Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 23 June 2019

Dear Gawd...!!!


A pistol for either a faggot, or maybe a frenchman… ???

Sunday Dilemma

The wife and I are having  an interesting domestic dispute. My wife is a seamstress without peer, and she makes the coolest garments - I have a big thick bathrobe she made that I can walk outside in - in the middle of winter. That thing is warm and has an October Country kind of print on it. She makes me sleeveless hoodies - and they are just wonderful layering garments. Sometimes she does artwork on them - she found paints that actually work on fabric. She can even shade and do work a silk screen garment couldn't touch. So I have this long white hoodie that just begs to be adorned with something cool... and I came up with this:


This is the runic symbol for Odin - the All Father or God of Norse mythology.

Apparently the very sight of that symbol can cause social justice warriors to poop their pants in rage, and will curdle the milk of the virtuous and politically correct!
Venerating and celebrating white history is racist; therefore good whites just don't
do it!!! The usual suspects are exerting political pressure
to ban symbols like this in the same way as the swastika or the rebel flag.

It'd be a piece of cake for the my artistic wife to put that on a hoodie - and when I asked her about it SHE pooped her pants in rage and gave me the very hell of it! "So," she said in disgust, looking at me like I was a retard, "You're going to walk around with the symbol of a false god on your back...?" I just sat there and gawped. My wife was baptized a couple years back and even I am an outhouse Christian of sorts - or at least I thought I was. "To me it's just a striking pattern! What's your problem with it? If I hadn't told you what it meant, would you have had a problem with it...?" I griped.

It's bizarre how symbology is being played in Clown World: God's rainbow has become the symbol of degenerate sexual behaviour. The rebel flag is now supposed to be right up there with the swastika. It's bullshit, of course - but people fight and riot in the street over crap like this.

Such are the fights that stupid old guys get into with their wives. Whatever - this is one I don't mind losing too much. Symbols are just that, things that give arbitrary meanings to other things. So I'm stuck here, with a flawless snow white hoodie that would look very cool with some kind of artwork on it. I suppose I need something that would look cool, and wouldn't give offense to the sexually disturbed, the perpetually offended, and yet signal my virtue to everyone that laid their eyes on it.



Hmmmmmmmm…..
wife couldn't bark about that one, right?



Have a good Sunday everyone! Thanks for stopping by - and don't do anything I wouldn't do! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Cheers,

Filthie

Saturday, 22 June 2019

Two Old Crows

Can't remember where I heard it but the joke goes like this:

Two crows are having a mid-day snooze on a power line minding their business  - when out of the blue, an F16 fighter jet screams over head at low altitude, with full afterburnes. The plane flashed overhead startling the crows out of their doze. Then the sonic boom hit and crashed like the hammer of God smiting a mountain! The line heaves and rolls beneath them as trees bend and leaves fly!

When the noise dies down one of the crows can finally speak after gathering his wits: "Holy shit! Did you see that thing?!?! How in hell does a bird move that fast...?!?!?"

The other one goes, "Welp, if you had two assholes, and they were both on fire... you'd be moving fast too!"

HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Have a great Sunday folks, and thanks for dropping in.




Livin' Life Right!


Distant Roads


Before she hit puberty my daughter was the best kid you could ask for. We had a little tiny Hyundoo back then and my wife would stack the camping gear around her... and she'd sleep or read or do colouring books and she'd be as happy as a clam - buried under the camping gear!

She was such a good kid. 

Fuggin Harley Guys Again!


$90.00... *POOF!*

I had a much deserved day off yesterday and spent it right. The wife and dawgs all went out for an early morning Dawg Patrol, then we dropped the hoople heads off at home and went out for breakfast.

After that it was off to Jim Bows for a conference in the pro shop where I learned the limits of the new high tech carbon arrows: if you fire them into hardened steel... they'll crack. Who'da thunk it??? I learned that I was a dumbass and a lousy archer but I can work on one of those things. The other I'm pretty much stuck with. This won't be the last arrow sacrificed or lost to the Arrow Gods. I'm glad the hawk eyed kid at the counter caught the hairline crack... shooting unsound arrows in today's high tech bows is not a good idea.

The days of summer tumble by so fast now - realized I STILL haven't been out camping yet. I want to go do some pre-season deer scouting and need to check out my favourite spot in the foot hills and make sure it's still there. I gotta jump on that. I still need to round up some odds n ends in the way of camping supplies.

So we decided to grit our teeth and drop into MEC (proud supporters of Butt Blaster Pride). MEC is the store favoured by yuppies, faggots, cat ladies and other flinks and poseurs living the outdoor adventure lifestyle. All I wanted was a couple high capacity nalgene water bottles, a couple dehydrated back packer meals, and a simple mess kit to throw in my duffel stashed behind my seat in Dawgmobile One. I walked up to the till - and got soaked for 90 beans. I was about to say "Yannow ya should probably at least kiss a guy before ya do something like that to him..."... but MEC is not the kind a store where ya want to crack wise about degenerate sexual practices... if ya catch my drift, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

This morning I had the time so I honked on the bow for a few ends and didn't do that well. Work has kept me away from some important things lately but it'll let up soon enough I hope. I am learning to fletch these high tech super thin carbon arrows and decided to try a new style of fletch out.


Those blaze orange one will be great for hunting with the lighted nocks.
If I am launching a warhead at an animal
I will want to be able to see where it hits.

I also unpacked the camper today. Everything was ship shape just as we left it last year. I plugged it in, turned on the air conditioning - and zonked out after mowing the grass and doing my yard chores in the afternoon heat.

I guess the days will start to get shorter now - and I have much to do before the leaves turn colour. Life is good here - hope your summer is proceeding well too.

Thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, 20 June 2019

Be Still, My Beating Heart...


A prop propelled amphibious power mower..?!?!?
We live in truly magnificient times.
Even M would have to respect my aviational accumen
with a machine like that.

Hmpppfffff!


A female Samurai?



A hundred years ago the creep down at the gun shop brought in his collection of Japanese swords and cutlery. They were probably all fakes, or at least some of them were - but I got to handle some of them. Can you imagine holding a blade in your hand that is (supposedly) 600 years old?

The blades were all fighting weapons. One was a little knife that the Samurai supposedly only used if he was unhorsed - he'd use it to cut the silk ribbons that bound the bamboo armour to his body so he could move more freely and fight to defend himself. Another was a longer one (a Tanto, I think it was called) that would be used for discretionary carry for formal occasions - where one of the guests might require a blade in the gizzard to restore some sense of order and propriety.  Another one was obviously old with a nicked blade that spoke of some duel where the person wielding it thwarted his foe's attacks.

As I get older I find myself ever more fascinated by antiques and artifacts. What will future generations make of the junk we leave behind?

From The Reliquary...

I often wonder what it must be like to be a squaddie - whether it was with the Romans in Gaul, or the Canadians at the Somme, or the Marines at Guadalcanal. I'd probably look at the birds flitting around without a care in the world and would wish that I was one of them. At the end of the day they'll all still be alive, and without any cares at all. And to fall in battle - what gain is there in it? In a couple generations you're a forgotten pile of bones or lawn food.

And then I think about that, and - nobody gets out of this world alive. It may not matter how much time you have in, but the quality of the time you have. To fall as a hero would beat the hell out of living craven.

And that in turn would probably leave me impatient and disgusted with myself, and champing at the bit to get it over with and settle the question of my fate. I am no hero, but I am no coward either. But who knows what would happen when the bullets started flying? I'd just as likely gobble in fright and fill my pantaloons!



Any guesses, boys? I am going with 7.65 Mauser...
it's definitely one of the bottlenecked pistol rounds.
What were the Russians using?





Some poorly preserved Schmeisser MP40's, I think. 
And maybe some Mauser K98's?
Who carried them?
What stories would they tell?


I hope you died fast and clean, whoever you are, and that
your loved ones found some kind of peace
after you fell
and didn't come home with your friends.





Looks like a well preserved Luger (considering the conditions) - som pipes, a mess tin
and some other junk...


Yannow I think of all those men that fell in the second world war and I am firmly convinced we've forgotten every lesson and hard knock we got as a species during that conflict. We are fools, hellbent on repeating history again. This next one is going to be a doozey, too.

Wednesday, 19 June 2019

Diversity Is Our Strength....









Gah....Those Russians.....


How I Evaded Fecesbook

I have my mother to thank for it! I am probably the only old stubfart in the world that got banned from Facebook - by his mother!

Back in 2006 it was a different time. Prophets like Mad Jack, Uncle Bob and the Knuckle Dragger all worked for a living, and wouldn't become philosopher-kings for at least another decade. BP was a respected academic and historian - and hadn't committed any climate-denying hate crimes. I was young and full a beans, naïve and easily led astray by my stupid friends. I followed the self-proclaimed intellects of the day and was a dedicated disciple of that idiot, Rodger Schlong - over on Curmudgeonly And Skeptical. He was the other person that helped me evade the clutches of social media.

Over a decade ago EVERYONE was getting on Bookface except me. I was admonished by Mom, Flapz and all the cool kids to get with it or get lost - so I set up an account and wondered what to do with it. I sent a few messages to the wife but the thing just struck me as a dumb waste of time. "That's because you're such a dud, Filthie," Flapz explained. "You can customize it out the wazoo like I did..." and his was pretty cool. He had pics of the hot rodded ATV we built, camping pics, yadda yadda yadda. I looked at my account and thunk I would put a pic up. Something called an 'avatar', whatever the hell that was. Of course my buddy Rodge (The Real King Of France) and role model was there with a capital suggestion:



So I plugged that pic into it and looked at it afterward. What a waste of time I thought - and gave up on it. I signed out and said the hell with it.

Well the next weekend the land line rang. (I refused to carry a personal cell in those days). I answered the phone and Mom gave me an earful of buckshot and hell!!!



I was told to clean up my act or I would get a bare bummer spanking with the wooden spoon! And to get on that idiot account and put something nice on it - or else!!! Apparently the algorithms went out to Mom and begged her to be my friend and then it went after all her old biddy friends doo - and she had been scandalized. But I didn't know it at the time. So I went hunting for another pic. And of course, Rodge had helpfully posted one on his blog! I stole it and put it in:




I didn't know it at the time - but I had posted one of the first
primitive memes on my account.

Aaaaand then the algorithms went out again - and sent Mom into hysterics again - and I was back at square one.

That is when I discovered that beloved pic of  the goggled heroic aviator -Captain Kelso. I put that one in and then I said the hell with it for good. A couple years later I learned that Fecesbook kept rattling my estranged daughter to sign me on as a friend and it made her milk curdle or something - so I read up on how to delete the account. It was like pulling teeth too. 

It was all just as well. I have all the wrong opinions, and hang out with a deplorable basket of racists, homophobes and haters and therefore should not be allowed to speak. I'd have gotten banned ages ago and my Mom would probably have been the one to snitch, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Sometimes the good guys AND the bad guys win! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Today I spend my time on antisocial media like the blogs of The Usual Suspects and Gab for the rude jokes. I think I got the best of it with Facebook, all things considered.



Tuesday, 18 June 2019

Ayup




I remember when I was still able to make good shots with iron sights too.

Monday, 17 June 2019

Charging Out Of The Rock


My Secret Lair







When I retire I am going to take up villainy full time. Hate crime will be my specialty. They just invented a new one a couple months back: I guess some of the more pastey faced grocers and cucks at the supermarket have set up sections for 'halal meat' for moslems. (What's a halal? I'll have to ask WL Emery - he's undoubtedly shot a few of them in Africa while on safari). Anyways, the joke is that the wankers will go to the regular meat isle, pick out some prime pork roast - and then leave it front and center in the halal meat section. Apparently it is so offensive and hatey for moslems that won't eat pork - that the entire supermarket will have to be burned to the ground in order to purify grounds to the satisfaction of moslems and social justice flimps. It's a real crime in Britain too - it's called 'Porking' - HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Can you imagine the prison yard discussion? "Hey, Quartermain - whaddya in for? Murder One? Genocide maybe...?" "Naw, I am doing ten to fifteen for Porking…"

What other hate crimes will I commit and orchestrate from my eeeeeeevil lair? Throwing BLT sammiches at mosques? "Man-splaining"? "Micro-aggressing"?

Yannow if I had a dime for every time some dim bulb called me a fascist - I'd probably have enough money to buy that place cash on the barrelhead! :)

Qucik, Agents Of Hateyness!!! To the Swastikagon!!!! Comedy and hilarity Villainy and terror await!
:

Now I See What Popeye Sees In Olive Oyl...


WL Emery Spotted On Safari Again


There he is, picking on poor defenseless critters again. And calling it sport!
The shreiking harpies and hags of PETA, the World Wildlife Federation,
and The Citizen's Coalition To Ban White Underwear For Men
has been informed!
You can bet he will catch the very hell of it!!!

I heard through the grape vine that he's shooting Weatherby rifles now.
O how the mighty fall....

Sunday, 16 June 2019

Happy Father's Day











 


As a father my story is all too common these days. Long story short: as Clown World set up slowly over the last two or three decades, my liberal family first chose to tolerate it, then embrace it and then finally celebrate it. For me the process was the exact opposite: at first I regarded it with suspicion, then contemptuous disbelief - and then rejection. Being a father in that world was impossible; in the end I failed. For a long time I was intensely bitter.

But the seasons tumbled by and the days became a blur and the bitterness became bittersweet. Now I watch other fathers battling the same clowns for ownership of their souls and their families and many of them are avoiding the mistakes that we made. That I made. It makes me happy to see strong families.

I'm gonna skip church today. They're pretty big on mothers, fathers, and Fathers over there and … somedays I just don't belong there, if ya catch my drift. I'm gonna fire up Big Red and see where the road goes today. You make sure you keep your eyes on your own road, Dad - and keep a sharp eye on those that share it with you.

Cheers,

Filthie

Saturday, 15 June 2019

Visiting Elsewhere

I see that the World's Best Prepper And Survivalist - Harry Flashman - has bolted up and hunkered down. Like me Harold has a lot of the wrong interests and opinions... perhaps he is just being smarter about sharing them. Harry - if you are still posting please let me know what the password is! I enjoy your writing and doings.

Can't say I blame him at all. Can you imagine if the Nazis or Communists had access to a tool like  Fecesbook? The Knuckle Dragger points out that they are already in the business of identifying agents of hate. And of course Irish weighs in - just as you'd expect a contrary Irishman to!!! I don't think getting those guys on the cattle car will be an easy proposition, Gruppenfurher...

I shouldn't hang around the bad kids, they are a bad influence on my otherwise sterling character. Instead I should spend more time with the wholesome and happy bloggers - like M for example! I love that guy - he and Quasimodo crashed The Volvo Driver's Ball as only they can.

Then of course, there's Mom. I love her energy and enthusiasm. I'd love to pickle and process and hoard the way she does. She reminds me of my own grandmother.

Then of course there's TB. Why, he reminds me of ... me! (If I were younger, smarter, and better looking...) The warrior poet is not afraid to engage himself and that is something far too few of us do. When I confront that bum in the mirror, the experience is thought provoking at times and I come to many of the conclusions he does... often getting there by the same route.

So...? What are YOU doing today?

Friday F-Tards

It was a tough week at retard school for me with long hours and days that were pandemonium from start to finish. On Friday I went in early and didn't stay as late. After I'd stayed long enough, I hit the road for King Peter's country estate. My bow and tackle are always in the truck so I am ready to bail out, set up and start shooting anywhere, any time.

Problem was I pulled a shoulder muscle by either showing off to the kids in the warehouse, or by sleeping on it wrong earlier in the week. I was astounded that the one I pulled had nothing to do with drawing a bow. I had stopped shooting for awhile out of fear of tearing something that had just been merely pulled, but I shouldn't have worried.

Pete and I are hunters and we take our weapons very seriously. You can imagine the scandal and outrage when this interloper RUINED our archery session by crashing the shoot!



Cell phone cameras suck. I am only 20 yards away from him
and he looks like he's 100 yards away.


"Get him Glen! He belongs to the neighbour and he's fair game!!!!" HAR HAR HAR! I took the opportunity to scare Pete - I carefully knocked an arrow and drew as if I was actually going to do it. "Send it," he said, calling my bluff in return. I let down and we both smirked like school boys. Sadly, this is the stuff of high comedy for old men. One of the King's pet peeves is to wake up in the morning and find one of the neighbour's menagerie of animals in his yard. I have a license to kill turkeys, pigs, llamas and a few other barnyard animals on the estate. I have sworn to do it too - but when we finally got our chance we both pussed out. Years of shooting has allowed me to hone my skills at making excuses."We will let him fatten up and then we'll poach his arse in the fall!" I said. "Yes," the King agreed, "And when we do, my wife will pluck it and clean it for us too!". I managed to maintain a serious expression while thinking about Queen Mary being handed a carcass and being told to clean it. Red heads are renowned for their foul temperament and Mary is no exception. I suspected that we'd be the turkeys that ended up getting plucked and gutted.

"Damn right," I agreed.




A short while later the trespasser was looking for grubs - smack dab
in front of our archery target. 
Arrows were thudding into the target mere inches over his head
and he could have cared less.
He pecked at one of the arrow fletchings a few times and then 
ambled on without a care in the world.


We were shooting at 70m at that point and that bird was in real peril. But the arrow gods took mercy on him and after awhile he ambled on, looking for bugs and grubs to eat elsewhere. I didn't know that Darwin and Murphy had other mascots too.

Yannow when it comes to outdoor sport - the gun rags and field and stream sports rags get it all wrong, wrong, wrong as they present pics of heroic hunters posing with pics of epic bulls and bucks. Sure you remember a successful hunt - but it's bullchit like this that you remember with fondness and humour.

And I am SO going to kill that gobbler - and Queen Mary WILL clean, pluck and cook it for us. Bet your bottom dollar on it, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Have a great Saturday and thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, 13 June 2019

Gone, But Not Forgotten: Sound Effects




Back before Mad Magazine got taken over by un-funny shit-libs, they had the best cartoonists in the world. And the best of the best was Don Martin. I loved his gross humour as a child and still do as a full grown miscreant. One of his trademarks were his sound effects. What is the sound of a supermarket collapsing? "FRAGROON!!!!". What is the sound of a woman sticking a lit cigarette into a man's eyeball? "Sitttzzzzzzifritzzzzzz!!!" So it is, friend, that we will put your immaturity to the test: identify the source of the following sound effect:

RUGGADA-RUGGADA-RUGGAD......SPLASH!!!





















That's the sound Glenfilthie makes as he rolls off 
the deck of an aircraft carrier...
HAR HAR HAR!!!






Fuggin Scots


I will stick with my spandex, thank you very much.
If they ever invent yoga pants for men you can bet your arse I will get in on that.
Then I'll take pics and you lot will get the very hell of it!
HAR HAR HAR!!!!!


I had to laugh today at work. The young bucks out back are all pervs. Behind our shop is a fitness outfit and some days they open the doors to cool the gym and all the boys start perving out watching the girls as they do their thing.

Today they did that and all the chicks over there were landwhales and chubsters - and that's me saying that. (I am so massive I exert my own gravitational pull). A dozen rude jokes suggested themselves but I couldn't crack any of them because we are a vibrant and diverse workplace where rude jokes are a hate crime. Us guys traded a few inappropriate smirks and left it at that.

The Filthie Eelectrician


When you're a handyman, ya gotta be able to improvise.



Perambulation


Thursday Classical Gas





Wednesday, 12 June 2019

Perspective For A Pussy

I am getting slammed at work. I go in early, I stay late and I don't stop for breaks or lunch. I go home at night and the phones are ringing in my head when I try to sleep. If I do fall asleep I dream about blown deadlines and deliveries or catastrophic errors. Yesterday I did 12 hours straight. It's going to be like that for awhile. My summer is going to be a bit of a write off.

Both my grandfathers worked 7 days a week. One was a dairy driver - back in the days when the Milk Man delivered to your door from a horse drawn cart. The other shovelled coal, dug ditches and finally made the big time as a brick layer. (He also took a sabbatical in his early teens to be a duckfoot in the trenches of WW1).

Those guys thought they were high rollers living the good life too! They lived in homes around 700~800 sq feet and considered it opulence. My place is twice that and today it is considered a modest home. I am only 55 and I want to retire. In their day, you worked until you died.

If any of you have some ambition or work ethic laying around that you don't need - I could use anything I can get! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Gah. The grind beckons. Have a great Humpday you guys.



My theme song for the day.
:)

Monday, 10 June 2019

Endings

My favourite stories are all predicated on one question: What if? What if our machines could think as we do? What if we could re-animate the dead? What if we ran into an alien intelligence, or could travel in time? What if JFK or Adolph Hitler had dodged their fates and lived on? The possible answers become the settings for the stories that I love. Of course, to get a good story out of that... you have to ask a good question.

Last night I turned on Netflix’s SF “I Am Mother” with my usual cynicism. All female cast? One of ‘the man jaw” type? Two strikes right there: today the authors of science fiction can’t tell a good story because they’re too stupid to ask an intelligent question. Today they will ask, “What if lesbian wiccans ran the world?” Or, “What if faggots could travel into our homophobic past?” I stopped buying books and going to movies because of this shite. No, the Ghostbusters would NOT be funnier and edgier if the actresses were all creepy women. Sheesh, Hollywood should not need their customers to tell them that. I fully expected the same kind of buffoonery starring power girls, dykes, and bitches. I fully expected to make it about 5 or 10 minutes into 'I Am Mother' before backing out and looking for something more interesting and intelligent to watch.

But the story was actually magnificent. The question was posed - not pozzed! Respectable drama, lots of tension and all the players revealed to be sinners and saints in their turn. It played swimmingly well up to the ending ... where they blew it completely. But hell’s bells... this time they actually tried to entertain with a story rather than bore with a progressive social justice lecture. I sincerely respect and appreciate that. I recommend it for light entertainment.

In other news, I finished “Eagle In The Snow” by Wallace Breem. I *think* it’s an old book, written by an old man written for other old men. If you fall into that demographic this book might be worth your time too. It grabbed me because I could identify with the main character. His religion was dying. Everything that he loved was lost before he was prepared to lose it. Barbarians gather to destroy the world he was to defend. His contemporaries conspire to give it to them and undermine his efforts to hold chaos at bay.  It drives home the old nickel about how being on the losing side is not always the same as being on the wrong side.

If YOU have seen any good movies or read any good books lately - by all means please let me know.

Have a great Monday!

Monday Memery





Sunday, 9 June 2019

Preying On And Praying For The Vulnerable

I was in the bank yesterday and the people that control my money are hard at work trying to control my mind AND your kids.

Good lord - just look at that fella. Oh sure, you would just LOVE to send your kid to a camp run by a guy like that, wouldn't ya? How many kids is that guy going to rape and sodomize before he gets caught? What kind of parent would send their kid there? And my bank, and the swine that run it will fully expect me to pretend to be shocked and outraged when it happens too. What in hell is the bank doing, supporting stuff like this? I can see the day when someone goes into the bank with explosives and machine guns to stamp out the contagion rather than rob it!

There's a lot of conspiracy nuts out there saying that it isn't the corrupt gubbiments we have to fear; they are just the unwitting goons and bagmen for their masters - the moneyed corporations. I fear I am starting to believe it too; they dole out the shekels, and their political monkeys dance and caper for the cameras and their adoring perverts and supporters. This hag used to be our former provincial premier; one of the things she and her enlightened cohorts did was make it law that kids at school could join pervert clubs run by the school - without informing the parents and without their consent. They were also moving to ban home schooling and private schooling. I congratulate the conservatives that replaced her and the speed with which they reversed all that.

Yannow what? I just want to pull my money out of the bank and invest in metals instead! Brass and lead being chief among them! Gah! These people are going to destroy themselves and I suppose the best thing to do is sit back and stock up on beer and popcorn.

It's Sunday I suppose, and I have better things to do, and better folk to run with.




Have a good Sunday everyone.
Keep your eyes peeled, the predators and darkness are gathering.
Enjoy the good times while you can.

Saturday, 8 June 2019

Found A Hawk Amidst My Plunder

Just as I warmed up with the bow and started to actually shoot today - my Maker decided to shut me down with some early summer rain. I thanked Him for it; it's so dry up here and we can sure use any moisture we can get. I went home to an empty house, my wife had wandered off after breakfast and with foul weather outside I had nothing useful to do with myself so I want down into the dungeon and started cleaning up. Of course, having the attention span of a gnat... I was soon diverted and making a mess again!

King Peter and I are fighting about archery now and no BS will be tolerated. If I say a heavier arrow will penetrate further than a lighter one - it isn't enough to say it - you have to PROVE it. We have set up our own ballistics lab in his front yard at his acreage and we've fired arrows into everything we can lay our hands on. This year I am opting for a conservative heavy, slow arrow with a two blade warhead moving at around 267 FPS. Thinking about all the squabbling we'd done last weekend I weighed some arrows just for gits n' shiggles.



These handsome feather fletched aluminum X7 2512s weighed in at a slim 470 grains.
It's a heavy slow conservative tournament arrow and I made a batch of them
25 years ago. I fell back in love with them just handling them. They are thin walled - 0.0012"...
and you can bend them with a dirty look.
Anyone that says you can straighten aluminums is full a chit.
Don't ask me how I know this.

I weighed my old aluminums, and then my modern new indestructible carbon fibre arrows and found the carbons came in at 530 grains. A monster like that will punch right through a buck or a bull with proper shot placement, and then Pete and I fought about that over the text on the cells. (He's in jail on shift up north by Fort Mac).

Somehow I got back to cleaning and the next thing I know I start finding toys I'd forgotten all about years ago. I'm not kiddin' ya - it's a stubfart play pen down there! I found an old hawk head I'd started to restore 100 years ago.




It's got a patina on it that I hate. And the handle is ash or hickory
and I hate that too.

It pished me off just to look at it. I have so many unfinished projects down there... So I pulled some 220 grit sand paper out of my files and went at it. There were some tooling and scratches in it that have got to come out. I have a premium chunk of curly maple round here some place and I will use that for the handle.




You can still see some of the gouges in the middle there.
I got them out... eventually... now I
gotta do the other side. There is at least 8 hours of elbow grease left
on this. Then I have to fit the handle and finish it.

I have some browning solution that I will apply to it once I have it polished up. I think I'm only going to go to 800 grit - my hands are so wimpy and soft now. I might carve and embellish the handle too - who knows. 




With a proper sheath that sweetie will ride on my back quiver quite nicely.
When I am one of those guys that breaks that pubic bone when he's dressing out
game - and the little hawk will be just perfect for that.

So here I sit, my hands filthy and hurting... but boy it sure feels good to play again downstairs. I am going to have to keep tabs on the black powder geeks again. They are experts when it comes to making good hawks and spontoons.


Sure'd be nice to finish up with something small and handy
like that...


Hope you all managed to get something useful done today! I ain't having any luck at all... and curiously... I don't care!  :)

Celebrity BBQ Party At Mad Jack's Tonight!




And it's gonna be a SHAKER. 

Jack and M will be cooking Tex Mex on the BBQ, so save your appetite. It's a formal occasion so remember to dress accordingly. Old farts elderly gents can go in Depends diapers and Velcro shoes; younger, more handsome bucks like me will be wearing our ablative asbestos underwear and our best rubber boots!




Be sure to wear an appropriate gat, too. After supper we'll have an informal shooting match down at the playground. I wonder: does a repeater go well with a lime green sports jacket?



Or is the sporting gentleman better off dressing to the requirements of the occasion where beer cans at extended distances may be involvd?







This was pictured on the invite. I wonder if that is what is going on the grille? Or if that is what my bung will look like after the chili has fermented in my lower intestine? Either way - it is gonna be a night to remember!

See ya all there!!!