Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Wednesday, 14 March 2018


100 years ago I worked as a well operator in the heavy oil fields along the Alberta/Saskatchewan border. I did a shift: 8 days in, and 6 out. It was an awful job in an awful place. The winters were brutal, the landscape was as flat and featureless as a board, and outside of the crappy job - all there was - was wind and sky.

And hockey.

And booze.

My coworkers were the Canadian answer to America's hillbilly rednecks. They were all, to a man, the 'hold my beer and watch this' types. When they weren't working, the ones that lived in town were either drinking, hung over, or at the hockey arena on days off. On the job - all the leadership and cushy jobs went to the local hockey stars. It didn't matter that they were dumb as chit - those of us with triple digit IQ's further down the corporate totem pole were fully expected to cover for our Olympian leaders. People call me a redneck and have no concept of the term. Boy - I could show you 'red neck' in those days, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

One day half our staff showed up looking like they had gone nine rounds with Mike Tyson. Not kidding - some of the boys had eyes swollen shut, others had stitches and teeth missing. Their arch enemies from Kerrobert were playing in town the night before and the story went that the puck had barely been dropped when the fight started. The boys on the ice dropped their gloves and started going at it, and the idiots in the stands charged the ice and started punching, kicking and beating the other team's fans.  Even the referees got punched out! (That is a capital offence up here in Canada - and there are numberless Canukistanies that will happily take their lumps to do it!) Half the town's menfolk had literally gotten the living pooh pounded out of them - and the other half dished it out to the bad guys in a way that could get them charged with assault! Of course, there were no arrests - it's hockey, after all! Assault and battery does not count on the ice.

The next day the boys were all grins, boasting about devastating shots thrown, and scoffing at those received. Our field mechanic didn't make it in till lunch time because he had to stand in line at the town clinic all night, waiting his turn to get stitched. Somebody else was out with a concussion. I just shook my head at the lunacy of it. The stereotypical Canukistani is one of a nice guy with eccentric tastes and speech patterns. These guys were not nice people, HAR HAR HAR!

Hockey Night in Canada Butt Plug, SK.
This is not unusual amongst the stubble jumping
kadiddle hoppers of Saskatchewan.

All bad things must come to an end and one day I got a job offer in technical sales with a company in town here in Aaaaaaadmontin. I remember leaving the Saskatchewan oilfields in the rear view mirror with a deep sense of satisfaction. I can't complain; the money was good and in 6 months I had earned enough for a down payment on our house. The goofs I left behind? It couldn't have been good for them, what with the booze, drugs, and brawling.

Life is what you make of it I suppose.


  1. That is a pretty spectacular story Glen. That sounds a lot like what I think the Large Oil Producing Region to my west is like.

  2. That's a good story. Thanks!