Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 25 February 2018

The Two Happiest Days Of A Boat Owner's Life

... is the day he buys the boat, and the day he sells it.

Years ago I bought a little rubber Zodiac with a 9.9 HP outboard and had visions of myself dressed in plaid, fishing at the crack of dawn with a thermos full a coffee, a pipe and a bag of tobacco... on a lake as smooth as glass. It didn't work out that way.

Alberta doesn't have many real 'lakes'. They're mostly sloughs. Most of our fisheries have collapsed too - thanks to the red niggers  ... ahem, 'First Nations Aboriginals' abusing their red privilege and over fishing their commercial quotas by over 300%. And of course nobody can say anything about it because RACISM.

The other problem was the big power boats and cruisers. The adults quickly get bored with them and hand them over to the kids - and they don't care where they drive. Pour some booze into them and things get really stupid. Me and my little rubber boat got doused and nearly run over a dozen times. Then there's the personal watercraft ripping along too, scaring all the fish - and there's no real place for the old fart on the water any more. I sold my boat ten years later without hardly ever getting any use out of it. It's okay, it was a small boat and I didn't have any real money in it - but I was so happy to get it out of my shed.

I was heartbroken when hunting went the same way. First, my favourite spot in the foothills got over-run by redneck rig pig trash. They would drag their 5th wheelers in, their screaming kids, their ghetto blasters and booze - and leave with a pile of trash left behind when they left. The white niggers aren't much better than the red ones I guess. I found another spot, bought an ATV to get into and out of it... and life was golden for a few years. Then life happened, I got old, and I would find myself out in the middle of nowhere, with a nice buck or doe down the cut line - and I would just shrug and wonder why I was there. It's a game for younger men, I enjoyed it when I was in it and shot some nice animals - but the time comes to leave the trappings of youth behind. I didn't enjoy it anymore and rather leave it all to younger men that did.

Today I am not materialistic at all. I look at these idiots mortgaged to the hilt, selling their souls to pay bills on stuff they don't want or need - and I thank God that He gave me the sense and the wife to live the way I do.

I shouldn't brag about my humble piety; I am an unrepentant gun whore, and I do like my motorcycle and a few other toys - but as I get older I find that I don't really mind the frugal lifestyle at all.


  1. What I learned. You have to take care of all that junk or it rots, and you have to drag it along with you when you move. These days I'd rather have ammo or cash in the mattress.

    In the good old US of A, you'll occasionally find a small lake with a 'No Powerboats' sign, or a prohibition against motors over 3 HP, which means anything over a trolling motor is prohibited. The local cops are exempt, but don't abuse the privilege; they live there too. Makes for nice boating and fishing.

    Yeah, the Red Niggers and their fishing privileges. I've experienced that as well, and all I can say is that they aren't all like that. Some tribes are, and where they 'live' everything is fished and hunted out. Words kind of fail me here, but the fact is they just don't get it.

    1. I know all about natives, WL - at least Canadian ones. Our reservations are crime ridden shitholes where the chiefs and their cronies scam the tax payers for millions, and the little people get by on booze and drugs and all the chit that goes along with it.
      The good news is that many are walking away from The Rez in droves, getting jobs and mainstreaming with the rest of the country as best they can. And a few reservations are actually moving to address their problems with booze, welfare and drugs. Time will tell how well they do...