Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Wednesday, 31 October 2018

Non-Vertigo BARF Post

We gotta find new camp cooks, boys. Pete n' Jack are out of control!

Looks Like The BATFE Got Kicked In The Balls...

Serves 'em right, too... but at what cost?

As for me, I am sick and tired seeing gun geeks, gun club stubfarts and hunting sportsmen getting blamed for the violence and crime perpetrated by failed liberal social experiments.  That's all I can say out in the clear, up here in Canukistan the usual suspects are mulling a new pistol and assault rifle ban.

Drop the hammer on the criminals, you liberal arseholes, and leave me and my guns alone.

And Since We're Shelling Camp Borepatch...

The rest of ya's better mind your P's N' Q's lest YOU
be roasted by my rapier-like
wit too!

Tuesday, 30 October 2018

Prepping For Halloween

Gather round boys.

Men, while the tots are out treating tomorrow night, it falls to me and a brave squad of senior delinquents to TRICK some miserable old bastids that are lacking in Halloween spirit! I've loaded up on eggs from Coopville. Quartermain has been crapping in flammable paper bags for the last week and storing them for use tomorrow night. We've raided TB's garden and gathered up any rotten fruits and vegetables that didn't get harvested.

Our first target is Mad Jack in Texas. The first squad will hit him with the Flaming Bag O' Laffs, the second squad will get him with the eggs, The third squad will get him with the rotten produce... and if there's anything left of him by then - the rear guard will polish him off by toilet-papering the remains.

Well HAR-dy HAR HAR, WL! Ya think yer funny, huh? Rest assured, you grumpy old fart - we'll be seeing you tomorrow night too!

As for the rest of you - be generous with the little ones - and maybe we'll spare you.

No promises though.

Halloween Costume UPDATE:

We have the first and second place winners for Halloween this year. The first kid was dressed up as a bottle of mustard. Even the Opportunity Students (Ops) here at Uncle Bob's are more inspired than that, HAR HAR HAR! The second kid was dressed up like that happy-faced turd emoji or smiley or whatever they are. Will we have a third place winner this year? Stay tooned!!!


I think we have our third place winner in the Senior's Unlimited Freestyle Class! I'm pretty sure it's ASM judging from his excellent physical condition:

Stop Signs

When I was a kid, pretty much all the signs out in the country looked like this. The population density was much lighter in those days, before the yuppies moved out to the pasturelands and started gobbling up land for their ranchettes and hobby farms. Most of it was done by bored farm kids and drunks with .22's and shotguns. I still remember Pop fuming over his tax dollars being wasted on replacement signs.

Monday, 29 October 2018

One of the worst things liberals have done to us Is trying to re-establish censorship. They've got this idea that just reading or listening to a hate-thinker will make you one, yourself. And of course anything they disagree with is labelled 'hate' and has to be silenced. It's an old schtick, they've been doing it for well over a decade now in Canada, longer in Europe. Now it's established a foothold in the US. They just shut down Gab which is a free speech version of Twitter.

It's a thorny subject. What, exactly, is free speech? To some on Gab it meant anything goes, and for awhile liberals spammed it with kiddie/gay/pervert porn trying to prove a point. I just shook my head at it and clicked past it. Filth is like dog shit - once you get passed the squeamishness of it, scooping it up and binning it is a piece of cake. Then the fake racism posts started. Or maybe some of them were real. I dunno, racism doesn't move me any more than porn does. I am a race realist: I know that Africa and Mexico are chit holes because they are full of Africans and Mexicans. It doesn't mean I have to hate them all; I can take them one at a time and give them a fair shake.

The memes, though... and the rude jokes. They alone were worth the price of admission. During the election run-up when Hillary called half of Americans 'deplorable racists' - the next day memes featuring Pepe The Frog licking the flies off Hillary's face were plastered all over Gab. Even some soft core liberals were starting to laugh.

Now it turns out that that fake pipe bomber posted a lot of liberal-hate on Gab... so it has to be shut down before he turns any of the other Gabbers into bomb throwing maniacs. Of course, none of his accounts on Twitter or Facebook were a problem. Even normal, non-political centrists have to look at this and wonder.

If you have even a smidge of independence, self respect, or patriotism - now is the time to cut the cord. If you have Twatter and Bookface accounts - close them or stop using them. The people running them are not trying to help you, they are trying to manipulate you. In the process they are trying to kill their competition before they become a problem.

Think about it. Do you really need someone to censor what you see and read?

Sunday, 28 October 2018

A Filthie Sunday Sermon

Every day I am gobsmacked by the requirements and perspective changes brought about by my newly found faith. If you are going through the wringer of life and getting the worst of it as most of us have at one time or other - and think you can throw all your cares at your Maker and be done with it... you have another thing coming. If you join a real Christian community, you are going to find that other folks'll throw their problem at you - and by God, you have to be there for them. I'll tell ya right up front, I can't do it. At all. What do you say to an elderly geriatric with only months or days left to live - and live miserably? Or their family? What do ya do when some lady at the church presses a child into your arms for a sec to go grab a coffee... and you learn that the baby in your arms was a 'shaken child' that is blind, mentally retarded, and has no real lease on life at all. The people in my church adopt kids like that. Put a pin in that - and look at our hormonal cat ladies moral and intellectual superiors at the Estrogen Post as they fawn over the moralizing of a washed up comedian. I look around at stuff like that and wonder how in hell all that happened. I'm 54 years old, I lived through it all and watched it all. I still can't figure out how we got here. How did Christians go from respected citizens and leaders to witless rubes and gulls - and how did messed up actors and media slobs with serious mental and emotional problems rise to replace them? Where are we going? Going forward, about the only thing I am reasonably certain of is that we can't go back. We've just burned too many bridges getting here. There are times I just wish I could ignore it all, and go hang out at the bar and admire hooters while gobbling hot chicken wings and soaking my heart. Unfortunately that is exactly part of what got me here, I suppose. When I should have stood up - I was at the bar, or into my cups or nursing a hangover, or out hunting and fishing... and the world went past me and I didn't even notice. I won't be dishonest and say I wish I was still in it.

Oh well. Wherever we are - we are lost together! I'll be holding this course as best I can for as long as I can, so if anyone needs a rude joke or bad advice - you will know where to find me. If it's something serious I might be convinced to shut up and listen.

Be sure to take care of yourselves and each other - and have a great Sunday.

Thanks for stopping by.

Saturday, 27 October 2018

I See Quatermain Is Ready For All Hallow's

Gather round, Little Ones - and harken to Old Man
Filthie - and his blood curdling tale of 
The Bumless Horseman Of Sleepy Holler...

I Will Take Them Both

Growing up in a family with a master mechanic as I did, I attracted scorn and derision from my family because I LOVE VW's. What is not to love? A simple, robust design that's stood up for over - what? Close to 80 years now? That engine is so versatile too - it can be seen on generators and even small aircraft. It's simple, cheap, and reliable. I would rather be out in the pasture lands, putting down country roads rather than lighting up the tires to attract the attention of gear heads, tire biters and bubble-gummers.

One of the old fart gunnies - think it was du Toit - was saying that he bought a VW van back in the 60's or 70's for $4000.00 - corrected for today's currency and in today's dollars. It had an engine, seats, doors - and that was it.

Friday, 26 October 2018

It Is NOT A Small World

In this day of jets it's easy to fall into the idea that the world is small. It is the height and ignorance of conceit when worldly travellers gripe about flights that are 10~15 hours long. Less than 80 years ago - one lifetime - Asia and the Pacific Rim were weeks or even months away for the common man.

The Pacific was, at one time, impossibly vast. That is why the battles for real estate in WW2 were so ruthless and bloody. Aircraft carriers are great but they need harbours and facilities to re-arm and restock from. If you got driven off an island you found yourself in water and that was that for that!

Shrinking the world has spoiled us. Back when these giants ruled the skies - it was a very different story.


The Boss handed me a portrait he had bought for one of the other management bums in the company. It was magnificent - a portrait of some scruffy musician they admired. All I could do was stare at it, lost in the artist's talent with paper and charcoal.

"You all right, Filthie?" R asked?

I started, coming back to reality - and mumbled something about it being Friday morning and I hadn't had my morning coffee yet. But even as I handed the portrait back to him, the roots that had taken hold of me wouldn't let go.

I was shocked at the style of the portrait. I had seen it before, years ago. My daughter is a talented artist, and she had done an artist's study of that bald headed furly that plays Captain Jean Luc Picard on the Star Trek Enterprise. She had done three artistic studies of him,actually. One portrait was all squiggly lines and it was so well done, you could look at those mad squiggles and still make out the man and identify him as easy as pie. One was in solid lines only - and again you knew exactly who the guy was. The last one - I can't remember. It was in stippled dots or shading - and it was the best of all in my opinion - I shelled out good money to have that framed.  It hung in our living room for a couple years. I was conflicted because the kid obviously had talent... but dear Lord - what a waste of intellect. As everyone with a triple digit IQ knows - most of that artsy-fartsy crowd are talentless moral and intellectual derelicts.

Then of course, my daughter took up membership with the Lavender Mob, and where my daughter once stood, there was now this angry, manipulative lesbian social justice warrior that hated my guts and wanted to make damn sure I knew it. We went to war right after she came out of the closet. If I was at DEFCON 5, she escalated our battle to DEFCON 4. I saw her and raised to DEFCON 3... and she did the same. Next thing we knew the nukes were in the air, and our family was over.

That beautiful piece of art she gave us was like a knife in my back. It reminded me of what my daughter was, and what she had become. Of course my in laws were delighted to see my family cracking up and promptly got in the middle of it to pour gasoline on the fire. I just wanted the whole mess behind me. I gave them that portrait and told them to shove it up their asses - sideways. In time I forgot about it and all the anger and sadness. I haven't thought of that thing for years - until I had a similar piece of art in my hands this morning. I remember thinking with pride: 'My daughter is as good as this guy is - maybe even a bit better...' and then all the memories came rushing back.

My new faith chafes when it comes to the sin of pride and the virtue of humility. On the one hand, we've all seen what rolling over for these people does: tolerance has literally bred lunacy and now we have full grown adults running around telling the rest of us that there are 31 genders and that, after 2 million years of human development and evolution - that we need new pronouns to accurately describe them or we're being hateful and mean. We get hags like Hillary Clinton screaming that all women should be believed, when she herself is a chronic liar. We get blatant efforts at mind and speech control. I fought this battle to a very nasty draw in my very own family years ago and the cost... well, it was what it was. I am not drinking that koolaid.

On the good side I did get a chance to kinda-sorta shake hands with my Maker. Nowadays I struggle (and fail) to find humility and wisdom in all this and just come up with nothing. One day I just realized that I was never going to sort this out in a way that was fair and rational, and I just threw the whole mess in my Maker's lap to deal with. My issue now is to be a better man if I can - and that is another thing I may not be up to.

I used to be intensely proud of that portrait she had done and considered it the masterpiece of art in my home. I don't know if I should be happy or sad that it's gone - I am glad it isn't here anymore - so maybe my spirit is on the mend. It's funny, the things that open up old scars. But each time they open, they heal, and the skin gets a little tougher. Where that portrait used to hang, I now have some old pics of my wife and I riding on my long-dead ultralight aircraft that I had christened "The Turd Bird".

I think the British armed forces have the answer in how to deal with hurts like this. Years ago, we had a competition down at the Edmonton coliseum as a side show preceding the main event - it was a motocross race or something. The object of the game was for the squaddies to break down a great big field artillery cannon, drag it around the obstacle course, reassemble it and fire it - as fast as possible. The Limeys, Canuks, Wops, and Yanks were all there and the Kippers stole the show. They had their gun dismantled faster than you could think about it, dragged round the course, reassembled and fired before the rest were even half way round the circuit. In the midst of the action one of the boys got bonked by a barrel or breech block and had a gaping cut on the side of his head. One of his fellows noticed it - and walked over and cabbaged the chit out of it and gave it a hearty smack for good measure - and the injured squaddie was right as rain. Maybe something like that is what happened with that portrait this morning.

I would like to think so. Have a great Saturday - and thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, 25 October 2018

Besmirch The Sippy Cup No More

It's okay little one.
Happens to us here at Uncle Bob's all the time.
Nothing to get embarrassed about...

And Now Here's Something We Hope You'll REALLY Like


We all went to the Highland Games on a field trip to watch our hero - TB - compete with the dirtiest, hairiest scots the nation has to offer. When he did that twirling, swirling hammer throw, his kilt rode up on him and we all got an eyeful of something we all wish we hadn't! Some a the retards have PTSD and I am scrubbing my eyes out with bleach! Nobody needs to see that!!!

Ahhhhhhhh. That's better! She's a sight for some seriously sore eyes at that! 

Now if y'all excuse me, I am going to the outhouse to toss or drop a few cabers of my own. Thanks 
for stopping by - and have yaselves a great Friday!

Meanwhile At Mad Jacks's...

I think I remember some philosopher somewhere who asked something to the effect of this: "If God is the creator of all things, would it be possible for Him to create a stone that is too big and heavy for Him to lift?"

We ran into exactly that problem over at Mad Jack's shack:

We'll divide this one up into teams: Pete, Jack and WL will address the BBQ issue and figure it out. Quartermain and I will focus on the downstream issues.

For starters, we are going to need bigger, deeper latrines, possibly with outhouses having some structural reinforcement... do you think high concentrations of explosive gases and mists will be an issue, Quartermain? Are we looking at a potential Class 1 Div. 1 situation?

While it's true that all the good things are bigger n' better in Texas... so it goes for the problems too!


Welcome To Thursday

Get ready for the weekend.

Wednesday, 24 October 2018


Maybe it's just me but people that yammer on their cells in public at the top of their lungs just tick me off. The crapper should be a place of meditation and a fortress of solitude. Is nothing sacred anymore?

Be Advised, Gun Grabbers

That Ol' Tinfoil Hat Fittin' A Little Tight...

There was a time I'd have called this guy a loon.

I heard that Hillary, Obutthole and the cretins at CNN all got pipe bombs courtesy of The Fourth Reich, the Repubs and the US Mail service. Half the pundits I run across are saying it's all fake, and who can blame them. After that gong show with Brett Kavanaugh and the supreme court, and that 'caravan' of starved, destitute illegals heading our way on foot - at 25 miles a day... I dunno. 

I think it's time to restore the crime of treason and start hanging democrats and liberals.

Monday, 22 October 2018

When We Were Kings

Tell me any a you were any different:

When I was a kid I was climbing around on the counter and found a stash of stale cigars up in a cupboard that were so cheap and nasty, Pop wouldn't smoke them. I think they were White Owls or King Edwards. Didn't stop me; I filled my pockets and went outside and smoked one - and puked profusely all over some garbage cans in front of some old lady's house.

She phoned my parents up, snitched, and I got a lickin' for smoking - from two parents that smoked like stacks.

It bears repeating. There may be little eyes watching you at anytime... and they will want to do as you do.

Into The Machine

I Am Surely Going To Hell

I've had my differences with queers in these pages before. I don't give those people an inch. When they call me a homophobe I tell them to get stuffed because I am not afraid of them. When they call me a bigot I tell them to get stuffed because I hate them for what they do and how they treat people, not who they are. I am at my most contemptuous when they play the victim card. They are not victims, most queers pick the fights they get in, and when they lose it's usually because they messed with somebody they shouldn't have. Usually it is a case of stupid people attacking and hurting other stupid people. If you are going to be around queers, you are probably in for a world of stupid stuff on your plate

But I look at those two in the wheelchairs and I just want to look away. As if they don't have enough going against them, that they have to get into something like that. I saw this a couple days ago and it challenged me on an ethical level that I just can't square with myself. I could forgive those two their sins and idiocy and hope my Maker will too.

Sunday, 21 October 2018


"What is it?" Deynman asked stupidly. 

Students like Deynman were vexing their archeological instructors back when that magnificent machine was built. And eons before that, I suppose. I fought to control my surging emotions. Funny, that - my life's work, all my academic and scholarly efforts... my entire life, really - had been justified, ratified, and proven correct... by the least capable student in my class and his find.

"That, my dear boy, is the culmination of an entire career: this artifact pretty much eliminates all doubt: this is the homeworld where the human race was birthed. Look closer, Deynman! Use your head for something other than shoulder ballast! What do you see?"

The poor boy leaned in, narrowed his eyes and tried to concentrate. While the rotten wood smouldered between Deynman's ears, my mind turned back across the decades of my career. In any academic field virulent and nasty rivalries raged on just about everything. When I came forward and proclaimed that this mundane, non-descript fallow planet was the birthplace of humanity the anthropology world went bonkers. I was branded an idiot by most, and a visionary by a few. The worst was Dr. Vincent Quartermain. I could still hear that sanctimonious twat now, 30 years later: "A few feral tribes of negroes living in the ruins of some long forgotten dead cities on some backwater planet - does not constitute proof of the cradle of civilization, Doctor...!" Dozens of attendees at the symposium started laughing and guffawing with that insufferable prick as I smouldered in silence and rage. I had more proof than that, of course. And that fact about the negroes DID speak powerfully in favour of my theory. Nowhere else in the galaxy did negroes exist. Only here. They were superstitious, violent savages with a rudimentary language, living at Stone Age subsistence levels. They were a protected species and any contact with them was strictly prohibited. I was shouted down and silenced as I fumed in humiliation at that symposium all those years ago. It ruined my chances of tenure at one of the big prestigious universities, and it was all I could do to find any employment at all in my field. Such are the wages of going off on preliminary evidence, I suppose.

"It's metal..." Deynman stammered, bringing me back into the present. I motioned for him to keep thinking, but he had stalled. "Yes, boy - but: what is it? What does it do? Your discovery is in magnificent condition; you are going to need to fully understand this artifact and what it represents when you present it to the Interstellar Institute next year! Yes - YOU discovered it, Deynman! You are going to be famous! You may even get your own footnote in the history books!" I laughed as Deynman looked ill. He already had stage fright. "And I - I have lived to see one of my own students substantiate my theory! It doesn't get much better than that for a teacher, does it?"

"Uhhhhh… Doc... can we just say YOU discovered it?"

I wanted to beat Deynman with a stick.

I heaved a sigh. "What is it made out of? We established that it's metal. Look at that circular thing on the front. Note the 'V' shape configuration -"

"HOLY SHIT! Doc - it's an engine! An internal chemical engine!!!!"

"Excellent! But not an internal 'chemical engine', Deynman, it's an internal COMBUSTION engine -"

Deynman was literally dancing a jig in his excitement! "That thing makes FIRE inside when it runs! So, what's that Doc? Late Chemical Energy Era? They still had these in the Fission and Fusion Energy Ages, right? I'll be damned! How did it get here? Do you think it fell off one of the petroleum powered flying machines? Or was it from an octa...ontomi...otto…!!!"

"Automobile," I interjected helpfully. For all his faults Deynman was one of my most inspiring students when he succeeded. He didn't give a hoot about the tribal warfare of stuffy academics like me and (hork, spit) Dr. Quartermain. He didn't care that this would be a nail in that intellectual poseur's coffin, or that it would launch his own career. All he could think of were the delightful contraptions of that age, powered by elaborate, overly complex and comical reciprocating engines - and his enthusiasm was infectious. 

Like negroes, these artifacts were the stuff of legend from an ancient age. This was the first one found, right where it should be if my theories were correct. I could see the funding rolling in, the archeological digs and surveys that would have to be arranged... and I sighed. I might help with that - but I'd probably just sit back and let stronger, younger backs with sharper eyes do the heavy lifting of gathering more evidence that I was right, and the rest of my peers were wrong. Some would apologize like professionals. I wonder if Dr. Quartermain would have if he were still alive. Probably not. He'd probably just take this piece of the puzzle, ignoring my part in giving it to him - and gone on with the quest to find The Origins Of Man. I laughed at my own pettiness: I couldn't figure out whether or not I should be happy that the scholar that ruined me was dead! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Later on back at camp, after we had all celebrated Deynman's discovery, after nearly everyone was in bed. But we were still out and well into our cups, as a few of us continued to mull the implications. The kids wanted me to present an impromptu lecture on The Dark Enlightenment. I tried to squiggle out of it, saying that it was all in the books and texts that they'd all read before - but they were like children wanting a bed time story and I was forced to relent. Deb piped up from down the table. "Doctor - tell us what you know about the Dark Enlightenment - what caused it, maybe some key facets and events and how it ended the chemical energy age? We've read the books; but we want YOUR perspective...". The small group started to clap. I could not refuse.

"It is my conviction that we will never know what forces brought on the Dark Enlightenment. Oh sure, we have massive amounts of digitally stored data from the times - I'll bet we even have the drawings for that engine Deynman discovered somewhere in our archives. But the problem with having Femtobytes of information is that collating it, interpreting it, and relating it becomes virtually impossible. To understand the Dark Enlightenment, we need to understand what preceded it. And what preceded that. All we know for sure is that in the span of les than 60 years - the most advanced civilizations and nation states on earth literally went insane somewhere near the end of the Chemical Energy Age, possibly at the dawn of the Atomic or Fission Energy Age." I stopped to sip my whisky. A student offered me a cigar, which I accepted knowing full well that I shouldn't have. But this was a celebration, it was their day, where the events showed that the future belonged to them.

"The story of The Chemical Energy Age begins with The Bronze Age - when the first nation-states were birthed. From that point forward - the Story Of Man was that of civilization battling the barbarians. The only constant in our history as a species has been that all empires, all civilizations rise and fall - and nothing is new under the sun. The forces and drives that motivate you and I are the same ones that drove Adam and Eve, Caligula, Ghengis Khan, Adolf Hitler ..."

It was an old lecture that I had told any number of times. The kids themselves had probably heard it once or twice already. I realized then how much I loved them all - they were the same kind of free thinkers that I was - unafraid of their academic rivals, or the ostracism that comes from embracing unpopular theories. "But how do entire civilizations 'go insane' Doctor? Can you describe the mechanism?"

"I have a rudimentary, preliminary theory, Deb. I am reluctant to share it, and caution all of you to take it with some very large grains of salt. Actually, it's more of a notion at this point than a fully articulated theory."

The youngsters leaned in closer to hear. I paused awkwardly to collect my thoughts, and to just savour the historical significance of what we had done today. As the campfire burned low, the air temperature dropped and the night closed in around us.

Country Music

A lot of the bloggers I read seem to fancy themselves as authorities on country music. A song about women drinking? Junk jewelry and big hair? A country song about 'what women do'???

GAH. Borepatch - be a sport n' hold muh beer.
The rest a ya's - hit the mute on this one.

I shouldn't be so hard on ol' Borepatch. I'm a more sophisticated and intellectual man than he is so it only goes that I'm going to have a more refined taste for arts and entertainment - even in the relatively low-brow field of country music!

Ladies and gentlemen, if you're done listening to that shameless hussy above - let us turn our attention instead to truly gifted Canadian country music artist!

I'm going to have to ask the preachers and speachers 
at church to mix up a tub of holy water for me after listening to that.
Probly have to put in some extra time with The Good Book too but
that's a good thing for old degenerates like me.

Have a good Sunday, you guys - and thanks for dropping by.

Friday, 19 October 2018

Pop Me A Cool One, Achmed...!

On second thought - maybe I better
open it myself...

Filthie's Fabulous Friday Open Road

Used to be that every Friday CW used to do a Friday pic dump of the open road with stunning landscapes, stills, old cars lovingly restored and driven by beautiful young women.

Now, if CW'll hold mybeer - lemme show ya's how it's all done:

Sometimes my works are so profound that I even
amaze myself.

Retard Pop Quiz: Metaphor

Good morning everyone!

It's a fine Friday here at Uncle Bob's Institute for Wayward Boys N' Retards - where I have just given the little bastids … emissaries from heaven (HACKAFFFF!!!)… a quick test on metaphors. If you don't know what a metaphor is, you may be a retard too, HAR HAR HAR! For those of you teetering on the edge of intellectual bankruptcy like I am:

"A metaphor is a figure of speech that directly refers to one thing by mentioning another for rhetorical effect. It may provide clarity or identify hidden similarities between two..."

So here is the test I gave to the slow kids: "use metaphors to compare these three people …" . And of course they all failed but I expected that. What shocked me was Quartermain - he scored 100% and got them all right by comparing the people to food:

Excellent work, Quartermain!
Take off early today!

The rest of you can take off early today too. Tell the boss I said it's alright.

Thursday, 18 October 2018

When We Were Kings

The good life: cigarettes, bedpans and nurses.

My grandad was a poor man that never had any money. Back in those days you could still get a pack of smokes for under a buck, and Grampa had an elaborate machine that allowed him to roll his own and save even more money. He was built like a tall version of Popeye The Sailor - with a skinny body and big, ropey arms and hands that could shred anything softer than hardened steel. He smoked like a stack till two years before his death - at 86. Not bad for a guy that survived chemical gas attacks in WW1, the great depression, and never owned a car until his late 60's. He was almost euthanized in the hospital after his 3rd or 4th stroke - he was in an oxygen tent at the hospital and the nurses caught him trying to light up. They gave him the very hell of it (and he deserved it) and he finally quit when they explained to him how fire and pure oxygen react.

Shape Up And Fly Right You Rapey Retards...

Listen up, boys! Today we are all going to be learnt on sidewalk chivalry and etiquette:

Like any pig worth his salt I am sorely tempted to make a rude joke of all this. I am careful as blazes around women now because you simply can't trust them anymore. If some horse faced bint accuses you of anally raping her 30 years ago in front of a mob of your buddies on a floor of broken glass, she doesn't even need to provide proof to cause you a world of trouble. And it's a real issue; when I am out on Dawg Patrol sometimes I end up with women walking in front of us and some are clearly nervous about it. How the hags and harridans of PoundMeToo would LOVE to take down the famous fearless crime-fighting Captain Sweatpants And His K9 Cohorts! The scandal would shake the country, let me assure you.

I don't speed up, I just stop, let the dawgs smell some rabbit poop while the lady puts a comfortable distance between us. It's gonna have to be good enough ladies, because if I try to pass my dawgs don't know about political correctness and will often smell the crotches of people they want to meet!

So now y'all know how to behave behind women when you're out and about! Except for Quartermain, of course - I had him trained up right as rain. Then some thoughtless hottie raped him and now he's back to being a traumatized pervert again! I have the whole thing on tape:

Poor Quartermain...

Still Here After Weed Wednesday

And nothing has changed. All is well - every sanctimonious left wing turd burglar in the Canukistani mass media are falling over themselves to reassure ignernt, backward social conservatives like me. Folks like me must remind them of the scolds of their youth or something. "Shut up you old prude, you know nothing, we know it all, this stuff is as harmless as booze, so just can it and stop harshing our mellow..."

When I was a kid all the cool kids did it. I dabbled in it and was indifferent; my older brother was in it up to his eyeballs and even dealt a little I think. He may still, I dunno. I admit that when my neighbours occasionally do it I ignore it because they are quiet and discrete and respectful. If all I get from them in the way of trouble is the occasional whiff of pot - I'll count myself lucky and leave it at that.

According to the wife the pot shop over in The Fort had people lined up down the street and around the corner waiting to buy. On a Wednesday. During working hours. This is Alberta where the oil industry used to keep everyone hopping 24/7/365. Kids are back to living with their parents well into their 20's and even 30's because they can't find jobs or descent employment - but they have money for pot I suppose. Go figure.

What galls the crap outta me is the morons that are treating this like some kind of victory for civil rights. The gov't that did this is now openly considering a ban on handguns and assault rifles in Canada. All the liberal shitskins they are importing can't be trusted with pistols, and their kids can't be trusted with black rifles. Who'da thunk it? The mind wobbles. These are the same guys that spent the last 3 decades scolding us all about the evils of tobacco while legislating and taxing the hell out of it.

Statistically speaking I know I have little to fear from pot heads. The chances of me personally getting killed by some high pothead getting behind the wheel or at work are pretty slim. But somebody is going to get it, that's for sure. The injuries and fatalities will just be another statistic the liberals won't talk about or they'll ignore it. And when their fugged up kid takes a gun out and shoots some of his buddies in a drug deal gone bad, they'll blame the gun rather than the kids and the drugs they are fighting over. That's okay, in a sense - it's a simple Darwinian mechanism where unfit organisms remove themselves from the gene pool and that's a good thing over all - if you ignore the collateral damage.

Ultimately, legal weed in Canada is just another tax on the stupid and the degenerate. And the kids.

Wednesday, 17 October 2018

The Retard Time Machine

Some people speculate that when the time machine is invented the first temporal destinations will be stuff like the JFK assassination, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ or something like that. When it's my turn - this is where I am going.

Of course then the stock market would probably crash the next day...

Good Luck With That

In public schools, you will have all the frooty 
colours of the rainbow wanting a piece of your kids.
Home schooling nowadays is pretty much mandatory.

Tuesday, 16 October 2018


I know it's a sin.
But I look at this thing and realize that I could
easily sacrifice tax men, Quartermain, and even
nanny goats to this hand made god.

Good Morning

One day Baloney Bob, Rotten Rod and I all went to the High Run Club and soaked our hearts. We left late at night and when I got up the next morning, I woke up dead with my skin on backwards. (Made a hell of a mess when I went to the washroom, let me tell ya!)

Anyhoo, my wife made me a breakfast like this and I was right as rain and ready for a round of afternoon skeet with the boys. When they showed up, Rod smelled like death and excrement and Bob looked like he'd gone through the ringer a few times. Rod was a slight man and couldn't take the punishment and had barfed all over himself during the night. When Bob woke up, the old lady gave him the very hell of it. When the boys asked me how I made out, I told them that I had gotten bacon and eggs and a kiss on the cheek - and that they could learn something from me if they weren't so damned stupid.

Bob got my arms behind me and Rob beat me up and soon I looked as rough as they did.

Road Rockets

Like a lot of old men, I did a lot of drinkin' and stinkin' in my time. I think part of it was me giving the scolds and the snitches the finger. Probably it was stupidity. I'd think nothing of getting pished as a rat and getting on the bike or behind the wheel. Mind you, I knew I was impaired and drove accordingly. Three decades blew by like that. Friends at work got caught and busted, my brother did, my cousin did... but I made it through check stops with the charmed luck of the devil.

I still drink now and then but if I have two or three - I am on a bender. Nowadays I am an old fart and I see the kids going down that same road I did and I have to zip my lip. I made my mistakes in life and the kids'll have to make theirs and learn from them the same way I did.

Now - thanks to our pathetic faggot of a prime minister and his liberal flunkies, we have legal pot. It's just another way for otherwise smart kids to get into stupid trouble, I guess. Maybe the kids will avoid the snares and traps of life like I did.

Personally I don't think we've done the kids any favours with this. In Flapz' family they are all hotshot bankers and finance guys. Without a word of a lie his parents and in-laws are millionaires easily. I remember his father one morning flipping some stocks and making enough money to re-roof his house - that's a thirty thousand dollar bill he didn't have to worry about! He and his crowd are jumping into the pot investment thing with both feet and a clear conscience. Mind you their families are all effed right up too.

We live in curious times. And they are getting curiouser and curiouser.

Monday, 15 October 2018

Halloween Is Already Going Wrong

Filthie: The Twilight Years

Photoshop: Used For The Power Of Good This Time

It seems the most evil use of photoshop programs comes from otherwise straight up conservative guys. I remember a political forum where we were talking about immigration and there was a pic of a push start red dot indian lady breast feeding her child. The person that posted it went on about how horrible it would be for that woman in Trashcanistan and why we should let such mudflaps in by the millions because they totally WOULDN'T turn our country into a cesspit like they had done to their own. Right after it some wank photoshopped it and the next thing ya know, there was the pic again but this time the lady was breast feeding a monkey, HAR HAR HAR! I was told in advance to shut it and not say it by the poor forum moderators who were staggering under the onslaught of pre-historic 'memes'. Some of them have lethal levels of humour. I saw one the other day where Pepe The Frog had been nailed to the cross and I just about karked myself laughing. I know as a Christian I should have been offended but a rude joke is a rude joke! I feel sorry for my Maker, like me His children are moral and intellectual write offs!  :)

But one a the boys on the hotrod forum got hold of the tool and is starting to use it with spectacular results. He's one of those guys that can pimp your ride from old beaters right on up to the lunar landing module - he can make anything from scratch. Lookit his concept for his next rod:

I'd learn how to do photo-shop too... but I would only use it for the forces of evil 
and do pics of pakies breast feeding chimps or something.
As for the concept above... I think it has merit.

Sunday, 14 October 2018

Sunday Mish Mash

Well I had my first performance evaluation on my new job. They want to see a few tweaks, of course. Different companies, different ways of doing things. But over all they're happy and gave me a raise and a bonus. I've had "managers" in the past use these things to intimidate and threaten their employees and if I had seen any of that I would have just quit and walked. I learned the hard way that there are no opportunities in companies that treat their people like that. For now, for me at least - at work, life is good.

I almost went over in my sleep at church today. The speecher they had up there today was one of those holy rolling bible thumpers. They are the kind of guys that get sanctimonious and read out of that book and think they're learnin' ya something. I used to see guys like that hectoring their audience and wonder what the hell was wrong with them and why they didn't just get up and leave. I now know that that is just the style of some of 'em. They think that book speaks for itself (and it does) - but that reading from it is good enough. I can do that myself, thanks - but whatever. I took some time to harass the seniors and slurp some coffee beforehand so it's all good.

I got in a big fight with the old geezers over at the hobby shop when I went to buy a battery tester. I wanted one that did LiPo and NiMH batteries and was huffily informed that there was no such thing. So I told the old boy that there was, and I had bought mine from them a year or two back. For some reason he got quite snotty about it. Finally the kid in the back informed us that yes, there was such a thing, and that he'd be happy to bring one in for me. The old boy changed his tune and took the same tune - but I didn't want it after that! HAR HAR HAR! They hire a lot of semi-retarded retired old guys there and some of 'em get pretty pissy. Hopefully I will have my nitro trainer plane running again by the end of the week.

Speaking of crabby old geezers prattling on about something they know nothing about, the old boys at the Swamp People Retirement Home are prattling on again about Ahab The Arab using hobby drones to take over the world again. I just shake my head at these urban myths and wonder how they get so much traction. How many millions (billions?) went into R&D for that weapon system? Given that the vids were mostly CG special effects - is it even viable yet? The old boys there think so; not one of 'em noticed the CG effects and thought it was real. I was HAR-HAR-HARing, Aesop filled his Depends, and I left amidst a hail of flung food and dung!

So… life is boring round here, but comfy. As always, thanks for stopping by.

Saturday, 13 October 2018

Lessons In Manliness

Lookit this. Friggin soyboys - there is so much FAIL in this I don't know where to begin. First of all - do you see any pretty girls around? Any innocent children and civilians?  No! So - let 'er rip!!! Second, unless you can see it - it ain't a fart. Where are the Texans in all this? Why, if I were on the scene I woulda rushed in and sampled the bouquet - and then shown that little poseur what a real fart is!
And finally - sneaking away? Really?!?!? Boys, you take ownership of a well cut ripper and be proud of it! You go in, stand tall, and fart-rape EVERYONE within your percussive blast zone!

A fartin' horse will never tire, 
And a fartin' man is the one to hire.

Have a good Saturday and thanks for stopping by.  :)

Filthicus: Blood & Sand


Quartermanicus and Pete Ferex have actually done it!!!! Ladies and gentlemen it is so GOOD to have you here! Quartermain and Pete have successfully captured some of the most fearsome monsters IN THE WORLD - and brought them here to my Vomitorium where they will fight and die for our amusement! 

Ladies and Gentlemen - for the first time in recorded history - bloodsport!!! Bought and paid for by your loving Emperor!!!

I ask you my countrymen: are you not entertained?!?!?

Of course nothing can be allowed to go right with these things. Not shown in the Gif is when Jack and TB jumped out of the bushes and sandbagged those two - and threw them both on the BBQ!

No doubt, in the next episode of Filthicus we will probably be back to (hork, spit) gerbils, kittens or puppies again. And - that is assuming some hairless monkey doesn't come along and fry them up too!

Stay tooned. One a these days, we will get it right! 

Boys... We NEED A Welder....

Friday, 12 October 2018

When We Were Kings

When I was a kid Big JS was bigger than most grown men. He was about 240 lbs in fighting trim and it was all muscle. Most of it was heart, to be honest.

Anyhoo he had a dilapidated Dodge van with a blown 6 banger and he took a mind to re-motor it. Dan's Dad (who was supposedly a mechanic) nigger rigged a hoist even WORSE than the one in the pic - he repurposed a children's swing set for the job. I started to pipe up that the swing set wouldn't take the weight - but was told to shut up because I was not a mechanical whiz kid like everyone else.

So they rebuilt the engine, hoisted it up... and of course the swing set immediately started to buckle. I backed away, no way was I gonna get between gravity and that engine - but Jeff dashed forward and caught it before it hit the shop floor. Sure, it was only a slant six... but he had his life savings in that engine. He carried it aside and gently set it down on some tires in the shop.

An experience like that is something any young man associated with it learns something from. JS went on to learn how to tear down engines and keep beaters from dying an honourable death - his vehicles ran as badly as they looked no matter how dead they were. I learned that I was not a mechanic, and that most of my friends weren't either. Nor were most men that claimed to be. And -  that if I wanted to drive nice vehicles I would need a job that allowed me to buy and  pay for them.

Many of my friends always buy used, and swap them off to replace them with other second hand vehicles. Me? I take the hit. I buy them brand new right off the lot - and I keep care of them and drive them until the doors are about to fall off... and give them away to some tard like JS to keep running 'just a little bit longer...'. They will buy ten vehicles to every one I buy but they seem to think the economics work in their favour so I just smile and nod along.


Most retards are friendly, loveable and trusting... but not that kid! He's seriously sick, and he has to be stopped!!!

Jack! Pete!

Load up, load out - and bring in some of the gunnies. Quartermain has gone mustang and has got to be stopped! Not even a Glock deserves that...

Slung A Little Low...

… but that don't mean you're slow!

I'm gonna do that to my motorcycle and 
teach those Harley retards like Flapz and BP a lesson
they'll never forget!
Mine will have that hinged flapper thing on it to keep 
the rain out though.

For those of you making it back home tonight - welcome home!
For those of you still on the road, drive careful.
Hope you had a great Friday!

Putting War Vets In Perspective

This is not meant to trash the squaddies. Of course, anyone with a triple digit IQ would know that, but these days, a fella needs to be careful of what he says and how he says it.

I've heard that these squaddies are not German Shepherds, but a closely related variant. Apparently this is THE breed for law enforcement and military - think they're called Belgain Melanoits or something. Maybe it's just my imagination but I think I can see the intellect in these soldiers even my own crime-fighting K9's don't have.

And maybe I am imagining it, but I'll be darned if that isn't a 1000 yard stare going on. We seriously need to think about the way we think about our best friends.

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

Rejects From CW's Cabin Porn File

I was over at the Daily Timewaster rooting through the garbage looking for something to eat to recycle and came across this gem:

I am beginning to suspect that CW is possibly a little stuck up and pretentious.
A fireplace, outdoor plumbing - country living at its finest.

Okay. That's Just Gay...

Good gravy!!!

Even the worst fudge packing pillow biting shirt lifting poodle walking butt blasting Cleveland steaming faggot - would be embarrassed to lift the hood on something like that! The owner of that car is on a road to perdition - mark my words!

An Open Letter To President Trump: A Clear And Present Danger


Dr. G. Filthie
Minister Of Unsavoury External Foreign Affairs
Foreign Enemies Division


Donald A. Trump
United States Of America

Dear Mr. Trump,

As you've already heard from your own internal security experts,me and my compatriots can rain death, destruction and mayhem on any citizen of the United States, at any time. If you have any doubts of our intent and ability - may I refer you to the pic enclosed below:

Doesn't that make your blood run cold, you American pig-dogs!?!?
Bet yer sorry you gave Justine Turdo a wedgie
during the NAFTA talks, eh...?

That, if your technical and security experts don't already know - is the beginnings of a long range drone station. Other components are inbound as we speak. Once assembled, I will be able to bombard you or any other American I choose with a rotten egg, wadded up used Depends diapers - and possibly even genetically altered killer gerbils. Mock me at your peril.

The attacks will begin in one month unless the following demands are met:
  • The Dallas Cowgirls must be turned over to me in chains and skimpy outfits
  • One Heart Attack Grille must be opened and operated in Aaaadmontim Alberta at US expense for at least 5 years
  • Canadian participation (i.e. 'mine') - in the firing squads convened for Bill and Hillary Clinton, Maxine Waters and any other worthy democrat a-holes. Canadian versions to be added at my discretion.
The clock is ticking.

Have a great Thursday, eh!


Dr. G Filthie

When We Were Kings

Cool kids like Quartermain and Jess woulda driven dream machines like this.
I had beat up farm trucks - but even they beat walking.

Construction Catastrophe: Coopville

CM and her husband were unavailable for comment.

Today's Hate Crime: Send It

Care to make any rude racist jokes Pete? How about you, Jack? Any insensitive
observations you'd care to make? Anyone feel like some inappropriate
laughter might be in order???

Have a great Wednesday - and if any a ya's even think of having any fun - I will be watching you very carefully!!! You've been warned!