Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 30 April 2017

First Ever Bob Wallace Memorial Campout

Well last week end was ruined for me by the passing of Uncle Bob over at the Treehouse. Isn't it funny: there's any number of bloggers that I agree with on pretty much everything but I hate their guts. Bob and I disagreed on a lot of things and that was A-OK by him and we wasted our fair share of electrons debating all kinds of scholarly subjects. It ain't right that somebody like Bob goes over the Great Divide without some kind of fanfare - so it was that the job fell to me - Captain Sweatpants And His K9 Crime Fighters. (I'm sure we woulda made short work of Bob and his evil pug dogs had we ever met in person).

We chose the rod n' gun club campgrounds as the perfect spot
to make our last farewell. I think
he would have approved.

Some previous slob campers had left some garbage
we had to neaten up.

Before getting serious we fired off some old firecrackers Flapz had kicking around since forever. One of his bottle rockets went straight up to Olympia itself, hit Zeus in the ass - so he turned around, threw down some lightning bolts and thunder, and hit us with a shitload of hail!

My wife loaded up and tried to hit me in the gob
with a slush ball. Fuggin Bob
definitely would have approved of that too, no doubt.

It was our first run with our new little trailer and my intent was to hoist a glass and make a toast to Bob and then have a quick range session the next morning. But my ambition just dissolved once the weather passed, and the Flapz and M got the fire going.

Mort was deployed to guard the perimeter and defend the camp
while I took a break, let my guard down, and paid my
last respects to Mr. Wallace.

Oh my goodness. Caribou Crossing is simply the best whisky I have
ever tasted. Utterly spectacular. If you see it - buy two bottles
One to drink, and one to save for something very special.

I had the booze. I'm sorry, I woulda liked to have had a proper cigar too but I quit smoking eight or nine years ago. I filled my glass, and said a quick silent one for Bob.

Holy Father - we pray that Bob meets you on fair terms, and that he finds a place of favour in Your realm, and at Your side.


I was strongly tempted to add, "Please don't believe any of the rotten things he says about me or my buddy, George W. Bush!" but I suppose that jokes in prayers are disrespectful.

I'm sorry folks, I am not a real Christian yet; and you would need a full bull Pastor for a good speech about ashes to ashes and dusts to dusts.

Welp... after that, the next toast was for me. It's a celebration of sorts. I've known forever that my family was toast. It's one thing to know it in your head but getting it through to my heart or gut was a very difficult thing for me. But, I think I did it. Finally. I think I'm good. So I hoisted another glass, this time to myself, my beautiful wife, and my crime fighting K9 cohorts! And then I hoisted a bunch more... gaaaaaaaaahhhhhh......

Distant roads are calling us, and my wife and I have our own paths to follow too. And now - we have this fine new little trailer to do it in. There are other families coming into our lives, here at the rod n' gun club, maybe at the RC airfields - and I even got a formal invitation to the Black Powder Cartridge Rifle nationals in Bethune, SK this year. That may sound prestigious and formal but it's just a bunch of smelly old beardos and black powder geeks having a turkey shoot.

I had mixed feelings about the camper. No, it isn't the same as rolling out of a tent and onto the snow with your rifle up like ya did when you were 30 and full of piss and vinegar! But - the furnace was nice, the dogs slept on one side, we had the other - and there wasn't the merest hint of condensation on anything the next morning. I was hoping to live blog all this last night, and maybe one or two of you guys might be able to hoist a glass and propose a toast of your own, but I had problems with my electronics and intoxication and it just didn't happen.

Families are where ya find 'em.

Have a great Sunday, y'all. And keep the noise down if ya could, I am hung to the rafters after too much good whisky and a night with the campfire, HAR HAR HAR! And so long to you, Bob!

Saturday, 29 April 2017


I thought this was a Canadian whisky but I see it's bottled in Kentucky...

In the world of distilled spirits, Canadians have typically been masters of the blended whisky. I dunno if that is just mere hype - I have come across superb blends from other countries that will wipe the mat with most Canadian makes. I am openly suspicious and dubious about expensive short run bottlings as most of them definitely ARE hype and are a poor value for the money.

I bought a bottle of this stuff last year with the idea of squirrelling it away and saving it for the day when my pipe-dream of re-uniting my family came to pass. My father in law was a whisky drinker and mending fences after a virulent disagreement calls for a glass of the good stuff. Or maybe after we ironed out our differences, I would have a celebrational snort before bed time. If it turned out good I would savour it during special occasions. If it was crappy - I would mix it with Coke, Hy Vel hydraulic fluid, and Winchster Red Dot and guzzle it for medicinal purposes.

Long story short - hell will freeze over before we ever become a family again, and the less said about that, the better! In any event, if I don't change my plans I'll never get into that bottle at all! Still and all - a bottle like that can't be opened for the mere hell of it. Only a special occasion justifies opening a bottle like this - and I think I have a couple today.

If you have time later today - please stop by the blog later on if ya can. I am gonna try something different that may or may not work. Maybe you should open up a bottle of your own, and pour yourself a dram of the good stuff for when you stop by too.

I hope to see you later.

Friday, 28 April 2017

Manly Jewelry...?

Maybe it's just my imagination and I'm crazy - but it seems to me that the more jewelry and bling a man has, the more likely it is that he's a douche bag.

So it was that Flapz came into the shop with a new ring he'd found and I was overcome by greed and jealousy so I beat him up and took it.

If this ring isn't proof of Flapz' douche bagginess,
I dunno what is.
Flapz rides a Harley and therefore probably
has a unicorn tattooed over the crack of his ass.

After some serious fisticuffs and pugilistics, I triumphantly sent this pic to the wife on the cell to show off my ill-gotten gains. Apparently that's the finger engagement rings go on. Who knew? I sent a text back saying that Flapz and I were butt blasters and we were gonna get married, HAR HAR HAR!

The wife DID NOT appreciate my sense of humour.

She says I need to see jewelry and humour in a different light... and I probably will once the swelling goes down.

That is the bugger of getting old though. Cool is something that simply is no longer feasible past a certain age.

WIRECUTTER Is Batman?!?!?

AND he's an Oilers fan?!?!? Who woulda thunk it????

Who is Robin then?


CW's Friday Open Road: CANCELLED

Aw c'mon! This is CW we're talking about here!
He'll get up, walk it off and post some pics for us as he always does!

A Once Proud And Prestigous Constabulary

Are you shitting me...? Must be Morontario or Queerbec...

If you eeeevil Murican bastards wanna see what happens to a country destroyed by liberals - your lookin' at it right there. That thing is so representative of liberal/democrat culture: a gutless piss burning import languishing in the snow!

I am at a loss to see what the LBGQTFUCKMYRECTUM crowd sees in all this.

There ya go. Law enforcement done right!

Why, all that needs is a set of Texas long horns bolted to the front of the hood! When I violently overthrow the Canadian gubbimint and assume control of the country, you will see a squadron of these fly into a crowd of gay pride protesters at 70 MPH (oh yeah, you can shove the metric system up your arse too, you liberal scum) - and then the officers'll get out and spray the crowd with rubber bullets fired from full auto AR15's! Greasy hippies, creepy skanky women and turd brained socialists will drop like flies! HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!!!!

Ooops - did I say that out loud? Must be Friday, and time to up my meds...!

Thursday, 27 April 2017

Friday Wind In The Wi.... Rotors???

Ever see that 1970's TV adaptation of Ray Bradbury's 'Martian Chronicles'? There's a scene on that one that lives with me to this day: one of the astronauts went rogue on the Red Planet and he's killing the others one at a time. The boys get fed up with it, and figure they'll hunt the perp down and end him with some gun play. So they're standing round on a red, sandy dune around sunset, working the actions on their rifles, slapping in magazines and getting the heavy metal ready to go... and one of these roars overhead to conduct the hunt from the air!

If your scifi flick has one of these in it - it just has to be good!

I was going to build one at one time, there's plans for them on the internet - look up the Gyrobee if you want a novel way to kill yourself. I was even going to get lessons but the only guy in Alberta licensed to be a flight instructor on one of these - died in a crash the week before I met him. I figured that was Darwin and Murphy trying to get my attention and abandoned the dream.

The fearless Gyro Captain from Mad Max - the proper,
original version.

A rare event where a Hollywood script runs true to life - almost.
In a real crash both man and machine would look a helluva
lot worse for wear.

The gyrocopter is touted as an amateur's aircraft. While it may have wonderful flight characteristics, this thing is a mechanical nightmare and if you choose to fly one - you had better be a mechanical whiz kid and a top flight materials guy - and even then one of these could still kill ya.

I look at these and fall in love with them all over again.
If you're gonna fly one the Monarch with it's
sturdy landing gear - seems like the best of the bunch...

So This Lady Was Beating The Ever Lovin' SNOT Outta Quartermain And WL...

It looked like a righteous beating and legitimate super-hero business.
I didn't intervene because those two perverts probly deserved it...
and it looked like they were enjoying it.
I desperately want to make a rude joke about flies and shit
but I got vapour locked.
Beat the hell out of them, Bug Woman!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

And, lest anyone think that Rule 5 has been approved for this neck of the internet - no such luck.

Sorry fellas. I tried.

Which Civil War?

It could be a valid question. Are you referring to the last one kid?
Or the one that's about to start?

Godspeed, Bob...

From the comments over at Uncle Bob's Treehouse:

Robert Martin Wallace Jr., 60, of Granite City, IL, passed away unexpectedly at 1:07p.m. Thurs. Mar. 30, 2017 at Gateway Regional Medical Center in Granite City.

He was born Aug. 17, 1956 in Granite City to the late Robert Martin & Glenna (Weiss) Wallace Sr.

Bob worked at the Granite City warehouses and wrote his own blog, Uncle Bob’s Treehouse.

He is survived by a sister, Dawn A. Wilkinson of Granite City and her children, Julie, Daniel and Jacob Wilkinson and their spouses and children.

The family will hold a private service at a later date.

Bob's always been one of my favourites. I fought and squabbled with him and his fan boys and pooped in the comments with the best of them - and Bob just presided over the mayhem and smirked every time some stooge got a pie in the face. (I swear I could hear him doing it right over the internet after getting a few pies to the face myself). He was a media man back in the days before it became the intellectual and moral cesspool it is today and you can tell - he often wrote stuff to provoke controversy but he did it like a pro and he made sure both sides of an argument got equal time on his site.

Well that just ruined my day. If you've read Bob's stuff and enjoyed it, it might be a good idea to dro by and pay your respects in the comments.

How To Cuddle Your Dawg

That theme keeps going round about people that resemble their pets.
Apropos of nothing at all, I used to have a Husky, and Uncle Bob
used to raise pugs.
The quality of our gals would be similar I would think, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

And speaking of Bob ~ if you're out there, Bob... I hope everything is alright.

The rest of you: take care of yourselves too.

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

BARF: Tranna Edition

Oooh! And Urinals In The Living Room!

Come to think of it... why DID we ever do away with
the chamber pot?

Ye Olde Manosphere: The Look Of The Father

Yesterday I pulled into the house to see ol' W's family rolling in. W lives a couple doors down from us in a very nice middle class home. He's a big wheel at my wife's church. His wife, D, is as nice a woman you'll ever meet.

W's son was home too - something very rare. The boy started rebelling against his parents, the law and everything else in his teens and became something of a juvenile delinquent. If I understand the gossip correctly he is in serious trouble with the law. Today he is a big tall man just like his father. He used to wear his hair long almost down to the crack of his ass but today he had a respectable crew cut that a lot of the kids still go for. Hmpfffff. You should never listen to gossip, I told myself.

Then I looked back at Warren and I saw that look as he watched his son. It was one of sorrow, regret and utter fatigue. It was the kind of look that said that at least some of the gossip about the boy was true. Then W noticed me watching him, gave his head a shake and pasted on a great big phoney smile and gave me a friendly wave. I returned them both. I must have looked something like that for years.

Boys, there comes a day when you stop being a father. It comes way too soon, and it can be a traumatic life experience. Even if that transition goes well it is an intensely painful one for the parents. You have to back away and accept that your kid has cast his or her lot, their destiny is their own and there's not a fuggin thing you can do about it! It's orders of magnitude harder to do with problem children.

With problem kids, you have two choices in how you go about this. If you're lucky, you can position yourself so that you're near when they hit the guard rails and you can help pick up the pieces. (That's all you can do - then you have to hand those pieces back to their owner and it is up to them to re-assemble them). Option 2 is distance. Some kids - errr, young adults - are so stubborn and hell bent on being deliberately stupid, that only Darwin, Murphy, time and experience can straighten them out.

W and D are on a plan. He worked for the city and now he's coming up on retirement and they are gonna sell their house and move back to their ancestral home in the Maritimes. Warren is doing something I had problems with: he's stepped outside of himself, he's looked at it objectively and he is going to live his life the way he wants to, now that his responsibilities as a parent are over. If the boy wants to fuck himself over - that's on him and him alone.

The classical dream is that ya have two kids, raise 'em right, put 'em through college and they move out and start a family of their own. You retire at 55 and sail off into the sunset. So whaddaya do when your family is in flames here on shore, and your yacht is bobbing on the waves at the end of the pier? W and D are going to get on that boat and sail away... and I've learned the hard way that that is the right call to make. I have my own sunset to meet. The World's Smallest Hanger is in shambles, I've run low on several calibres of ammunition and I gotta get the little camping trailer rigged and ready for the summer! What time have I for the problems of my kids?

Y'all keep yer stick on the ice - hold the kids close, but know when to let 'em go. Have a great Hump Day!

Tuesday, 25 April 2017


Suspiciously reminiscent to Big Bro's Tupperware Band

When I was a kid I was so square I could cut glass on my sharp corners. By contrast Big Bro was as cool as they came. He had a fire breathing sports car, a great job with AGT and could play a guitar and sweep the girls off their feet. I strongly suspect this old bald headed furlie could too at one time.

On a few special summer nights their Tupperware Band would fire up and things ran much like they did for ol' Dave up on the stage there. Ya see the back up guitar? And the monkey on the drums? They were there for the main song but when Dave starts improvising and goes off on some of his own riffs and chords - those guys are left struggling to keep up. They did pretty good too - whereas the Tupperware Band totally sucked balls when they did it. All the instruments would be doing their own thing and then they would - right outta the blue - get on the same page and then they sounded like pros. For a few seconds anyways.

Good luck with that, ya old fart.

Dave's doin' alright. His voice isn't what it once was, but all those years with that guitar have improved his finger work and now that guitar is doing some of his singing for him.

A hot hot papa? There's far worse things to be at our age.

Listening to this guy years ago made me want to get up and go and chase the girls. Today I still enjoy it just as much, but like the idea of the music, a campfire and sitting at the picnic table with the gal I have.

You've aged well, Dave.


Cute lil' fella!!!

I Need One Of These

When Good Men Go Wrong: Homophobia

Or: You Deserve What You Tolerate

Let me preface this right off the bat: Pete is a better man than I am. He's been on both sides of the gun if I understand him correctly, and he's been in situations where if you aren't morally flexible - yer DEAD! I can see why he's not a Pastor anymore either; you can't be pure as the driven snow when you're trying to live through the fires of hell. He's been there I suppose, and even so he's managed to come through it with admirable morals and ethics. If you're on the wrong side of him in a moral or ethical issue - you really, really need to double check your bearings and maps. So it is I find myself in very deep and uncharted waters and I don't think even Pete can help me here. Life and God don't try you when you are in a 'right vs wrong' situation; you are tested when you have to choose between two 'rights', and/or two 'wrongs'.

Look, I get it: nobody wants to be hard or harsh on the fuggin queers. I don't think they should be tossed off tall buildings, or hung for public enjoyment and ridicule. But... wrong is wrong. I got in a fight with Rotten Rod The Gunsmith awhile back. He's our local outhouse theologian who's pretty well read versed like Pete and he's even read the Koran (assuming the old wretch isn't lying like he usually does). He said the old testament and the koran were written to control men, and I think he missed the boat too. I've dabbled in the bible and I think they were written to get men to control THEMSELVES. You can argue whether or not God hates fags; but as far as Darwin and Murphy? The writing is on the wall and they hate queers with a passion. Queers die of AIDS by the bushel because they don't control themselves, and they don't protect themselves from an easily preventable disease. Promiscuous idiotic liberals get taken out the same way. Pete has queer friends whom he says are good folks, and that we must respect their rights and liberties. At what point does doing that become a way of shirking our morals and ethics? Queers are leading the charge against the church. In addition to their degenerate lifestyle. They are breaking down the doors on their bedrooms, and our bathrooms, courtrooms, schoolrooms and boardrooms. They've already told us that they intend to mainstream pedophilia next. As a group they've embraced other perversions as well, such as cultural fascism, censorship and scapegoating. I'm sorry, but it looks to me like Pete is using libertarian principles as a means to bypass his Christian ones. I acknowledge too that he may be entirely correct to do so, and I may be wrong....but people that don't judge don't have judgement. People that believe in nothing will believe anything. Hey - I'm just sayin'. To me, this is what is properly called 'homophobia'. It's a verb rather than noun; and it describes the actions of men that fear the gay agenda and go along with it rather than opposing it.

Even Captain Capitalism refuses to see the evil when it's smack-dab in front of his nose. He's an agnostic capitalist pig and a self proclaimed asshole and I respect him and his credentials immensely. He's a good kid and an avowed agnostic and he reminds me of myself when I was younger. I knew everything too. But you can hear it in his voice - that change of tone when he starts talking about queers and how they should have their own church. No, they bloody well shouldn't, Captain! They should be getting some time on the psychiatrist's couch and most of 'em need to be frog marched out to the wood shed. Quite a few of them should be marched out to the friggin firing squad. Captain Capitalism is a homophobe too.

I despise Vox Day for personal reasons but when it comes to this shite he is right on the money. If that were my church, I would tell the clerical brass where to go and where to shove their church and walk away. For gawdsakes - how is a fuggin queer going to council folks on matters of marriage and children?

As a crabby old bastard that calls 'em as he sees 'em I am calling bullshit. Virtue signalling doesn't do anything for the queers, the social justice warriors or the liberals... and it doesn't do anything for you boys doing it either. Grab some balls, and man up. The gov't can 'recognize' queer marriage, gay rights, and all the frooty colours of their rainbow.

I do not. I will leave the homos to their own lives and fate, and by God almighty - those damned degenerates and depraved wretches will leave me to mine. They sure as hell won't be lecturing me on morality, that's for damned sure.

Rant off.

Monday, 24 April 2017

Ice Fishin' With BW Bandy...

We'll be swimming on Wednesday...

I know. It's Canada. It's cold up here. It's supposed to be cold up here. It's snowing today. Snow tomorrow. I was humiliated and forced by the weather gods to dig out my shovel again. If you let this shit set up and freeze it's murder to walk on the next day.


I am getting so sick of this white stuff. Snow today, snow tomorrow. My phone is saying we should get double digits next week.

Have a good Monday y'all.

Intramural Soccer At Uncle Bob's School For Retards & Wayward Boys

Now all we need is a score keeper that can count! HAR HAR HAR!!!

In other non-sport, special Olympian news -

I ask again: Are you not entertained?

My first thought was that these idiots fought and killed ... for a soccer game. I suppose it could have been something else motivating the incident. Thugs, hooligans and soccer just seem to be made for each other.

I have no interest in professional sport. The difference between my team up here in Canada, and your team down in Murica - is who can afford the best talent. Right now everyone's driving round town with Edmonton Oilers flags on their cars. I am one of these guys that believes these games are fixed so that the right teams advance. I've just seen too many drawn out 7 game series where one team clearly outclasses the other, and the thing should have been over in 4 games. The last time I talked like that was at a family dinner and Big Bro and Pop got so mad that I got kicked and slapped out the door on onto the deck - and then thrown over the rail! HAR HAR HAR! In their homes, guys like Wayne Gretzky and Tiger Woods walk on water.

One Of The Prime Minister's Kids?

Sunday, 23 April 2017

Filthie's Squishee Sunday Speakeasy

Well in our last exciting episode, my dive got knocked over by Baby Face Bandy, Machine Gun Emery, and Pretty Boy Wallace! A minor turf war broke out and now Unca Bob swims wit da fishes and those other mooks are looking mighty scarce. Of course the Feds are watching us like hawks now, so we gotta be smart and lay low.

Oh sure, we're still selling black market booze, guns and other contraband but to make it look legit, we've decided to go country for awhile until the heat is off. We may have changed our format and programming - but rest assured, our other operations and services in counterfeiting, fraud, and extortion - are still ready and willing to cater to your underworld needs! I sincerely hope no one is offended or upset about our cosmetic improvements!

No problem fellas, happens to me all the time!

Courtesy Of Chief Nose Wetter.

Boys'll be boys. Let's try to redeem this, shall we?
These boys would be a good start.

Have a great Sunday, y'all. As for me... I'm shovelling snow again. Merry fuggin Christmas!!!

Saturday, 22 April 2017

Entertainment At The Mall

When I was going to NAIT the kids in electronic engineering set up a display for their open house exhibit: they wired up a toilet seat to a rheostat and ran a couple amps through it. Visitors to their booth were invited to sit on it and were told exactly what would happen - and the contest was on! Most people jumped off after an amp or two but a couple of the hard rocks redlined it at 4A.

Something like this, juiced up to about 6A
oughtta do it.

Mind you, there's some people out there that once their ego is involved - you could probably light 'em up and fry 'em and they still wouldn't get off. I could see it being a profitable and interesting social experiment.

Free Speechin' Part II

A hundred years ago I was watching a Netflix or HBO on one of your Yank presidents - think it was John Adams? Anyhoo a bunch of Brit Red Coats got punched out at a protest, shots were fired and Colonials were killed. In court the man rubbed the noses of these proto-Americans in it by asking, "Was this a lawful assembly? Or an unruly mob?" If memory serves the Red Coats got off because they were defending themselves.

Here in Canada we only have drunken riots. Our protesters, like yours, are mostly assholes and spoiled college kids cutting class and nobody takes them seriously. Our gubbiment is much the same, what with all the queers, fwenchmen, and vibrants. They rule and pass laws, aided by their lickspittles in the judiciary and the media - and at least, out here in Alberta, we just shrug and keep on doing what we have always done. It's now illegal to say truthful things about moslems? Yeah fine. Just as long as everyone knows that I won't be taking shit off of their ugly women, their violent men or their stupid monkey-god religion. Gun control? Yeah fine. Good luck enforcing that one, assholes! Not even the cops are bothering with it. It is pretty much nothing but a money grab now. Somebody told me Canada was bilingual but whatever - I don't speak Frog and I do business in English. Any turd brained frankiphone from Kweeeebeck that doesn't like that is invited to go **** up a rope. Everyone gets along because the gubbiment is all about empty virtue signalling and they know as long as they don't do anything stupid nobody will get hurt. They also know there are probly over 10 million guns in Canada and any war they make on their people will only end one way. I don't even think they could get the military or constabulary to fire on Canadian people - they would probably get politely taken into custody. All that is free speech.

This is NOT free speech.

This is an unruly mob.

It was an unruly mob in general, and these two in particular? Welp - that was two idiots fighting and the smaller idiot losing.  There were no morals or principles defended here, there were no points scored except in the minds of other idiots. It was later revealed that the woman in this pic was batshit crazy: amateur porn star and militant feminist? With hairy armpits and dreads? Oh, yuck. Feminism was ruined long before this boy punched out that cunned stunt.

There's some important things in all this to remember. For you Americans - it's that nobody can stifle free speech. Nobody. Even your corrupt media always tells the truth. All you have to do is assume they're lying about pretty much everything and read between the lines. In Soviet Russia, in Venezuela - everyone knows the score. For us Canadians, this is why every Canadian man should have a gun with the full intent to use it on the gubbiment should it prove necessary. These neoliberals are budding communists. They are so stupid, lazy and marginal that they think The Man is holding them down. They can't tell the difference between a Canadian/American working man and a fascist. If they have their way, folks like us - working family men and women - will become deplorable second class citizens. (And they will become the useful fools and expendable cannon fodder serving the evil, privileged 1%  as they do in Cuba and any number of third world shit holes).

I think we're watching history, here, fellas. Right now it's just idiots fighting, but I have personally seen the ideology behind conflicts like these tear families apart. (We managed to do it without violence - barely). Think a nation can divide like that without getting violent?

I think we shall see.

Spedden Alberta

I had to make a surprise overnighter out in the boonies on Thursday. I really should keep an emergency overnight bag in my truck with spare emergency gonchies, tooth brush, toothpaste and socks... GAH! I must be getting old but I feel dirty if I gotta spend two days in the same clothes. (When I was a kid I could go seven or more on hiking trips but I could rinse out my socks and underwear in streams periodically... which probly killed all the fish downstream, HAR HAR HAR!)

One of the customers who I'm trying to bring on board has a hockey display
up in their lobby. That is a bad pic of one of Don Cherry's blazers.
My granddad was a bit of a dandy too and wore stuff like that back in the late 60's
and early 70's.

On the way home I stopped in the cultural centre of Spedden Alberta.

A school boy's dream - a dead school, with busted windows and boarded up doors,
slowly falling into ruin...

A silent relic from the days when a mechanic could make a living at the
corner gas station.

Thankfully this historical landmark still looks like a million bucks
It's a Ukranian Holy Trinity church and is obviously
a much loved and cherished landmark

Back when I still had energy for such things sometimes we would mount up on the ATV's and just take a tour along the Iron Horse Trail. Spedden is between a couple similar dying towns. Vilna is one and I can't remember the other one. Always had a couple road rockets along but we rode smart and slow so a couple beers wasn't a problem. Probly couldn't get away with that today.

Thursday, 20 April 2017

Friday Wind In The Wires: The Drifter?

What is it? A Drifter...?

I'm asking because I don't know. The Drifter is the same plane in concept but relies on a single pusher engine whereas this one is an amphibious twin engine job. I've never seen one in a twin engine configuration... I'm guessing they're Rotax 912's because for some reason, owners don't seem to favour the lighter two cycle engines for these birds. I'm just spit balling here but I would say he's up around 10,000 ft. Here in Canada unpressurized aircraft aren't allowed to go over 13,000 ft. At least, that was the way of it 15 years ago.

Never Did Learn To Speak Kraut...

And I don't think I want to neither! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Random Deep Psychotherapy: Let Us Go Back To My Childhood

When all possible plausible explanations fail, whatever remains, no matter how ridiculous - is the explanation that applies.

- some Greek or Roman Dude, 100 B.C.

Hmmmm. Looking at this particular homo sap, I would suspect
that his genetic ancestors did not descend from the same tree-dwelling apes
that our ancestors did.

100 years ago I used to shoot with a genetically defective hare-lipped retard we called Skin Bag. He was the ultimate Weekend Warrior and an even BIGGER gear queer than I was! When we went hunting Skin Bag would load out with milspec ass packs, knives, calls, range finders, ammo belts, camp hatchet - the guy was a walking junk yard. One day out on a goose hunt, he actually ate a 'Four Wheel Drive Killam Burger'. Killam is a town somewhere in Alberta (and is so obscure not even BW Bandy knows where it is) and the eatery there had a burg they made where they put four big meat patties on a specially made bun. If that didn't kill ya, there were fries and peas to go with it. You and I might buy one and split it with the wife - but Skin Bag ate the whole lot and was finished before any of us finished the regular plates! Later on that afternoon we were back in the goose blinds and trying to call the big Canadas in - and we all heard his stomach grumble. Lord, you could feel it through the ground under your feet! That boy was having a tectonic level event!

"OMFG' he wimpered - and then he was outta that goose blind and running hell for leather for some scrubby little bushes 50 yards away. I dunno why he bothered, the bushes weren't big enough to give him any privacy and me and the other gibbons hooted and laughed derisively at his expense as he started to lose structural integrity. He was literally seconds away from an explosive warp core breach - but was thoroughly buckled and belted into his britches n' skivvies by his alice pack, ammo belt, regular pants belt and the other junk he had hanging off him. In his desperation he pulled a blade and started slashing the straps because he didn't have time to fumble with them...

...and he still didn't make it.

Skin Bag almost set a world record that day for being The Oldest Man That Ever Pooped His Pants at the age of 34. It's a shame it happened in the last century because it would have been great to have taken a vid and posted it on the internet. We saw it all - and forever afterward Skin Bag was mocked from the gun clubs out in Dreadful Valley clear on up to the ones in Grande Prairie. Of course, The Oldest Man To Ever Poop His Pants remains Uncle Bob at the age of 67. Gorges Grouse tried to usurp Bob, claiming to have done it at the age of 215. Nobody believes him because he's definitely not 215 and the last time he went was probly back during the Reagan Administration.


Errrr....why am I talking about all this? The mind wobbles. Oh yes - Skin Bag had the exact opposite build of that buck in the pic! The crack of his ass was way up, squarely between his shoulder blades! I know, because there on that dreadful day - in the goose blind on some rural field somewhere in Alberta... I saw it.

The horror...

The horror.

Although the smell of victory is much different from the smell of defeat,
sometimes the difference between the two is purely conversational.

Worst. Graveyard. EVER!

If you are looking for picturesque graveyards BW Bandy's blog is the place to go. He gets into the back country and if you watch his blog he'll show you cemeteries on the prairies where all that remains is wind, grass and sky... and memories and ghosts. (Don't worry, this is Alberta. Our spooks and ghosts are all harmless and friendly, unlike the wrathful, chain rattling and moaning wretches you'll find in someplace like Scotland). Catch them in one light, on the right day... and they are beautiful and peaceful. In another season, on a different day they are heart breaking to look at, set in God forsaken landscapes on the desolate edge of nowhere. I look at those and hope the souls resting there are at peace.

But the absolute WORST graveyards are the ones that look like this:

How would you like to try and rest in peace beside an industrial
May God rot the balls of the people responsible for planning this.

When I croak, please don't leave my ashes to my daughter! I'll end up at the bottom of an outhouse somewhere! HAR HAR HAR! When I die I want to be cremated. As my buckskinner friends at the rod n' gun club like to say~

My Soul To My Maker
My Heart To The Winds

A Quick & Dishonourable Death


I'm at two extra large coffees and six Tim Hortons honey crullers and it's not even lunch time...OMFG... who's the idiot that mentioned 'lunch'?

Ulp...'scuse me Fido! Make room! I'm coming in hot!!!

Hopefully the next customer has a stomach pump... if I don't make it, please make sure Uncle Bob doesn't get my guns, and that BW Bandy and WL Emery don't get my liquor cabinet. I would like to be buried with them if possible.


UPDATE: I have truly died and gone to hell. I can't puke, I'm jazzed on coffee, and as BW snidely notes in the comments - I've blown my diet resolution out of the water with heavy artillery! I am a dumbass and if God struck me down right here I would deserve it!

It's so easy to forget, whether your personal demon happens to be food, booze, or smokes. You let your guard down for a second and the next thing ya know, you're laughing and joking about that demon that's doing his level best to kill ya! With your own stupidity! Godddammitalltohell!!!!

I am taking the camper out for it's first maiden voyage this weekend and I am gonna be out there with Flapz at the gun club getting a jump on the camping season. There's gonna be adult beverages there, burgs, hot dogs and all the good things in life - and because I am too stupid to live in moderation - I am going to have to try and redeem myself again in the midst of all that.

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Time For A Rude Joke

There's a point where HOT becomes STUPID.
Know yer limit and stay within it!!!

Dirty Laundry

With all due apologies to my regular readers and friends (you two know who you are), ya might wanna give this one a miss. I have my last message to my militant lesbian SJW daughter… and it ain’t pretty. Meh – it’s life.

Hey Spud. Welp... I know what you did.

Slick too, ya got me again. Oh, I know it’s my own damned fault. For some reason the father in me just won’t die – he wants – he craves to see that daughter he remembers – the beautiful one getting honours in school, the one that neighbours and friends admired that filled his heart with pride as well as love. I won’t tell Nanny or Grampy or even Mom what you did. I deserved it. I just had problems letting go and dealing with the realities. My bad - it won't happen again.

I saw your grandparents last year when I was out on Dawg Patrol on Cloverbar – they were coming from the other direction. When your grandmother saw us, she spun on her heel and started waddling her fat ass the other way as fast as she could. I think she was in tears. Your grandfather vapour locked in between us – I think he might have wanted to talk, but Lynn shrieked something at him and he turned and joined his wife, and they both beat an unhappy retreat. That’s what happens when you lie and deceive others to manipulate them, Spud – they end up taking your lumps too. In addition to their own. Dunno if you’ve seen them, but they’re getting frail, small and old. They’ll never know about that last stunt you pulled and I will never tell them. They’re your parents now and they can hold the bag for the demons eating you. They insist on feeding them.

As for me… I get it. Finally I got it. Jeez, it took a long time, I know … but I realize that beautiful young woman with the world at her feet is now a rancid lesbian cunt with a bad haircut, a bad attitude and all the self inflicted problems that go with copping out in life, family and responsibility at a young age. It’s easy to know it in your head, but the heart is another matter – especially when it’s broken. You will face Darwin, Murphy, and eventually God on your terms and I will not intercede on your behalf. I forgive you for the sinful, awful things you’ve said and done for what it’s worth. But your demons will remain YOURS and you will bear the consequences for them on your own. Enjoy your smugness, because they haven’t really come calling yet. But they will. Eventually. It’s no longer a case of I can’t help you with those – it’s a case of I ‘WON’T’. I don’t want to see you in my world again either, Spud.

Next week it’s gonna be 32 years, huh? Wow. Where did the time go? And how in hell did we end up here? For God’s sake, we’re all adults … but we are what we are and it is what it is I suppose. You are one mistake in my life I am finally done with. I’m letting it all go – from here on out I will never speak of you again on these pages, nor will I ever make the mistake of thinking things can be fixed. We’ll be fine, our marriage has actually become better than it ever has before and we have things of our own to look forward to. Wish things coulda been different between us though.

Happy Birthday, TL – and best of luck to ya.

Or Maybe You're A Pedo...

Is it just me? Am I crazy, or does that girl look way too young to be wearing stuff like that? Now that I'm an old fart anyone under thirty seems to look like a kid! And the older ladies ya wouldna given a second glance in your youth... well they become oddly fascinating too.

Yannow, when you're young it's all kinds a fun to make sport and rude jokes about dirty old men like Wirecutter, BW Bandy, WL Emery and even ruggedly handsome older mature men like Yours Truly.

But one day, you little shits, YOU will be a dirty old man too! HAR HAR HAR! It'll serve ya right too!!!!

Sunday, 16 April 2017

Happy Easter

Some people have their enlightenment hit 'em in one big gulp like a religious epiphany. Maybe that's because they have IQ's above freezing where as I don't! With the shit at work and the writing on the wall there, and the Albertan economy diving headfirst down the crapper and some personal family BS... I have had to sit back and re-evaluate the way I think of things and perceive them. I have some outdated standards and beliefs that just don't work in the new reality anymore. I'm a simple man; I've reached the point in life where I have everything I ever wanted and it's time to enjoy the material things I've accumulated and get rid of some I don't need. It's time to be content. That means some hard work on the interior things.

Being at peace is hard for me, I've always had to go-go-go, always had to make money, make money, make money, the mind is always churning... and there was always something in that trying to oppose me, somebody who wasn't playing ball, some plan or other that just went off the rails despite my best planning and efforts. There was always something to worry about, and stupid details and failures that drove me insane. This crap at work is the final straw. It's time to make changes. Lot's of 'em. Good ones.

Last night I slept like a rock. This morning I woke up early, took my drugs, and then read on the ipad and languished in the fart sack for a half hour. My beautiful wife brought me breakfast in bed but I declined - I need to change the way I eat. Bless her heart, she wasn't offended at all! I am going to change the way I eat, my motorcycle is 1700cc of horsepower and she needs all those ponies just to haul my bulk around. I don't want to live like this anymore.

Macey started gasping, whining and moaning so rolled out,  choked her up, threw on some clothes and went for a walk with her and Mr. Mordhu. My back was screaming bloody murder but after I bent over a few times to pick up the land mines... it settled down to a peaceful creak.

It was so peaceful out. It was only -4C with no wind so
we had a beautiful walk.
We only saw one other walker out with a young pup
that was flipping out on the end of his leash the way puppies do.

The wife shovelled yesterday. I just said screw it, it will all
melt next week anyways.
I'm glad she did, the ice today is horrible and everyone else was
thinking like me - and they said 'to hell with it ' too!
We had to walk on the road where people had refused to shovel.

It's hard to maintain an inner peace and calm. My mind isn't wired that way; I worry about things that I shouldn't. After last week, I've decided to meet whatever comes with peace, confidence and enthusiasm. Starting this morning!

What are you doing, reading this crud? Get out there and enjoy the morning before it gets away! And - have a Happy Easter...!

Friday, 14 April 2017

That's A New One

Back when we had cats I prided myself on ways in which to torture them for my idle amusement. Pete had one up awhile back where his cat was sprawled in the sink, of all places. The chump didn't even turn the water on! I put clothes pins on their tails, or socks on their heads and would laugh and chuckle as they flipped out. The meanest thing I ever did was put a piece of masking tape on one of their rear feet - they would start hopping around on three legs and start spazzing out as I roared with derisive laughter. I lost a lot of blood doing that and deserved it all.

The tables turned when we got a little black bastard like the one above. His idea of fun was to go downstairs into my shop and terrorize me. All my tools had a place, and all were in their places - until he showed up. The little fink would knock my tools down just for the hell of it and then watch me flip out in rage! Then he would knock over my carefully stacked scrap lumber. Some of it was pretty big and I wonder how in hell a small cat could get the leverage to knock it over...but he did it. Repeatedly.

I love cats as much as I love dogs.

Filthie Takes The Pre-Employment Snowflake Test

For the last little while our corporations and even our economy has been at the mercy of the politically correct HR fatties and the hairy chested feminists in clerical and admin. If that isn't bad enough there are any number of beta males and finks that will happily enforce it. It's fuggin BRUTAL. Remember that scandal a few years back where a job applicant was told that he would have to open up his facebook account and hand over the passwords to the company if he wanted to get hired? Do you honestly think a man would do something like that? A pulp mill up north here came up with a doozey of a politically correct way to do ethical business: no more would us technical sales guys be able to pitch to the maintenance and mechanical planners - we would have to sell to the old bints in purchasing! The idea was that we were 'selling through the back door' and only the integrity and honesty of the purchasing and admin personnel could put a stop to it! HAR HAR HAR!  It became a cluster of biblical proportions! With all the power to make purchase decisions, the ladies involved would not approve purchases unless things in the mill were about to explode. Gotta watch that bottom line, right? Welp - the maintenance guys started going out on stress leave first. Can ya blame 'em? Who wants to be around when that kiln or pressure vessel blows? You don't want to be around it, and you don't want to be around when it kills or hurts your buddies either! The wrench pullers went out on stress leave - and then shit started blowing up. I was a junior inside sales person when one of the purchasing ladies phoned up in an absolute FLATHER - "Glen, we need a control valve with the following trim options right now -!!!!" Weeeeeelp.... control valves like that, with exotic materials of construction for chemically aggressive service, with critical systems certs? If we expedite the shit out of it we might be able to get you one out of Helsinki in 8 weeks...

Then the purchasing ladies started going out on stress leave.

Political correctness has become a means for allowing stupid, marginal and mediocre people to assume power that they should have no business having. Now the workplace is a minefield where you have to live in fear of offending some idiot rather than getting the job done. 95% of the time the morons involved are ugly, stupid women, queers, socialists, militant atheists and other schmucks that collectively have become known as 'social justice warriors' or SJW's. Ya can't run a business with people like that.

So it seems that The Snowflake Test has been designed and is actually being administered to screen these losers out at hiring time. How in hell did it take so long?  I figured I will take a swing at some of the questions for gits n' shiggles:

Outside of standard benefits, what benefits should a company offer employees?
Those that might be used as incentives to increase profitability.

What are your feelings about employees or clients carrying guns?
Depends on what they're carrying. It is my conviction that Glocks are suitable for black pimps that hold their guns sideways and that's about it. Maybe bums like Uncle Bob and Pete too. Guns are not particularly ladylike, and therefore they should carry concealed. I would favour the classic BBQ guns for men on formal occasions - but will accept casual working guns and revolvers too.

What are your feelings about safe spaces in challenging work environments?
About the same as thumb sucking and teddy bears in the workplace.

Should “trigger warnings” be issued before we release content for clients or the company that might be    considered “controversial”?

How do you feel about police?
I will respect them. They will reciprocate. Nobody gets hurt. A lot of people hate them but I am smart enough to see that they are doing a thankless, now impossible job - and are cracking up as a result. They and their families have my sincere sympathy and support.

When was the last time you cried and why?
2010. My daughter had just become my biggest failure in life. Do not ask for clarification please.

What are your thoughts on the current college environment as it pertains to a future workforce?
Moral and intellectual sewers. Only the programs involving hard work, rigour and discipline are valid. The rest, like the arts and humanities, are a means of awarding phony credentials to otherwise worthless people. I would consider formal education in things like gender/womens/aboriginal studies to be red flags to mark grievance mongerers.

What does “faith” mean to you?
My faith is personal and my own business. I will share it only with friends, on my own time after work but not in the workplace.

You see someone stepping on an American Flag. What happens next?
I'm Canadian. I know what it means for a nation to die, to be killed by liberal idiots that have no appreciation for their nation or it's traditions and customs or the people that built it. I suppose I would wait for that mob to finish with their 'protest'. When they were gone I would pick up that battered, wounded flag... and try and fold it up into as neat a  triangle as I could take it home and clean it... and then the next time I saw some young squaddie in a restaurant with his wife and kid, I would call the waitress over, pay for their meal and make sure she gives those kids that flag. It would be my little gesture back at those stinking mobs and their idiots that burn and trample flags. Or, maybe not. I would find something good to do with a symbol of a good and worthy nation, and some small way to give the finger to those that would besmirch it.


Am I a snowflake? Well sure! My feelings can and have been hurt. I've had my heart not only broken, but pulled out of my chest, incinerated, and the ashes stepped on with dirty shoes! And as a result of that I committed sins of my own: I got angry at people, and worst of all, I even felt sorry for myself for way too long. But good things have come out of that - I have become stronger, and wiser and I can sympathize and empathize with those who are in a temporary, fragile state. They can lean on me just as I have leaned on others at such times - at home, at the airfield or at work.

Today we need to get our game on and compete. In the real world there are winners and losers and not everyone gets a trophy. In fact you can do everything right and STILL get screwed! That's not fair - but it's life and that's we have churches, family and communities. It's long past time to grow up and harden up for all of us.

Have a good Goof Friday and a Happy Easter.

Thursday, 13 April 2017


What a shit show.

Month or so back the national sales manager came out and booted my bloody ass around the office six times and twice again on Sunday. I expected it; Alberta is plunging into a major recession and our sales have dived with it. My customers have been closing up shop, laying off, and shutting down for close to a year now. I had never seen him this bad either - he shouted, pounded the table and pointed fingers and was flat out abusive. When I tried to speak, he cut me off. When I tried to explain to him what was happening in the marketplace and why we were doing what we were doing - he would shout me down and lose his shit.

After a couple of hours of that I just lost MY shit and started giving it back - and in our last exchange of the day he stormed away in a rage. I was astounded. I knew he heard it because he was only half way down the stairs when I shouted "Oh, go suck a fart you French cack sucker....!!!" The man was smart enough to keep on going and pretend that he hadn't heard it.

When I got myself under control again I sent the President an email and copied all the senior management on it - and told them what had happened, how the manager had handled it - and that if this was the way this company was going they might want to save everyone some stress and lay me off or fire me now - because I wasn't going to be a punching bag or a scapegoat for some fwench idiot with an attitude. They could fire me and have the same problems with the next guy. Floggin my ass and threatening me doesn't help  me; it just pisses me off and makes me want to quit.

I never heard anything back and assumed my national sales manager had finally gotten control of himself too - or maybe the brass hats took him aside and told him to grow up. For everyone else, I told them all was well, keep working and keep their chins up because all that was - was a friendly spat between a couple stupid buggers that took themselves too seriously. The company was a good place to work, everyone just had to chill out and relax.

Last night my new branch manager got an email from the President. They're cutting his pay by 20%. Now he is livid. I have been training that fricken man to replace The Crack for the last 7 months. He's been a problem now and then and has just about killed me twice - but he's smart, he cares, and he's trying to do a good job. Now this. I won't be surprised at all if they demand the keys to my truck and a pink slip on Monday because of all the rotten things I said to them in that altercation with their trained zipper national sales manager. Between us Big Al and I have been holding that branch together with binder twine and duct tape. 9 and a half years I have into that place.

It's time to go. Even if I don't get let go or fired on Monday - I've had enough. I am sending resumes out now and when I'm done I am cleaning out my truck in preparation of giving it back.

I am trying not to get bent out of shape about it. I am probably going to have to lawyer up to get my payout but that's the way these guys have decided to roll.

Good news is that there ARE jobs around and almost all my bills are paid! The Fishin' Hole is hiring - I could get a job there for five bucks an hour trying to catch losers like Uncle Bob and Gorges Grouse shoplifting worms n' maggots and other live bait, HAR HAR HAR! Or maybe I will get a job putting toothpaste into tubes. My new trailer is bought and paid for so I can afford some down time. If I have to sell that and a few guns to make ends meet later on - that will be alright too.

It's been tense around here for the last little while - and she's probly gonna get worse. Oh well - that's life. Wish me luck y'all!

Missing The Forest For The Trees

Gotta love Voxxie. I read him regularly and agree with 95% of what he says but I have an intense dislike of the man regardless.

"If this is the correct interpretation of events, and if the Syria attack causes the Chinese to remove the Kim dynasty from power in North Korea, it will be seen as a brilliant grand strategic move on the God-Emperor's part. It will also demonstrate that Trump not only is not controlled by the neocons, but that he doesn't need them at all."

Vox once shat his pants in rage when somebody accused him of dashing to the front of the parade in order to pretend to lead it. There is no doubt in my mind that he does indeed lead a parade of sorts and perhaps I'd just best leave it at that. Unfortunately it looks like he tripped over his dink as he rushed to the head of this one.

Essentially, his synopsis is correct. What he fails to notice is that Trump has sent a message to the more rabid aspect of the so-called Alt-right as well - and that message is that he really doesn't need them either. Quite a few of that crowd are livid at the attack on Syria and Trump's pretty much ignored them, as he should. That guy is his own man and I strongly doubt he would take advice from kids like Vox, either.

Let the beer, the popcorn, the circus and the free bread continue.