Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Thursday, 30 November 2017

Principal Filthie Fired For Sexual Misconduct

Amidst allegations of sexual misconduct, the Principal of Uncle Bob's School 
For Wayward Boys N' Retards, Glen Filthie - has been terminated.
"Anything that goat says is a damned lie!" he gobbled, as he was led away from
the school in handcuffs. "It's all Quartermain's fault...!!!"

Every second Hollywood or celebrity media slob is getting fired out of a canon for all their past sexual misdeeds. The bloggers I read and respect have responses right across the board too. Everyone of ‘em is legit; they may have the right of it and I could be out to lunch. Basically I am on board with the Z Man, I coulda writ that screed myself – albeit not nearly as well.

I don’t think anyone is seeing what is happening here though, caught up, as they are in the schadenfreude that goes along with seeing the most despicable, deplorable liberal morons getting a long-deserved comeuppance. This is no mere fad. This is not the daily typical dealings between pimps and whores. This is the beginning of the fall of the political left, praise be to God!

Consider: conservative family values failed back in the 60’s – maybe even before that. Free love, feminism, socialism, welfare, abortion, booze, drugs, changing social values – all that turned the noble American woman into a cheap slut. Back in the day women started being promiscuous, faithless and abusive to their men. Marriages folded, couples split, children went without fathers and sons went without role models. Daughters got hit hardest of all; their role models were replaced by screeching whores and Marxists that gave rise to women like Hillary Clinton. Oh, they had tons of fun when they were young, establishing a career, playing the field, asserting their new found power.

But today? Their sons detest them. Their daughters are starting to as well. And their husbands are sick and tired of them and are abusing their wealth and authority to bang gullible young liberal bubblegummers. Some are outright pedos. Liberal women, lonely and most with barely a cat for company in their golden years… are beginning to see the magnitude of their folly. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned… but how can any man respect the modern liberal woman? Their men are so repulsed by them that they’ve become disgusting chads or effeminate faggots or other degenerates. Oh sure, she can still blame men for all her problems, but the hard, cold truth won’t be denied much longer: men that have warm, loving women that genuinely love and care for them – don’t cheat. They don’t need to. When women ask ‘Where have all the good men gone?’ I say that they’re all happily married – to good women. Nobody automatically blames the man for failed marriages anymore – the fingers have been pointing to low women for a long, long time now… and rightfully so.

That’s what all this is about too – failed liberal women are desperately trying to salvage themselves. There is no future for old whores. For their men – the message is clear. Shape up – or face retribution. Without a moral compass though, there’s no way for either of them to redeem themselves.

Gazing into my crystal ball, I see the way paved for the rise of The American (or Canadian) Renaissance Woman. She’s going to be young, she’s going to be smart, and she will respect and love her man the way her elderly matriarchs did not. She’s going to respect herself too, unlike her foremothers. And unlike them, she will be worthy of that respect.

When that happens, things will start to turn around for all of us.

Wednesday, 29 November 2017

How To Score With Women

A picture tells a thousand words but does nothing for 
the sense of smell.
Let us give thanks.

I dunno who's worst - women or old men. Today I screeched into the parking lot like the Dukes Of Hazzard, tumbled out of my truck and ran for the public crappers with my bladder about to explode. I went in - and was hit by a solid wall of STINK that literally left me senseless for a few seconds. I staggered over to the urinal, did my business - and the old geezer responsible for the reek came shambling out of his stall and stirred up the stench even more. I couldn't even stay long enough to wash my hands. I nearly suffocated as I tried to escape...

I think I have PTSD now. I will never be rid of the stench of death and excrement again. The horror.

The horror....

No, You Are A Sanctimonious Moron...

And then you'd get knifed, you panty-waisted tosspot - and you'd deserve it!

This is a Twitter or a Twat or whatever right? (I ask because I am not on Twatter or Fecesbook). If these are the only permissible political ideas allowed on those forums - why use them? Isn't the internet already stuffed to the rafters with liberal idiots? What kind of discussion can you have with a dim bulb like this?

I signed up for Gab but I don't post on it. I put all my hatey stuff on my blog right here.

The Royals

Being a good Canadian subject of the Commonwealth, I keep a sharp eye on the Royals. I love The Queen and would gladly stand between her and the late Queen Mum and whatever devilry they ordered me to. They are/were both remarkable, incredible women that bear up under impossible loads that would cripple anyone less.

The rest of 'em aren't worth a hill a beans.

Chuck? Screw him, he married a ho, and when that went south he promptly got tangled up with another one of 'em. The rest of his generation are a motely crew of faggots, shrews, and wastrels.

The generation after that? Willy seems okay; he's an idiot but he's smart enough to know it and he largely keeps his trap shut. I would like to congratulate him on having more smarts than his Pop.

But...Harry. I had high hopes for him.

He couldnae been more than 6 or 7 when, during a photo op - he just about killed the entire royal family with a cabbage fart. Her Majesty looked like she was going to vomit, his father was red as a beet from either trying to hold his breath or embarrassment, and the Queen Mum and Willy were smirking at everyone and trying not to laugh.

As a teen he dressed up like a Nazi and the media filled its pantaloons with rage. The Family was incensed, but Harry just smiled and kept on being.... Harry.

During his military career Harry got mixed up with the armoured guys and was a tank commander. When his unit was sent to Afghanistan he was retained in Britain because they figured he would be too juicy a target for the talibangers. He defied the family and pulled rank - and joined his fellows in Afghanistan where he served honourably. When he got home, he took a break and then went right back to be with the squaddies again - and again, he defied everyone from The Queen right on down. Again he served with honour and business like competency.

When he got home the second time the media cornered him and asked him about some of his squaddies, some of whom were wogs. When he referred to one of them as 'my little packi buddy' the media swooned, clutched its collective pearls - and fainted. HAR HAR HAR! He's twice the man I am and half my age!

Why - I'm not sure I approve of this at all!!! By all accounts, the lad's mother was a total flake who couldn't raise him right even had she lived ... and I'm hearing grumblings that this lady is too. I am strongly tempted to write the Prince a stern letter with my concerns and admonishments - but Harry has an endearing habit of giving pompous blowhards like me the finger and doing things his own way and having everything work out right. I am forced against my better judgement to give Harry my blessing - and wish him the best of luck in this. He certainly deserves it.

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

One Last Animal Pervert On This Fine Humpday...

Welcome to Hump Day, dear readers. You have survived half a week of incompetence, stupidity, and misconduct at work and at home. Glad ya stopped by - because my question, my poor, tired and beleaguered friend, is this: wouldjya like some more? Or wouldjya like some more?

Today we have for your delectation, a devil's assortMINT of animal perverts! So - if you've been having a week - take a look at these poor slobs, and thank your fates that you are not sharing in theirs.

Hump Day In the Antarctic.
I don't think I want to go to the Antarctic but it might 
be an excellent place to send envirotards.

MORE Perverts From The Animal Kingdom...


Time For Your Christmas Goose

I think this is where a confused old fart like WC comes in, 
and says "I think she's taken men..."

Drinking Habits Of The Rich And Famous

That drink is either BW Bandy's, or world famous author, explorer and
adventurer - WL Emery.

The rest of us will keep pace as best we can.

I Am Worth Absolutely Nothing!

Bow down before me and grovel, O ignorant peasant folk! HAR HAR HAR!!!!

Like most folks I spent most of my life in debt for something or other, pretty much cars and my mortgage. I think I bought a little fishin' boat years back to keep my line of credit from going dormant, but I found out I didn't need a line of credit given that I paid my credit cards off like clockwork. I hate, fear and loathe debt.

18 years ago I was debt free and just back on the job market - and sold my soul to the devil the banks for a new house and a couple cars. We paid the cars off early and of course we retired the mortgage - and for the last couple years I had my wife's little Toyota we've been paying on as our only real debt. It had been bugging the hell out of me for the last couple years but I put up with it because the interest rate on it was ridiculous at 0.9% or something dumb like that.

Today I pooped the bed and woke up deciding that I couldn't take in anymore, I was going to pay that damned thing off early too! So I called up the finance dept. at Toyota and the perky young lady told me that my last payment was last month! Would I like to buy another one...?

I suppose on paper I am worth money ... being a home owner and having a modest RRSP and a few investments. On paper, I am probably upper middle class too. But I look around at my friends - and they all look like they could buy and sell me out of pocket change; they have the big houses, the fancy trucks and cars, they go on posh vacations - and they are in debt up to the wazoo!

One of my wife's friends told her she was lucky to be in our circumstances and it ticked her right off. Privately, she said to me that 'luck' has nothing to do with it - we saved while others spent, we went without while others partied, we held back savings during the good times in preparation for the hard times - where did this woman get off calling us 'lucky'?

How do ya measure self-worth?

I remember a hundred years ago they had Donald Trump on TV talking about his life and times and how he got cleaned out in a group of investment moves that went south. His story is that he saw a homeless bum on the street as he and the boys were cleaning out their offices, and he said, 'See that bum? He is worth more than all of us together...'. He was right too!!!

I am debt free. First time in 18 years. And I am worth more than the president of the United States! HAR HAR HAR! (Oh alright - I admit it, Donald Trump has since recovered and could have his butler buy and sell me out of pocket change!)

BAH - Peride goeth before a fall so I better shut my pie-hole. Here I am, gloating about having basic financial common sense! Still and all - it feels good.

I hear young people bitching and whining about the futility of The American Dream. I am here to say it isn't futile, that it's doable, and that it's available for anyone that wants to work for it - even up here in Canada. Years ago I bitched like that too. Get in the game. Take your debt seriously - use debt, don't let it use you. The rat race is for rats - the only guy whose opinion matters is that of the bum ya see in the mirror every morning when you shave. Debt is a tool, not a magic wand.

Be smart - and I hope that one day, YOU are worth nothing too!  :)

Monday, 27 November 2017

Fallen Or Absent Kings?

When I was a kid back in the 60's you would sometimes still see stuff like this - pictures of forgotten fathers or husbands or brothers - and it meant squat to us kids. War to us was something fun and exciting because of all the TV shows we watched.

I would hope the fella in the pic is away serving his country at the time of this pic, and not a painful  memory for his wife.

Tales From The Timberland

When I first heard this - I called BS. Years ago I was learning the ins n' outs of shooting black powder muzzle loading rifles. Anyone can shoot a muzzle loader; and shooting one well isn't that hard either - but there's some tricks and tweaks to it that may not be intuitively obvious to the novice.

Black powder geeks read their patches the same way modern reloaders read their spent brass. Just as fired brass cases can show warnings and pressure signs - the black powder patch can tell you whether or not your rifle and load are working well too. My rifle was a .54 cal Wop repro of the famous Hawken rifle. Blackpowder puritans and elitists refer to these guns derisively as 'Spaghetti Plains Rifles' because they at built in Italy for the most part. Some, like mine - weren't built particularly well either.

Oh sure, I could load mine up with powder, patch and ball, cap it off, touch it off and it went BANG like clockwork - but one of the stalwart intrepid riflemen of The Edmonton House Brigade noticed that my patches were being cut and burned through - with a loss of accuracy as a result.

The fix?

A few leaves of hornet nest material between the patch and the powder solved the problem. One would think dried hornet's nest material would burn like paper. In the bore of a muzzle loader it burns like asbestos - meaning not at all! After I started using hornets nest in my loading procedure my groups tightened right up and my rifle started shooting like a respectable gun.

I know it sounds like a pantload - but it's true. If you know a blackpowder muzzle loader, and you stumble across an old nest this winter - be sure to scoop some of it for him.

Pimp My Shottie

I have a chit house Remington 870 trombone gun that I don't use anymore. I won't sell it because I would only get a couple hundred bucks for it - and that's on a good day. It does have a place in my collection - and yours - as a pure utility grade fowl and possibly self defense gun. Mine still sports standard waterfowl hunding accouterments - but as you can see here they are easily modded into serious self defense weapons. A close range camp or house cleaner just doesn't get any better than this.

Although, to be honest - all the farkles this owner put on his gun are basically equivalent to polishing a turd. The Rem 870 is a low end, but rock solid shotgun meant for hard use, and as we can see here, ugly is more n' skin deep! HAR HAR HAR!

Saturday, 25 November 2017

Retard School Fund Raiser

This year I decided we would raise charitable funds for my early retirement and slush fund  Uncle Bob's School For Retards N' Wayward Boys by selling Christmas trees.

Yeah. It went about as well as you'd expect.

Must A Been Reading The Tranna Star On Line...

A feathered internet rage head!
He was probably swapping political commentary with
King Charlie over at Coopville...

I don't read the mainstream papers any more. To me opening up the Tranna Star or The Glob And Snail or any other mainstream liberal shit-rag is like getting trolled by children - stupid children. I used to get worked up but now I just read the headlines - they can sometimes get those right. But I hardly ever delve into the copy or leave comments. I remember the editors of The Glob bemoaning that they had to censor the comments because they kept degenerating into a cesspool of potty-mouths, racism, and trolling...  HAR HAR HAR!!!! 

Passersby are reminded that if you feel the need to make use of the facilities after a visit to a mainstream media site - Filthie's Thunderbox is at your disposal.

Wirecutter's New Wildcat?

That thing probly leaves a crater on impact... :)

Shades Of My Father In Law

Like most in-laws, my father in law was an idiot and an ass - which probably explained why we got along so well in spite of our differences. He was always happiest during camping, fishing and hunting trips. He accidentally caught a whopper out fishing once, and casually flipped it back into the water without a second thought. Being a sportsman myself I can see that. He would go out hunting and forget his ammo back in camp - and when he got back to camp he would do the dishes, police up the camp and then plunk himself down with a drink - and just lose himself in the day. He would putter about if he got the notion - and do stuff like this. His pride and joy was a three burner Coleman camp stove that he would set up on the tailgate of his truck - and he would perform miracles on it. But he never forgave me for marrying his daughter, and when my daughter went through her troubles, he and his wife insisted on getting in the middle of things and making them worse.

It's not the big things ya miss when families disintegrate - it's the small things.

Cooking Classes?

My wife wants me to learn to cook and I am amenable except that I am too darned lazy. I should get off my arse and do it for real... one a these days...

Friday, 24 November 2017

On Safari - With CH!

Well - looks like I'll have some time on my hands, so - one more post for this fine Friday!

Usually when we depart for exotic lands on the Dark Continent search of adventure, we enlist the services of WL Emery, his Rigby rifles and endless porters and servants and bottles of gin.

This time in the interests of economy, we went with CH. Those of you whom are easily offended are invited to sit this one out or stick with WL with his refined sense and sensibilities, HAR HAR HAR!

I've read one of WL's novels and he can turn a phrase and spin a yarn. He can use a word to paint a thousand pictures. But CH? "Dindu Savannah"? HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!!! You will need a cast iron sense of humour to appreciate all that.

This is just me talking. Folks'll tell ya I'm a racist and I don't care - most of them are degenerate cultural Marxists, crotch warriors and miscellaneous flunkies themselves. Whatever - but I say what follows in all seriousness:

When it comes to vibrants of any of the frooty colours of the rainbow - STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM THEIR WOMEN. Out here in the real world, the IQ gap is what it is. I know people will say IQ tests are flawed and I would fully agree - but by any metric we use to measure intelligence, coloured people score out low whether its IQ, or SAT scores, or crime stats. And blacks score out lowest of all. In the real world coloured people are the most racist people going. They are also the stupidest, generally speaking. To be in the midst of such people with their women and booze present? Put it this way - CH probably WOULD be safer amidst a troop of feral gorillas in Africa! Being racially aware is not the same as being racist - it's common sense and prudence.

Look after yourselves and keep your eye on the puck.

Thursday, 23 November 2017

Friday Filtharmonic Pops

It's been a long week up at Ft. Mac. Things seem to be picking up a bit, my spies whisper of possible projects and work in the next year but who knows - they could be full of beans. Whatever - I am tired and ready to go home and the drive promises to be a crapper. Got freezing rain and the roads could be treacherous so who knows - I'll be going slow.

I will leave you with some wonderful music today, dredged up and served with a smile by the musical retards of Uncle Bob's School For Wayward Boys N' Rejects. Everyone could use some cultural improveMINT dontchya know.

Quartermain does London - good n' hard with his
improvised Garbage Orchestra.

Girlie! DON'T!!!!
Aw shit. Once ya give 'em money it only encourages 'em,
and the next thing ya know the streets fulla
retards and brass...

The first musician that I saw using repeaters this well was
KT Tunstall. This clipper does all right with 'em

All these folks like to get snobbish about their musical talent but there is no real cause for them to put on airs. Making beautiful music is easy - as our friends from Australia show. Let the Axis of Awesome dumb it down a bit and reduce it all - to a mere four chords.

Have a good Friday.


Happy Turkey Day To The Yanks!

Be with your families.

Don’t talk politics. Be thankful you can sit down as a family. Not many of us can do that anymore.

Give thanks to your Maker for your job, your wife and even your Dawg. Be especially thankful if your kids aren’t messed up by the evil forces that are arrayed against them in these times.

Don’t look at the other guy and feel bad because he has more to be thankful for than you. Thanksgiving is about you and yours, not about him and his.

Stay close to your Maker, and close to your families. God bless y’all - and sorry for the preachin’ and speechin’.

Happy Thanksgiving!😊

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

The Girls Of Ft. Mac: Retard School ROTC Program

I am livid! Yesterday we were approached by Westpoint to discuss the recruitment of our more gifted students into their command training programs. (I was going to sell them all to pharmaceutical corporations for medical experiments and research - but Westpoint started waving more money around). In any event, one of the generals wanted to run my retards through a quick simulated war game to see exactly what kind of material he had to work with.

My l'il rejects lasted 5 minutes, gawddamn 'em all!!! They all folded and surrendered faster n' a fwenchman!!! I got screwed out of my finders fee when the general and his entourage stormed off in disgust.

RED dawn? Hmpffffff!!!

Looks like medical experiments for the lot of them then! They have only themselves to blame!

The Girls Of Fort MacMuck

This lady cools off with a refreshing dip in the McKay River before starting her day!
I would tell her to watch out for float planes but I think they
are all on skis now.


10 years ago if people said that this type of crap would be typical in our universities and our workplaces - I would have laughed.

This isn't incompetence. It isn't an accident.

It's institutionalized lunacy.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Dear Santa

I can't believe there's a gun I've never heard of. An outhouse assault rifle???  I want it!!!

If you can't see your way to giving me one of these for Christmas, Santa...
can ya make sure none of my arch enemies gets one neither?
I would hate to be taking my ease and have some creep like Quartermain, Jack or Pete burst
through the door with one - and catch me with my pants down.

A Public Service Admonishment

Awhile back all the stupid kids and retards were smirking and snickering about that pilot that used sky writing to draw a great big cack in the sky.

It's guys doing this. I can understand, in the deepest, most childish depths of my psyche - the idea of being infatuated with women's naughty parts. But these are guys doing it! I could understand a faggot doing something like that, I suppose.

I want this to stop. Now. You boys are setting a horrible example for me and my mental midgets at Uncle Bob's School For Wayward Boys N' Retards.

Screw it. Be perverts then.
See if I care.

Car Jacked By A Big Black Chit Bird

I stopped down at the park to put some notes in my computer and make some phone calls
when this bird hauled me out of my truck, pounded my brains out
and ate my lunch.
Ya gotta be tough to live in Fort MacMurray...

Errr... maybe ya gotta be tough EVERYWHERE!
Have a great hump day everyone!

Sign Of The Times

Staying connected and still missing out...

So far I have avoided cell phone addiction. A lot of my younger friends haven't though. You'll be talking to them and their faces go blank, they'll haul out their cells, and keep yammering with ya as they type with their thumbs at 700 MPH. They do it at work, at home, everywhere - even in the most beautiful settings.

Try That Shirt On Again Ten Years From Now

I see cats and lonliness in your future, Miss.

Is that gal pretty enough to wear a shirt like that? I dunno, I'm just asking. I know it's a joke but I am seeing red flags and alarms all over that gal.

The Art Of... Of... Hmmmm

I was gonna say the 'Art Of Speed' but I don't think that puppy is as fast as she looks for some reason.

Tie rods? Disc brakes? This beauty was surely ahead of her time.

Monday, 20 November 2017

Filthie's Fine Figurines

I call this one 'Chicken Mom'.

When We Were Kings

Uncle Bob Lives

Speaking of krauts...


I've been getting tetchy of late. It's the time of year; I loathe the overcast skies, the short days, the desolation and the cabin fever that grips my soul with a firmer grip every year I get older. There's crap at work, crap in the family and my patience for people and their bullchit is pretty much non-existent right now. Spiritually, emotionally - I'm about half past dead. What is to be done about it?

Why - go out and see people, of course! Or at least, that is my wife's thought. Were it up to me I would close the curtains, tuck my .45 under the pillow and go into hibernation until the spring comes. But we had been invited to dinner by E, a little old lady the wife befriended at church. Gah - I had visions of the typical old women of my family - an excruciating night of them talking about their house plants, or themselves, or their health, or what they saw on day-time TV, or... oh God, kill me now!

But E was not like that at all. Although she's in her 70's she's sharp as a tack. We got invited in and E was making potato pancakes for supper. She and my wife chattered like birds - and it was INTELLIGENT chatter! I'm serious. JFC - the oldest women in my family are at least 10 years younger than E, but by the way they conduct themselves, ya'd think they were in their early teens.

E was born, near as I can tell, in what is now Romania. Before WW2 there were all kinds of borders and countries re-defined as Hitler ramped up and rebuilt the Axis powers. In those days, troopers routinely tramped up the road, booted the peasants off their lands to reassign them elsewhere - and every second Euro of the time was a refugee of some sort. (I believe the jargon of the day referred to them as Displaced Persons, or DP's.) During her childhood they were run off at least two properties, and she lost her father when he was conscripted to fight in WW2 for Germany.

I snuck a pic of E's kitchen. Lookit the high tech push button
stove control panel. :)
She is the original owner of this house, built about a mile 
away from my mom and dad's first house.

As the war ran it's historical course E and her family were tossed about on the tides of history in a way that guys like me only read about. The eastern front had collapsed, and the Russians came roaring out of Russia, hell bent on revenge for the beating they'd taken in their own lands. E's family found themselves on the run again, and desperately fled west, barely ahead of them. Eventually their road ended - stuck in some east German city. Somehow her mom had gotten them all to the train station together - only to be refused passage. The last trains were pulling out, there was no room for them, and this was the end of the line. Mom and her young family were now at the mercy of the fates and things didn't look good for them at all. 

"You want to tell me there's no God?" E challenged us in heavily accented English, "I can tell you that there certainly is." E's hands are knarled and crooked from arthritis and hard work and they shook like leaves in the wind as she poured coffee. Whadda they call that? Palsey? I dunno - I see all kinds of old folks with it but E paid it no mind - she got most of the coffee into my cup and topped up the wife and continued with her tale.

E's mom was at the end of her rope. She was stuck in a city that was about to be either over run by murderous Russians, or pounded into rubble by Allied carpet bombing. She gathered her children together and wept. All was lost.

A soldier ambled up and said, "Momma - why are you crying?" and E's Mom explained her woe. The trains were full. There was no room. She and her children were finished. She didn't know what to do.

The soldier would have none of it. He dragged the lady and her kids onto the train, bellowing orders for everyone to scrunch up and make room - or else! Thanks to that soldier, E and her family made it west - away from the Russians. That afternoon, after the train left, Allied bombers incinerated that small east German city with white phosphorous bombs. Firing an entire city with phosphorous is as evil a thing as nuking it; maybe worse. First you get the blaze going in the city center, good and HOT. As the heat builds, the firestorm sets up it's own weather system: hot air rises and draws in cooler air from the surroundings in a demented, hellish forced draft blast furnace that can reach temps so hot - steel will burn. The town was literally reduced to cinders and the Russians had to hold off and let it cool before they occupied it. The melted asphalt roads were a gooey mess.

Life improved for E and her family after the war. Somehow their father found them by asking after them wherever he went. He asked about family, he asked about friends and chased wild geese hither and yon as he searched for his kin. Eventually they reunited and they emigrated to Canada in dribs and drabs. With no education or skills, E's mom did crappy, low paying scut work to get by and set up a future for her kids. When E married her husband, he started up a small machine shop and they bought the house we were visiting in - in 1967. As you can see from the pics - it was an opulent palace that E's mom would have heartily approved of.

After supper the girls had the plates and table cleaned off faster
than it takes ya to think about it.

"So what about you two?" E asked. What is your life story? HAR HAR HAR! All the wife and I could do was look at each other and gawp and stutter. We've never been cold, we've never been hungry, and we certainly never had to run for our lives. "We met in high school, got married...and here we are," I stammered. "We're...we're boring," I chuckled. E seemed to approve of us and our marriage that has held up through some seriously odd times.

Before I knew it, it was 9:00 and I had to get home to let the dawgs out to pee. When I got home I kicked them out and opened a beer and shook my head. I've been so caught up in my own troubles of late, that I've lost perspective at a time when I need it more than ever before. I figured I would need at least a beating at the hands of Quartermain or Pete to get my head on straight - but all it took was sitting back and listening to a couple wise women chat.

It's odd how events go. The women in my family, and those in the news and in the entertainment industry have made a chauvinist of me. I regard the modern empowered woman with contempt and disgust that defies even my best efforts at chivalry. But right here, right under my nose, in the midst of a raging gender and culture war, a tanking economy and uncertain times ... I find these two gems. And I'm married to one of 'em. There are times I think I should sue Tom Hanks and Forrest Gump for character infringement. Sometimes I don't get what I want - but I always seem to get what I need, whether it's a boot up the ass from one of my retarded peers, or a ring side seat at a living history lecture with truly powerful, intelligent women.

Along with all that food for thought, we 
discussed food to eat!
I once dumped a jar of kraut out at hunting camp and
even the magpies and whisky jacks wouldn't touch it.
Apparently that wasn't 'real' sauerkraut - the good stuff
tastes like this stuff in the pic.
E was right - if you make kraut right - it's mighty fine stuff.

Hope your weekend was good - and be sure to have a good Tuesday tomorrow.

Sunday, 19 November 2017

Cats Get Christmas

They totally understand it. Mine would open gifts early, knock the ornaments off or walk around the house with strands of tinsel hanging out of their arses. That is our public service announcement for the day - if you have cats - don't put tinsel on the tree! Cats think that if it's shiny, and can be eaten - then it SHOULD be eaten. I am at a loss to explain why Darwin did not dispense with them eons ago.

It HAS To Be Sexism

Last time I had a "garment failure" I got thirty days in the can!
Mind you some a the boys developed
PTSD and psychological problems as a result, HAR HAR HAR!!!
I think lewdness laws are applied
harder on old farts too - MORE discrimination...!

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Breakfast At Jack's...

Hmpfffff! I got an invite for Sunday Brunch at Mad Jack's place and everything was going swimmingly: all the li'l retards were behaving themselves and getting most of their food into their mouths and we had one minor food fight. Once we sorted that out and got back to our meal, Jack started choking and gagging and the next thing ya know - the old bastid dies right there at the breakfast table! How bloody rude is that?!?!

Ya think somebody poisoned him? One of my vicious tards, maybe? This is a job for Captain Sweatpants - The Crime Fighting Velcro Shoe Detective!

At first glance, nothing suspicious.
Can you spot the clue?
The murderer slipped.

Do I have to do everything for ya??? Where is Jack's whisky? A Texan? Breakfast without Bourbon or Whisky? Was it poisoned and then removed from the crime scene during the confusion? Or is some of the food tainted as well?

The game is afoot! I call dibs on the steak and the tater!

YOU have a good Sunday - take the old lady out for brunch! That's an order! :)

You Should Be Proud!

That's prudence and critical thinking worthy of a grumpy old man!
Good job, kiddo!

This child shows more sense than most women in their 30's these days, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I always wanted to do that at the bank because I've seen so many Hollywood secret agents and gangsters do it: they walk into the bank and open up a safety deposit box - and start scooping out bundles of $100.00 bills in rubber bands and then they'll pull out a Beretta .32 or a Walther, rack it and put in in a vest pocket... and then who knows what kind of mischief they get into after that!

Letting It Go

I've been through the wringer with this past week. It wasn't that bad, really - it's just that I've been carrying a shit-ton (tonne) of baggage with me for a long, long time. Thanks to new-age politics and ... ahem..."changing moral climates" (PBBFBFBFFFFFFFTTTT!!!!) - my family burned down years back. I won't re-hash it; those scars have healed over enough for me to get by for the most part, but earlier in the week... I had my moment out on the morning Dawg Patrol. I'm probably on the verge of losing my job, my family's in shambles and I may or may not be looking at some tough times... but honesty demands that I acknowledge that I am responsible for all of it - and I've been getting squished under a load I was never fit to carry. I couldn't do it anymore. I am not an overly religious man and can count the number of times I've fired off a serious prayer on one hand... but I knelt down in the snow on Dawg Island and dumped the whole kit and caboodle on my Maker. I can't do it anymore.

I have to forgive some people who've hurt me, and apologize for hurting them in return. I fired off an email at my estranged daughter and did precisely that. I dunno if she will even get that email, if I'll ever see her again or what will come of it. All I know is that I have to forgive her before I can forgive myself. It was a big load off and a big deal for me. It's taken me 8 years to get here. Who woulda thunk that getting rid of a load like that would be so hard? In an age where tolerance and sin are in bed together I don't know how to handle the predicament I'm in.

In any event I was over at Turdie Beach's at The Fourty Five and pooping in the comments and surfing around and came across the blog of one of his readers. (Careful boys, there's a little too much estrogen going on over there if ya catch my drift, HAR HAR HAR!) But the womenfolk had an interesting topic up - just what the hell IS forgiveness anyways? When ya do it, are you surrendering? Does it mean you have to open yourself up for more shit and abuse? And accept it? 'Forgiving someone' means different things to different folks by the look of it.

When I forgive - to me it means 'cease fire'. No shots thrown, no lumps received - let us try to get along as best we can. Our family feud got really, really nasty really fast. I know the people involved in that did some awful mean things and if they did 'em once - they're certainly capable of doing it again. They know I am too. I will forgive - but I will never forget. Is that really forgiveness?

I suppose I'll have to throw that one at my Maker too.

Perhaps it's a good idea to lighten up a bit. It's a thoughtful, introspective day here at Firebase Filthie, but I still have time to work on weapons of unimaginable destructive power!

See the little one in front? I just finished it! Latest generation flight controller
with the F4 coprocessor. I have
very fat fingers and getting around in the guts of that thing
with a soldering iron is an exercise 
in frustration. That little bugger will easily do
60 MPH. Boys are gonna have to be REAL quick on their 
12 bores, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I don' want to see any rude jokes in the comments about my Crapcopters either. Just lookit:

No animals were hurt in the making of this film - only
a few expendable retards. There's more where they came from.

HAR HAR HAR! Have a good Saturday!

Friday, 17 November 2017

Uncle Bob's Filthharmonic Pops: The String Section

Sometimes when me and my students go on a bender, we like to mix premium scotch with Toilet Duck. The results can be spectacular or disastrous. The other day I woke up in a snow drift wondering where my special needs kids had gone - but they were safe and sound. The nice fellas in the white coats even sent me a videeyah. Who woulda thunk Quartermain, Pete and Jack would have such raw talent?

Don't say nothin' - but I can see how those boys give themselves the creeps too.

Davie 504 has probably been mixing my scotch with anti-freeze. I'm glad my eyes don't look like that; when I come off a bender they look like pi**holes in the snow.

Sometimes Davie gives US the creeps too!

Our trio of Special Musicians ends with this idiot savant child prodigy. 

Clap clap clap clap....

Thank you again, ladies and gentlemen, for choosing to share your evening with us. Hope ya have a good weekend lined up.

Whadda Week

Well the national sales manager came out from Queerbec to shit on us this week and I was ready for him. The second we were alone and he started blaming me for everything wrong with the company, the economy and the world - I told him bluntly to get a pink slip for me and a lawyer for himself because I thought he was a dishonest abusive prick and I was sick of his shit.

Then the shouting started.

And I shouted right back at him. FFS - half our staff defected a year ago to go into business directly against us - and here he was treating their replacements AND the employees that stayed loyal to him... like shit. So go ahead, chief - lay me off. I had a few problems with HIS incompetence, stupidity and misconduct, to be honest - and if this was going to be a dog fight we would finish it in court, in front of our employers where he couldn't abuse his authority and cheat.

After I finished with him I dropped him back at the office and the boys said his attitude changed and he started acting civilized. I think sometimes people get wrapped up in themselves and don't really listen to what they're saying and how people around them receive it. He practically fell over himself to be polite with us after that. There comes a point where negative reinforcement just doesn't work anymore.

Who knows. I may get a pink slip for my troubles yet - but he seemed sincere. They are even jumping on getting my new salesman a new truck because his is half in the bag.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Time For A Rude Joke...

Must be that racist booger, BW Bandy.
I am no racist, I hate everyone equally.

Monday, 13 November 2017

My A-Hole Sales Manager

Told us to meet him first thing on Monday morn. So in we went, on a stat holiday Monday - to meet with the jerk. We waited around for two hours and he never showed up. We left and went back home in disgust at 10:00.

Sure, I coulda phoned him or texted him but when we talk he accuses me of incompetence and misconduct without any proof, and refuses to listen when I try to explain to him why he's wrong, or why we do things the way we do, or why our customers do their thing the way they do. If I insist, he starts shouting and pounding tables. He's done the same with our new sales guy and our new manager and they are sick of his shit too.

This is why you get unions. I personally hate unions with the heat of a thousand suns but I can see why they set up and why they are so militant.

I think we're going to have to have a discussion with the VP that essentially goes along the lines of "Do you expect us to take this clown seriously? If so - could ya lay us off so we can at least qualify for EI while we look for a real job? Because we would sure hate to have to lawyer up and discuss the company's problems with misconduct and incompetence..."

It's not a discussion I am looking forward to.

Sunday, 12 November 2017

It's A Wonder They Got Any Films Made At All...

...considering all the rapin' and pillaging that seems to be going on in Hollywood these days.

Just sayin'...

But yannow - who needs Hollyweird with it's homos, pedos, group circle jerks and dimwittery? Tomorrows celebs are gonna be way better people and they can be seen for free right here at Filthie's Speakeasy or over on YouTube if ya can't stand the smell here!

Davie and his gal have a NON-perverted threesome
with a bass guitar...

In other news BW is whining that one of the other li'l tards ripped off his prize bass guitar. Don't anyone tell him where it is - I think it is in better hands.

Have a great Sunday.

Saturday, 11 November 2017

The Out House Sniper: It's About Compromises

Precision rifles are all the rage right now amongst the peasantry of Gun Geek Forest. I personally detest the precision rifle, or pretty much any gun built for one purpose, and one purpose only. I am a Rifleman: I need to be able to sling up and take that quick shot on the coyote at Sunnybrook Farm as well as defend my turf on the firing line from snipers like Mad Jack, Pete F and the boys. Precision rifles are deadly accurate, big, heavy... and expensive. Precision and quality are mutually exclusive, and ya get what ya pay for. A very accurate hunting or truck gun can be had for a good deal less.

Awhile back I bought a Remmy SPS Tactical in .308 when I caved into the peer pressure coming from the bad kids. These guns are shoddily made, and are a shit stain on the American industrial working man. That Big Green would let shite like these leave their factory is a testament as to how far American icons have fallen. When I was a kid, Big Green made rifles for men like me right out of the box - and they still do, kinda-sorta... and you pay through the nose for them. PBFBFBFBFFFFFT!

The savvy rifleman knows and understands this. My remmy 'tactical rifle cost $750.00. You buy them, pull off the barrel and stock and trigger - and keep pretty much only the action and rebuild the gun from the ground up. Out of the box, with a stock heavy contour barrel I could barely get under one MOA. Most went 1.5" at 100. I shouldn't bitch; for an Econo-Rifle I suppose that's not bad. I wanted better.

Stock Remmy/Hogue overmolded stock, Swarovski 3x9, Shilen air gauged
heavy contour stainless match barrel - and Bob's your uncle - instant 
precision rifle!  0.5 MOA all day on the range yesterday in high winds
and -16C.
Total investment: around $1500.00. Can't remember
what Rotten Rod charged me for the re-barrel job.

My idea for this was to build a light sniper/precision gun... but now I dunno how far I want to go with that. She's doing 0.5 MOA as she sits in the cleaning cradle right now. Yeah, I could turn case necks, weigh cases, manually trickle the charges, etc etc etc ad nauseum... but that stuff gets old really fast. I am not anal retentive enough to enjoy that.

But, if I want to play the long-range game I pretty much HAVE to do all that, and go whole hog with the rest of the tweaks and farkles on the gun itself.

If you are gonna shoot at long range, premium scopes, pillar bedded barrels and actions, 
adjustable triggers and all that jazz become critical.
This is the precision rifle and most good ones can come in around
0.3 MOA. How much accuracy do ya need, anyway?

You don't want to hunt with a rifle like that one above. She's heavier than WL Emery's 4th ex-wife, she'd be overkill in the bush where the deer hide out, and even my rifle, as it sits, is getting a little chubby for work like that - but she'll do it in a pinch.

Another money pit beckons I suppose. I think I'm gonna pass. I have enough gun to deal with the deer and bipedal featherless turkeys running around at my rod n' gun club, thank you very much!

I have to throw out a product endorsement here too. I do this as a gun club stubfart - these guys don't know I exist, and they don't give me any money for saying what follows. I say what I say as a happy customer:

That is the magnetospeed chronographs that tells me how fast
my bullets are going.

Unlike old school chronographs these things strap on to your barrel and hang out front like a bayonet. There's no more of this BS about shooting a batch for groups and then shooting a batch over the chronograph. You do both at the same time and there no futzing with the damned screens, rods and other junk! Using it, I was able to confirm that my rifle starts to sing at 2700 FPS with 168gr bullets! Trust me, if you are a reloader and you take that seriously, and you seriously want to get into precision shooting - you need one of these.  I suppose I shouldn't be premature - I've only been out once with it but it was a pleasure to work with. 

The nonsense at the rifle range continues apace - have a great Saturday!

Thursday, 9 November 2017

Someone Stole My Idea...

A treat machine for old farts!!! And someone beat me to it!!!

Hmmm. I still might be able to salvage the idea: how about a couple of these?
One for pickled eggs, another for pickled koobasaw, and another one for
Brussel sprouts?

Empowered Women, Alberta Style

Gah. At least Hillary tried to do her make up and comb her

I caught the whole shebang over at Small Dead Animals. Ol' Rach is looking a little rough around the edges these days. She's Alberta's premier and like most socialists, she is a career snivel servant. She is a former public school teacher as are most of her cronies. It's scary to think that people like this are allowed to teach children. The late Uncle Bob used to say that "public schools should be burned to the ground, with the teachers trapped inside - and afterward, the earth upon which they stood should be salted..." Rach is powerful evidence of the correctness of Bob's position.

Minus all the drama I see two issues here: first, the eeeeeevil Christians want the freedom to teach their own kids about stuff like same-sex marriage, homosexuality and probably regular healthy sexuality too. Marxists obviously don't want people thinking for themselves on subjects like these, as most of them are degenerates and perverts themselves and hate the church with the heat of 1000 suns.

Also a big part of it - but carefully not said - is the fact that homeschoolers and private schools are producing students that can wipe the academic mat with publicly schooled kids. Most parents would be horrified at how dumbed down our public school curriculums have become. As a man that tutored his own daughter I can tell you that if your kid is failing at school - the problem probably isn't the child - it's either you, the teacher, or both. They won't tell you that, of course. It's easier to blame a child for his failures than it is for a parent to admit his - and no way will a union slob take responsibility or go the extra mile to solve a problem. Homeschoolers and private schools make Rach and her gals look bad - and we can't have that!!!! The fact is our teacher's unions are out of control and they have a choke-hold on our provincial gubbimint. They are going to do to us what we've done to our kids - and it'll serve us right in a lot of cases.

I will let Uncle Bob speak for me on matters pertaining to public schools, their teachers and their unions. When it comes to matters of morality and ethics - there is no way on earth I would let any snivel servant have the last word on teaching them to my kids. As a father of a militant lesbian social justice warrior and an adult cry-bully - I can tell you honestly that the Christians have the right of this. My opposition to the left's sexual degeneracy is rooted in common sense, health and wellness. These trannies and queers are not nice people, and they aren't healthy or happy. Most are miserable and unhappy - and they want to spread it to others as much as possible. I have no time for them anymore.

But - now that I'm an old fart... none of this is my problem. It's pretty clear that I will be looking after myself when I am 75 because our kids probably won't be able to look after themselves, never mind their geriatric parents. HAR HAR HAR! My retirement will probably be a quart of whisky, a fine cigar and a Colt .45! HAR HAR HAR!!! (I am leaving all my worldly assets to Quartermain so you guys can have a party when I'm gone (and please don't let Jack or Pete defile my corpse(and I peed in one of the bottles in my liquor cabinet - you guess which one, HAR HAR HAR!!!)))

While our leaders have all gone effin nuts - it doesn't mean we have to. Keep yer stick on the ice and have a good Thursday.

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Shut Up, Racist, They Explained

Filthie's Garage

My crapcopters are held together by these things and they're funny animals.
I've seen them hold in crashes that shake the ground from 20m away...
and I've seen others snap with a dirty look.
Zip ties are a lot like people in that regard.


It's a Great Blue Haired Land Whale, Don.
If I were Trump, I would give Twitter the finger and go on Gab. It would
force the leftwing howler monkeys in the media to follow Trump
in a medium that actively hates them and social justice warriors.
They would have kiniptions and it would serve them right!

The Hawaiian Libertarian has an interesting one up about how people live in altered states of reality. The people that hired that blue haired fatty, above - live in an unreality bubble where such people can be considered rational and competent. I can tell just by looking at her that she has more than a few screws loose. After the last 20 years my take on affirmative action is that the only thing it has accomplished is to put inferior people in positions they can't handle - thus justifying the very stereotypes the perps were hoping to dispense with.

Former President Obutthole and the First Sasqwatch?
Come to terms with their racism and bigotry?
It can't POSSIBLY be a photoshop!

IBefore he was elected, I read one of Obama's books...'The Audacity Of Hope', if I remember correctly.. I had to - because although I can take black people of merit in stride, one at a time - as a group I hate blacks. I'm just being honest here - I don't like their victim politics, I don't respect the way they refuse to take responsibility for themselves, and if some idiot can't tell the difference between talking in generalities or talking about individuals - screw them. Obama's book was ALL about race and that's it. If a white guy wrote dreck like that, he'd be laughed at. But I had to read Obama's books to make sure my own biases weren't preventing me from sizing the man up fairly. I got halfway through his book before I threw it in the garbage. I had hoped I was wrong about him, but sadly I had him right down to a tee. In his bubble, EVERYTHING is race. You had your fun with affirmative action in the Whitehouse, America - now would be a good time to wake the hell up.

I refuse as much as possible to live in bubbles if I can. I'll eat a Big Mac knowing full well that Rotten Ronnie is trying to kill me with it for fun and profit. I have no illusions about it. I can drive and talk on a cell phone and do all the time. People that rail against smartphones have a point but it only goes so far - those damned things have so much functionality now that guys like me don't have to carry around briefcases anymore. Between my cell and computer I can effectively manage a client base of over 3500 customers. No day timers, no business card indexes, no note books. 

I signed my mortgage knowing full well I was signing up for serfdom for at least 5 to 10 years. We bought a house we could afford, knowing that we would want to retire some day and that our home would not be part of our retirement savings. That $120K mortgage kept me awake at nights too - and most people today would laugh in my face at my paltry debt. Today, though my bills are largely paid. I am not rich, but I am free.

I try to see my world around me and not only that - extrapolate: where is it headed? I do not see The End Of The World As We Know It - is see shit hitting the fan. It may knock the fan over, and everyone near the fan may get sprayed with shit - but it ain't the end of the world. Ya get out the mop and pail, ya clean up the mess - and try and set the fan someplace safe and chase the dung throwing monkeys outside. Most of us will survive - I am, and remain an optimist. 

All's well that ends well!
Have a good Humday!