Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Saturday, 31 March 2018

Gather Round, Men...

Usually on Sundays I leave Pete or WL in charge of the Sherriff's Office while I am away at church with the Mrs... but not today. I'm filling the chambers on my Colt percussion guns - there's law work to be done.

Boys, I've called y'all here to assemble for a posse. It's bad this time - real bad. We have Jack and WL keeping a close eye on Sunny to make sure he doesn't do anything rash. He's homicidally livid right now, and rightfully so! Last night - The Supervisor got robbed in Coopville! I know, right? I'm as shocked as you all are! But the law is the law - and we have to go out to Coopville and bring in Charlie and Chicken Mom. Yes, we have the whole sordid affair on video tape:

I'm sorry y'all had to see that, boys. I like the folks out in Coopville too. But justice has to be done, and the folk have to see it being done.

I truly hope they choose to come along peacefull like. The rest of you - go back to your homes and be with your families! There's nothing to see here - so have yourselves a good Sunday.

Some Minor Blog Changes...

I've been having sporadic difficulties with the blog censoring my guests and even myself on occasion. For the time being, I have added Harold Flashman to the blog list. He is an intensely practical and reasonable man to my eye and a welcomed addition. Also new to the blogroll is Jess at Scratching To Escape.  He too is a pragmatist and an eloquent yarn-spinner.

Finally, my cohort in crime, scapegoat, and fellow disciple of Uncle Bob - Quentin Quartermain - has resumed blogging from jail in South America. (Yes, ordinarily I would assemble a posse and we'd break him out... but he doesn't know what country he's in). I'll try to revise the link on the blogroll so it works.

I suppose I should be mindful of building myself an echo-chamber... but as I get older and the wheels keep falling off our nations - I no longer have the patience to argue with internet morons. These kind of guys entertain me and don't always agree with me or I with them - but at least I can respect their differences of opinion and their motivations as I hope they do with guys like me.

Check 'em out if you already haven't done so! That's an order.  ;)

Filthicus: Blood And Sand

Ah. Here we go! Some nice Sunday gladiatorial bloodshed and violence!!! Sorry folks, I would love to feed Christians to the lions but ever since The Empress converted (and forced me to as well) - a fella has to make do.

Welp. You know how it goes! If ya want something done right, ya gotta do it yourself! Next week me and Pete will step out onto the sands of the Spamatorium to fight to the death! Will that not be entertaining, my countrymen...??? I better start training at once!

I got some work to do...  :)

Strong Assertive Women

Oh FFS. Here's a 'strong assertive woman' for ya.

Aaaaand conservatives take another boot up the ass in the culture war - at least in the mass media. Here is the person that took this edgy, strong willed media maven to the woodshed:

He's a kid. He's wrong. He's a twink, and he supposedly has the moral
authority to lecture us on gun control.
And he just took a supposedly rational adult woman down
in a debate about civil rights.
What's wrong with this picture...?

This is why I abandoned the mass media years ago. Attention is focused on this little twit and his creepy girlfriends - and NONE have questioned the law enforcement - from the cop that ran away from the gunfire, right on up to the FBI that knew the shooter was clear and present danger to the public well before he flipped his lid. And - the woman apologized to this idiot kid. Screw you, FOX.

It's hard, I know. Back when my daughter came out of the closet as a militant lesbian, a millennial snowflake, and a cultural social justice warrior - in our opening skirmishes I apologized a few times to try and get her to sit down and talk to us - and it just made things worse. I've apologized to my Mom for my hard conservative views - but she is an elderly shitlib that may or may not be senile. At the very least, she's getting old and stupid the way some women get in their later years.

Now I no longer argue or debate with shitlibs at all. What's the point? You're up against one or all of three things:


What kind of peace or compromise are you going to get with any of that? It doesn't matter who it comes from, whether it's a creepy little twink like David Hogg or your own daughter. Your job as a man is to be one and stand up against foolishness like this. If idiots like Hogg get the assault gun ban, everything will be good until a kid goes nuts with a lever gun. Or a pump gun. Or pistols. Bans are not the answer to anyone with a modicum of intellect.

I don't blame young Master Hogg. He obviously isn't being raised right and at the rate he's going, he will be lucky if his ropey mouth doesn't get him punched out - or worse. I don't blame my mother or daughter for being shitlibs either. Most women are socialists or fascists by nature and have the childish intellects required for ideologies that go along with that. Yes, I know that many women don't - the ladies on my blog roll and in my comments actually are assertive powerful - and most importantly - capable women. By my outhouse estimate I would say about 50% of women are childish, emotional and incapable morons.

Filthie's Theory Of UN-Natural Selection

So if roughly 50% of all women are incapable of rational adult behaviour... what about men? 

Again, by my chit house estimates, about 25% of men are equally childish, emotional and incapable. Why the disparity? My theory is that traditionally, men are far more exposed to the consequences of their actions than women are. As a result, Darwin punishes men much more severely for denying obvious realities much more so than women. If he doesn't learn what Darwin is trying to teach him - he gets punished until he does. Continued failure will result in removal from the gene pool. Critical thinking is a survival trait much more for men than it is for women. Because we live in wealthy society we've been lulled into a false sense of security. Shitlibs think preppers and survivalists are nuts. There's ALWAYS going to be food on the table, water will ALWAYS come out of the tap, and nanny will ALWAYS be there to protect them from scary predators and monsters.

And of course, this school shooting has traumatized them because it highlights the obvious: the wheels are falling off their narrative and sheltered life outlook. So sheltered, and so oblivious that they have become - that they think they can dispense with evil and crime with the stroke of a politician's pen. They don't want to look the monsters and predators in the eye and I don't blame them... but refusing to see them and acknowledge them will not make them go away.

As a Canadian I pay lip service to Canada's strict gun laws. I am more likely to be struck by lightning than to be shot down by a legal gun owner. Or an illegal one, for that matter. Seriously - I avoid potential trouble areas where those kind of fatalities occur and take my security seriously. Prevention's worth a pound of cure. But - if I thought my life was in danger? You bet I would be strapped, and my wife as well. And fuck Justin Turdo and his liberal morons if they have anything to say about it! It is no coincidence that they don't have to worry about their security. How can entitled, sheltered twits like that be expected to understand basics of life like self defense...?

Personal security and self defense rights are not something to leave to the women and children of the media and twitter mobs. My advice to anyone with skin in this game is this: don't register your guns, stock up on high cap mags - and stash away some designated 'SHTF' guns. At the rate we're going, boys, we will not only be facing the consequences of our own stupidity - but those from our women and children as well.

Look after yourselves, be safe - and have a great Saturday.

Friday, 30 March 2018

Today's Rule 5 Violation: That's Cheating

What are us fellas supposed to do - confronted with that? Shoot the hotties??? How? What with them shaking and jiggling their money makers like that!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Faced with that, perverts like Quartermain would lose their minds, turn craven and surrender without firing a shot! HAR HAR HAR!!!

But yannow - all kidding aside, there's any number of liberal slobs and morons that will see that as equality in motion. "Equality From Above!!!" Until, of course, they meet reality and discover that when women fight men, they lose 90% of the time. Or they get over run because Chickie can't throw a grenade more than a few yards. Or wounded squaddies are left behind on the battlefield because Chickie wasn't able to carry the wounded out. It's lunacy to mainstream women, queers and degenerates into the military, but liberals hate the squaddies with the heat of 1000 suns. Trying to suss out their reasoning leaves me with a head ache: are they doing stupid shit like this to the military because they hate them? Another theory I've heard is that a lot of these young men (and women, these days I suppose) - were raised by single mothers and have sexually fetishized them by creating the 'strong, assertive woman' trope. Now we have an entire generation of kids that think women will make good warriors. GAH.

Our enemies, when they train their fighters, regularly lose raw recruits in training accidents. Their training is rigorous and ruthless - those too weak to cut the mustard are either hurt or killed and other low balls are run out on a rail. We are making things ridiculously easy so our women can face those men when the pooh hits the fan. I believe there are indeed places for women in the military - but not in combat or leadership roles. (Unless, of course, they've qualified for them and met the same criteria the men have). Even then... any gains are going to be trumped by potential liabilities. Were I in the military I would seriously consider retirement or a job in the private sector.

If you're lucky, Squaddie - your death, if it comes, will be
from above and honourable.
Worst case, your line buckles, and you get to watch your women
and mates killed before you get yours.

Filthicus: Blood And San....Errrr...Snow, Apparently

Well what with the blog ratings tanking and people going outside to enjoy the spring... I was going to draw some folks back with some cruel and vicious blood sport and gratuitous violence! Unfortunately the beasts and monsters that were scheduled to fight and die for our amusement today in the Spametorium escaped!

It's all Jack's fault; he and WL got pished to the gills last night on some cheap swill and left a few cages open.

Ordinarily I would have them flogged and crucified for their dereliction - but instead, THEY will entertain us instead! Behold: The shirkers are chained and bound to die for our amusement today!

Release the budgies!!! Release the gerbils!!!

I ask you again, my countrymen!!! Are you not entertained??? 

The Strongest Chains That Bind Us...

... Are those that we use to shackle ourselves.

I think of all these idiots advocating for America to repeal the 2nd Amendment
and institute gun bans and shake my head.
Call me an elitist, I don't care: people that are that stupid
shouldn't vote.

Thursday, 29 March 2018

The Son Survived

Here's Chapter 1.

I wasn't ready to be a man when I turned 18. I didn't have it as bad as the lad in the story; and my parents and family didn't exactly hurl me into the void. Suffice it to say though, that I was introduced to the consequences of my actions good and hard! HAR HAR HAR!!! Couldna happened to a nicer guy either! HAR HAR HAR!!! My life story echoes with that one in places.

Here's chapter II: Names N' Places changed to protect the guilty.

May 10, 1992

The young man walked through the school doors. "Now ya know how your old man felt, ya dumb shit," he thought to himself. The memories of poor ol' Pop and his retarded son brought a fleeting, fond smirk to his face. He marvelled at the echoes of his own childhood the school evoked.

"Mr. Smith!" An older woman down the hall beckoned to him, "This way please! I've been waiting for you." Like most elderly teachers her hair was cut short, but her dress was like that of a child. A big clownish mickey mouse watch, big plastic pearl necklace, a shirt with a rainbow and rabbits on it. She ushered the young man into the room, and then followed, closing the door behind her. Looking sternly at the young man, she asked. "Well, Mr. Smith?"

Mr. Smith paused, and tried to formulate an intelligent response. "Errrr.... I got your note from TL requesting a meet," he said, and shrugged. "Well...I'm here... What can I do for you, Mrs. Fafoofnik?"

"Mr. Smith, I am wondering if I shouldn't call Family & Social services on you for child abuse. I need you to convince me not too." She looked grim as she said it, and the young man was horrified. "We don't spank kids anymore, Mr. Smith. That's child abuse."

When the man recovered from the shock of the accusation, he sighed and collected his wits. "Please - call me John. And... Mrs. Fafoofnik... let me explain. When you sent the first note home with TL, explaining her behaviour problems in class and refusal to shape up - I sat her down and explained that anyone could have a bad day, that she wasn't in any trouble, that all she had to do - was do as the teacher said and be a good student - and all would be forgiven."

"You can call me Carol," the teacher said, thawing slightly at the younger man's candor and sincerity. "Please, go on."

"When the second note came home, I told her this was her last warning. If she brought home another one, she would get a spanking. When the third one came home, I got the wooden spoon out and I tanned her hide. But!! I didn't beat her; I spanked her. That's the way my father treated me and it worked just fine."

"That's unacceptable, John. This morning when your daughter was misbehaving she started crying and sobbing and begging me not to send a letter home with her or her father would spank her again. Obviously your corporal punishment doesn't work. We give kids 'time-outs' now."

"I have tried that in the past with my daughter, Mrs. Fa-" John tried to explain, but the teacher interrupted him. " I have a masters degree in child education, John. I have 30 years experience as a teacher. I know what I'm talking about."

"What do you suggest, Mrs. Fafooknik?" John sighed. "With all respect to you and your experience, I know my daughter. She's much like me - and time outs wouldn't impress me one iota."

The two sat and talked and came to a plan: When the child misbehaved, she would get a time out. If that didn't work, longer time outs. If that didn't work - groundings and depravation of privileges. Any further child abuse would not be tolerated.

May 17, 1992

"Good evening, Mr. Smith, how are you today?" The old woman and the young man were in the classroom again, after another round of notes and complaints about behaviour. After some small talk Carol got down to business. "Mr. Smith, your child continues to be a disruption in my class. She talks when she's been told not to, she won't settle down, and she's making it difficult for the other kids to learn."

"I don't see how you expect me to help you, Carol. TL is doing these things because she knows she can get away with it, and she won't be punished." John was no child psychology expert, but he knew what he was talking about too.

"You ARE punishing your child as we discussed, John?" Carol demanded, "she IS getting time outs? And groundings?"

"Not exactly, Carol. Here's the problem. I am studying and returning to school as a mature student. I also live with an extended family. When I send my daughter to the corner for her time out - if I am not around, her grandfather comes by and lets her off. So I have him undermining me as a father at home. At school - you tell me to ground her to her room. Her room is full of books, crayons, toys and other plunder - she can entertain herself for YEARS in that room. You undermine me as a parent at school when you accuse me of child abuse. What exactly, am I supposed to do?"

"John, I am an expert in child development. These discipline methods work with the vast majority of children. It sounds to me like you are back to trying to defend child abuse. I can tell you  with all certainty - THAT won't work either!"

"I recommend that we consider your child for remedial education," Carol said. "Her behavioural problems can't be addressed in a normal classroom."

John was shocked. "You're saying my kid is a retard...?" he choked, incredulous.

"John, we don't use words like 'retard' anymore! Your child has behavioural issues. I think this is the best way we can address them."

John had recovered from the shock, and now struggled to control his fury. "There is NOTHING wrong with that child," John almost shouted, "How many 9 year olds do you know that read full length, full blown adult novels? Have you seen her artwork? Or her friends? And YOU want to put MY daughter in with RETARDS???"

Sensing his rage, the teacher decided that a quick de-escalation was in order. "Why don't we meet again in two weeks. That'll give us both time to re-think things, and a calmer way to deal with them later?"

"Fine," John growled - and stormed out the door. "Remember Mr. Smith," she called after him, "No child abuse!"

May 18, 1992

"Mr. Smith. We AGREED that you would not abuse your child -" Carol stormed.

John cut her off, "Carol - stow it. We agreed to try things your way. Well, we did. They don't work for me, they don't work for my child, they sure as hell don't work for you. Yes, I tanned my daughters' hide, yes, it damned well hurt, and yes, if she brings home another stupid letter from you because she's acting like an idiot in class, she is going to get strapped. If she brings one home after THAT, she's going to get horsewhipped! She has one option: behave in school! If she does that, there's no punishment, and maybe if she tries hard enough - there's a reward in it. Regardless - no, my daughter isn't an idiot, and no, you aren't going to fob her off on some other poor slob 'educator' because you aren't willing TO DO YOUR JOB and teach her."

"I'm calling Family & Social Services," Carol declared.

"Go for it lady. If you think my child would be better off in a foster home with retards, druggies, and disturbed victims of actual child abuse - you just go for it! And get yourself a lawyer while you're at it, because I will sue you for every dime you have. I'm sick of your bullshit. You're not a teacher, you're a unionised pooch screwer and a bad excuse for a baby sitter..."

"So. That's it then...?" Carol demanded.

"That's it, Carol. I'm outta here." And with that John stood up, walked to the door - and paused. "Do you have kids of your own, Mrs. Fafoofnik?"


"Didn't think so."  As John left, he could have sworn that he could hear his father laughing at him. As his steps echoed down the hall, Carol sat at her desk ... and wondered what to do.


ps - The daughter survived too.

Tuesday, 27 March 2018


GAH! Who would DO something like that!
JFC - it just HAS to be Scottish, I'm thinking...

From Uncle Bob's Vintage Porn Stash

A lot of this pulp porno was before my time and it
may very well have been before Bob's too.

Today's Random Hate Crime

HAR HAR HARrrrr....Harrrumpfffff!!!!

I sincerely hope there was no inappropriate laughter going on!

No smirking either!!!!

Filthie's Ball Bag - Pics!

Put away the barf bags boys. Although you would be correct to suspect it - I am NOT a perv, but a Christian gentleman! (And anything that damned goat says is a bloody lie, HAR HAR HAR!!!)

No, this is good stuff. Awhile back I was prattling about the joys of cap and ball percussion revolvers. Part of the fun of them is just getting them to work! Owning one of these things really puts the Old West gun fighters and lawmen in perspective. The cap and ball pistol is an unreliable, inaccurate and annoying contraption - to those that aren't willing to learn it's ways. They were not designed as toys for stubfarts like yours Truly; they were meant for the pioneer or settler facing a dire threat - and as a last resort at that! For us gun club duffers though, the charm of these things is keeping them running at the range - and that means a number of tools. Some ya gotta have - others are nice to have. I have caps, ball, powder, lubricant, wads, screw drivers, cappers, nipple removers - and a bunch of other stuff to take with me.

All the tools ya need in one convenient roll, to keep ya
shooting all afternoon!
I regularly thank my Maker for putting my balls in a bag
or I would most certainly lose them.
Now I thank my wife as well.

My range bag is stuffed with mags, ammo, chrony - and all the shite needed for modern guns and I just didn't have any extra room for my black powder junk in it. (My range bag usually weighs in at 20~30 lbs). How was I going to manage all this extra crap? And even if I did empty my range bag to make room, going to the range with a modern range bag made of synthetic materials just stuck in my craw. My beautiful wife came to the rescue: She made me a tool roll and ball bag.

She made it out of crappy canvas which was period authentic - but what I really wanted was one made out of soft buckskin leather. She agreed and wanted to make a prototype so that any mistakes she made - were on the prototype made from cheap canvas.

But yannow... the more I use this thing, the more I like it. To the wife and anyone else it probly looks like a POS. But to me... there's something about using something somebody else made specifically for you that makes it special. I dunno if I really need the leather one now because this one looks just fine. Also, these things get FILTHY. Black powder is awful to play with and the soot gets on EVERYTHING. It might be a shame to get a nice piece of leathercraft grubby and sooty...

Arts n' crafts keep the hands busy as I continue to look for work. Last week I made it to a second interview, and the one before that I turned down an offer from a company I just didn't feel right about... so hopefully things turn around soon. As for me - winter is having another go at us, so unless the phone rings and I need to be somewhere - I am going downstairs to fart about in the shop.

Have a great day, folks.

Message Recieved Loud And Clear

Somebody better get this off to Sunny.
His Supervisor may be trying to send him a message...

Attack Crapcopters

I've had a sporadic feud going with The Bayou Renaissance Man and his chattering old ladies about his insistence that small hobby drones are a clear and present danger to national defense. "The rag head terrorist bastages are duct-taping grenades to the drones - and flying them into helpless Marines!!!" Good grief - when I tried to explain to the old hens that it's urban myth and mass media fake news, I got egged. I even tried to simulate such an attack with my own equipment and failed - they were gobbling in fright about how these toys would be used to deliver bioweapons and chemical warheads - and I just laughed and gave up. It's lunacy, of course. We like to joke and smirk at our neurotic old women ... but our grumpy old men aren't much better, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Ever since though, I have been thinking about a heavy lift drone. I would love to be able to drop eggs and water balloons on Mad Jack, Quartermain and WL. Or something that can lift a GOOD camera and gimbal system. I've had ideas sloshing around in my cranium and nothing really came about. Then I saw this guy on YouTube.

Mind blown.

A nitro/electric hybrid?!?!? BRILLIANT. Why didn't I think of that!  Oh man - the boys better start diggin' bomb shelters now, baby!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! That guy in the shop will have something feasible for us shortly! And, I figgered... if he doesn't... I will!!! If American ingenuity doesn't prevail, Canukistani flubdubbery will!!!!

Except... the chinamen beat us to it.

If you aren't worried about China yet - you should be.
We shoulda beaten them to this by a country mile.
Dammitandblast - I'll be lucky if some damned bamboo twister
doesn't bomb ME with garbage and rubbish!!!

I've been swapping texts with Flapz - and he's furious too. Conceding air superiority? To the chinks? 4.5 kg payload. GPS enabled. The generator costs around 4800 bucks. Although this is no hobby or toy machine - it is becoming a tactically viable machine. I am no squaddie... but 4.5KG of C4 or Semtex could ruin even a Marine's day.

It's still too early to call. Manufacturers like to hype their product capabilities and if we know one thing for sure - the Zips will lie through their teeth about stuff like this. Generators are heavy. Even the highest power to weight two cycle engines are too, aeronautically speaking, with regard to rotorcraft.

Some interesting developments are certainly in the works.

Monday, 26 March 2018

Child Activists

In my public role as the intrepid crime fighting Captain Sweatpants - sometimes I get called out to help with violent domestic disputes. One night I was called out to the Emery residence when WL and the missus were going at it and causing a disturbance. They were screaming and shouting and waking up the whole neighbourhood. I put a stop to it when the lady was scrabbling around, looking something to throw at her husband - and I passed over a cast iron frying pan. My favourite ones involve Mad Jack and his 'girlfriends'. I take beer and popcorn to those. HAR HAR HAR!!!

Some of those confrontations give ya pause for thought though. The other day we were going through an upscale neighbourhood on Dawg Patrol when a mother and her kid got into it. The door on the three car garage was up and we could hear everything. The kid was 10 or 11 (couldn't tell it's gender by looking at it) - and it was screaming at the top of its lungs. Mom was pleading with it and trying to reason with it but the kid would have none of it. It would interrupt, shout Mom down and start telling her how things were gonna be. It's too bad I was wearing my crime fighting sweatpants - otherwise I would have been able to offer the lady a belt and my services on using it! Watching that mother battling (and losing) with her kid just left me disgusted. I don't care what the progressive left says. There is a time and a place to spank your damn kid.

Hmmmm. Using my formidable crime-fighting powers of observation
and deduction - let me say this about those:
It's probable that three of them are girls; and that one
shredding the Constitution is xomething else.
We CAN conclude that they were all raised by idiots.

That's a photoshop, BTW - in the real gif, it's ripping up a range target. It's pretty clear these kids are being weaponized, politicized and indoctrinated by some seriously evil or stupid people. They must think that we are all like that stupid mother with her brat out in the garage: willing to be lectured and dictated to - by sexually confused bubble gummers and teeny boppers.

I lifted this one from Kate over at Small Dead Animals -
it's worth a listen if you have the time.
I think it's high time we told the stupid kids to STFU, myself.

So the progressive liberal left is now stooping to child activists, huh? What next? Do these idiots have any idea about the kind of fire they're playing with? What kind of fink would do stuff like this to their kids?  FFS - what next?

Child soldiers?


That does not look like a fun job to me...

Captain Sweatpants VS Mr. Freeze

Winter isn't done with us by any stretch, we still have lots of nights below freezing ahead of us - about another month and maybe a bit. But spring is moving in.

Those two black dots, way out on the ice - are Canada Geese.
They are the heralds of spring.

There'll be tons of them back shortly - in the parks, on the golf courses, glurting and hissing and crapping everywhere. When I was a kid hunting them back in the 80's they were in a down cycle and hardly anywhere to be found. Now - they are a nuisance, almost.

The Dynamic Duo - my K9 sidekick crime fighters!!!

Old Macey is slowing down - she's the brown one. She was a problem dawg from the shelter that I almost gave up on a couple times. I always fancied myself as a farm kid and expert on animals but Mace just pushed me right to my limit and beyond - I was going to take her back because I couldn't beat her hard enough to make her behave - either I woulda broke my hand, or broke her! Some people (whom I seriously considered clueless when it comes to dawgs) suggested those spikey choke collars. Within a week all her bad habits vanished. Today she doesn't need it at all - but we still use it because dawgs have to be on a leash in our town... but it is just a formality for us. Otherwise - I wouldn't put a collar or a leash on her at all - she doesn't need them. She's getting old now though, and there are some days where I can tell she doesn't want to go for a walk anymore. She's even stayed home a couple times. Gosh, I love her, and I know her time is too short. Mort is the big dumb white one and I love him even more. He is a big galoot that loves hugs and being petted. Unlike Macey he is too dumb to train though. He's a bit of a retard but still a magnificent dawg.

One of my arch enemies on Dawg Patrol is a senior delinquent who is always in trouble. He's a power carver and makes ghastly statues from logs with a chainsaw. This winter he discovered ice, and now uses his super powers to carve menacing statues and monsters on his property!

I think the giant was a character from Harry Potter, and he had
an ice throne and cathedral thing happening that looked 
really good - a month ago.
Now the sun and warm temps are sending them back to the
realm from which they came.

This guy just does his thing and thinks his art looks wonderful. Who am I to argue? He even made an ice slide for the toddlers to use on his front lawn.

It actually looked good before it melted.

I asked him if the ice slide was just limited to rug rats - could an old geezer and dawgs use it too? He told us no - I was too fat for it and there's too much yellow snow around his place as it is! Can you imagine my chagrin??? You can bet we'll be keeping a sharp eye on Mr. Freeze this spring - and if he steps outta line just once - we will be there to restore law and order!

Have a good Monday.  :)

Sunday, 25 March 2018

Filthicus: Blood And Sand

It is that time again, friends, Romans and countrymen - where I try to divert your attention away from my stupidity  entertain one and all with circuses, bloodshed and drama - as monsters from around the world are brought here to fight and die on the sands for our amusement!

Avian gladiators? Who woulda thunk it...

Well it's Sunday, and ordinarily I would throw some joos and Christians to the lions for our sport and amusement - but the Empress and my Maker might have problems with that. So instead, I will give the royal thumbs down - and bid Sparrowhawkus Maximus to dispense with his adversary - and receive the accolades and glory due to such a small but magnificent predator!

Saturday, 24 March 2018

Oh... Those Russians...

Something's hinky here...

If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times: "The 7.62x39 is more effective than the 5.56!!!!"

Hmmmm. If so, I don't see it here. The fella didn't even move on the impact. Mind you, those scum suckin' commie bastids could be messing with our heads too and shooting blanks. Such tricks are right up Crazy Ivan's alley. I cannot see armour being able to soak up and disperse impact like that; the hit should have at least made him stumble backward a bit... the laws of impulse and momentum cannot be circumvented, even by rogue commies.

And no, the 7.62x39 Commie is NOT necessarily more effective than the 5.56. Anyone that thinks so is invited to stand in front of my AR and soak up the hits the same way this contemptuous Russki does.

Big Boomers

Gee. Ya Think...?

I never got on to Fecesbook. At best it's a place for vinegar drinking old ladies, social Marxists and unstable homosexuals to preach political correctness and thought police anyone who isn't on board with their narrative and world view. I had an account for awhile and closed it out. Apparently the algorithms were sending automated friend requests to my estranged daughter and it curdled her milk or something. I saw no use in it early on, and the same for Twatter.

Today a cacophony broke out in Gun Geek Forest: Apparently PoohTube is banning all gun-related content. ASM has the goods on this issue. I've heard rumours that the gun community will find a new home at, Patreon, and maybe even PornTube. Guns are icky, the old women at YouTube have decided - and it's time for us horrible patriarchs and our guns to take a hike! Oh well - fuck 'em, we'll figure something out. We always do.

I did glom onto Gab. It's like Twatter but filled with rude jokes, hateyness and even a few full blown actual racists. I'm talking about goose-stepping, Sieg-Heiling skinhead anti-semites! I don't care, to me they are just another freak of nature right up there with the queers and crotch other warriors. This is the classic problem with SJW's - they come in, take over, start enforcing their views - and they're shocked when people quietly start leaving. Then they are shocked and horrified when alternate forums show up to accommodate the folks they drove off - and find that those places actually have rules in place to exclude themselves.

Oh well. Here at the Thunderbox, we don't go out of our way to offend anyone. Nor do we fall over ourselves when someone has a case of fake outrage. I've always wanted my blog to be a place where you can tell the joke about the monkey at the pool hall, or the paki, the chinaman, and the black guy that go into the bar. I wanted it to be a place where you can call a spade a spade, or light up a smoke or take a nip from the flask.

If you suffocate in an atmosphere where virtue signalling morons have sucked all the air out of the room - the air's a little ripe around here - but it's breathable. Stay loose, and have yourself a great Saturday.


Homer was a 17th century monk that discovered
a meal between supper and snack time.

Friday, 23 March 2018

When We Were Kings (And Cowboys)

Friday Fire Pit

Dunno what to think of that...

We had tons of these wheel type rings out at the rod n' gun club back before we had proper campsite firepits. I borrowed one; they had a pile of them just sitting out there rusting so I figured they wouldn't miss one. I used it for three or four years until we bought a decent firepit - and then took it back to the club and threw it on the pile from whence it came. It was alright I guess, but a little small. There are times when I like a big fire.

Don't care for this one much either...
I like to see the flames of my campfire.

The best fire pits were those we made when we were kids. When we went camping in the back country of the foothiles we would dig up rocks and make a little fire pit with the stones. Funny how my most cherished memories are becoming the more inconsequential ones as I get older.

Pistolcraft: Cap N' Ball Edition: Do This

One a the biggest pains in the butt with percussion revolvers is lubing the chambers. When ya see the guys loading these things, they pour in the powder, seat a fibre wad and a lead ball in each cylinder - and over all that, is a blob of lube. There's all kinds of concoctions for that, and all kinds of stuff you can buy from the store. I was using this crap called 'bore butter' and it was literally butter-like in consistency. Upon firing, it deposits itself on the walls of the barrel and keeps the black powder fouling soft. It also supposedly prevents chain fires, although I don't see how. Whatever. But - behold:

What the fella's done, is melt a more solid lube and pour it down the barrel; when it solidifies ya push it out with a dowel, and get a long cylinder of it! You can cut it into individual 'pucks' or 'cookies' that will slide into the chambers of the revolver and cap off your chamber with a lube cookie! No knives, no pastes and smearing and slop! Oh please, Lord, let this work...!!!   :)

The wife and I just tried this and it worked exactly as you see in the pic! The question is - will it work on the range where it counts? I can't see why not; I am using this lube with my black powder cartridge guns and it works just fine. But ya never know until you try it. With the sloppier lubes I could get about 36 rounds out of my gun before the fouling tied it up and it had to come apart for cleaning. Hopefully I will get the same here. We'll try it out and keep ya posted!

Oh Heaven Forbid!!!

Ya gotta be careful with stuff like this. I see a lot of false statements in the meme wars and it bothers me because if I hadn't checked it out - I would have gone along with the sentiment of it. In this case... yeah, ol' Turdo La Doo IS dumb enough to say something like that. It's a shame really - to see a grown man like that, without any maturity or common sense. He needs to be quietly voted out in the next election - and replaced by an adult.

So THAT'S How Quartermain Does It...!!!

I've always been intensely jealous curious of the way Quartermain has with women. The other day it was warm and spring-like and I was enjoying the weather, walking down the sidewalk - when a Maserati blew by with some beautiful bimbo at the wheel and Quartermain in the passenger seat! I got soaked with slush and water and as they roared away - Quartermain flipped me the bird out the window!!! How does he do it?!?!? Women are putty in his hands!

Hmmmm.... I wonder if a similar technique would improve the marital relations...? It's our anniversary today - and my wife bought me/us a nice little camper's axe for the trailer. I suppose I owe her some special attention in return. The rest a you boys - hope your spring courtships are going well too. Hopefully you can make more wholesome use of Quartermain's tactics than he does! :D

Locked Out Of My Own Blog...?

Well isn't THAT just typical!!!

First my blog started censoring comments from friends and visitors for no apparent reason. I would lose stuff from Jack and WL all the time - and other friends on a sporadic basis.

I was trying to thank some of my visitors for stopping by below - and now I am getting censored by my own gawddamned blog! Of all the bloody cheek!!!

For those of you that are kind enough to leave a greeting or a comment - thanks for your time! And as for the AI mutt that is running this blog behind the scenes... I am coming for you!!!

Thursday, 22 March 2018

Oh, You Ain't Seen Creepy, Fellas...

Should get me and Mrs. Chubster to pose for the next one...

Star Wars Reloaded

The other day I was watching some dumb show on Netflix starring the usual current role model heroes. The white guy was the side kick and he was the bumbling butt of all the jokes for the black guy. Can't remember his name - he's the one that always goes "Gabba gabba mothafugga weebeejabba nigga fuggin etc ad. nauseum...". I ain't no saint, I have a latrine for a mouth too... but for some reason it's okay when blacks do it. After ten minutes I was cheering for the bad guys.

And after seeing what those politically correct finks in Hollywood did to Star Wars... I kinda wish Darth Vader had choked the chit out of the kids and that the Dark Force had won that one too!

Have a good Thursday!

The Sinful Six

Yesterday we got our first taste of real spring up here. The lake is still iced over but the ice is changing colour as it does before it melts for the season. The Canada geese are back too, and it was warm enough to walk dawgs without long underwear. I hit the range and decided to take along The Sinful Six - a reproduction of the Colt 1860 Army.

That is probably an original. Mine looks exactly like it and is a copy made in Italy.
Oh yes, you need one of these too.

These things are certainly not as effective as modern guns - but they will put your adversaries on the other side of the grass if you do your part. And, it will do it with a grace and charm that the latest wonder guns lost a century ago! 

I've (truthfully) related my exploits as a duelling shootist in these pages before. A couple years back a young buck showed up at the pistol range with a couple friends and their girls and he was going to learn 'em everything they needed to know about pistolcraft. I kinda sorta listened to his BS as I slowly loaded my sinful stinker, pouring the powder, seating the ball, and softly clicking along as the chambers filled. I went round the cylinders again, smearing some lube over the seated bullets to keep the black powder fouling soft. The kid a few spots over was regaling his audience with the destructive power of his gat, and even let one of the girls load up a mag for him. I started applying caps to mine. When he started unloading on the range duelling tree - it was GAME ON.

The object of the duelling tree is to smack the plates and swing them
over to the opponent's side.

The kid was incensed and like most noobs - he began to 'spray and pray'. Pew pew pew pew! Every four to eight shots he would get a hit. I hit on every one of mine - a throaty BOOM, a hearty SMACK on the plate, and a billowing cloud of smelly smoke! The kid did a nice mag dump, and we started swapping plates. Eventually I ran out, put my gun down, and smirked as the kid eventually smacked all the plates over onto my side. But while my lead was flying - he was my bitch, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! It was hilarious - one of the fellas and a couple of the girls broke away and came over and watched the ol' Sinful Six as it smoldered on the bench, hotter n' blazes and stinking like a goat's arse! And they fell in love with it! Who wouldn't? Of course they had to load it up and shoot it themselves. Afterward they all had black, grubby hands and grins on their faces.

Of course I would have been handed my own arse if I had been shooting against an experienced marksman, but those kids learned a valuable lesson about accuracy that day. One a the guys proclaimed "I am getting one of these. I don't want an auto...". I still chuckle to recall it - the hero kid with the auto looked like he had swallowed a turd. (And I shouldn't gloat either because I've had that same look on my face more times than I can remember. If you have an ego, shooting is probably not a good sport for you. I am firmly convinced that it sucks and I should quit in disgust - maybe next week, HAR HAR HAR!!!).

Personally I do not recommend the .44 calibre percussion guns for your first soot burner. My preference is one of these sweethearts:

That's an 1851 Colt Navy. They're usually in .36 calibre,
they look better than the 1860 (to my eye),
and they are cheaper to shoot.
If you cast your own lead as I do, they are super cheap and deadly accurate.

You have to accept the shortfalls and limitations of these guns if you want to enjoy them. They're slow to load, they're dirty and smelly to clean, and the fragments from the caps like to fall into the gun and tie up the cylinder. You WILL have to futz with them a bit. My experience with them is that they are as accurate as any modern sidearm. They shoot high - they're supposed to. You can learn to compensate as I did, or mod the front sight to hit where ya need to.

If you are seriously considering one of these - and you should be - some excellent tutorials will get you off to a great start:

Periodically these guns need to be torn right down and cleaned.
Good news is they were designed to be dismantled by the owner
and do not need a smith. It looks harder
than it actually is.

Mike wrote the book on repro C&B revolvers.
I used some of his pointers on slicking up mine, and will
probably adopting some of his other
mods as well.

The problem with modern bigger bore handguns and new shooters is that the noobs fork over $700 and up for a gun - then they buy a box of shells for 30 bucks - or more - blam them all off in a couple of minutes, and then wonder how they are going to afford to stay in the sport. Cap and ball guns address this issue and offer a lot of fun outside the shooting. You can shoot all afternoon for $15.00. I've blown the odd afternoon happily casting round lead ball, or sewing up leather holsters or just cleaning them. Right now I am working on a tool roll for my gun that will contain the screwdrivers, powder measure, flask, wads, caps and all the other junk it takes to make one of these things shoot.

I've heard that quality on these guns can be sporadic - get the steel framed guns! Brass trim is okay, but the frame has to be steel. And - follow Mike on YouTube. When I started I watched all his vids and haven't looked back since. Slow, sunny spring mornings were made for the cap and ball guns.

Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Yes. We Have Our New List Of Liberal Approved Gun Controls...

The bill came out yesterday apparently. And no, I don't know the details.

I honestly don't care. If they make sense, I'll comply, and if they don't - fuck 'em.

One of the gun boards I'm at is Canadian and those idiots drive me nuts. Half of them are liberal meat holes that just happen to like the shooting sports and they can't seem to make the connection between their voting habits and their loss of their gun rights. And - when they DO get thrown under the bus by their chosen politicians, they start waving their hands around and gobbling about how 'we need to educate the public.... we need to write our representatives...!!!!'. They never learn. Half of them are products of the public schools and can't even spell - who are they going to educate? The liberals involved don't care about the opinions of those that disagree with them. I swear, liberals are uneducable fucktards. Once they've reduced their families, their workplaces, and their nations to ruin they sit around and point fingers at everyone else.

Let us be clear and up front about these shit heads. Liberals and democrats don't want just your bump stocks, your full autos, your Saturday night specials - they want ALL THE GUNS. They don't think you need to worry about defending yourself or your family and if you or they get hurt or killed by some thug - welp, you just died for the good of society and become a meaningless statistic to them. Oh well, shit happens, right?

So now I suppose we're going to have to send the cops after aging and elderly gun club duffers, mostly conservatives - to head off criminal activities perpetrated overwhelmingly by liberal loons or their feral children and social experiments? I see another liberal federal boondoggle coming, just like the last one. In the last go-round, we were told the long gun registry would cost $85 million. As of ten years ago it had cost $2 billion. The registry was scrapped because nobody was complying with it, and nobody wanted it - and here we are again.

Whatever. Let me know how that works out for ya, girls. As for me, I am headed out to the range today.

Monday, 19 March 2018

From Uncle Bob's Vintage Porn Stash

I suppose I shouldn't post stuff like this given that so many
of my readers are perverts already.

Speaking of perverts - I just got a post card from
In trouble with the law.

Would You Sign A Prenup...?

I guess Harold feels the same way I do about 'em.

Mind you, given that 50% of all marriages end up on the rocks these days a fella has to be prudent. 80% of all marriages are ended by women, and often for the most spurious reasons. And in the case of divorces, 80% of the time the fella goes to the cleaners and the lady goes to the bank.

It's bizarre to me. I am of the same mind as The Prince; a marriage is not a mere business agreement or conditional partnership... or at least it shouldn't be, IMHO. That just doesn't sound like the foundation of a solid family to my mind.

Mind you, that tire biter he is smitten with doesn't seem like the kind of woman that could make for good family either. I sure hope everything works out for him. His own mother was such an air headed ditz, and I would hate to see family history repeat.

Best 20 Bucks I Ever Spent

Considering all the freaks and UFO's running around nowadays - I bet false alarms would be a problem. 

The Dreams And Nighmares Of Our Childhood

Actually, these two are a little before my time. By the time I was old enough to watch TV and get what was going on, colour TV was well established.

The earliest horror show I can remember watching was War Of The Worlds - on Dad's brand new colour TV.

If I recall there was a scene in that one where the hero shines a flash light into the martian's eyes and I remember laughing at the silly special effects. I think that the martian got an axe in the head too. As a tot I couldn't really appreciate it. Then I watched it again a couple years later and it scared the hell out of me.

What I would give to go to a movie like this again - where the effort is at telling a story to entertain rather than lecture. I watched the re-make of the this old classic but still prefer the original.

Today's Polished Turd

The owner of this fine firearm
probably drinks the finest wine too...
from a box, through a straw...
(No, this one isn't mine but based on the description...
I suppose it would be correct to suspect it...)

That's Another Piece Of Political Correctness You Can ...

... shove up your ass.

The Joos and the fig farming camel-humpers haven't changed their calendars, so I ain't changing mine. Further, I would like to take this opportunity to invite the academic  and intellectual poseurs to FOAD with my compliments.


Dr. Glen Horace Oglivie Filthie
March 19, 2018 Anno Domini

Maybe we should have that war with Russia that the liberals want so badly. Gawd knows we could sure do with a cull. We could send our new women and faggot filled armies against the Russkies and let Putin do our dirty work for us, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Sunday, 18 March 2018

A Filthie Artiste Is Born

What? I don't see anything inappropriate about that...HAR HAR HAR!!!

When I was a kid we all put swastikas on our books. This would have been in early junior high, when we were pretty much apolitical and only had rudimentary conceptualizations of the holocaust. That was all ancient history to us, and we didn't care about it - we did it because it made the adults lose their shit. As a young man I just loved off-colour jokes and watching the bed wetters come unglued. I became something of a cartoonist and often got sent to the principal's office for my efforts.

Even when I went back to school in my 20's, I did it. I would often draw on my desk as the profs and instructors prattled up front. Often they were well done but often obscene portraits of my classmates and teachers doing unspeakable things to each other, and often farm animals were involved. At night the janitors would go through and clean all the desks and wipe them down - but mine was always left alone as long as possible. Eventually the janitors were forced at gun point to clean them off - and I would just start again with a clean slate. My class mates were pigs that loved offensive content too, and some were prigs that got offended. One day I saw a desk with a message sloppily painted with white-out fluid:


I was furious. I knew Delldo did it, and I was incensed at the lack of effort he put into it. A grabbed one of my laughing classmates, beat him up and got his red pen... and gave Delldo a great big, fat F- for his uninspiring work.

After school we all disbanded and went our separate ways. For awhile I would send friends some rude caricatures of themselves through the mail and they loved them... but eventually time and distance did its thing and I lost track of them. I ran across Delldo a couple years back, he's as fat as I am with three kids. We talked for a bit, he's doing alright... but we weren't young men anymore and we were both different people. Stu The Jew got on with an analytical instrumentation company and now he looks like one of those high power corporate power brokers - with a suit, a full head a hair and all immaculately groomed. I would envy him but I know what goes along with jobs like that. I don't need the ulcers or blood pressure problems.

Today I couldn't draw a picture to save my life, and if I could my preferred subject matter would probably get me arrested by some pisser or moaner who wants us all to live in a world where everything is offensive and humour is forbidden. As an old fart I look around and I see everything falling apart. The box office can't draw people into the movies anymore. Newspapers can't sell subscriptions. Our music is composed and written for thugs and niggers, and but ugly women get raped by politically incorrect cartoons.

Maybe things are better this way, I would hate to be an artist or an intellectual in today's day and times where anything other than dreary mediocrity is a sin.

This One IS Taken, Men


My wife is a demure, well put together woman with flawless manners. Except when she is eating ribs. Then she turns into a Klingon. I think everybody does when they're eating ribs.

Last Week's Air Disaster At Bremner

Yesterday I met with Scotty The Retard (he's not retarded; he's actually a fine young man who goes to long lengths to not notice my own mild retardation) - to do some flying at the field.

RC aviation is a bitch up here in winter and no bones about it. The little nitro engines don't run right. And - unbeknownst to a couple meat heads that should know better - batteries don't work well either in cold weather. I know, right? Who woulda thunk it?!?!? Who woulda seen that coming...?

I went up first in my little indoor quad because it was very calm out. I chased Scotty around with it and nearly put out his eye once.

Scotty ran around gobbling and swatting in fright as I menaced
him with my indoor quad.
You could literally kill this one with a fly swatter.

Then I went up with my big Crapcopter and barely set it down after two minutes flight time. It was only -2C outside but the lipo batteries couldn't take it. I lost power after only a couple minutes and narrowly avoided a humiliating crash.

Then Scotty broke out his little trainer plane and couldn't even get it to start.

This is so typical of Scott. A beautifully refinished little trainer with 
scale skis.
If ya look close at the engine though - the goof has an OS muffler on an
Evolution engine. These little two cycles require the
muffler to be engineered to supply the correct pressure
to pressurize the gas tank and fee the carb.
What kind a retard does something like that?!?!

After the foolishness had stopped and we gave up on the fixed wing, Scotty's story about last week came out too: he was flying one of his other planes when the servos locked up. He crashed on the duck pond which made a rescue a dangerous proposition: the ice was thin but that wasn't the peril: underneath is a shallow slough filled with sloppy greasy mud and duck shit that could swallow you. Scott was undeterred and went out - and of course he went through the ice. He managed to not get swallowed by the gumbo, muck and duck shit but he nearly got hypothermia as he stood on the shore trying vainly to figure a way out to get his plane. He was forced to give up and got mud and duck shit all over the inside of his truck when he got in to fire it up and warm himself.

So we did some hangar flying to talk his crash out as we sipped hot coffee: so, Scott? The plane locked up and wouldn't obey the radio. Were your radio displays up and working? Yup. Ever have any similar issues with that plane before? Nope. Did a preflight to make sure all systems were go and your receiver was working? Didjya do a range check? Yup and yup!

Gee... stay with me here...I'm just spitballin' yannow... do ya think maybe the nickel metal hydride battery pack that drives the servos and the receiver crapped out because of the cold...? Scotty looked at each other with stunned with disbelief.

In the distance the Devil and Darwin roared with laughter and Jesus wept.