Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

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

Monday, 30 September 2019

We Are Not Rome - We're Carthage


I've seen scholars like BP and The Z Man and various historically minded pundits draw parallels between our modern western civilization and Rome - that is - Rome at various points of its history. They make compelling comparisons and arguments. It's easy to see the parallels between the Rome rotted from within - and the feckless, disconnected turds that are our leaders today.

But this kid - he seems to be one of the NRx (Neoreactionary) ramrods... and he makes a very good case for us resembling our ancestors in Carthage, rather than those in Rome. If ya got a coffee and the time - it is well worth a read.

I flirted with Neoreaction because they are red pilled on most of the stuff that I am... but they kind of went off the rails with it. Like any other pill - you take too many of them, they will make you sick. But he is bang on the money when he says we are sacrificing our children to evil gods - and that it will come back to bite us on the arse. I decided early in the game that I wasn't going to be sacrificed, nor was my daughter - but they were too big for me. The state religion branded me an apostate for noticing that homosexuality was not a good thing, and a heretic when I said it was absurd and ridiculous to think otherwise.

Of course I lost that one, my own family rolled over me with all the power of a state theocracy and would surely have burned me at the stake or nailed me to a cross the same as for all other criminals or enemies of Rome. As it was, banishment was the best the zealots could do... and it worked for all concerned.

I wonder what the exiles and former citizens of Carthage thought as they watched their former city state set ablaze and the city they knew burned away?


The Curmudgeon Emeritus weighs in with his formidable intellect and corrects a major flaw that I see with Neoreaction - the idea that all women are bad, that they can't rise above their worse nature, and that they're little better than delinquent children:

"Women in civilized societies don't behave as the harridans of today behave...".

Second Coat

Here we go! Now we're going places...
I am guessing another two coats will be needed...

Plumb brown metal finishes don't sit well with a lot of folks because it resembles rust... which it is, I suppose. It is an acquired taste. Another coat or two will even up the blotches but the beauty of this finish is - that it's kind of a primitive form of the parkerized finishes on guns. The textures are very similar. Once I get this finish on - I will oil it and micropores in the finish will absorb the oil and help protect the piece. This time I dropped the temperature to about 295F, and kept applying the solution until the piece cooled. For some reason that resulted in a much more even application and absorption. I'm learning as I go. Now I have to root around and see what I have for wood stain... I think I will go with the ash handle and save the curly maple for some knives and a pipe hawk that I found amidst my plunder. I will need to make a sheath for it too.

I woke up rather peeved this morning. My weight loss has temporarily stalled and it is pishing me right off! I dumped 35 pounds and now... I am stuck. Yesterday I only ate rabbit food and one serving of rice - and managed to pick up weight! Granted, it was only half a pound - but the diet gods pish upon me this day! Screw them! I will get the best of them with the next Texas sized dump I take. They'll be seeing that one on the seismographs down in Texas too, HAR HAR HAR! I will generate a perfect 10 on the Rectum Scale! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Eerrrrrr… sorry folks. You didn't stop by to hear some retarded old fart laugh at his own pooh jokes, didjya? I will try and post something more intellectual in the next day or two.

Have yourselves a great Monday - if such a thing is possible! And thanks for stopping by!

Sunday, 29 September 2019

The Patriotic Cod Gobbler

I'm thinkin' he's a Newfie... Definitely east coast - all the guys in BC
are flimps and flits that would blow away in the breeze...
Of course I jest! 
That only holds true for the lower mainland!!!

Fall In The N.W.T.

Catch the rays while ya can, ladies!

Filthie's Fleas


Just lookit what the boys put up on the wildcat thread on the rod n' gun forum:

.14 Eichelberger Flea. Formed from .32 ACP
The 9gr on the left streaks out @ 3400 FPS with 5gr of H110
The 12gr on the right makes 3000 fps with 4.9gr of 2400 

Hmpffff! If that don't beat all... I wonder where he gets his bullets from? And... whaddya actually DO with it? Snap the mice in M's shop with it? HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! What a fascinating ballistic experiment! 

I've always wondered about the various .17 calibres, both center and rimfire versions... they look cool but from what I've heard and seen, the wind throws them all over the place. I have enough problem with that from my .22's. Fact is, my experience seems to be that the smallest you can go is about the quarter bores (.257) before wind becomes a BIG problem. How much do the bullets weigh? 15~20 grains?

Mouse gun ineed!

To: The Liberal Party Of Canada War Room

Ya might wanna keep your faggy paws off our guns too,
Just a suggestion...

Hmpffff - That Went Well...

Hmmm. Coulda done the same thing for free if I'd thrown it
in TB's garden and left it there for a year!

Nothing to worry about of course. This is just the first coat, and some wire brush work will even things up a bit. It's splotchy and I hope a few more coats will take care of it. I may or may not be able to achieve a perfect plum brown finish but even if it looks "antiqued" I will be good with it.

Antique hunters have to beware of guys like me. Sometimes crap like this finds its way onto the shelves of dealers and they aren't antiques at all - they just look like them and have been artificially distressed. I remember seeing "antique powder and shot flasks" at one dealer's and they came straight from Buffalo Arms or Track of The Wolf - and they probably got them from India or China. But they had the patina and some strategic dents going on and looked like they were 100 years old.

In any event, after church I'll get a wire brush on it and put 'er back in the sauna... and we'll see what happens. If worse comes to worst and it looks like hell, I will just sand it right down again and leave it in the white.

Sunday Spew

Two retards discuss saving the environMINT.

It wasn’t even close, the Swedish retard spanked the fwench one.

Yannow - ya can’t vote your way out of this, right? Example: Here in Alberta, our economy depends largely on oil. To get it to market, that means pipelines - we need to build several. What the Turdo Administration has effectively done - is give retards like Greta the legal veto on pipeline projects. (And of course crippling the oil and gas industry isn’t near enough to satisfy Greta; it’s not even a good start!). Another thorny group also has a veto: the First Nation Freeloaders. Those red niggers welfare bums get free food, free medical, free housing, free education, and yet their reserves are riddled with drug and alcohol addiction, incest, arson, and every other stripe of crime and corruption you can imagine. (Newsflash! It's all Whitey's fault!!!) These are the people that have crippled the oil and gas sector and will keep millions out of work. You know - the folks that pay the bills for children like Greta and Justin, as well as for all the freebies for the drunks and thieves rotting on the native reserves.

Even if Turdo gets turfed in the next election (and I am praying he does) - the damage is done. Up here in Canada we could give you Yanks lessons on Deep State corruption. I find myself falling back into the western separatist camp, that would have Alberta, Sask, and possibly part of BC secede from Canada - and leave those socialist morons to fend for themselves. But the numbers don’t work and separation comes with issues of its own.

One thing’s for sure... we really need to start getting tough with these people because the way they’re headed... we are in serious trouble.

Saturday, 28 September 2019

Saturday Morning Nice Butts

Black Powder Geek Saturday: The OLD and Improved 1911

There - now it's perfect!!!!

Sometimes in life, going backwards is better than going forward.

White Stuff On The Cars This Morn

The snow is not going to stay... but it'll be here soon enough. Trees are still hanging on to their leaves though. We've gotten in more than a few good fall dawg patrols while we could. Ol' Macey is in the autumn of her life too. I hope she can go another year or two... but she's fading. This morning at the dog park she got to chase Mort and another young one around a bit, and she had fun, she always does... but she couldn't keep up. The younger dogs play rough and I worried about her a bit. She's taken to falling down stairs now too, the senile old bint. She likes to be petted by the wife and loves it when I tell her what a fine and mighty hunter she is.

Please lord, just one more. Can I keep her for 
just one more year?

So with it crappy out, I am going to go ahead and do some fine farts n' craps arts and crafts. I've been dreading this - I have a little belt axe kit that I bought from the turkeys at Track Of The Wolf years ago... I like these because they are light and handier than most camping hatchets made today. It'll ride well on by back quiver with all my hunting arrows.

You can go nuts with these things. I sanded off the protective layer coat on the head and took it down too 330 grit. I can leave it as it is ("in the white" as the black powder geeks like to say) or I can take a shot at putting on some Birchwood Casey plumb brown. This stuff is finicky; it will take to some steels well, others look like chit. The head's been edged, de-greased - and I threw it in the wife's oven to heat up whilst she is conveniently out shopping and can't see what I'm up to in her kitchen! HAR HAR HAR!!! The solution is heat activated and is chemically a controlled form of rusting. (If I turn up dead with this axe buried in my noggin, you know the drill - make sure I get a decent burial out at Coopville, and don't let Quartermain or Jack desecrate my corpse. Those two are intensely jealous of my rugged good looks).

If it turns out well, I will throw that ash handle in the garbage and make a better one out of curly maple - I have a sweet chunk that has been hiding in my stash for years. What I want is a nice flat brown that won't reflect sunlight. A lot of people think that the plumb brown finish should be glossy like gun blue - or at least I did. But the black powder geeks told me that you don't want to finish a piece to be browned much finer than 320 grit - so I may have yet dodged Darwin and Murphy on this project. We will see!

I'll keep y'all posted and let ya know how it turns out. Do you have any arts n' crafts on the go?  If so, let me know in the comments and be sure to have a great Saturday!



Friday, 27 September 2019

Meanwhile, In Africa

World famous adventurer, novelist, and man-about-town... WL Emery checks in while on safari in Africa:

Thankfully I won't have to send him any congratulatories 
on tagging out... yet.

Filthie's Friday Mouldy Oldies

All I gotta say about anything these days about personal relationships and such - is that it is mighty easy to jump out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I've seen friends do it and I nearly did it myself at one point. I lucked out and I should be alright - provided that the old lady never regains her sense of sight and smell! HAR HAR HAR!!!

Yes, you Gen X and Millennial twerps - your parents and grandparents were
horn dogs in their day too!
Enjoy the mental image that one conjures up, kids!

First Blood

FFS! Goddammitalltohell!!!

Errrr... sorry everyone! It's kinda early to be hopping mad this morning... but lookit what came over on the cell this morning - from my arch enemy, King Peter:

That fuggin bohunk!!! He probably got it with that big bejeezus
.300 Rem Ultramag of his!!!!

I shouldn't be so petty and jealous... but I am! Dammit!!!!  😆

I dunno if I will make it out this year - we'll see. Wouldn't mind getting a little white tail buck or doe. The guns are ready to go - I can hit the field with a dialed in Ruger No.1 in 25-06, and I am rapidly getting on top of my preferred weapon of choice - a reproduction of the old Remington rolling block single shot in 45-70. The other day I got the chrono on the Big Roller … and I am pushing my cast lead boolits a smidge too fast. I need to slow them down about another 100~150 FPS and they should be good to go. I am getting a bit of leading in the bore and that is pishing me off big time. I'm working on some other reloading tricks and tips to tighten up the groups too. But on another front... an alarming situation has arisen with my skill sets.

When I was a kid, I had one of those cheap Buck folders as a hunting knife. I had a fairly pricey soft Arkansas stone and I had that thing just stropped. One day at work, Skinbag was making fun of my cheap blade - so I snatched the prick's apple out of his lunch, tossed it in the air and dramatically swiped the blade through it - and then caught the apple as it fell. The two pieces pulled apart to show a flawless cut and all the boys burst out in laughter at my swordsmanship. Skinbag gawped and tried (unsuccessfully) to find something smart to say.

There is NOTHING wrong with these little folders made by Buck.
The cool kids may snort with disdain and disgust and carry expensive customs
but it is what it is - these inexpensive knives will do the job
just as well and they will last a lifetime if you take care of them.

I can't sharpen a knife to save my soul now. I dunno what it is. Maybe they use different steel, more likely I've old and stupid...

I had to ask my wife to get me one of those knife sharpeners for retards. Yeah, they'll put an edge on a knife... but hell's bells - you don't get the same scalpel like edge that you can from a soft Arkansas stone... and someone that knows how to use it. I have to get the wife's kitchen blades done sometime today.

Welp - now I gotta swallow a great big smelly corn spackled Texas sized turd - and send my congratulations to King Peter on his elk!

This "grumpy old man" stuff is tough business sometimes.

Have a great Friday all! And get off my lawn!!!!

Thursday, 26 September 2019


My Dad has one just like it. Although, Pop's is still
in mint condition and ready to go back to work - even
50 years after he bought it.
Pop is the kind of man that wipes down the lawn mower after using it.

That looks exactly like Pop's. He was a Snap-On guy and he worked on everything from jet engines on down. Like my wife and I, when he and Mom were just starting out, money was tight and Pop paid for his tools in blood. Mom would burst into tears in the early days if Pop lost a tool and had to replace it because money was so tight. Of course I don't remember any of it, by the time I came along Dad's apprenticeship was behind him, and he was a respected journeyman and the economy had started to boom. By the time I was in junior high school he was wearing a suit, running the municipal vehicle and equipment services and only got his hands dirty at home when he tore cars and motorcycles apart for us kids. We used Pop's tools then for ourselves and poor Dad went nuts when we mixed them up or lost them ourselves.

What grabs me about this pic - is that one of my former customers up in Fort Mac was the MAC Tools dealer for the area. Ol' R was the top salesman of MAC Tools worldwide during the second oil boom and all the projects were going crazy. One day I dropped in and he was going nuts - his sales guys were all tied up, more customers were coming in the door... and it was obvious my sales call was blown. I was going to leave when R saw me and asked if I could help the kid out back unload a truck that just pulled in. Sure, no prob! (It was one of the best things I ever did - in gratitude R later introduced me to any number of big wheels on the projects in supply chain management - and I started making big sales too).

We must have unloaded about 12 tool boxes that were close to three times bigger than the one in the pic. When I thought about it - it made sense. Back when Pop bought his tools most mechanics couldn't afford their own impact or pneumatic tools - those were very expensive back then and usually they were purchased as shop equipment. Later, R told me that there were even bigger ones available. Mechanics nowadays have all kinds of cheap, disposable power tools of their own that Pop never would have access too in his day.

Dad DID have some cool stuff though. He had a complete miniature ratchet and socket set- made by Snap On - and it must have cost a fortune in it's day. What was it? 1/8" drive? I think I remember him saying it cost over $300.00 - back in the 1960's when you could hire a good mechanic for six or seven bucks an hour. He must have used it on the jets because I never saw him used them on the machines around the farm.

Criminal Threat Potential Assessment Guide

At what point does a rude joke stop being funny - and become a statement of truth?

Filthie's Hollywood Minute: Geezers

Don’t get me wrong. I love them too, no matter
how old they become.
But... there comes a time to hang it up.
I can’t bring myself to watch a geriatric 

And speaking of Sylvester...
I wonder if this isn’t another sales tactic?
They did it with that black stand up comic: the non-binary
transgendered unicorns at Rotten Tamatahs egged his
act as racist and crime-think - and the stinking
masses gave the critics the finger, and the buck got
rave reviews from the customers. In all honesty his
act wasn’t that great, IMO. All he did was give the finger to
political correctness.
Are the social justice warriors and sensitivity flakes
Unpopular enough to drive box office ticket

Wednesday, 25 September 2019

The Whole Nine Yards

The expression, "He got the whole nine yards!" comes from these guys.
The machine guns on the old bombers ran on ammo belts
that were approximately 9 yards long.

Hmmmm. Let's do some chit house math and figure it out: what are those? .50 cal? 9 yards equals 27 feet, 12 inches to the foot, 1/2" equals .50 cal....324 x 2 = 648. But, the 50 cal is a bottle neck, with the body of the shell wider than the bullet, so...600 rounds, thereabouts? 

I always wondered about that. Look at the old B-17’s. They literally bristled with machine guns. In large squadrons you’d think they could throw up a wall of lead that nothing could get through. How in blazes could the enemy planes wreak such devastating losses on them?

Welp... here’s how: this is what goes on in making a hit on attacking enemy aircraft.

You have at most, a few seconds. While you’re firing, he is too.
If he hits, you or your squaddies turn into
a red mist and pudding.

No pressure. You got this.

Where did these men get their courage?

Falling Away

It’s funny, the connections your mind makes when you’re half way between this world and that of your dreams when you wake in the morning. I saw this one up at Gorges' place... and it just seems to put everything in perspective. My wife and I are somewhere between that 3rd and 5th frame from the left. The only difference is I will almost certainly  go first. 

We’ve done alright. We met as teens, lived our lives as well as we could, and so far, by the grace of God... we’ve survived all our own mistakes and those made by others in our family. I have my regrets but these days... who doesn’t?

As I cruise through the blogs and nooze this morning, I see people foaming at the mouth over the antics of some 16 year old Swedish child activist that’s out to save the enviroMINT. Her parents are greasy, elderly hippies and as you’d expect, and they’re idiots too. Pelosi is finally going to impeach The Bad Orange Man - they got him THIS time, by Godfrey!!! Everywhere, stupid people clamour for attention with stupid props and stupid issues.

Up there in the pic... I have maybe two and a half frames left. The other three and some were spent amidst the noise and mayhem, consumed with confusion, trying to appease and live beside such stupid people but thankfully ... they’ve since fallen away. I still have - God willing, knock on wood and all that - around two and a half frames of my life cycle to focus on what I have left, and what is important. So - what would that be, exactly?

Life is just a breath or a puff of a breeze... and then it's gone.

Tuesday, 24 September 2019

YOU Made Yourself Fat, Lard Ass!

No, the gubbimint did not make you fat.
You did, dumbass.
That one looks incorrect to me. Aren't the fruit and veggies
supposed to be on the bottom layer of the food triangle?

As somebody speaking from experience... no, the gov't did not lie to you and force you to become fat. And no, BS fad diets and pills will not make you slim. If you are overweight, unless you have a medical condition or a metabolic problem... the fault is yours, pure and simple. And the good news is - it's an easy problem to cure. Do the American/Canadian Food Guide and you're in the home stretch.

The hardest part is getting started. The other part is that you have to think differently too and look at food only as fuel. My favourite stunt is to graze while surfing the net and watching vids - my computer is as full of crumbs and food as it is with electronics, HAR HAR HAR! GAH!

The last thing is exercise and physical fitness. I still have to address that one myself. We'll be out on Dawg Patrol shortly - you lot keep your hands where we can see them and behave yourselves - we will be watching you VERY carefully! Filthie is watching you! HAR HAR HAR!

Have a great Tuesday!

Monday, 23 September 2019

Monday Gun Day

As a kid I used to waste a lot of money on the gun rags. I dreamed then of being a man, able to buy whatever gun I wanted too and being able to shoot whenever. I dreamed of hunting trips with belted magnum rifles and outfitter tents and campfires. I was the weirdo in my family because I liked all that kind of stuff. For them, their idea of camping was a trailer - stuffed in a campground side by each with hundreds of others all round. But there were still a lot of old world outdoorsmen in those days and most of them knew exactly where I was coming from.

Old gun magazines are like time machines. Ike, Clark Gable and The Duke were all before my time, but for awhile their times and cultures overlapped with my own. You could still have a rod and a gun in the rack of your pick up. It was common for men to swap tips and lies about hunting and fishing. Our fathers put their guns in a rack at home too. The idea of blaming lawful gun owners for gun crime was laughable to anyone with an IQ above freezing. Where did that world go? And where in blazes did this one come from?

Also worth your time, if you're so inclined - is the latest from Private McKenzie in BC. He has an excellent presentation on the Canadian Ross rifle.

A hundred years ago I found myself in a gun shop, in a day when good mil surplus guns were still a dime a dozen. The sales guy on the counter (correctly) saw me as a potential rube and tried to offer me a Ross rifle - and I told him to shove it up his arse! I was a noob, not a rube... and I knew junk when I saw it. When he got snippy about it the other smelly and noisy patrons chimed in on my behalf and told him to shove it too - sideways! HAR HAR HAR! No shooter in his right mind would touch one of those junkers with a ten foot pole! The clerk snorted with dismay and roughly threw it back into a barrel full of other milsurp junkers.

But the Ross rifle is a funny animal - in spite of its shoddiness, in spite of being the worst rifle ever fielded by the Canadian armed forces, in spite of being built by Canada's shittiest people in Queerbec… this thing has become the Holy Grail for collectors and Crufflers! Guys like Rob here, will pay obscene prices for minty specimens.

With all due respect to Rob, the curators and crufflers - they can have the lot of them with my compliments!

Cabin Porn: Filthie’s Playhouse

Yesterday the wife and I took the motorcycle out for a Sunday drive after church. I was in my shirt sleeves enjoying one of the last days of fall. Forecast says we’ll probably be scraping our windows in the morning next week. The trees were in glorious fall colour. Big Red rolled over 20,000 clicks yesterday. 

Afterward the wife and I put the bike back in the shed, put the helmets away... and we flopped out and started chatting about everything and nothing... the way we used to for hours when we were younger. She said that perhaps we need another small shed in the yard.

The idea has merit for us. Our current shed is about the size of a mini-garage and just as elaborate. It’s got siding and shakes and windows but it’s full - with the bike in there, and the yard machines and camping stuff there is no room for anything else. Perhaps another smaller one?

I think the Kippers call them potting sheds where the old lady can go in and put flowers in pots and store her gardening junk and do greenhouse stuff. Maybe have a small wood stove so I can heat it up and go out and cast lead even in the cold of winter. (She gets mad when I cast bullets in the basement. Like many she is overly paranoid about lead poisoning).

I’d be just peachy with the one in that in the pic... but I think the wife has something in mind that would match the house and the existing shed. We’ll see if it happens I suppose.

Hope Monday goes as good as Sunday did! Thanks for stopping by.

Sunday, 22 September 2019

Sunday Back Channels: Wife. Mother. Servant Leader....

Ulp… sorry everyone. I was over at Firehand's and mixed amongst the schmeeb and gun stuff was this malodourous piece of excrement. Why... I do believe I think I'm going to hurl!


Why, they would never burn books! That's what fascists do!!! The ones they don't like will just be quietly thrown away while nobody's looking, and politically correct ones will be substituted! Dear God. I see cats in this woman's future... and I pity the felines. This woman is not an outlier, or an exception. Most public school teachers are just like her. Many are worse.

What a bint. My former brother in law and his wife were 'public educators' too. My brother in law was a narcissist, and he had a fast mouth, I'll give him that. I learned early in the game not to argue with him; like most Marxists, he could make a single statement loaded with so much bullchit, that it would take you an hour to refute it... then he'd just throw out another stick for me to go barking after. Eventually I just dismissed him by saying that fast talk and bullchit was just that - and boy, he was FULL of it. He didn't like it... but he was a liar and a cheat and had even been caught at it a time or two. But to his parents, he was perfect and walked on water and could do no wrong. His wife, at the time, was a militant liberal feminist and considered herself a formidable intellectual and academic. Her father was an egg head prof over at the U of A and had gone through at least three divorces. But he WAS a certified academic and intellectual and to my outlaws, and that made him a rock star for the outlaws. I can just imagine how his daughter grew up. It explained a few things about her I guess.

Perhaps I am biased, I hated teachers as a kid and as an adult, I despise these unionized pooch screwers even more. But back then I was still blue pilled, with obligations to keep the family peace and I honestly struggled mightily and often to see things their way. But you all know how that works... at some point the things you see just don't jive with what you're told. I got that ol' red pill as a suppository when my daughter 'woke' and came out of the closet to announce that she was queer. In the process, what she really announced was that she was seriously deluded, immature, and seriously mislead - and that we had all better go along with it because that was the way the world was going. When the red pill came... I realized at that point that I no longer had a place in the family and probably this world as well. I learned later that my brother in law and his wife had divorced and at first I laughed. He'd gotten fed up with the woman and traded her in on a younger and more compliant model. Then I thought about my young nephew and niece... to be raised by yet another failed single mother.

People exactly like them, and the stunned bint in the article - are at work on your kids every day if they are in a public school. I can tell you for a fact that that harridan is not uncommon or unusual amongst our public educators. One of the speechers at our little chapel is a teacher, and I remember him griping about a kid who was in junior high, "wrestling with his sexuality" and he could not help - he literally would get fired if he tried to talk straight to the kid. He had to send the child to another 'servant leader' for counselling, and you can just imagine what kind of 'counselling' he got. It seems to be a theme with the fellas to not 'be of this world'... and I really think that they are onto something - whether you agree with the faith or not, this world is heading to nowhere good.

Jess seems to be kinda-sorta on a parallel course - a lot of this crap flies simply because we don't stand up to it. Instead we try and do what our upbringing has taught us: be fair, be tolerant, make sure you aren't giving somebody the shaft, everyone gets a fair shake... and now our Servant Leaders are clucky old women who  bin books that they don't agree with - and tell our kids that the rectum is a sex organ, that race and gender are imaginary, that the Bad Orange Man in the Whitehouse is a puppet of Russian conspirators. Why do we put up with this?

For the love of God - stay close to your kids. Don't assume anything with them, especially if they are in a public school. This is no joke - your kids are part of a social experiment that is guaranteed to end in tears and probably blood.

Hold them close, and have a great Sunday you guys.

Awful Things Going On At Coopville

Saturday, 21 September 2019


I laughed when I saw this. It made me smirk to see old geezers grinning
like teenagers on their iron horses.
Then I looked in the mirror and saw another ugly old geezer
with a grey beard and all his hair fallen out...
and HAR HAR HARed again.

Saturday Sod Busters

They Say Ya Dream In Black And White

I dream in shades of red.

But if I had to dream in black and white...
I don’t think it’d be much of a problem.

Pardon My Fwench, But....Mr. Prime Minister....?

Fuck you, your father, and the pig you flew in on, Justin...

Canadian politics are enough to drive you nuts. I have to be careful about what I say out in the clear like this because there is a very good possibility that Justin Turdo could win the next election in October. Politically, the closest thing you Yanks have to this idiot is Beeto O'Rourke. Could you imagine having that tool for a POTUS? That is literally where we are at right now. I'm not kidding - this kid just jammed on the electoral debates and didn't even show up. In his latest scandal, pics have surfaced of him dolled up, playing dress up in blackface - and apparently there is nothing more racist and sinful to shitlibs... unless it's one of their own doing it of course. Our shitlibs work the same way yours do apparently. Up here in Canada, we are ruled by three city states, and all are bastions of leftwing lunacy: Tranna, Mon Trail, and Hongcouver. All of those cultural cesspools produce militant homosexuals, pedos and trannies, Marxists, and certifiable loons. And of course, they are going to go after crime by harassing legal gun owners. Fuck you again, I say.

Assholes. I shouldn't lose my mud yet, there is a fair chance this idiot gets turfed in the next election too. Like I say... this is Canada, and when it comes to the pozzed big cities anything can and does happen. To be fair, I don't think this is part of a communist plot. Most libs sincerely believe that confiscating guns will reduce crime. 

In my case, the cops are going to have to buy back a stripped lower (and I will demand top dollar for it) - because you see, I legally sold off all the other parts to some dood somewhere (sorry, the name eludes me) - with the intent of building my ultimate AR match rifle from the ground up.

I have a message to the RCMP too. I like cops, and my heart goes out to you rank and file working slobs just trying to do your job. As it stands now, if you knock on my door and need help at 2:00 am in the morning - I will invite you in for coffee and ask how I can help. But - if you go along with these shitballs in enforcing unethical, useless legislation like this... welp, it will be a case of fuck you too, get a warrant and I will call a lawyer because I won't give you the time of day without a court order and an act of Parliament. If I see some cop taking a beating at the hands of some thug - none a my business, you will be on your own. Just following orders didn't work for the Nazis and it won't work for you.

Question: is there any paperwork involved in purchasing a stripped lower in the States? Asking for a friend...

Sorry all. My Saturday is off to a nasty start. Coffee and food is required...

Friday, 20 September 2019

Filthie's Friday Single Shot Chitshow

I decided to take a break from the job search and get out today and get some sun. I have been sick as a dog for the last couple weeks and now I am slowly shaking it off. With deer season looming, and a possible shot at an elk... I seriously have to get my poop in a group and get after it.

I'm still torn about what to hunt with, but it's looking like the trusty Ruger No.1 is going to be the one to go this year. At least, for now.

Unfortunately I didn't have a bunch of components stockpiled for this gun. All I had were some 120 gr. Nosler partitions and H4895... hardly ideal, but as I am between jobs and trying to live a more frugal life... I went with what I had. I wish like hell I had a can of 4350, but you go hunting with the guns and ammo you have, not the ones you want.

Groups averaged just over 1 MOA. That's disappointing enough, given
that 20 years and 40lbs of gun powder ago - this beast would 
turn in groups about half to three quarters that.
It'd work for hunting but velocities sucked balls - averaging 2450 FPS
with a standard deviation of 39 FPS.

Folks, I just dunno about that. Boy, those velocities are dismal, with the proper fuel thet gun should be launching them about 300~400 FPS faster. For short range it might do... but I really gotta think about this one. No way will I take a poke an elk with this one. Once I got zeroed I went out to 200m.

At 200m this group was about 3.5" and while the accuracy is barely acceptable...
I am not sure the ballistics are...

When I ran out of 25-06 ammo I dug out my beloved Remington Roller Repro Retirement Rifle and went to work.

I really, really want to hunt with this rifle, using my own cast lead boolits and home brewed
45-70 ammunition. Dammitandblast - this gun wants to shoot!
I know it, I can feel it... but....

I'm getting there. Slowly. Oh, so friggin slowly... I have to learn to cast good bullets and around here, there aren't many casters or BPCR guys... so I am on my own learning as I go. But - I have good help from my arch enemy stubfarts on the rod and gun forums... and there's the odd helpful tip to be found on OyTube.

With those new and improved home cast 515 grain Money point boolits, I put about 8 or 9 into the black. That top one is a sighter. If I discount it all the rest
went into about 3-1/2"
According to the cool kids, a good BPCR rifle should be able to group between 
2~3" at 100m and some of 'em will do that at 200m.
Off to the right, out of the black, are about four shots with 350 gr. cast lead flat points.
Again, the top one was a sighter - and the other three
seemed to go into about 3-1/2" as well.
I am not sure where the problem is in my shooting; or is it my cast lead boolits? Or did I 
drink too much coffee this morning?

In other good news, I almost made an ass of myself when my pants just about dropped around my ankles on the range! I shrugged them up and had to keep a handle on them until I got home and punched another hole in my belt. The weight loss continues apace, and I couldn't be happier. I've heard that some Marines have disgraced themselves by Flying Maggie's Drawers on the rifle range... welp… I flew Maggie's Drawers AND my own today! HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!!!👍

When I really started to suck the wind started to kick up, I started thinking about packing up and going home. Apparently my Maker was so disgusted with my shooting He decided to end it all  - and He rained me out.

Within a minute and a half - my guns and gear were all drenched.

Trying to hold my pants up, I hurriedly packed up the rifles and all my gear but it was too late. Everything got soaked. I have my range bag emptied out and everything is drying out downstairs as we speak. It was a great day, with the leaves changing colour, and the rifles slowly coming around. 

Hope y'all have something fun lined up for tonight. As for myself... I'm cleaning and oiling my rifles and drying everything out. 

Distant Roads...

Do you remember scenes like this from your childhood?

I will always remember the sense of forlorn desolation when my friends moved away. They were off to colourful exotic places with lives of adventure ahead of them... and I was stuck here in boring old Alberta where nothing ever happens. I wished I could sail away from here with them.

As I got older I became rooted here, for some reason. I'd seen friends and family uproot themselves and move clear across the nation to pursue jobs and careers... but for some reason we always stayed planted here. Moving away might be good for one of us, financially, but not for both. Selling one house and buying another never seemed to be something that would work in our financial favour, and all our families were here. Moving never seemed to make sense. Besides, I'd seen people sell their souls and move everything to grease the wheels of their careers and for many it just didn't work out. My wife's family is from the Maritimes and their hearts and souls were always back there. They got stuck out here when their kids established themselves here... and though they had the big house, the three car garage and a comfortable retirement ahead of them - they missed their family and roots back east. They were and are far from home. And - when you spend that much time away... you can never spiritually go home again. The people and times change, and the world moves on.

Today we are doing well enough for ourselves. Sure, we live in a modest home... but it's paid for, as are the vehicles and other debts that a family accrues and pays off over the years. We are not rich, but we're free - and thank God for that. But... with the family in shambles, and we have no further ties here... sometimes I get restless. I see job opportunities elsewhere and don't apply for them because of the move that it would entail.

Unless the wife decides otherwise I think I am going to stay here, and die here. There's not many better places to be for a fella like me... and a lot that could be much worse.

Do distant roads call out to you? And from where?

Super Hero Movies

So I'm sitting here, watching my childhood heroes get demolished by social justice warriors, Hollywood homosexuals and perverts, and flabby, man-hating she-twinks with face jewelry and pink hair. And I don't know what to think of it!

I am so old that I remember getting scolded because comic books were considered to be mind-numbing trash by my parents' generation. Mom tried to get me away from them by buying me novels and books that might better challenge a ten year old's intellect - and she had some limited success. I started blowing my allowance on classic novels like Journey To The Centre Of The Earth, Frankenstein, War Of The Worlds, etc etc. It kinda backfired on her too, the poor woman. She was a voracious reader too, and occasionally she strayed from the usual "chick lit" like the Harlequin bodice rippers, and bought thrillers and suspense novels. I started pinching those and was reading at an adult level by the time I hit grade 4. She was horrified when I started sputtering and cursing with rage at the crap I was reading in her TIME magazines. I will always remember it - some simpering faggot at the magazine was ripping on the baby raping, murderous American war machine and had posted a pic where some fellas were posing with the severed heads of a couple Viet Cong gooks - and I started crowing, "Mom!!! Mom!!! I wanna go to Viet Nam!!!!" Mom was a shameless shitlib even back then and she turned a sickly shade of green. But - even with all the great and bad reading material I had access to - I was still a kid and enjoyed my comic books for a year or two after that.

Now they're changing all the characters in the name of social justice. Thor is going to be a woman from here on out, Captain America is going to be a nogger or some vibrant, and the rest are being turned into queers, trannies, and all the other frooty flavours of the LBGQT rainbow. From what I've heard they cranked out a few vibrant and diverse movies and they are starting to bomb at the box office. Good grief - their new Wonder Woman has hairy armpits and a face that won't make young girls on psychotropic anti-depressants feel bad about themselves.

Yannow… if you're going to do shite like that... at least do it right:


I wonder if we could get the legendary pervert author, WL Emery
to write the script for the 
next exciting adventure of Spider Woman?

Have a great Friday you guys. And stop reading those trashy comic books!!!

Deal Only In Certanties

The times are coming when we may all need friends
of this calibre.

Memes From The Timberland

I am guessing Texas or Alberta... probably
at a truck stop...

I get up early to drain the worm...

I'm guessing Texas for sure on this one...

Thursday, 19 September 2019

Catching Z's

Fear Not The Gun

Well it looks like I've started another retard blog war. Not much to see there other than the usual retard slap fight that I've had before on the subject of hobby drones with Aesop, Pete, and the usual old farts that run around in Velcro shoes, squishy adult diapers, gobbling and clucking in fright about things they don't know about.

When the fight first started the hens were saying that terrorists would kill millions using drones to do the dirty work. They envisioned them being used to bust tanks, wipe out Marines by the platoon, transport drugs across the border - you name it. To support them - a couple of brainwipes actually tried to do it. One was a disgruntled retard whom the cops picked up with little trouble and the attempt failed. In another, some rag head in the sand box tried to frag some Marines in the sandbox and failed. But there a few cool CG animations that showed them doing just that, so I guess they figured it just HAD to be true!  Of course it all came from yellow journalists and the usual obscure and disreputable rag sheets and webzines. They write crap like this all the time in an effort to sensationalize and create controversy and click bait. It works for the older folks, I guess.

Apparently I was proven wrong by the cool kids and my moral and intellectual superiors as evidenced in this latest attack in Saudi Arabia. For us to have a debate, we need to first of all be intellectually honest (fat chance of that!), and we need to clarify and define our terms. For the purposes of my side of this argument:

This is a hobby drone. If you remove the camera and gimbal system,
the bigger ones MIGHT lift a payload the size of a standard hand grenade.
It won't fly well, and any degree of precision will be impossible.
No, you won't bust tanks, sink warships, or frag regiments of Marines with it.
In fact, it will do well if it even reaches the target.

This is one of the suspects in the attack on the Saudi refinery.
This is a weapon of war, designed from the ground up to be a weapon.
In point of fact, it is better described as a cruise missle 
rather than a drone.
The turbine propulsion puts this weapon out of reach of your
average smelly rag head terrorist. It must be built, maintained, and deployed
by trained experts.
That in turn would infer some kind of gov't support.

This is the General Atomics MQ9 Reaper drone. When we refer to drone 
weapons, this is generally what we are referring to. We could hand over
every single last one of these to the rag heads and they would be flummoxed.
They have their hands full with the workings of a modern flush toilet - so
sophisticated weapons like these don't make sense to them at this time.
This warbird carries missiles, does recon work and comes home to refuel and re-arm.
It employs hardware, software and firmware that is at the cutting edge
of technology today.
They are the perfect weapons to use against foreign terrorists that fight like dogs
and live in caves and mud huts. For a sophisticated 
adversary...? They're slow, not particularly stealthy, and carry
modest payloads.

Getting back to Pete and Aesop - no, hobby drones will not be used to kill our forces anytime soon. And no, cheap hobby electronics will not be jury-rigged into sophisticated weapons platforms like the Tomohawk cruise missile or the Reaper Drone.

Rather than trying to soothe the ruffled feathers of hysterical old war gamers, I think we really need to take a hard look at our threat assessment methodology instead. We're getting bogged down on the weapons when we really need to look at the people abusing them. These guys can and have flown airplanes through sky scrapers. They've shot up bus loads of school kids and innocent civilians to score political points. Now they are attacking undefended refineries.

Historically we have been here before. The ancient Romans had nothing but trouble with the outlying tribes as they sought to maintain their empire. Eventually they were forced to massacre a few of the tribes right down to the last man, woman and child. And it worked - for awhile. But later, as their leaders weakened the empire started to rot from the inside as ours is doing now - the tribes grew stronger and came back to sack Rome and plunge the world into the dark ages. Today the democrats are trying to flood our nations with violent savages and human trash imported from the third world, and they're going to try and grab our guns too.

I personally think we have far more pressing and urgent things to worry about. As usual, it is the people, not the technology and hardware that poses the problem.