Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Sunday, 30 June 2019

Idle Hands

Most sporting archers now carry their spare arrows right on the bow. It's probably the best way to go because pulling an arrow from them involves less movement that can spook game. They separate your arrows with warheads and protect the razor sharp edges of the broadheads too. To my mind it is the best way to go if you are a serious bowhunter.

I am not serious anymore.

My place in the field expired years ago. It's a young man's game, getting up early, hiking in, killing the game, dressing and quartering it and packing it out. A moose or elk would probably kill me nowadays … but I could still handle a small deer, if the hunting gods were so kind as to give me the shot. And, if they don't I am at the point of my life where I don't really care about that either. If I can't make the shot the kids will and that is just fine with me.

Wonder what Kudu burgs taste like...

I've chosen to carry my arrows with a back quiver. Traditional back quivers are like hen's teeth around here because there just aren't enough guys with an interest in them. I am on the Vista back quiver because it is the only ones you see around here - and then only rarely. Mine has a million miles on it and was falling apart 30 years ago.

That thing not only carried arrows, it held enough beers to lubricate my shooting all day long! Evn more beer could be held in that pocket in the back. When I was a kid I shot so much that I could still hit fairly well, even with three sheets to the wind. Gawd, I was stupid... but lord did we have fun. 

Now I am needing a new quiver more than ever but even the custom made leather ones leave me cold.

That is some spectacular leatherwork but jeez...that axe and bow stave
don't belong there.
It's a good idea but poorly thought out - at least to me.
It obviously works for that fella so that is all
that matters.

I will eventually make or buy something like that but in the meantime - how do ya keep warheads from rattling around in a back quiver and buggering up the edges?  Tonight I may have developed the answer:

I made a little sheath out of some scrap leather just to try the idea out
...and it looks like it might work.

Time flies when you're doing something stupid. :)


PJK notes in the comments that the happy hunter above is not posing with a Kudu, but a Gemsbok.

This is a Kudu.

I've only been on safari to Africa four times with world famous adventurer, novelist, and man-about-town...WL Emery. The first time we stumbled across a city of gold inhabited by murderous talking apes in the Congo and we barely escaped with our lives. The second time we spent tied up in a camp of head-hunting savages awaiting our turn in the stew-pot and we barely escaped with our lives. The third time we were hoping to actually do some hunting but we came across a hidden Nazi encampment in the deep dark jungle - and we barely escaped with our lives. The last time we were there I gave an impromptu lecture in a bar about the IQ of sub-Saharan blacks... and we barely escaped with our lives, pursued by a baying pack of murderous talking apes.

For some reason, WL went without me this year and reports that he had a spectacular hunt. He shot a rare flamingo while it nested on a springbok.

Some hunters are better off hunting alone, and it appears
that WL is one of them.

Saturday, 29 June 2019

Shifting Winds

Well my elderly mother finally sent me a text the other day after a year and a half of silence. We had a falling out of sorts and I had just had enough of her bullchit. I figured that if the road has parted between us and that we would move on to the next life without seeing each other again, that was just fine with me. She thinks I am stupid and lazy as well as a fascist and a homophobe. I think she's a stupid old bitch.

We're probably both right, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Ahhhhh...gawd! HAR HAR HAR!

She'd sent us a text saying that she'd been by the house and the flowers looked great.

Yes, I will cut the gawddamned grass - if it ever dries out!

I know that she can't change who she is. But the last couple years have changed me. They've changed me a lot. The changes are hard to describe... I know she's my mother... but I am not her son anymore. Words fail, I can't explain it.

I sent her back a text and told her we are alright, gave her my new cell number. This morning she replied that they are going camping next weekend if the weather smartens up.

I am going to send back a text wishing them good weather and good times but beyond that... I don't feel anything for my mother anymore. It's horrible, I know - but all there is left is echoes of something that might have been a hundred years ago - if the cards had landed differently. I don't want to go back to that or be reminded of it.

I think it's because we come from different worlds. For my parents, Mom had her Grade 12, Pop had Grade 10 and as soon as they got out of school they got jobs - good jobs. Dad got an apprenticeship and Mom learned to type and became a clerical/admin worker in an age when such jobs still paid respectable wages. Pop became a master mechanic and worked on everything from jet engines on down, and Max Ward (of Ward Air fame) was personally pushing him to take the courses and become a flight engineer. That would have meant moving to Toronto so Pop quit and became a shop foreman for the gov't. Mom got a job as a secretary at a school and they did really well. They had Golden Fridays, EDO's (earned days off), 4 or 5 weeks vacation, and did the Freedom 55 thing with handsome pensions. (Pensions that they feel should be far more lavish, but they bravely and nobly make do with what they have).

When I hit the job market at 18 in the 80's, youth unemployment was running at 37%. People were walking away from their homes because they couldn't pay the mortgages. The oilfield froze up and died and a few suicides resulted as dreams and egos got washed away with austerity. All I could find were scut jobs and my parents thought it was because I was stupid and lazy. Only dirt people and retards get laid off - companies never let their good people go! When I tried to explain things like nepotism, favouritism and reverse racism to them they looked at me like I was from another planet and called me a whiner. I'd phone them up and tell them I'd just gotten laid off - and they'd tell me they just bought a new RV. My wife and I will work into our 60's, prep and be frugal with our money while they sailed into the sunset of retirement that my great grandchildren will be paying for - assuming the economy doesn't blow up first. In their minds they live the good life because they deserve it and are entitled to it. They worked hard for it. HAR HAR HAR!!!

All this stuff used to drive me friggin nuts. Mom would breezily state that if she worked in the private sector she'd probably make three times as much as she made working for the gov't! Pop would agree with her too! They honestly believe it.

Now - I just shake my head and laugh. We come from different worlds and different cultures. In their  world they fall over themselves to keep up with the trendsetters and cool kids. They're relevant! Their voices matter! And they will change the world!

As for me, I finally got the message my Maker was trying to send me. My voice and opinion don't matter, and neither do the doings of the stupid people that dance like monkeys as they vie for my attention with their outrageous acts of perversion, outrage and insults. I have far bigger fish to fry, and far more important things to focus my meagre intellect on.

Yes, Leslie - those flowers ARE rather beautiful, aren't they?

Welp, the morning's burning up, and I have to head out on Big Red and run some errands. Y'all - keep your eye on the puck, not the man. Have a great Saturday and thanks for stopping by.

This is not phrased well. Changing opinions is easy.
You need to change the way your mind works.
Or have it changed for ya!  ;)

Thursday, 27 June 2019

Wednesday, 26 June 2019

Death By Burger

I am going to email this to Mad Jack and see if he can fix up a mess of these for us for Sunday
Get your affairs in order everyone!
Valhalla awaits!!!

Bombshell Revelation Stands The Scientific Community On It's Ear

I can scarcely believe it myself! Apparently the subhuman tribes of the oilpatch rig pigs have not only evolved a language beyond profanity and grunts - they've developed a written language too.

Shifting Winds

Thanks a lot, pal.
Another garbage fire rages in my cranium...

How many of us have been transformed in the last little while...? For me, when my family disintegrated I really had a problem with letting go. Hell, I still do. In my mind I could let it all go, but hearts are stubborn friggin things - 'specially when they're broke. Some fellas handle crap like divorce, widowhood, and other family failures differently. For me, I have opted for hermitage. At my age I am utterly fed up with fighting with stupid people about utterly stupid chit. As M is fond of saying, the world can and will go 'f' itself and I may as well do the same. Curmudgeondom fits me with the same comfort and familiarity as old leather.

My Mom and I have had it rocky all my life. I think I remind her of her father, whom she hated intensely. I remember how happy and relieved she was when he passed. She and her mother were often at each other's throats too, playing nasty head games that catty women play. They got really mean and nasty at times too.

She had started doing the same thing with me about a year back. She decided that a good way to kick me in the balls was by rubbing my nose in her politics. What the hell, I thought - she's old, she's stupid, whaddya gonna do? 

Same to you, you clot headed cankle!
The world is full of purple faced raging hags like that.
Mom would never wear the shirt or use the profanity
- but she wouldn't be shy of expressing the sentiment.

When I didn't respond to her on that she decided to go for broke and started running her mouth about queers. After the antics of my daughter and her demented girlfriend - and the way Mom wanted to hurt me with such a cheap shot - I just pushed away from the table and left while she smirked and made some snotty comments about fascists and homophobes. I dunno why - but it cut me right to the core. I am used to liberals telling me where to go and how to get there and it doesn't really bother me, I am happy to tell them to do the same. When Mom did it I just sat there and took it and finally something just broke. That was a year and a half ago and we haven't spoken since. My progressive liberal family has never been shy of telling me to shut my mouth, stuff it and get lost - and I decided that maybe this time I'd just take them up on it. It wasn't just this - a whole lifetime of crap just like it boiled out of me and I'd had enough. Life is too short.

The other day, out of the blue Mom sent us a text saying that she'd gone by our house and that the flowers my wife put out looked nice. I dunno what's going on in her head, maybe on some level she's sorry. Maybe not. Probably not. It was the first time we'd heard from her in over a year.

These awful old baby boomer women run their mouths, they ruin their homes and families... and ultimately their communities and nations... and it's always somebody else's fault. It's like when Hillary Clinton was bitching that she lost the election because everyone hates women. Or that the Russians did it. You don't argue with women like that, you ignore them. If you can't do that you walk away or they will drive you nuts with their lunacy.

The wife's church holds that you do not curse your parents out and that you respect them. I cussed my mother out before I came to the faith... I wonder if that lets me off the hook? 

Don't answer that. 

I know what I gotta do. The wife is going to send her a text and thank her for the compliment and give her my new cell number and assure her everything is fine. If the old bird wants to go further than that we can be reasonable. As long as nobody gets stupid, nobody gets hurt. That, and I don't want to do to my parents what my own kid has done to me.

That's the best I can do. Maybe it's a step toward better things, who knows?

Tuesday, 25 June 2019

Tails From The Timberland

Political Discourse In Canada

Up here in Canada our Prime Minister embarrasses us every time he opens his mouth. Lot of folks up here are counting the days down to the election and feel that his dismissal is a forgone conclusion. I am not so sure;  I know the people I share this idiot country with, and they would vote for Adolph Hitler if they thought he would throw some pork their way. (And of those, many of them would probably be Jewish-Canadians, HAR HAR HAR!!!)

I also dunno if an election would solve our issues. The conservative answer to Turdo La Doo is Andrew Scheer - and he is undoubtedly what the kids these days refer to as a 'cuckservative'. He will pretend to be a conservative until Leftie calls him a homophobe or a racist - and then he'll roll over and do as they tell him so that they won't call him names. Some wags are calling him 'Scheer The Steer" and from what I have seen of him - they aren't far off the mark.

Oh well, we shall see. I am sure we will get the gov't we deserve - good and hard.


Raising The Retirement Age

I was on OyTube awhile back and some pundit was talking about all the social programs that are bankrupting us. Old Age pensions are unsustainable because we’re paying out full benefits to people who never paid in, or paid their share. Medical programs are the same, for the same reason. Posh welfare programs are attracting third world mud flaps into the country to go on welfare and vote liberal. We’re in a lot of trouble.

For old age security one of the pundits said it was as simple as raising the retirement age. People live longer, so it makes sense - at least to him.

I wonder though: sure, people might be in better shape further into their old age... but mentally a lot of folks get old AND stupid. My in-laws and parents lost all perspective and relevance to the modern world in their early 60’s. The world didn’t work the way it used to, and their ability to respond to it in a sensible manner dived. They live in their own bubbles now and have been there for quite awhile. They’ve become childish and selfish the way such people tend to do. What work could they possibly do?

I’m 55 now and I feel it happening to me: the kids start talking about stuff on the internet and I have no idea what they’re talking about. My moral and intellectual frameworks are obsolete; so much so that my family fell apart, and some of them consider me to be a hate criminal and a superstitious idiot. The new computer programs are designed to be learned intuitively; the kids pick them up in seconds where I have to struggle. Where will I be 10 years from now?

Some people get old and stay sharp... but a lot of us won’t. At the rate things are going I will be hard pressed to function as a greeter at Chinamart.

Interesting times are ahead.

Sunday, 23 June 2019

Dear Gawd...!!!

A pistol for either a faggot, or maybe a frenchman… ???

Sunday Dilemma

The wife and I are having  an interesting domestic dispute. My wife is a seamstress without peer, and she makes the coolest garments - I have a big thick bathrobe she made that I can walk outside in - in the middle of winter. That thing is warm and has an October Country kind of print on it. She makes me sleeveless hoodies - and they are just wonderful layering garments. Sometimes she does artwork on them - she found paints that actually work on fabric. She can even shade and do work a silk screen garment couldn't touch. So I have this long white hoodie that just begs to be adorned with something cool... and I came up with this:

This is the runic symbol for Odin - the All Father or God of Norse mythology.

Apparently the very sight of that symbol can cause social justice warriors to poop their pants in rage, and will curdle the milk of the virtuous and politically correct!
Venerating and celebrating white history is racist; therefore good whites just don't
do it!!! The usual suspects are exerting political pressure
to ban symbols like this in the same way as the swastika or the rebel flag.

It'd be a piece of cake for the my artistic wife to put that on a hoodie - and when I asked her about it SHE pooped her pants in rage and gave me the very hell of it! "So," she said in disgust, looking at me like I was a retard, "You're going to walk around with the symbol of a false god on your back...?" I just sat there and gawped. My wife was baptized a couple years back and even I am an outhouse Christian of sorts - or at least I thought I was. "To me it's just a striking pattern! What's your problem with it? If I hadn't told you what it meant, would you have had a problem with it...?" I griped.

It's bizarre how symbology is being played in Clown World: God's rainbow has become the symbol of degenerate sexual behaviour. The rebel flag is now supposed to be right up there with the swastika. It's bullshit, of course - but people fight and riot in the street over crap like this.

Such are the fights that stupid old guys get into with their wives. Whatever - this is one I don't mind losing too much. Symbols are just that, things that give arbitrary meanings to other things. So I'm stuck here, with a flawless snow white hoodie that would look very cool with some kind of artwork on it. I suppose I need something that would look cool, and wouldn't give offense to the sexually disturbed, the perpetually offended, and yet signal my virtue to everyone that laid their eyes on it.

wife couldn't bark about that one, right?

Have a good Sunday everyone! Thanks for stopping by - and don't do anything I wouldn't do! HAR HAR HAR!!!



Saturday, 22 June 2019

Two Old Crows

Can't remember where I heard it but the joke goes like this:

Two crows are having a mid-day snooze on a power line minding their business  - when out of the blue, an F16 fighter jet screams over head at low altitude, with full afterburnes. The plane flashed overhead startling the crows out of their doze. Then the sonic boom hit and crashed like the hammer of God smiting a mountain! The line heaves and rolls beneath them as trees bend and leaves fly!

When the noise dies down one of the crows can finally speak after gathering his wits: "Holy shit! Did you see that thing?!?! How in hell does a bird move that fast...?!?!?"

The other one goes, "Welp, if you had two assholes, and they were both on fire... you'd be moving fast too!"


Have a great Sunday folks, and thanks for dropping in.

Livin' Life Right!

Distant Roads

Before she hit puberty my daughter was the best kid you could ask for. We had a little tiny Hyundoo back then and my wife would stack the camping gear around her... and she'd sleep or read or do colouring books and she'd be as happy as a clam - buried under the camping gear!

She was such a good kid. 

Fuggin Harley Guys Again!

$90.00... *POOF!*

I had a much deserved day off yesterday and spent it right. The wife and dawgs all went out for an early morning Dawg Patrol, then we dropped the hoople heads off at home and went out for breakfast.

After that it was off to Jim Bows for a conference in the pro shop where I learned the limits of the new high tech carbon arrows: if you fire them into hardened steel... they'll crack. Who'da thunk it??? I learned that I was a dumbass and a lousy archer but I can work on one of those things. The other I'm pretty much stuck with. This won't be the last arrow sacrificed or lost to the Arrow Gods. I'm glad the hawk eyed kid at the counter caught the hairline crack... shooting unsound arrows in today's high tech bows is not a good idea.

The days of summer tumble by so fast now - realized I STILL haven't been out camping yet. I want to go do some pre-season deer scouting and need to check out my favourite spot in the foot hills and make sure it's still there. I gotta jump on that. I still need to round up some odds n ends in the way of camping supplies.

So we decided to grit our teeth and drop into MEC (proud supporters of Butt Blaster Pride). MEC is the store favoured by yuppies, faggots, cat ladies and other flinks and poseurs living the outdoor adventure lifestyle. All I wanted was a couple high capacity nalgene water bottles, a couple dehydrated back packer meals, and a simple mess kit to throw in my duffel stashed behind my seat in Dawgmobile One. I walked up to the till - and got soaked for 90 beans. I was about to say "Yannow ya should probably at least kiss a guy before ya do something like that to him..."... but MEC is not the kind a store where ya want to crack wise about degenerate sexual practices... if ya catch my drift, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!!

This morning I had the time so I honked on the bow for a few ends and didn't do that well. Work has kept me away from some important things lately but it'll let up soon enough I hope. I am learning to fletch these high tech super thin carbon arrows and decided to try a new style of fletch out.

Those blaze orange one will be great for hunting with the lighted nocks.
If I am launching a warhead at an animal
I will want to be able to see where it hits.

I also unpacked the camper today. Everything was ship shape just as we left it last year. I plugged it in, turned on the air conditioning - and zonked out after mowing the grass and doing my yard chores in the afternoon heat.

I guess the days will start to get shorter now - and I have much to do before the leaves turn colour. Life is good here - hope your summer is proceeding well too.

Thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, 20 June 2019

Be Still, My Beating Heart...

A prop propelled amphibious power mower..?!?!?
We live in truly magnificient times.
Even M would have to respect my aviational accumen
with a machine like that.


A female Samurai?

A hundred years ago the creep down at the gun shop brought in his collection of Japanese swords and cutlery. They were probably all fakes, or at least some of them were - but I got to handle some of them. Can you imagine holding a blade in your hand that is (supposedly) 600 years old?

The blades were all fighting weapons. One was a little knife that the Samurai supposedly only used if he was unhorsed - he'd use it to cut the silk ribbons that bound the bamboo armour to his body so he could move more freely and fight to defend himself. Another was a longer one (a Tanto, I think it was called) that would be used for discretionary carry for formal occasions - where one of the guests might require a blade in the gizzard to restore some sense of order and propriety.  Another one was obviously old with a nicked blade that spoke of some duel where the person wielding it thwarted his foe's attacks.

As I get older I find myself ever more fascinated by antiques and artifacts. What will future generations make of the junk we leave behind?

From The Reliquary...

I often wonder what it must be like to be a squaddie - whether it was with the Romans in Gaul, or the Canadians at the Somme, or the Marines at Guadalcanal. I'd probably look at the birds flitting around without a care in the world and would wish that I was one of them. At the end of the day they'll all still be alive, and without any cares at all. And to fall in battle - what gain is there in it? In a couple generations you're a forgotten pile of bones or lawn food.

And then I think about that, and - nobody gets out of this world alive. It may not matter how much time you have in, but the quality of the time you have. To fall as a hero would beat the hell out of living craven.

And that in turn would probably leave me impatient and disgusted with myself, and champing at the bit to get it over with and settle the question of my fate. I am no hero, but I am no coward either. But who knows what would happen when the bullets started flying? I'd just as likely gobble in fright and fill my pantaloons!

Any guesses, boys? I am going with 7.65 Mauser...
it's definitely one of the bottlenecked pistol rounds.
What were the Russians using?

Some poorly preserved Schmeisser MP40's, I think. 
And maybe some Mauser K98's?
Who carried them?
What stories would they tell?

I hope you died fast and clean, whoever you are, and that
your loved ones found some kind of peace
after you fell
and didn't come home with your friends.

Looks like a well preserved Luger (considering the conditions) - som pipes, a mess tin
and some other junk...

Yannow I think of all those men that fell in the second world war and I am firmly convinced we've forgotten every lesson and hard knock we got as a species during that conflict. We are fools, hellbent on repeating history again. This next one is going to be a doozey, too.

Wednesday, 19 June 2019

Diversity Is Our Strength....

Gah....Those Russians.....

How I Evaded Fecesbook

I have my mother to thank for it! I am probably the only old stubfart in the world that got banned from Facebook - by his mother!

Back in 2006 it was a different time. Prophets like Mad Jack, Uncle Bob and the Knuckle Dragger all worked for a living, and wouldn't become philosopher-kings for at least another decade. BP was a respected academic and historian - and hadn't committed any climate-denying hate crimes. I was young and full a beans, naïve and easily led astray by my stupid friends. I followed the self-proclaimed intellects of the day and was a dedicated disciple of that idiot, Rodger Schlong - over on Curmudgeonly And Skeptical. He was the other person that helped me evade the clutches of social media.

Over a decade ago EVERYONE was getting on Bookface except me. I was admonished by Mom, Flapz and all the cool kids to get with it or get lost - so I set up an account and wondered what to do with it. I sent a few messages to the wife but the thing just struck me as a dumb waste of time. "That's because you're such a dud, Filthie," Flapz explained. "You can customize it out the wazoo like I did..." and his was pretty cool. He had pics of the hot rodded ATV we built, camping pics, yadda yadda yadda. I looked at my account and thunk I would put a pic up. Something called an 'avatar', whatever the hell that was. Of course my buddy Rodge (The Real King Of France) and role model was there with a capital suggestion:

So I plugged that pic into it and looked at it afterward. What a waste of time I thought - and gave up on it. I signed out and said the hell with it.

Well the next weekend the land line rang. (I refused to carry a personal cell in those days). I answered the phone and Mom gave me an earful of buckshot and hell!!!

I was told to clean up my act or I would get a bare bummer spanking with the wooden spoon! And to get on that idiot account and put something nice on it - or else!!! Apparently the algorithms went out to Mom and begged her to be my friend and then it went after all her old biddy friends doo - and she had been scandalized. But I didn't know it at the time. So I went hunting for another pic. And of course, Rodge had helpfully posted one on his blog! I stole it and put it in:

I didn't know it at the time - but I had posted one of the first
primitive memes on my account.

Aaaaand then the algorithms went out again - and sent Mom into hysterics again - and I was back at square one.

That is when I discovered that beloved pic of  the goggled heroic aviator -Captain Kelso. I put that one in and then I said the hell with it for good. A couple years later I learned that Fecesbook kept rattling my estranged daughter to sign me on as a friend and it made her milk curdle or something - so I read up on how to delete the account. It was like pulling teeth too. 

It was all just as well. I have all the wrong opinions, and hang out with a deplorable basket of racists, homophobes and haters and therefore should not be allowed to speak. I'd have gotten banned ages ago and my Mom would probably have been the one to snitch, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Sometimes the good guys AND the bad guys win! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Today I spend my time on antisocial media like the blogs of The Usual Suspects and Gab for the rude jokes. I think I got the best of it with Facebook, all things considered.

Tuesday, 18 June 2019


I remember when I was still able to make good shots with iron sights too.

Monday, 17 June 2019

Charging Out Of The Rock

My Secret Lair

When I retire I am going to take up villainy full time. Hate crime will be my specialty. They just invented a new one a couple months back: I guess some of the more pastey faced grocers and cucks at the supermarket have set up sections for 'halal meat' for moslems. (What's a halal? I'll have to ask WL Emery - he's undoubtedly shot a few of them in Africa while on safari). Anyways, the joke is that the wankers will go to the regular meat isle, pick out some prime pork roast - and then leave it front and center in the halal meat section. Apparently it is so offensive and hatey for moslems that won't eat pork - that the entire supermarket will have to be burned to the ground in order to purify grounds to the satisfaction of moslems and social justice flimps. It's a real crime in Britain too - it's called 'Porking' - HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Can you imagine the prison yard discussion? "Hey, Quartermain - whaddya in for? Murder One? Genocide maybe...?" "Naw, I am doing ten to fifteen for Porking…"

What other hate crimes will I commit and orchestrate from my eeeeeeevil lair? Throwing BLT sammiches at mosques? "Man-splaining"? "Micro-aggressing"?

Yannow if I had a dime for every time some dim bulb called me a fascist - I'd probably have enough money to buy that place cash on the barrelhead! :)

Qucik, Agents Of Hateyness!!! To the Swastikagon!!!! Comedy and hilarity Villainy and terror await!

Now I See What Popeye Sees In Olive Oyl...

WL Emery Spotted On Safari Again

There he is, picking on poor defenseless critters again. And calling it sport!
The shreiking harpies and hags of PETA, the World Wildlife Federation,
and The Citizen's Coalition To Ban White Underwear For Men
has been informed!
You can bet he will catch the very hell of it!!!

I heard through the grape vine that he's shooting Weatherby rifles now.
O how the mighty fall....

Sunday, 16 June 2019

Happy Father's Day


As a father my story is all too common these days. Long story short: as Clown World set up slowly over the last two or three decades, my liberal family first chose to tolerate it, then embrace it and then finally celebrate it. For me the process was the exact opposite: at first I regarded it with suspicion, then contemptuous disbelief - and then rejection. Being a father in that world was impossible; in the end I failed. For a long time I was intensely bitter.

But the seasons tumbled by and the days became a blur and the bitterness became bittersweet. Now I watch other fathers battling the same clowns for ownership of their souls and their families and many of them are avoiding the mistakes that we made. That I made. It makes me happy to see strong families.

I'm gonna skip church today. They're pretty big on mothers, fathers, and Fathers over there and … somedays I just don't belong there, if ya catch my drift. I'm gonna fire up Big Red and see where the road goes today. You make sure you keep your eyes on your own road, Dad - and keep a sharp eye on those that share it with you.



Saturday, 15 June 2019

Visiting Elsewhere

I see that the World's Best Prepper And Survivalist - Harry Flashman - has bolted up and hunkered down. Like me Harold has a lot of the wrong interests and opinions... perhaps he is just being smarter about sharing them. Harry - if you are still posting please let me know what the password is! I enjoy your writing and doings.

Can't say I blame him at all. Can you imagine if the Nazis or Communists had access to a tool like  Fecesbook? The Knuckle Dragger points out that they are already in the business of identifying agents of hate. And of course Irish weighs in - just as you'd expect a contrary Irishman to!!! I don't think getting those guys on the cattle car will be an easy proposition, Gruppenfurher...

I shouldn't hang around the bad kids, they are a bad influence on my otherwise sterling character. Instead I should spend more time with the wholesome and happy bloggers - like M for example! I love that guy - he and Quasimodo crashed The Volvo Driver's Ball as only they can.

Then of course, there's Mom. I love her energy and enthusiasm. I'd love to pickle and process and hoard the way she does. She reminds me of my own grandmother.

Then of course there's TB. Why, he reminds me of ... me! (If I were younger, smarter, and better looking...) The warrior poet is not afraid to engage himself and that is something far too few of us do. When I confront that bum in the mirror, the experience is thought provoking at times and I come to many of the conclusions he does... often getting there by the same route.

So...? What are YOU doing today?

Friday F-Tards

It was a tough week at retard school for me with long hours and days that were pandemonium from start to finish. On Friday I went in early and didn't stay as late. After I'd stayed long enough, I hit the road for King Peter's country estate. My bow and tackle are always in the truck so I am ready to bail out, set up and start shooting anywhere, any time.

Problem was I pulled a shoulder muscle by either showing off to the kids in the warehouse, or by sleeping on it wrong earlier in the week. I was astounded that the one I pulled had nothing to do with drawing a bow. I had stopped shooting for awhile out of fear of tearing something that had just been merely pulled, but I shouldn't have worried.

Pete and I are hunters and we take our weapons very seriously. You can imagine the scandal and outrage when this interloper RUINED our archery session by crashing the shoot!

Cell phone cameras suck. I am only 20 yards away from him
and he looks like he's 100 yards away.

"Get him Glen! He belongs to the neighbour and he's fair game!!!!" HAR HAR HAR! I took the opportunity to scare Pete - I carefully knocked an arrow and drew as if I was actually going to do it. "Send it," he said, calling my bluff in return. I let down and we both smirked like school boys. Sadly, this is the stuff of high comedy for old men. One of the King's pet peeves is to wake up in the morning and find one of the neighbour's menagerie of animals in his yard. I have a license to kill turkeys, pigs, llamas and a few other barnyard animals on the estate. I have sworn to do it too - but when we finally got our chance we both pussed out. Years of shooting has allowed me to hone my skills at making excuses."We will let him fatten up and then we'll poach his arse in the fall!" I said. "Yes," the King agreed, "And when we do, my wife will pluck it and clean it for us too!". I managed to maintain a serious expression while thinking about Queen Mary being handed a carcass and being told to clean it. Red heads are renowned for their foul temperament and Mary is no exception. I suspected that we'd be the turkeys that ended up getting plucked and gutted.

"Damn right," I agreed.

A short while later the trespasser was looking for grubs - smack dab
in front of our archery target. 
Arrows were thudding into the target mere inches over his head
and he could have cared less.
He pecked at one of the arrow fletchings a few times and then 
ambled on without a care in the world.

We were shooting at 70m at that point and that bird was in real peril. But the arrow gods took mercy on him and after awhile he ambled on, looking for bugs and grubs to eat elsewhere. I didn't know that Darwin and Murphy had other mascots too.

Yannow when it comes to outdoor sport - the gun rags and field and stream sports rags get it all wrong, wrong, wrong as they present pics of heroic hunters posing with pics of epic bulls and bucks. Sure you remember a successful hunt - but it's bullchit like this that you remember with fondness and humour.

And I am SO going to kill that gobbler - and Queen Mary WILL clean, pluck and cook it for us. Bet your bottom dollar on it, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Have a great Saturday and thanks for stopping by.