Once he was convinced the threat was past, he went back to being his usual self: an oafish, clownish retard.

Perhaps my place on this earth is as a focal point for the missions of others? Being lost isn't so bad, HAR HAR HAR! Welp - gotta go. We have coffee with Queen Mary, and after that I have a day in the cool dim basement, loading up black powder cartridge rounds for the Retirement Rifles. My mission now, I guess, is to stay out of the way, shut my gob and stay out of jail! Wish me luck! :)

Have a good weekend!

Friday, 22 June 2018

Friday Cup Of Mead: No Flowers For Algernon

Oh hi everyone!

It's been a couple tough days here at Uncle Bob's Institute For Wayward Boys N' Retards. A couple of seemingly small details came together to make a perfect storm at the institute: the first came when the Ritalin deliveries slipped. If that wasn't bad enough- we hired a creepy new substitute teacher that's learning the little bastards all kinds of bad stuff.

All of a sudden under his tutelage, otherwise peaceable retards started getting in all kinds of trouble! Quartermain invented an invisible sign language. Jack invented invisibility or he may have disintegrated himself - nobody's seen him since he blinked out of sight on Wednesday! WL wrote 7 spectacular poems, a novel and score for the Boston Philharmonic Pops, and Pete and TB are riding around in a flying machine without propellers, jets or rockets! It's been pandemonium.

Fortunately the drugs came in, and we coked up medicated all the little bastids to the gills! And peace and harmony return! Bob is colouring and getting more on the desk than on the paper, BW is drooling and staring into space at something only he can see, and the rest of 'em are doing things that quiet, docile retards do. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. it's so relaxing!!!

And now that the students are back under control, maybe it's time I medicated myself! Join me if you're so inclined!

Have a great Friday

Good Luck With That Fellas

Right again.

I knew they were going to do that. Having come from a family of cucks and progs, I know how these people think. They live inside their own heads with the blinders on, and when the reality they refuse to see bites them on the arse - it's always a shock, and it's always somebody else's fault. One of the things those people hate the most about the rest of us is that we can see that stuff coming when they can't. I can tell what these idiots are gonna do and the fallout that will come of it despite the fact that I haven't watched a sitcom in years.

My prediction is that their new edgy show that will set the world on fire will open with spectacular success, and the hive will rejoice in that success and toot their own horns about it for a time. Then the ratings will start to slump because The Hive will be bored having their dogma parroted back to them, and people with a triple digit IQ tune out. Couple seasons, max, and the thing will get canned. Stuff like this may even have a net positive effect in that people will turn off that idiot box, get off the couch and go do something useful. The producers don't get that the audience for that show is made up of working class slobs that have paid the costs of diversity, political correctness and suffered the consequences. The fans are often like Rosanne herself - heretics that dared to notice the obvious or call a spade a spade. They care more about paying the bills and trying to get ahead in life. They know who is going to have to pay for those illegal beaners and human trash flooding across the borders with no skills or education, cratering the health and welfare programs as they come, they know why the globalist elite is facilitating that, and they are getting heartily sick of it too. The people pushing Rosanne under the bus are the same liberal ignoratti that were stunned into silence and tears when America rejected Hillary. But they will attribute their failures to racists, homophobes, and other deplorable demons of their faith.

Now if I were a Hollyweird Joo film magnate - I would cash in on this. I would hire Rosanne, and set her up opposite her old show and her ex-employers - with a new show of her own. It would be a sitcom aimed squarely between the eyes of the social justice warriors. It would offend the shit out of queers, moslems, Marxists, and other leftist vipers the way the Monty Python crowd offended Christians with The Life Of Brian. I would push freedom of speech right down to the wire with it and make sure the leftists sucked on that the same way the Christians were forced to, too.

One thing's fer sher: the assholes behind the cameras are almost as entertaining as the assholes in front of it! HAR HAR HAR!

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

Retard Pool Party: Thinking Ahead

Well our last retard pool party was RUINED by a few bad apples and a few floating logs. There's still probly a couple sinkers in the deep end - stop laughing, damn you lot! It ISN'T funny!!!

For this week's pool party we're thinking ahead. Guys like Jack, Pete and Quartermain are urged to take note:

Violators will be fished out with tongs and horse whipped!

Ain't Mine...

My readers of the mentally retarded variety are urged to check
to see if they are missing theirs.

I haven't been fishing for 100 years. Years ago I bought a boat and had visions of fishing like it was when I was a kid: early mornings, glass smooth lake, plaid jacket with a pipe and tobacco in the pocket and maybe a thermos full of coffee. 

When I got the boat - forget it. The lakes were full of the big inboard power boats towing water skiers, and the smaller sea-doos going every which way at full speed. Half the time the boats were full of kids and drunks. At the boat launch it was all out road rage as the boaters tried to butt in front of each other to get on or off the water. 

I sold the boat a year back and haven't missed it one bit. Not surprised that they are dredging up dildos from our lakes either to be honest. 100 years ago taking the kids to the lake was something that was fun, healthy and wholesome. But nowadays the lakes are ringed by yuppies with their lake front properties. Their feral kids have all the drugs and booze they need to ruin their own lives and that of their friends - and to me it's just not the place to be anymore. I like boondock camping, away from people and their self induced problems.

Filthie's Wild Animal Kingdom: Libertarians

Today Is Global Refugee Day!

It's a day to celebrate the mudflaps, push starts/pull starts/kickstarts, nine irons and bucket heads that flood into our countries to fill menial jobs! Be careful not to notice the ones that go on welfare, cause crime, and vote liberal.

Years ago I saw it described best on the wall of a roadside outhouse:

The third world is what  it is
because of the people that live there.
Now they're coming here.

Something stupid this way comes. And we're bringing it on ourselves.

Monday, 18 June 2018


Gawdammit. The birds got BW again.
Get your .22's out everyone! 

Turdo La Doo

The liberal rag sheets up here are all in a flather about 'how Trump is bullying' our fwench faggot of a prime minister. Turdo is strutting around proclaiming how 'Canada won't be pushed around' and our cuck conservatives are lining up behind him to sing the same tune. We are being told to 'buy Canadian to stick it to Trump' and the guy on the street just rolls his eyes.

As an Albertan I have more in common with Americans than I do with those liberal fart suckers out east. Those a-holes consistently elect corrupt and incompetent politicians. They are so damned stupid they will sell their votes to politicians who will pay them off with their own money.

I think Turdo has realized that most of the world and his own countrymen think (correctly) that he is a pussy - so he's trying to flex a little muscle to impress his fellow stupid kids. It's not working of course, and liberals are getting turfed up here in election after election. The only problem is though, we have no real conservatives to oppose them. Most of our conservative politicos are cucks and punching bags for the leftist mass media. I suppose anything's better than Turdo but the alternatives aren't that great either.

Sammich Artiste

More Retard Rocketeers

Harold Is On VERY Thin Ice

When you are a gun club duffer like I am, and hang around elderly sportsmen, bullchitters and liars a lot - you develop a tolerance for mental retardation and ropey mouths. You accept the fact that most of them are old and stupid, and that you are going the same way. But when I saw this one - let's just say fuggin Harold is darn lucky I wasn't within frowning distance, or he would have caught the very hell of it!!!

Looks like we got another student in need of special education
that only men like Uncle Bob
and Yours Truly can provide.

You can bet I'll be keeping a very sharp eye on that trouble maker - and the rest of you had better mind your P's n' Q's too! It's Monday, I'm sunburnt and crabby, and in no mood to be trifled with!

Try and have a good day. ;)

Sunday, 17 June 2018

A Fine Father's Day Weekend

Our Father's Day weekend got off to a rough start. The second I got home from work on Friday the rain and hail started. On Saturday we got up with the birds and loaded up the camper for the first weekend out of the year. Everything worked.

Summer is definitely here; it was hotter n' blazes but fortunately my mobile palace has air conditioning. Until the little Honda ran out a gas. I figured one tank should be good for a weekend but I was wrong. Plus - I'd run it earlier in the year for a couple hours so it probly only had half a tank.

The wild roses are out everywhere. I am not a man given to floral appreciation - but I love these. They are like all wildflowers in Alberta - ya gotta appreciate them fast because they are only around for a week or two and then they're gone.

The camp guards were deployed. I am brutally harsh with my dawgz on camp trips: even in sweltering heat they are expected to defend the camp against squirrels, cats, gun club morons and other wildlife.

The trailer appeals to both our inner children. For me it is the fort I always wanted as a child; for the wife it is her playhouse. She hasn't changed in all the years I've known her - in 15 minutes the camp is up, the beds are made, and she is pondering what to make for supper.

What a feast. The beans were stock, but she put bacon, red peppers and some other secret ingredients in them - and life was never so good. She grilled some Ass Par Agus and spuds over the fire like a champ.

After supper I brutally beat Macey and forced her to clean all the dishes. There is no slacking off or sympathy for dawgs in camp! HAR HAR HAR! The poor girl is getting old. She hates it, but sometimes I have to lift her in and out of the truck when she stiffens up. She likes shorter walks now too. She is one special little pot licker.

Flapz and M dropped in later that night, it seems I forgot my booze at home - and they had saved the day. They brought their nieces and I was in my glory! I drank half a quart of Auchentoshan and spent the night teasing the toddlers and talking to their teddy bears. They were enthralled with the dogs and walked them around - delighted that these monsters were happy to follow them.

I finally managed to get some serious range time in with The Retirement Rifle and my trusty cap n' ball pistol. It was awesome - I literally blew half the day on the range shooting and squaring away my favourite guns.

Afterwards I spent the afternoon on the tailgate of my truck cleaning my gats. Life doesn't get any better than that for a gun club stubfart; a big cup of coffee and some dirty guns.

Hope your Father's Day went well too.

Friday, 15 June 2018

Owning The Insult: A Musical Retort

Back in the last election, a dumpy old harridan in a muumuu was running for election to the office of the President of The United States. The lickspittles in the media were definitely in the bag With Her and had forcecast an election victory probability northward of 90%. Her political opponent was some old orange skinned fat white guy - and everyone hates old white guys, right?

But then the gaffs started. While the press took no notice, the disrespectful simians on the internet roared with derisive laughter. Her best was one in which she accused half the country of being a 'basket of deplorable racists and homophobes'. Wanks from one end of the internet to the other proudly proclaimed "We Are All Deplorables Now". Pepe The Frog became the detested and unwanted mascot of the Democrat bid for the presidency.

The really nasty (and funny) ones have now been purged and scrubbed from the internet.
Can't have any hateful statements about women from
the peasants now...

Liberal heads exploded across the nation like popcorn. The response from the internet was apologetic, and the wanks proclaimed "We Are All Racists Now". HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!

A new form of political warfare came arose that destroyed the  political cartoonists and media slobs who had previously used ridicule with devastating effect. Suddenly their political enemies turned the tables on them with something commonly referred to by Dirt People as the 'meme'.

One of the best guys at owning stupid insults thrown out by stupid people is the Z Man. His fans follow him on spreaker, oy-Tube and other venues. Some use Hitler phones, others are Android commies. The man has thoroughly RUINED music for me - whenever I hear 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' I start cackling like a loon, thinking of his scholarly lectures on "Xirl Science" where the lead in to the lecture about transgendered, poly-amourous, multi-spritied - is the quirky tune from Cindi Lauper. (That song sucked back in the 80's too, BTW).

But his trademark retort to the inevitable accusations of racism and fascism from the usual morons was the concluding music of his podcasts. Now I go around work singing this merry tune to the utter rage of the office feminist. I can't help laughing when I hear this tune now too.

Put on your Hitler Youth uniforms everyone! And sing along!
Errr… I ever so dearly hope that no snowflakes were
triggered by this display of contempt and humour....!!!!

Tomorrow is Saturday - and it does indeed belong to you. May you own the months and years ahead as well. Have a good weekend.

Retard School Pop Gun Quiz

Identify the guns above from left to right.
No cheating, no hints from the studio audience, and no
whispering from the Peanut Gallery...!

Well chit. We were going to load up the camper and head out tonight but we are getting lightning, hail, and my Maker is rolling barrels around up there. I don't mind, we need the water in the worst way.

Which leaves us time to sharpen our gun trivia skills. Hmmmmmm….. I'll go first: I say they aren't Enfields. Don't think they are Mausers either... so I'm spit-balling here: Swiss K-31's? Maybe some kind of Wop Carcano? Don't think there's any Russians in there... sorry boys, I am stumped on this one. Any authorities wanting to weigh in and help us out?

Filthicus: Blood And Sand

When I'm putting on a triumphal circus to appease the restless stinking peasants of my kingdom, I turn to bloodsport to slake their thirsts for violence! They seem to appreciate the stacked matches, where one obviously inferior contestant is paired with a superior one. Everyone likes to see the marginal, loud and obnoxious shrimps get tormented and kilt, right? Right???

So it is, my beloved peasants, that I present to you a spectacle of blood and savagery - not from exotic creatures from half way round the world - but from my own home province of Alberta!!! Place your sporting wagers, gentlemen! Ladies - you may want to avert your eyes for this one! BEHOLD:

Well shit. Looks like it's another round of coup de tat for yours truly. Sorry folks.

I seriously think we need to consider a knife ban here in the Empire...

Thursday, 14 June 2018

Swing Low

Swing low
Sweet garbage truck....
Comin' for to carry me home...

Hey can any of you Yanks pop by and get me one of those? Ship it up here by UPS... should only take a week, right...? It should still be good. Wonder what one a those cost...?

Call Quatermain...

... and tell him to spark up the BBQ! Next, I'd call Sunny because he's brewing beer and should have a batch ready for consumption by now. Finally, I'd call Jack and Big Mike to see if they wanted the guts for coyote bait.

Here at the Thunderbox, we are prepared for any eventuality...

Happy Shitty Father's Day

You'll get yours, Dad.
Count on it.

Well another Father's Day is coming up. I've related the problems between me and my daughter before in these pages. I won't go over them again. Long story short - I failed. I was too strict, I was told, I pushed too hard, I was a redneck/homophobe/fascist, I wasn't supportive - I went through the cuck/progressive liberal wringer on "proper parenting", believe me. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt. Some of it was probably true to varying degrees, who knows. God knows, it was no picnic for me either. I am so glad to be done with it.

But other fathers from my generation are now checking in. Big Al, my former manager - gave his son a job with the company in our cal lab a year or so back. It was a great starter job for a young man with no skills or education. The boy worked for us for a year, asked for a raise, and when the senior management said 'no' Al was caught in the middle. The kid quit in disgust, moved into Al's ex-wife's basement... and hasn't worked or spoken to his father since.

Flapz - oh boy... Flapz. His son just gave up as an apprentice electrician. One daughter, he's paying her way through university and she hates him and won't talk to him. The other just signed a student loan for $25k to take a make-up/cosmetics course - where students learn the ins and outs of it as it relates to the film industry. The want-ads are just full of employers looking for make up artists, dontchya know. His stepson is 14 and has had it already. The boy goes to school when he feels like it - about twice a week... and since the boy's self esteem is more important than his education nobody punishes him. He's hopelessly behind, and is in for a world of hurt if he ever has to make his own way. I don't see anything wrong with that boy myself other than the fact that he has no work ethic and has never been disciplined. That could have been me when I was a kid were it not for my own father.

Awhile back, a friend emailed to say I had better patch things up with my own daughter because of what happened to her: her son was out partying one night, came home with some friends, and died that night. I don't know any more details than that, but apparently the boy was at odds with his father the way I am with my daughter. Last I heard, she and the ex had to go to the coroners office to attend to the formalities of a deceased son. It must have been murder on Pop.

I sit in the midst of this family wreckage and ruin going on all around - and I just don't get it. Looking at these kids coming up, I think my retirement is going to be a quart of whisky, a fine cigar and a Smith & Wesson. I can only imagine what these kids are going to be like when they get older, and I don't want them taking care of me in my old age.

See ya in hell, Filthie!  :) HAR HAR HAR!!!

That is all mighty grim stuff so maybe a counterpoint is necessary. You'll have to go diggin' for it, but CW over at the Daily Time Waster was bragging about his kids awhile back. The boy man is a strapping fella and a second lieutenant in the army. His wife is as cute as a button and a nurse. CW himself is as proud as punch about them and he should be - but he should be intensely thankful too. Sometimes the good guys win. Other than that, I wish I had some advice for ya, Dad... but I got nothin'. God bless you in the days ahead, and your kids as well.

This weekend we'll be out camping by the gun club. I am going to enjoy a campfire, thank my Maker for my wife and dawgs and what I have, maybe throw a prayer out for my kid on Sunday... and otherwise spend the weekend cheating on the range, walking dawgz - and trying not to think too much. Doing the things that obsolete fathers do, I guess.

Y'all have a great weekend.

Resting Up For CW's Friday Open Road

A hundred years ago I was camping with the wife - we slept in the back of the truck and Macey in her crate nearby. It was late fall and chilly as hell. Back then our blood ran thick and hot with youth and I didn't notice it - until I woke up at 2:00am having to take a dump of biblical proportions.

After I did my business I came back to the truck and Macey was in my fart sack, snuggled up to Mom. She was shivering like a leaf, mostly out of fright, I think. It was her first trip out and it must have been scarey out in that crate. I pulled a cover over her, closed the tailgate and canopy on them - and went and stoked up the campfire and parked it to listen to the night and watch the sun rise. I leaned my rifle up against a tree for theatrical purposes and smiled at my private foolishness. The nearest bear would be at least 200 miles away and contrary to the horror stories, they tend to stay away from humans for the most part. But there in the dark, one could almost imagine being far away in the back country with just the stars and fire for company.

Have yourself a great Thursday and get your rest. Tomorrow that open road will beckon.

Wednesday, 13 June 2018

Good Morning!

The Duelling Tradition

If anyone is interested in the latest spat between Trump and the leftist Hollywood faggotry - there's this. Gums are flapping, insults fired off, and returned ... it's like a zoo full a howler monkeys in a shit fight. Low IQ individuals thrive on it too. I know there was a point in my life when I did, HAR HAR HAR! Careful of the low flying logs, folks, and try not to get any on ya! HAR HAR HAR!!!

The Twatter wars and facebook fights are merely the result of generations where there is no moral code of conduct and no consequences for unconscionable behaviour. The very idea of real codes of conduct, with meaningful consequences for trying to abuse it or violate it - is offensive to most of us. We have cops to handle those icky criminals, courts that supposedly punish them, prisons that (HAR HAR HAR) rehabilitate them...and...where was I going with that, I wonder? The mind wobbles.

Back in the day, if you could not get satisfaction from the law, and the matter of honor to be settled was of too great a consequence to trust to mere leather elbowed snivel servants - you could address the situation yourself.


— In 1777 “The Code Duello” was drawn up covering the practice of duelling and points of honour, settled at Clonmel Summer Assizes and prescribed for general adoption throughout Ireland. The Code was also followed in England and in North America, although occasionally there were deviations.
— Rule 10 of the Code states: “Any insult to a lady under a gentleman’s care or protection to be considered as, by one degree, a greater offence than if given to the gentleman personally, and to be regulated accordingly.”
— In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, pistol duelling became popular as a sport. Participants wore heavy, protective clothing and a metal helmet with a glass eye-screen. The pistols were fitted with a shield that protected the firing hand and fired wax bullets.
— Pistol duelling was an event at the 1908 Summer Olympics in London.
Welp, maybe pistolcraft is something my students and I should learn here at Uncle Bob's School For Wayward Boys N' Retards? We'll have to develop our courage first, and I have just the solution: Russian Roullette! I will go first, of course! Quartermain will do the honors and allow us to choose our weapons. I see Jack has selected a fine 1911 in .45 - very nice. I am a traditionalist so I'll take a flintlock pistol.

We're all gonna have a great day here at Uncle Bob's Institute - hope you all have a great Humpday too!

Tuesday, 12 June 2018

Who Woulda Thunk It?

I'm betting most of that debt is spent on coursework involving crotch/race/homo studies and other courses in high demand like kitten studies.


Flapz was bragging the other nite about how his kid is going to some no-name college in BC to learn how to do movie make-up: these are the folks that paint the celebs up so that the camera doesn't notice the uglies, and make the bum-headed aliens and monsters for film land. She just signed a loan for $25k. 

I just shut my yap and didn't say a thing. My own kid got suckered into the education scam so who am I to make waves? Maybe I was an idiot - I went into a ball-breaking STEM course that was no fun at all.

Reaching Out

Fresh From The Outhouse

Jeez. These meme-things are brutal. I had to go to the hospital to be sedated from the laughing cramps I got from some of them. What's worse is that I am an utter pig when it comes to humour. I laugh at fart jokes, ethnic jokes, blonde jokes - you name it. I would dearly love to be offended by this one below - but I am still LOLing about it!


Okay, okay - I know the drill: Rule 5 violation, I plead guilty to all the charges, 30 days in the can. They've got internet in prison now so at least I can still post from my cell. Does anyone know what day it is today? Whatever - have a good one!  ;)

Texas Crapper

Hmmmmm. We may have to do things differently
round here at the Thunderbox, if we are 
to keep up with the Joneses. 

Monday, 11 June 2018

There Is No 'Art' In Wheeling And Dealing

Lotta folks think that there's some mysterious 'art' and voodoo involved in business. There isn't. It's all about simple leg work and reaching out and doing what your customers need you to do. The big wheeler-dealers have three things going for them - they hustle, they are comfortable talking to strangers, and they have rudimentary smarts. Some have been incredibly lucky, most have taken financial chit kickings at least a couple times in their lives.

But ultimately the big deals are just the same as the little ones, the only difference is scale. The principle, stated timelessly and elegantly is this: money talks, and bullshit walks.

Our fairy princess prime minister isn't in this pic
although he was in the room.
He's in the back while the adults talk.

In any negotiation the weaker party is almost always the more bellicose and belligerent. Merkel is trying to 'loom' over Trump. Look at all the crossed arms. And look at Trump - what a shit head, you can see he's trying not to smirk or laugh or smile at these antics. He's been here before, he's had to take chit from people like this in the past - and now... he doesn't have to take anything off them. They know it too. All of this is just theatre for the gulls at home. Many people hate this kind of stuff but I enjoy it. The theatre is ramping up. All eyes are riveted on the actors. Imagine the tension!!!

And it's all bullshit.

Trump is sitting on a resurging country. Unemployment is diving, wages are edging up, markets are recovering. Instead of bathing the White House in all the frooty colours of the rainbow, and crusading for the right of 40 year old men to pee beside 7 year old girls in the washrooms, the nation is focused on making a buck and ensuring the prosperity of their citizens.

Here in Canada, we have only two provinces that ever make any money, and they finance the rest: Alberta and Morontario. Sometimes BC can break even. The rest are all money and welfare sucks, with the worst being Queerbec. Morontario finances went mildly into the red under their last premiere - Dalton McSquinty. He was succeeded by an elderly lesbian harridan who drove the province into penury. One economic engine out. Alberta was going great guns; people flooded in from the eastern provinces to take advantage of the economic boom - and smuggled their stupidity in with them. When the economy blurped - these imported idiots voted in our elections and we got the NDP, led by a career public school teacher and cunned stunt - Rachel Notely. She promptly taxed the oilpatch into penury and now we don't have any revenue coming in either. Another economic engine out. None of this is a secret, it's all a matter of public record. We know it, Trump knows it, and you can bet the guys pulling Turdo's strings know it too.

And they are scared spitless. Their free ride is over. They've run the country into the dirt, their biggest trading partner is tired of paying their way and getting treated like chit in return, and it's time to renegotiate a few things. For our leaders the fear isn't Trump - it's their people at home that will lynch them if things get much worse. Everyone and his dog knows Justin will be kicked to the curb in the next election provided somebody doesn't shoot him first.

These are the realities that are behind the theatre going on at these talks. I would posit the new deal has already been cut, and that what is going on right now is mere acting for the cameras. Canada's free ride is over for sure. Trump will have thrown a few crumbs and Team Turdo will jump on them and their lickspittles in the press will claim them as major victories. Wouldn't be surprised at all if it goes the same for the Krauts and Euros.

So there it is in print. We shall see how accurate I am shortly.

Sunday, 10 June 2018

Cleaning Up Canadian Politics

One stupid bitch at a time...!

Errrr.... pardonesvous moi fwench.

Vintage Thunderbox

1957: Fred Astaire suddenly discovers that he may need to use the thunderbox.

Friday, 8 June 2018

Meanwhile At Sunnybrook Farm

Years ago I ran a Husquavarna and truly believed that the sun rose and set on it. I dunno how many chords of wood I went through on Pop's farm with that thing. I was probably the only kid in my school who had his own saw in Grade 7. Pop taught me how to use it and care for it and foolishly thought the machine belonged to him - and I was content to let him believe it. As long as he paid for the odd bar and chain and the gas I saw no problem with it. When Pop sold the farm he got rid of all the farm machines in an auction and that was the last I saw of my beloved saw. I was actually a little bummed out by it.

Couple years back I went to buy one of my own... and went straight for the Husquavarna's. I was almost heartsick - it's the same old story - the brand was whored out to the corporate chithawks - who promptly started using it to flog cheap junk. The last time I looked into this - Stihl was the best of the bunch in my scholarly opinion. But I suppose the same thing will happen to Stihl one day too. If it does - I will turn my nose up at them too. Life is too short to be buggering around with an inferior saw.


Dammit - what's with all these friggin' chicks running round slinging the heavy metal faster n' I can??? Hack! Sput!!! I just got spanked at the range by my wife and Queen Mary last weekend and my butt is still rosy red from the paddling I got!!! Now this!

Sheesh. Well - I can just like that or lump it I suppose! But let this be a lesson to the lot of you: the fella that believes 'the pistol is only good for fighting your way to your rifle' - welp, this chick will be taking that rifle from his cold dead hands. Neglect your pistol skills at your peril, gentlemen.

We Need To Talk About Our Nipples, Men...

Shut up, Jack! Somebody SHUT HIM UP!!! Good work Quartermain! You got the muzzle on him just in time!

Of course he was about to make a rude joke about my man-boobs! And obviously I'd be obligated to respond to that with violence! I have skills and it wouldn't have been pretty!!! Now gather round boys - and let us examine our nipples. And stop that damned sniggering you gibbons!

It seems I've been struck by gun gremlins. My formerly trusty crap cap n' ball pistol has been misfiring like an SOB lately. The boys at the cast boolit forum have been brought in to assist with the problem. I was using CCI #10 caps for years with nary a problem. I would not expect any, I have been reloading with their primers for decades too. But the boys say that the dimensions of the CCI caps have changed - and I got a thousand of those suckers in my stores downstairs. I went and tried a couple hundred of the Remington #11's and that helped a bit - but I am still getting the odd misfire and it's pi$$ing me off. That thing used to run like a Swiss watch.

The boys tell me that aftermarket nipples may cure the problem but I am not hopeful. The first thing the savvy black powder geek does when he buys one of these is replace the chitty factory nipples with high end bronze or stainless alloy ones - which I did 6 or 7 years ago when I bought it. Perhaps years of firing have flattened the nipples? I doubt it - but ya never know. Because if this doesn't rectumfy the problem... I am looking at a new hammer spring. And getting spare parts out of these wops... and then across the border go gun-O-phobic Canada - is like pulling teeth!

I ordered in some new nipples from the turkeys at 
Track Of The Wolf.
Those boys know their stuff and are a pleasure to deal with.

The second thing ya need when ya buy these guns is a modest tool kit - with a nipple wrench. I swapped out all six but kept them as spares. I personally don't think this is the problem but it's a good idea to conclusively eliminate it as a cause. I think the nipples were only a couple bucks apiece so I swapped 'em all out and have a few new spares as well.

The holes on the new nipples seem a little larger - 
if that means anything...

Hopefully this simple fix will work. If not... Wish me luck, tomorrow I'll do only enough chores to keep me from being shot - and then I am off to the range to resolve this very important business. 

However - I DID get ripped off on this. Sorta... It's a pewter Ted Cash
capper that supposedly fits the 1860 revolvers.

It does not. Still, it'll work just fine on my Spaghetti Plains Rifle so I'm happy. But for the pistol I am stuck with my in-line capper that doesn't hold many caps. I have to put in another order with Track anyways and maybe they have a bigger in-line capper than the one I have.

So that's it for now boys. If your nipples have passed muster - stoke those stinkers and be ready for anything. Ya never know if there might be some uppity niggras, confederates or Indians skulking about! HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!

There won't be any straight shooting round here, I'm afraid - so I'll leave it to you younger fellas with steadier nerves and sharper eyes to redeem the soiled reputations of your gun club stubfart elders! Have a great Saturday and shoot straight!

Heads Are Exploding In Morontario

They just had their provincial elections - and gave a well deserved punt to this demonic old dyke, Kathleen Wynne. Like the vast majority of liberal leaders, she was incompetent and corrupt in addition to being a sexual degenerate.

They're all a-flutter now because they have a new conservative party in majority, and think that things will be hunky-dory now. My thinking on that province is this: if you were dumb enough to put a person in charge like Kathleen Wynne... what makes you think you are smart enough to vote your way out of the problems she created? That YOU had her create?

Bah - politics, hork, spit! It's Friday, and another shitty old liberal woman has been kicked to the curb! Call it good - and bring on the weekend!

Friday Meating

I still remember the day I discovered that Asparagus - or, Ass Par Agus, as the Bohunks call it - was edible. The wife and I ate a ton of it and thought nothing of it until we went to the washroom. I learned later that there are times when urine smells WORSE than chit! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Ass Par Agus is properly served grilled, drenched in butter, a squirt of lemon juice, and dusted with sea salt.

Thursday, 7 June 2018


Yesterday we had a business lunch and I was sitting next to the owners. Conversation was awkward, me and the new guys didn't know who we were dealing with so I jumped in and started talking about something safe like the difficulties of an old fart keeping up with high tech that these guys took for granted. I let it slip that I had just discovered podcasts recently - and was about to recommend The Z Man as a possible podcaster of interest.

But one of the owners jumped in and said he is following one too, where the guy sits down and interviews Jordan Peterson. That set off two of the ladies at the table - "Jordan Peterson?!?!? He's a racist!!!! He hates women!!! He hates queers and trannies!!!! He's a fascist!!!! I HATE that guy!!!!" The hens squawked, feathers flew, and silence returned to the table.

And of course, we all shut up about it for fear of triggering the women. And of course, they were middle aged, covered in tats, with nose jewelry, shaved heads and bad hair... and sported face tackle. The owner gawped, mumbled that he didn't know that Peterson was a heretic, and had only seen a brief interview with the man. I can't blame him because I would have done the same - men do not like provoking women and will often defer to childish female behaviour when they probably shouldn't. Who wants to start a fight over something like that, right? It's just easier to shut up and let them think they learned ya a lesson. My question is - is that politeness... or cowardice? I've done it for years. I still do it. GAH!

I am something of a student of the study of the modern human condition and anyone else in this game knows who Peterson is. For those of you that don't - he came to fame over a brouhaha at an eastern Canadian university (right in the heart of political correctness) where he was a professor. The usual gaggle of queers, trannies and other sexually disturbed flinks had a bird when he publicly refused to address them by the special pronouns they had invented for themselves. He openly called it lunacy and refused to go along with it - and heads exploded everywhere. Faggots, feminists, Marxists, and liberal flimps everywhere of every stripe  started flapping and clucking and virtue signalling at the top of their lungs! "You're a racist!!! You're a woman hater!!! You're a homophobe!!!" they screamed. The man calmly pointed out that his accusers were all lunatics and carefully and skillfully pointed out why. Usually men like this are publicly humiliated, castrated, and crucified. Then their corpses are thrown down, their skulls cracked and lefties stomp on the brains with dirty shoes.

Of course, half of that gaggle of hoople headed perverts, retards and morons continued shrieking - but the lefty liberal types with a triple digit IQ (there ARE a few of those) - listened. The man was just one of those guys that had enough, I suppose: he started going off about other forbidden subjects of conversation. As a university prof, he started talking about the empty skulls showing up in his classroom that he was supposedly supposed to educate and dumped on the parents and public educators in the schools responsible for it. Most of his students couldn't think like rational adults. Then he cut loose on his fellow professors and accused them of abusing these intellectual derelicts by filling their heads with crap. It was bad enough that he noticed these things - but his biggest sin was refusing to shut up about it - and daring to prove himself correct.

To the complete fury of the protestors,
people will go to protests like this to see Peterson rather than the protestors.
You are looking at the modern Galileo here - who has
discovered that childish intellectual flakes and degenerates are not the
centre of the universe.

Whether you are from the left or the right - the man is controversial and fascinating. I hear many conservatives hate him because they think he is a phoney posing as one of their own. (He most certainly isn't). The leftists hate him for reasons that make sense to me: he's a man with common sense, stranded in the midst of liberal lunacy, and he sees what the consequences of modern liberalism are - and he points them out to anyone that will listen. And - to the horror of the hard left... people are listening. Worse - they are thinking about what they heard for themselves. To me, he represents a major crack forming in the foundation of modern liberalism. I don't agree with everything he says either - but will concede he has ammo for most of his arguments.

I've seen that with empty headed liberals all the time too. When they can't win a debate, they go for insult and labels every time. They will accuse you of using derogatory labels like nigger, faggot and other modern swear words - even when you haven't. But they think nothing of using labels themselves like bigot, fascist, homophobe, etc.

The ironic thing about all this is that we need more men like Peterson. The lefties aren't smart enough to embrace such men - they drive them out when they are actually the kind of people that need thinkers like Peterson the most. I would like to think that Peterson is a dawning of the renaissance on the left... but they still have a whole lot of stupid to burn through before they become rational adults.

Wednesday, 6 June 2018

Humpday Cutie

An obvious candidate for the blood and sand of the Arena Of Death...

Light years ago Pop and I were rattling and bumping along in the back forty: Pop was at the helm of our little farm tractor, the bailer behind him, and me on the stuker on the end. As the bales came out of the baler, I'd stuke 'em and drop 'em to pick up later. It was hot, miserable work and the monotony and rhythm soon set in. The mind will drift while the body sweats and toils.

I was woken from daydreaming when Pop stood on the brakes and our little train jack-knifed in two places. I fell off the stuker but Pop was on the ball - nestled in the rake row, just a foot in front of the baler -  was a little bugger just like this. He was terrified but he stayed stock still and curled up as we got our poop in a group and walked over for a better look. 'He'd a bunged up the baler real good,' was my scholarly observation. At last his nerve broke and he bolted. All was not lost, his mother came bounding out of a nearby crop of woods and they bounded off the property together.

I'm surprised my retarded henchmen and minions haven't brought me one of these to fight and die in the arena for the amusement and sport of Emperor Filthicus. Of course, I'd be forced to ask the Empire's comptroller if we could afford another exotic pet.

The Humpday Cigar

Remember these things...?

When I was a kid you could still buy these at a general store for a nickel a piece. The guy at the till could be a dirty slob, reach down and scratch his ass right in the crack before handing it to you - and we as kids cared not one whit! Chances are we'd already scratched our own butts before handing him the money for it. I remember they had gummy bears, nigger babies, worms, jew jubes and gawd knows what else. When I got older the seedier bars had big jars a pickled eggs on the counter and you were really rocking if they had pickled koobasaw too. I ate a metric tonne of those as a young man.

If a vendor tried to sell food like that today they'd get shut down on health violations. The hell of it is that a couple years ago, it was in the local rag sheet - The Edmonton Urinal - that a local ethnic Chinese market store had been shut down AGAIN on health code violations - and I was one of the biggest mouths running on about how ethnic Chinese are dirty people. And they are - but if they sold candy like this I'd be the first in line telling them to shut up and take my money! HAR HAR HAR!!! And I'd probably have to pick up extras for Quartermain, Jack and the other stupid kids too!

Welp - Wednesday is off to a fine start! Have yourselves a great Humpday and work safe out there.

Tuesday, 5 June 2018

Sacrilege: Gunny Obscenity

You DO NOT put a scoped sight on a rifle like this.
Not even a Swarovski.