Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

Gabba Gabba Weebeejabba...

Hmpffff. Got this in the mail yesterday:


Hello everyone,

We've made some incredible progress this month on the product in preparation for Twitter's strict new enforcement rules that will be going live on December 18th. Twitter will be judging user behavior both on and OFF of their website. Meaning if you visit another website that they don't like or show "support" for groups they don't like, you can get banned. This unprecedented level of censorship and blacklisting of groups from the public square is unlike anything in history and will be a huge opportunity for Gab.

In just 30 days we've been able to reserve $738,000 in our ICO Test The Waters Campaign. We expect the ICO to go live in Q1 2018. This will be one of the first Regulation A+ ICO's in history and will once again allow our users to become owners in Gab as we continue to take on the Silicon Valley elite and Big Social. If you want to reserve your investment you can do so now by visiting our testing the waters campaign page. No exchange of money or bitcoin happens yet, this is simply a way to reserve your spot for when the ICO goes live. Our last campaign was oversubscribed by hundreds of thousands of dollars and filled up very quickly, so be sure to reserve early.

In just the last few weeks alone we've shipped:

  • Creator Monetization tools like tipping and premium subscriptions for exclusive content
  • A totally revamped direct message system
  • Reply and repost counters
  • Improved search results
  • An on boarding experience that walks new users through the entire product
  • Native GIF uploading
  • A completely redesigned Android app, version 2.0
  • Plenty of bug fixes!

We hope you all have a wonderful and safe holiday season.
I never signed on for Twatter and gave up Fecesbook early in the game. There's too much room for abuse; the other day some frustrated Canadian was venting his spleen and made an angry tweet about wanting to 'blow Justin Turdo's head off' - and the next thing ya know the RCMP arrested him and charged him with uttering threats. Who knows what else you can say that if, taken out of context years or months later - can be used against you? You'd think our courts would have better things to do.
I signed up for Gab but I never use it. The problem I have with Gab is that there's more than a few nutters that probably DO want to kill people - lots of 'em - and who wants to rub shoulders with guys like that? And - there's more than a few genuine racists there too. (I steadfastly refuse the 'racist' label for myself. I don't hate people for their skin colour, I hate them based on what they do and say and that is as legal as church on Sunday, much as the lefties would disagree with that. Screw them - I hate them too, HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!)
I like that Gab is standing up to Twitter and is a raised middle finger to the censors and the scolds and nannies, but I hate like hell for them to be the justification for those things too. Freedom of speech is an incredibly intricate topic; there's a lot of ins-and-outs about it that we all really, really need to think about.

Those Magnificent Men

BIG brass ones...

When the airplane first went to war everything upstairs was fairly amicable. Because they handled like pigs and payloads were absolutely abysmal - the foes often passed each other Up There with a friendly wave.

The lore I've read says that a few unsportsmanlike sots started taking up bricks and chains to throw at their enemies - and the fight was on. Pistols and rifles went up next, but the problem was getting off a shot without hitting a piece of your own plane. Then the next trick was getting a machine gun Up There that would fire through the prop out front without shredding it. Things got downright uncivil after that, despite efforts of the gentry to keep some kind of chivalric code in place. There were heated discussions about the treatment of German aces in Allied squadrons, particularly the British - who didn't want to kill the Red Baron. Supposedly they bloviated about only wounding him because it would be bloody unsportsmanlike to kill a nobleman who had shot down something like 78 Allied pilots. The story goes that The Baron was lining up on a newbie fighter pilot - later to be known as Wop May, of Canadian bush pilot fame - when another Canadian formed up on his six - and shot The Baron down in flames. Captain Brown's resume can be seen here.

Innovation piled on advancement and today there's all kinds of talk about hypersonic 'scramjets' and weaponised drones that are so sophisticated that they are even better at telling friend from foe than humans are. I dunno how true any of that is - but I have no doubt it's coming.

The Shape Of Canadian Treason...

Somebody got a little over heated and wanted to 'blow Turdo's brains out'.

That would probably take some doing, as that boy's brain can't be more than a couple millimeters across and rattles around in the vacuum between his ears. JFC - that wasn't a threat; it was a man, probably down on his luck, venting his spleen about a politician that didn't give a damn about him, his province or anybody else west of Morontario. There's a LOT of people around here that would like to fire that whoreson out of a cannon along with half his cabinet too. People are frustrated and rightfully so - our economy is collapsing, and Turdo La Doo is capering about for hairy chested feminists and virtue signalling them by lifting his pant leg and showing them his pink socks. (Seriously). Or he's flooding the country with low IQ/low skill migrants when we don't have jobs for our own kids.

But that is how these rancid pukes work: a stunned bint poses with Trump's severed head, covered in blood - and we're all supposed to feel sorry for her when she whines that nobody will hire her anymore.

It goes against good principles and ethics to wish ill on other people and to be fair - that boy wasn't raised right and he's run with some of the most contemptible people this nation has produced. You can't expect a boy raised by such people to be a worthy man when he grows up. Even so - if I heard that the worst had happened to him - I'd be sorely tempted to smirk and buy a round for the house.

Screw you, Justin.

Monday, 11 December 2017

When They Were Queens

He Just HAS To Be Canadian

Years ago I worked for a company where the President was indistinguishable from the rest of us working slobs. I had gotten back to the shop late one night and spied a brand new snow blower - with big bejeezus tank treads instead a wheels on it! And - a great big bejeezus snow drift in the parking lot that needed to be dealt.with. I went at it and was having the time of my life playing with it when the President came out and told me I was relieved and he would finish up. I told him to get stuffed and a grumpy old man fight ensued and I got my face washed out with snow. When I was later told he was the president of the company I nearly died of embarrassment.

I got to play with the snow blower again later on - but only after the novelty had worn off for the senior brass first.


Back when our Albertan economy was booming two or three years ago, Chris was in charge of our shipping and receiving. Chris had a university BA and figured that shipping and receiving was beneath his dignity and intellect and he spent his time doing as little as possible. He was, without question, The World’s Biggest Dog Fu Pooch Screwer. When he wasn’t trying to bend my ear on world geopolitics, he was schmoozing with the delivery truck drivers and lecturing on Keynesian economics. I usually had a pile of crap on my plate and tried not to talk to him as he could literally eat up half an hour of your time before you managed to politely break free.

How to deal with an employee that won’t work? Hire another one, or that seemed to be The Crack’s idea. And since he couldn’t hire anyone smarter than he was (he saw intelligent people as a threat and rightfully so) – instead he hired dummies. No chit – he put an Urban Outdoorsman in the back to help out Chris and the poor guy couldn’t take the monotony of the job coupled with Chris’s lecturing. Then we hired a crack head who constantly hummed to herself and lived in her own little world. She lasted half a year and screwed up anything she laid a hand to – putting us even further behind the 8 ball. After that we hired a big fat ugly lesbian and she got in bare knuckle fist fights with the vibrant delivery drivers that couldn’t even speak English. And the customers got ever more and more enraged with us as we lost their stuff, or charged them for stuff they never sent in, or found new and incredibly offensive other ways of tweaking their noses.

One day, in a rare fit of mediocrity – The Crack hired Shelley. She wasn’t much to look at – she’s a couple years older than I am (late 50’s), overweight, with bad feet and a bad back. Where else would ya put such a woman to work but in a shipping/receiving department where the stuff that comes in is heavy enough to make a man grunt from time to time?

But Shelley, God bless her – she waded right in and did her best. When Chris was out back smoking and holding court with the truckers and passersby – Shelley would do the jobs Chris wouldn’t. She would limp and waddle out there with her bad feet and bad back and make sure chit got done. Wonder of wonders – we had somebody back there – finally – that Gave A Chit.

Her home life was a train wreck. She was divorced, making peanuts working for us – and she supported both her elderly mother and a drug addicted sister with all the problems and heart ache that goes along with that.

Last week she found out she had cancer and needed an operation – NOW. She will be off for the next little while and will have a rushed recovery – assuming she has one at all. She goes in next week or the one after – but she’s still back there, schlepping boxes and working like a trooper as if nothing was wrong. She had Big Al break the news to the rest of us rather than doing it herself because she gets teary and weepy and didn’t want us making a big fuss over her. This morning I stopped by and told her that we all love her and are rooting for her – and she started to weep. I fled, fearing I’d cloud up myself. Maybe I shouldna done it. Gee – ya think, Filthie? I am a damned dunce, sometimes.

JFC. As an outhouse Christian of sorts, stuff like this makes me question my faith (such as it is) on one hand – but reaffirms it on the other. There has to be a reason for shit like this.

There HAS to.

Friday, 8 December 2017

From Uncle Bob's Porn Stash

When Uncle Bob passed away and I became the new Principal of The School For Wayward Boys N' Retards - I got Bob's old office and set about making it mine. You shoulda seen the clutter and crap Bob had amassed over the years! A huge file full a paper and photos entitled 'Who REALLY Shot JFK - TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY'. Who in hell is JFK? I threw it in the garbage along with files about some place called Atlantis, the current address of Adolph Hitler and some glowing, humming crap I found in a box labelled "UFO Artifacts". The man was a human pack rat!

Once I had the office cleaned up and ship-shape I looked for a place to hide my whisky bottle - medicinal of course, for those days when problem students like Pete or Jack or Quartermain are acting up and ruining my day. I spied a perfectly innocent file cabinet - and hit gold! I found Bob's Porn Stash! Woo Hooo!!!! I locked the door, poured myself a drink and started thumbing through it.

Vintage porn! How fortuitous that I am a collector!
(I only read it for the literary content, of course).
What else is in here, Bob?
50 Shades Of Gay...?

Hmmmmmm. By reading Harlequin romances and trash pulp fiction - it seems that Bob was able to use them as some sort of guide to unravel the female psyche! As I went through his collection I found love letters to all the skanks girl friends he had, along with pics.

That's Lucy Gumshoe - Bob was forever getting in trouble
with trashy women.

All this may just be retro-smut to some folks, but to me they are touch stones from a time when we were better people, living in better times. Unlike most of you young punks, I was there and I lived in that country that was so much better than the one you live in today. Perhaps I will make periodic excerpts from Bob's Porn Stash part of my blog, so that the younger men out there might learn from it.

It's Friday! Raise a glass to toast your friends, those present, and those absent!