Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 11 November 2018


The greasy, skinny vegans, pacifists, and elderly hippies that make a hobby out of crapping on the military can't do anything right. But what do you expect from effeminate liberal men and their ropey mouthed women with hairy armpits? They worshipped uninspired, untalented musicians like themselves too (Bob Dylan is holding on line two...). The spoiled flower children of the 60's would start speeching and shrieking and singing against war at the drop of a hat - as if they had been there and were in a position to pass judgment.

Here is how an anti-war ballad SHOULD sound:

A whole generation butchered and damned.

Just a little over a hundred years ago, 3 generations back, young Freddie Filthie got on a train in Edmonton, England and headed off to war. They'd be back by Christmas - after they'd hung the Kaiser and kicked the Hun's arse. Instead, they found themselves facing machine guns, poison gas, and a demonic new weapon called the aeroplane. They did that armed with bayonets, trench shovels and horses. Their blood ran like rivers. At home wives and mothers and sisters lost some or even all the men in the family - at a time when people starved to death if they couldn't make ends meet.

I hope you have time to spare a thought or two for your ancestors.

Have a great Sunday.


  1. My paternal grandfather, Marion Emery, served in WWI. He was a radio operator in the US Navy, and was stationed in Cuba for a while. My father served in WWII; he was in the Coast Guard and was on isolated duty in the Aleutian Islands on a listening post, as well as the mounted patrol in South Carolina. Neither man liked it much.

    The man I'm writing about today is Bud Stauffer, who introduced himself as my uncle Bud. He fought in WWII, and was a part of the OSS. He helped organize the French resistance. Bud was a small, affable man who everyone liked. He appeared to be friendly and harmless. During the war he carried a .25 caliber Beretta in his hat. When I asked him about it, he explained:

    "If you were ever captured they'd tell you to put your hands on your head, and that's where your pistol was."

    Being an inquisitive eight year old, I asked if he were ever captured.

    "Yes, several times," Bud replied, rather matter-of-factly. I, of course, wanted details.

    "What did you do?"

    "Well... you just did the best that you could."

    My grandmother sternly suggested we change the subject, this one being unsuitable for dinner conversation. Looking back on it, I'm sure the last thing that an undetermined number of Nazis saw was that affable, harmless looking man.

  2. The real deal, the guys that actually did stuff like that - they all use verbiage like that. 'You did the best you could..." or "You did what you had to do to get by..."