Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Thursday, 29 August 2019

Pin Monkeys

Dad tells me that when he was a kid, this was one of the jobs he did.

The story went that when he got paid, he took his cheque home to Grandma and she'd decide how much of it he could keep. Everyone worked in their family, and everyone paid in to keep it going. The story has it that Grandma was always getting in trouble with Grampa because she was soft and let the boys keep too much of their earnings. 

I think things worked out differently with the Great Depression between Canada and the US. From bits and snippets it seems to me that the USA recovered from the depression much faster than Canada did. It would make sense, given our penchant for liberalism and socialism.

The story was that Pop became a legendary bowler on par with Fred Flintsone. The pin monkeys all hated him with a passion because he eventually got so good that he could knock over the pins with a dirty look.

I tell no lies. Believe it or else! Have a good Thursday.

Is It My Imagination

Or has the news and the mass media gotten even stupider? I'm serious - nowadays I scan the headlines and that's it. Even that has become a waste of time, more often than not.

When I get up the gumption... I am going to go play outside.

Gotcha, You Son Of A &^%$# - A Hot Lead Post

Holy mackaral! This last flu was a real pisher. Four days. For the last four days I have pretty much been sleeping. Gawd I'm getting old. I seem to have grown a bit of a beard whilst I was down. It's ridiculous - it's all grey except for a big black/brown patch that looks suspiciously like a chit stain. (It probably is! HAR HAR HAR!). I haven't eaten in three days and might make something later today. Or I may just go back to bed. The dawgs are pished right off with me because I haven't walked them, and I guess they think Mom doesn't do it right or something. They might have to wait until tomorrow too.

I was fumbling around in the dungeon this morning and got a reminder that I used to dwell in the world of the living - I found a bucket of bullets I'd made on the weekend - before I got sand bagged by this flu.

These flying pole axes are 510 grain Money Points.
I don't get it. My modern guns all like pointed, sleek boat tailed bullets with
high ballistic coefficients, but my rolling block single shot
just loves these things.

I have this god-be-damned bullet mould that must have been made by a stubble jumping hare lipped retard because I could NEVER get it to drop decent bullets. It nearly drove me around the bend - boolits came out frosty or wrinkly or deformed and that is no big deal because the rejects just go back into the pot and cast again. But try as I might - I could never get more than one or two out of a batch to shoot - and my big Remington roller loves these things.

It drove me nuts because I could cast smaller bullets and round balls for my muzzle loaders with no problems. When they were cold, ya just threw the rejects back in the pot. When they got too hot and you got frosty looking bullets - ya set them aside and let them cool a bit. Good bullet casting is about heat and cadence and they both will vary from mould to mould. But these big buffalo bullets had me stymied.

I finally learned the secret: turn the heat way down. Then fill the mould. Then dribble a few more dippers of molten lead over the mould... and they come out shiny and clean! Woohoo! It must have taken me over 40 hours of frustration and dicking around to sort this mould out. The beauty of this mould is that you can't get it too hot like you can with the smaller moulds - so ya just keep casting until ya run out of lead!

When I am recovered I will head to the range and set ya up with a range report. Stay tooned.

Wednesday, 28 August 2019

Filthicus: Blood And Sand

Hey all ~ I just heard that Chicken Mom and the gang at Coopville are up and running again.

To celebrate this happy news, what could be more appropriate than some gladiatorial blood sport? Say... a fight between two exotic monsters? To the death!!! They will fight and die for our amusement and the glory of the Imperial Thunderbox! HAR HAR HAR!!!👍 Those of you with strong stomachs, place your bets! Those of you with weaker constitutions... look away...

After the match I am going to go by Coopville and see if we can secure more deadly fighters for The Arena.

A Plague Upon My House

I've been down with the cold/flu thing the last couple a days. My fever broke last night so at least I'm starting to feel like me again. Last couple days were rough, trying to sleep it off with the sweats and freezing bouts... and concerned dawgs piling onto the bed to guard. I may slam a big dose of scotch and go back to bed today. Blerghhh….

During one of my lucid moments yesterday I cam across this young lady who plays classical guitar and other toons... She reminded me of my wife who, at that age, could stop my heart with a smile.

GAH - what day is it? Humpday? Have a good one you guys and thanks for dropping in.

Monday, 26 August 2019

I'd Watch It


Hmmmm. Now that ya mention it, Joe and Donald DO so bear an uncanny
resemblance to America's greatest

Mike Judge is the creative force behind Beavis and Butthead. I saw an interview they did on him where they asked him about details of the show and the behind-the-scenes stuff. This was back in the mid-90's... and Mike's message behind the tasteless cartoons, in his own words, was this: "You'd better start taking a hard look at your kids, America - or Beavis and Butthead will BE your kids..." 

I wonder.  Maybe we should have kept our eyes on ourselves and our elders? You look at the people that are running western civilization into the dirt - and it's all Boomers, aided and abetted by Gen X. And we sit around bitching about the skull fooked millennials. Granted - they are a mess... even their kids are saying so... but whose fault is that?

Saturday, 24 August 2019

Yet Another Reason I Love Yanks

Laughter is infectious.

Saturday Morning Adventure Time

When I was a kid there was this obnoxious television series that was probably a harbinger of what was to come. The star of the show was a big shaggy hippy that lived in the mountains in the 1850's or there abouts - and was a docudrama of the times, carefully edited and scripted to avoid the realities of those times AND these! He had a grizzily for a pet, was friends with the cougars and all the predators, and the Indians were all his best friends. Gah - even as a kid I hated it, but then again I was an aspiring little gunnie at the time and still working toward my first .22. As a result I got to read a lot of stuff written by people that were actually there. If the snowflakes today were to read such harrowing accounts their milk would almost certainly curdle.

With the blog ratings diving again, perhaps I should try to appeal to emerging demographics and changing historical perspectives...?

GAH! I feel another suicidal fit of depression coming on...
Maybe I should turn off the computer and go play outside...

Thursday, 22 August 2019

Possibly The Only Thing MORE Boring Than Golf

Family visits got absolutely EXCRUCIATING when the old folks retired, and went pro with golf. I flat out refuse to play it, and only somebody I love could force me to watch it. When we went over we often found them glued to the TV. Tiger would chip one in to take the lead and the family would lose their minds. "Whaddya think of that, Glen?!?!" Pop would crow. I'd mumble "BFD" under my breath as I smiled indulgently and tried not to look at my watch or yawn.

Of course watching those guys was like watching black magic at work. The fellas are reading terrain, wind, and unseen cosmic vectors to make impossible shots. They do it with boring regularity and the sheer talent involved is lost on those who aren't into it enough to appreciate it. I was forced almost at gun point to play golf as a kid and I still remember Dad's disappointment when I couldn't take an active interest. I was too caught up in stupid stuff like camping, tents, hunting and other worthless BS. Sadly, nothing has really changed either …

But as it goes for golf - so it goes for bow benders. Only those with a genuine love for the sport will see the merit in this pitched stubfart dogfight. It may not look like it, but there is some legendary talent going on here. If you have something more important to do like watching the wall paper peel, or the floor dry... I will understand. You are hereby formally excused, don't say I never did nothin' for ya!

The rest a ya's… pour a coffee or crack a beer and enjoy.

2019 bare bow Men's Open

For The Ladies: Friday Working Men

Friday PTSD: The Snares Of My Youth

GAH. I wouldn't touch this crap with a ten foot pole as a kid.

I remember they came out with the same thing in pink flavour that would make a billy goat

Oh dear gawd. Do you remember the recipes from Kraft?!?!? 
Moms wouldn't eat that crap either... but got madder n' hell if us kids turned our
noses up at that shite! 

Welp, if anyone needs me, I will be in a Safe Place curled up in a fetal
ball with my blanky and sucking my thumb.

Have a great Friday and thanks for stopping by!

Working Amongst Nails N' Sawdust

I didn't want to say anything... but as anyone that reads his blog knows - M ain't very much mechanically inclined if ya catch my drift. Naturally I am too polite to say so - so don't anyone tell him I said that. I'm sure his feelings would be hurt if he knew that a mechanical authority like myself had rendered such a judgement on his workmanship. Part of the problem is that he not only lacks the skills required - but the proper tools for the job.

Pete and I are on our way over to sort out the mess he's made of his pristine antique Volvo and his Beemer. We should have him up and running in no time.

I'll have the front end off Quasimodo The Volvo faster n' you can think about it....

...and Pete will have it back on before coffee time! 
We should be able to sort out the Beemer today too.

BW will no doubt want us to go over that new truck be bought... bat that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Granny??? Well I'll Be Damned...

I wonder what year that was...  :)

Urban Art

Hmmmm. In my scholarly opinion this bears a remarkable resemblance
to the Neolithic cave art found in France and other places in Europe.

Meh. Maybe not.

Of Nine Irons And Rice Rockets: Powers Of Observation And Deduction

I see that going on a badly driven Japanese rice rocket (that is more rice than rocket), that has blacked out windows, a spoiler and one a those big stove pipe exhausts.
The driver would be a young nine iron, fluent in Chinglish with halitosis that could
knock a buzzard of the chit house at 50 paces.
Do you concur, Watson?

Man About Town

I regularly patrol the blogs to make sure everyone is has the right opinions and if I find any infractions - I take a mighty crap in the comments to learn the offenders a lesson! I'm sure everyone minds their P's n' Q's when I am out and about! HAR HAR HAR!!!

The other day I chanced to step in this steaming pile of excrement. I read it through with an open mind right up until I hit this part where Cappy unloads on millennials with both barrels:

"they will die a generation, arguably more pathetic than the Baby Boomers.

They are truly valueless.


I thought about my own daughter. I just couldn't read anymore after that. I couldn't dump on Aaron for any of that... but I can see the truth of certain things myself, and need now reminding of it.

Tuesday, 20 August 2019

Into The Machine...

A 12-cylinder Nordberg diesel radial engine. This engine displaced 29,556 cu in (484.3 L)

Yannow, You Old Farts...About Your Upbringing...

When you're a handsome young buck like me, it pishes ya off no end when some doddering old fart like BW or Jack goes off and says something like "When I was a kid, we had no seat belts, safe spaces or participation trophies! We played with guns n' matches  and stayed out after dark....".

I got one question about all that: How, exactly, DID you survive your childhood?

That looks like an epic face-plant in the making!

Have yourself a great Humpday and thanks again for passing by! 

What In Hell Is This Going On Eh?

M! Is that you doing that?!?!

Well he's done it this time! He's perverted noble 
camping accessories beyond all decency! 

That looks like a CO2 bottle plumbed up to it...?

I've expressed my love for the nostalgia of naptha powered camping accessories in pages past. Back when we had common morals, ethics and sanity my father in law and I often went hunting fishing camping drinking in the back country and it was mighty big stuff for me at the time.

I'd grown up with parents who thought 'roughing it' meant an RV on a trailer pad. To be out in the woods again, with the comforting hiss of a Coleman lantern and a fire going... with me cleaning my guns and my father in law cooking supper on the Coleman stove - those were great times. We could have died back there and they'd never have found us.

I've caved to the inevitable and gone with the disposable butane powered ultralight stuff. It works, and that's all I will say about it.

I didn't know you could get butane in those little bottles. The ones I used as a kid were for my pneumatic pellet pistols. So... is my butane stuff obsolete now too? 

If this keeps up, I will be obsolete. 

Filthie's Wildlife Kingdom: Fuggin Libertarians Again

Hmpfffff. This'd explain a few things about the boys over at 
Camp Borepatch I suppose.

How do liberals carry their young around?
A trash bag?
Yannow what? I don't wanna know!

If there's anyone I haven't offended yet please be patient...
I'm getting round to ya soon!

Have a great Tuesday!

".221 Snapper???"

To anyone in the shooting sports, the proliferation of proprietary and wildcat cartridges has gotten absolutely stupid lately. The gun manufacturers have their own, the ammo makers have their own, and every second stubfart with a milling machine and a lathe out in the garage is coming out with a new "game changing revolutionary cartridge" every other day! It's ridiculous. Sure, choice of calibre matters for the intended task - but the market was saturated decades ago. Calibre doesn't matter much when you're punching paper or ringing steel... and any reasonable calibre will kill game reliably as long as you do your part. Ya can't kill 'em any deader than DEAD! HAR HAR HAR!

But some kids have too much time on their hands, and I like the senior delinquents over at Cast Boolits who find novel ways to entertain themselves. Anything that keeps 'em focused, off the streets and out of jail is a win, right?  :)

I think that is what one of 'em called the ".221 Snapper". Ya take a .25 ACP case, neck it down to .22, seat your pill and it's off to the races.

I'd love to have one and the dies and time to make them. Dunno what I'd actually DO with it, of course... but it would be cool nonetheless.

Should I Eat This 'Shroom?

I don't ordinarily eat mushrooms growing in the wild because I've heard that some are poisonous and others are hallucigenic and ya might wake up with your skin on backwards after consuming them. Over the years I've met some mushroom pickers (mostly women) and they pick and cook with their wild picked mushrooms all the time.

Any a you fellas any good with flora and fauna? I can and will eat a handful of berries that I can identify, but I've heard scarey stuff about shrooms.

Errrr… Pete, M, and Quartermain are notified in advance that their opinions on this issue will be ignored, HAR HAR HAR!!!!

I found this one out at the rod and gun club yesterday,
growing on the archery range.

I've never seen a colourful one like this before.

It was a treat after a rare good day at the range: yesterday
I was ringing steel offhand with my Remington rolling block
45-70 and some of the noobs thought I was a sniper.
Then I went over to the archery range and 
spanked a kid half my age with my marksmanship.
It was the sheerest of luck, of course - I 
will go back to my suckage today, most likely.
But for awhile - I was a glorious champ!!!

Monday, 19 August 2019

This IS A Polished Turd...

A chromed Chicom SKS???

I think the ad said they want $600.00~$700 beans for them from 
the ad I saw on Gunnutz...

Ya never know with stuff like this. Collectors and crufflers are a fickle lot, and if they decide something is a desirable collector and the right cool kids agree - guns like this can be instant investment material. 

I really dunno what to make of the SKS either. I have only seen a handful of serious shooters playing with them and they seem to do about 4~5" at 100 yards in the hands of capable shooters. I see tons of noobs and pikers shooting them with the cheap crappy surplus steel cased ammo and those guys can't hit the broad side of a barn with them. I think you have to be careful when buying them too... if I recall you want either the ones made by the Finns or the Russians. The ones manufactured by the chinks are not made well, and they've had some catastrophic failures with their bargain bin guns. Hear me on this, fellas. This is not urban myth, I have SEEN it. Years ago I bought a chinkish M14 and it was just junk. The sight adjustments all stripped out because they were made of pot metal, and the barrel and gas tube weren't indexed properly at the factory. Last summer one of the kids asked me to help him out with his because it wasn't working after only ten shots. I figured all I needed to do was help him reassemble the gun and when I asked him for the bolt - he just shrugged. I explained that all guns need a bolt to fire - did he have any left over pieces when he reassembled it? The answer was no - it turns out the bolt separated from the gun and ended up God only knows where. We are lucky it didn't go through any shooters on the line when the gun came apart! 

If it were me, I'd leave this one to the collectors and crufflers to take their chances with.

Show And Heart Stoppers

I found this distinguished old gentlemen nestled
amongst the hotrods and muscle cars.
Best in the show, in my scholarly opinion...

The local show and shine weekend marks the official end of summer for me here up here in Alberta. There’s a big mega-church across the street from us and they hold the event in the parking lot. It’s a big deal - they pull out all the stops and bring out live bands, a bouncy castle for the tots, food trucks... the works! For one day, my quiet neighbourhood turns into a Canadian version of Thunder Road. The show draws everything from curios and relics to heavy American iron to Italian super cars. The cops keep their distance on this special day to let the fire breathing chrome plated fuel injected double pumping refluxing metal gods have their space. Roaring engines compete with blaring 50s music... and it’s a helluva way to mark the end of the season. For one glorious day it is truly idealized endless summer.

The day after is a different matter altogether On Sunday all the cars are gone, the bouncy castle is down and being rolled up... and it’s all quiet again. All the noise and clamour is gone as if it was never there in the first place. It’s like somebody flips a switch: you start seeing the first leaves turn... the grass stops growing  so fast and I can finally keep up with it... the baby Canadian geese are all grown and getting ready for their first trip south. It was cool for the Sunday morning Dawg Patrol with light rain...the kind of weather that makes the old stubfart think of 12 bores and duck blinds. It isn’t fall yet... but you see it from here.

An elderly retronaut past pulled up in
this canary yellow time machine.

It’s depressing as hell if you aren’t careful. Rather than ponder shorter days, long johns, and scraping windshields and sleet... it might be better to focus on the good stuff. I’m going to check the zeroes on my rifles today, and start going through my camping gear in preparation for hunting season.

For those of you facing another dreary Monday - be thankful for your job and keep yer thoughts positive. Have a great Monday and thanks for stopping by.

Face Retribution Scoffers, Mockers And Blackhearts

A little pain is a small price to pay in exchange
for killing my enemies and driving their weeping and retching
women and children before me.

Sunday, 18 August 2019


Via Woodsterman

I used to debate Libturds back in the early days of the internet. It was kinda like the old adage about how bullshit is half way round the world by the time the truth is just coming off the starting blocks... they’d put more lies in one paragraph than you could logically and honestly refute in twenty.

Today is some liberal idiot gets in my face looking for a debate I just skip the formalities and tell them to FOAD. 

Why do I need an AR15?


Saturday, 17 August 2019

Turd: Polished?


Fellas I don't know what to make of that one. If I am correct, it is an accurized Smith Model 59. My first centrefire handgun was a bobbed variant of the 59 that I got back in the 80's and I hated it. Mind you, at the time I was still learning to reload, and bobbed guns generally don't shoot well for guys like me. I tend toward full size pistols meant for formal pistolcraft as well as social work.

But this one has me wondering. It's probably semi-collectable, I don't think the 59 ever caught on much (at least, around here; the cool kids all had CZ's, Hi Powers and a smattering of 1911's). This gun is a far cry from the POS I had back in the early 80's.

Any of you boys ever shoot one? Did ya have any luck with it?

Flimp Fiction

This soy boy is ready for movie night with Netflix.

I started watching an SF time travel series called Travellers on Netflix. Usually I can't watch modern sci-fi. Mostly because it's been ruined by progressive liberals that use it as a means of delivering a social justice lecture rather than as honest entertainment. It's sad because Travellers could have been a darn good yarn had it been done properly. In the show, the male characters are all betas that take their orders from the women, or they are bad guys that are punching bags for them. When you watch the credits it seems that it was mostly directed by the usual purple faced wahmen rage heads so that made sense. I think it was actually made for a female audience.

Even so, I found myself mildly interested by it. It's a great tutorial on how the progressive liberal  female mind works, and it will have you laughing if you watch it long enough. Eg - the designated sniper/assassin from the future is a tough-as-nails black chick - that weighs about 120 soaking wet. She does most of her wet work with one a those folding Kel-Tec 9mm rifles. The girl regularly pots the bad guys from hundreds of yards away with it. Of course they die and go down without even a twitch. The shitlibs that produced the show know nothing about guns - except that they are bad. In one scene they brought out a real sniper rifle - a long barrelled bolt gun with a proper high magnification scope - and she started potting villains with it … without closing the bolt! HAR HAR HAR! When she wasn't potting bad guys, she was beating the pooh out of her drunken abusive ex-husband. Or emoting over her baby - a toddling infant that does nothing but cry and scream in every scene it's in. (I wished one of the characters woulda dropped it down the garburator just to get some peace and quiet so I could hear the actors do their lines. I think women are immune to the crying infants but I am just guessing at that). All the characters come from a future where the gubbimint is run by an AI supercomputer and it is obeyed without question. The bad guys in the show are fiends that think people should think for themselves and make their own decisions and destinies. 

Bottom line: the story has a great premise and offers great promise but that is offset by the usual social justice bullchit that has consumed Hollywood. But if you treat it as a window into the workings of the shitlib mind - it's not bad at all. I give it 3 stars outta 5... which makes it twice as good as most of the Netflix offerings these days.

But it's too nice a day for wasting your time with that. Get outside and have yourselves a great Saturday.


Down 14 Pounds

And my dreams at night all go something 
like this.
Ever wish you could go back to sleep and get back

Goddammit! Ya just can't win.
If ya gobble like Garfield, Darwin and Murphy come for ya.
If ya diet, some smelly moslem chick 
comes at ya with a weed whacker.
It would seem that death, like life... is totally unfair.

Friday, 16 August 2019

Friday Heroine

I feel like Kim du Toit. He’s a dirty old man that pervs out over old cars and old broads that hit the wall back when the Chinese were building their wall to keep the Mongols out. In the end, time betrays us all.

So it is that I fondly remember my youth, lusting after a version of Wonder Woman that didn’t have armpit hair. In those days, men perved out over the heroine. Nowadays it’s 400 lb. she-twinks and sexually disturbed wahmen perving out over her.

Sob! Alas, Babylon.

Is that a ‘39 rag top Packard in the pic? I remember Quartermain had one a those with the bored out four banger that made 26 HP and 40 knots going downhill if ya had a tail wind! Godammitalltohell! I’m out of Metamucil again!!!

I Could Tell A Story About This One

... but it’d prolly get me Epsteined if ya
catch my drift...

Filthie Friday Philosophy Failure

Thursday, 15 August 2019

Where Is The Love And Romance!?!?


I kinda like A-House. She tends to control her emotions and hormones for the most part, and can usually defend her unpopular positions well. She’s apparently a hot shot legal beagle and law professor I guess. She’s also the poster girl for the repeal of the 19th Amendment and an example of why women shouldn’t be allowed into positions of authority and power. Who knows, perhaps she is being deliberately obtuse, here.

To answer her: Love and romance started to falter in the 60’s with the advent of the sexual revolution and the battle of the sexes. It died when that battle turned into all-out warfare in the 70’s and both the genders started treating each other with contempt and derision rather than love and respect. It was replaced with cold fury when 50% of the women divorced their men, and stole the kids and the family bank account in family court. Like most trashy women that do stuff like that, Althouse doesn’t get how behaviour like that will play out. Feminism is an attack on women, and when it gulls them into attacking their own men... the boys will eventually start defending themselves and might even be motivated enough to counter attack. This is the crux of 99% of domestic spousal abuse. The narrative has it that deficient men sometimes attack their families because they’re “bad” and “evil”. The woman is automatically presumed to be innocent. In the real world most domestic violence are cases of two idiots fighting and the weaker idiot losing. Much of those cases will include false accusations too... a huge problem with women that our courts still don’t address.

Men see this kind of stuff now. Not only that, they trade life stories and compare notes on the internet where The Narratives can’t be enforced. So... no, Althouse, men don’t trust women, nor should they.

But she can be given part marks: men should not be mutilating themselves because of this kind of shite either; the best fights are those you don't take part in. I tell young people that if they want a good, solid and happy classical marriage - they will need to preface it with a good solid classical courtship. I think young people get confused about marriage because they see the queers and liberals making a mockery of it every time you turn around... but the courts take marriage seriously because divorces are a big money maker for them.

But whadda I know? Have a good Thursday you guys.

Wednesday, 14 August 2019

Following Yesterday's Suicide Attempt

I might need a little help with this method. I'd ask the Clinton's but they are currently indisposed for some reason. That's gratitude for ya, after all the crank calls and letters I've sent them, you'd think they'd be more appreciative of my requirements! HAR HAR HAR!

I suppose I shouldn't joke about stuff like this. It's a serious problem these days where a quarter of our women are off their rockers taking psychotropic meds for depression, and us fellas have to man up and hold with increasingly crazy times. A good sense of humour should be considered one of the manly arts as it makes coping with tough times much easier.


Back At It

Well I am back looking for work again after some well earned and much appreciated time off. The job market is dismal in Alberta right now and I am at odds with myself on how to deal with it. My thinking is that work is work, and you take what you can get. Sure, in this day and age employees are easily expendable and replaceable - but I treat employers exactly the same way. If you treat me like chit, I will quit and move on without a second thought. I've seen people drive themselves round the bend with jobs they hate and I am not going to be one of them. Be damned if I will take my guns to work to settle scores with other disgruntled idiots, HAR HAR HAR!  My bills are all paid, and I don't care what I do as long as I work with good people that want to come to work in the morning and will treat me like a white man. (In the classical sense, not in the current pozzed terms). I am an old fart now, but I think I should be able to find something. My wage requirements are modest and I do good work.

By contrast - Big Al, whom I used to work with at a former employer's - was let go over a year ago and he still isn't working. Al got the dirty end of a very chitty stick - his family self destructed exactly like mine did, plus he got fired (whereas I quit), plus his wife divorced him - and there but for the Grace of God I could have gone, had not my wife been made of much better stuff. He says he's holding out for a good job and I hop he finds it. I think he is also taking some time to get his head on straight.

Do you all have jobs you like? I certainly hope so. Have a great hump day!

Tuesday, 13 August 2019

A Suicide Note From The Thunderbox

In some cultures like Japan suicide is a big deal. They'll recite poetry and do a soliloquy before they engizzard themselves in the ceremony known as seppuku … or maybe it maybe it's called sushi or something like that. But I digress.

Here at the Thunderbox we don't mess around! I just rummaged around in the gun safe, pulled out one a the .45's and grabbed a box of shells. All our big guns here at Castello Di La Filthie are in God's Calibre so that one was a no brainer actually.

Then I went to the liquor cabinet but I had to be a bit careful; some of the bottles are diluted with urine in case guys like Pete or Jack or Quartermain stop by. Balvenie Double Wood will kill me if my marksmanship or courage fail, HAR HAR HAR!!!

Then I sat down to chain smoke a carton of cigarettes and drink the whisky as I spiritually cleanse and prepare myself before doing what needs to be done. I rolled out a bunch a plastic so cleaning up the splatter should be a piece a cake. Dogs are downstairs - somebody be a sport and drop by and make sure they get taken care of, eh?

Not gonna leave a long suicide note full a accusations, bile and hate... but someone might be curious as to why I chose to leave this plane of existence. By way of explanation - it's the fault of American Digest.

See ya in hell, folks!


Monday, 12 August 2019

Summer’s Over

During my safari to Gomorrah Minoris Pacificae to study the hairless monkeys and tool-using super-simians in the lower mainland of BC, I smoked like a friggin stack! My tradition has been always been to smoke top flight stogies for a couple days each summer and then go back on the wagon when they're all gone. For me it is a formal event and a celebration of summer.

I bought three big gaggers and a tin of a bunch of small ones that I shared with Flapz. That was about a week ago and I'm still trying to get the taste out of my mouth! Right now I am seriously considering gargling with varsol. Not to bright a thing to do for a fella flirting with cancer, is it? For a couple days afterward I could have sworn that a magpie had shat in my mouth whilst I slept at night. GAH!

But... what I found odd this year was that I didn't enjoy them as much as I used too. I was looking forward to lighting up all year - I used to be a nicotine addict and habitual smoker - and I LOVE a good cigar. I only quit through sheer, boneheaded stubbornness just over ten years ago.

I honestly dunno if I will bother with them next year.

Blinded By SCIENCE

Warble gloaming propagates the same way.

Well he's at it again, spewing scientific blasphemy, heresy and apostasy hither and yon! He's gonna bring the Climate Inquisitors down on Camp Borepatch any day now at this rate! The rest of us will be cooking smokies and marshmallows when they burn him at the stake I suppose.

Actually, at the rate we're going, we'll be lucky if the filthie stinking rabble don't start hanging intellectuals and academics from the lamp posts. My outlaws used to drive me nuts with their shithouse science. You see, their son had a degree in public education - and when he started bloviating about the environMINT - everything he said had to be absolutely true because - he had a degree!!! It didn't matter if it was a mickey mouse BSc...He was an academic!!! He could run his mouth on anything - and he did - and his idiot parents would take it as gospel. I don't know how many holiday get-togethers that stupid sonofabitch ruined for me because I had to grit my teeth and shut it - or risk offending everyone in that family. Looking back on it - it was the stuff of high comedy. At the time it just pished me off no end the same way it does for the heretics at Camp Borepatch. Science - real science - doesn't work that way.

Here's one rule of thumb that will help separate a real scientist from a fake: a real scientist will never tell you "This is the way it is and here's why....". A real scientist will say, "This is the way I currently think it is, and this is the supporting information I was able to assemble...". A professional will never let ego or skin get into the game because he is trying to discover the truth and not fabricate it. He'll happily show his work to anyone that wants to see it and won't hesitate to evaluate conflicting evidence and opposing viewpoints.

I personally think the reason we are seeing so much fake science these days is because scientists and technologists used to be high status - and wherever you have power and influence, you eventually get grift, hucksterism, and corruption. What blows me away is that the scientific method is a relatively simple concept. It isn't trumped by peer review and the cool kids. How hard can it be?

For your Tuesday morning delectation, Thomas Dolby sings of the current state of scientific flubdubbery with this golden oldie. 

Have a good Tuesday folks - and if ya see any demented scientists out there - keep one hand on your sidearm, and the other on your wallet.  :)

Dawg Life

It is a truism that the eyes are the windows to the soul … and for this good boy, you can tell just by looking at him that nobody's home in the brains dept. I don't get dawgz, I just don't. Mort has to be the DUMBEST dog I have ever seen ANYWHERE... and I love him more than any dog I've ever had in my life... and I have had a few good ones in my time.

Maybe it's because we are kindred spirits and I don't have that much going on upstairs either.

An Escapee

This pink flower somehow escapes my two cycle weed whacker RAGE....

I love these. My wife has all kinds of renegade flowers that are just like her - they'll find a spot anywhere and bloom where they want. I generally try to avoid civilian casualties and friendly fire incidents when I am on weed patrol... but as with anything else in life... there's no guarantees.

English As A Second Language

Hoy! It’s jist gats tah be Ahstrallya dinnit?

As everyone knows I'm an academic with a flair for languages and can read and write in several fluently: Texan, Albertan, Bungholian, Bohunk with a smattering Chinglish and some of the more common mudflap dialects.

When I first heard the term 'hooning' I thought that maybe Quartermain had escaped to either Austrailia or New Zealand (I'm told there's a difference between the two) - and that he was up to his old tricks of pulling down his pants and making the girls giggle and the guys furious.

Apparently, hooning is the act of driving unsafely and irresponsibly - and they actually charge people for it as if it were a regular crime. Up here in Canada we accept it as a fact of life. You can't expect safety and responsibility from stubble jumping dirt farmers, senile stubfarts, cross eyed nine irons, hare lipped mudflaps and other vibrant and diverse drivers, HAR HAR HAR!!!

I remember a recent article about a year back in The Glob And Snail. Some exotic weirdo from over the rainbow was writing about a horrific crash on the 401 highway in Morontario. Apparently a whole car full of vibrant immigrants had been killed in the mishap, and we were all supposed to mourn the cultural loss and feel really really bad. But … the comments filled up with applause and hateful hilarity and cheerfulness, HAR HAR HAR! Comments were all like "What kind of vibrants were they? I hope they were black/yellow/brown/red/etc..." or "Gosh!!! I hope there were no empty seats...". The SJWs at the Glob started by deleting every third comment, then every second, and finally they deleted all the comments on the article. Even I go banned! HAR HAR HAR!!! There's another red flag for you, Filthie!!! Doh!!!

So the next time you're driving like a wanker down under, and some flithermedigit cuts you off in traffic, the proper question for the locals is, "Oy!!! Where'd yi lahn tih drive, yah fuggin hooner!?!?".
Dunno which side of the road they drive on Down Under - if ya figger it out be sure to let us know!

Have a great Monday! As for me - the summer is drawing rapidly to a close, and I am searching for work again. Wish me luck.


Tales Of Fear And Horror From The Canadian Prairies

Sunday, 11 August 2019

Sunday Morning Big Bore

Yannow I could never shoot the Winchester lever guns. I will probably get dragged out behind the barn and pounded for saying it - but the old 94 in .30-30... to me at least... is a POS. I bought one new as a kid and flogged it that same year. Skinbag had a Marlin lever gun in the same calibre with a Lyman peep sight on it - and it shot like a house on fire! We were busting clay pigeons set up on a berm at 100 with no problem. I wonder if the 94 Winchester would have shot as well with good peep sights?

That one above though... that's a different animal! It's an 1895 and I understand it was available in all kinds of great semi-obsolete calibres. Any a you boys ever shot one...? How'd you do with it?  Just looking at it I would say it seems to be a big step up from the classic 1894 lever gun... but whadda I know?

In the next life I fully intend to spend more time with the lever guns.