Deep Psychological Therapy: Patio Lanterns

Old fags farts like Quartermain and Jack get PTSD from flashbacks to their youth - when disco was king, faggy ruffles on clothing was all the rage, and you had more hair care products in your tackle box than your old lady had. I am a little bit younger and more youthful than they are, so my traumatic youth was a little more recent - sob.

I remember having hair on my head and no fur in my ears or on my body. I remember burning up miles on my road bike in my neon pink shirt and kevlar reinforced spandex cyle pants! HAR HAR HAR!!! Picture that in your minds, lads - and have fun trying to sleep tonight! HAR HAR HAR!!!

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But most of all I remember my wife and her beauty. And those uncertain first days of our relationship. Light years pass in the blink of an eye.

Maybe those patio lanterns WOULD work well

in the shitter?

It Is Sunday

 

You can stay in the fart sack and catch a few more Z’s.

As for me... I’ll roll out and get the blaze going and put

the coffee on...

The Road To Damascus

 

Coopville Has Fallen

 

It was all over when they got

the pizza

STOL or VTOL

 

YOU be the judge!!!

Mark Your Calendars, My Felonious Fellow Filthie Fascists

 

Remember folks - YOU are the conspiracy NUT!

I guess awhile back the FBI were on Twatter with an all points bulletin - they were on the look out for a domestic terrorist at the horrible Capitol Building Insurrection. They even posted a pic... and it looked like the perp is a 14 year old bubble gummer! HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! I hope your fearless G Men are up to the challenge of arresting such an obviously dangerous perp!!! If you need any help with that, just give our canary-legged Mounties a call. Those young teenage girls are so SCAREY!!! Good gravey! If the bogeymen aren't bad enough... now we have bogey-girls? The froots of equality are truly endless...!!!

In other news, I guess American Civil War 2 is supposed to start on Pedo Joe's inaugeration speech. I hadn't heard anything about it so I just thought I'd let all the other insurrectionists and deplorable haters know. Be sure to pass that along to the millions of other hateful white supremists and haters in your life, HAR HAR HAR!!! 

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Via M - The Tin Can Bandit

 

More here...

 

Heil Honkler

 

Ya Hear That Racket...?

 Music to my ears! You know how this works: ya poop into a paper bag. You wrap it up and stealthily put it on Old Man du Toit’s porch step. Then ya set it on fire, ring the doorbell and then run like hell! HAR HAR HAR!!!  The old geezer comes out and stomps the flames out...and then starts shouting and raging into the night darkness! Oh man!!! He’s going to get his M1 carbine! HAR HAR HAR!!! The good ol’ Flaming Bag O’ Laffs gets ‘em every time! He’s chimping out!!!

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Unfortunately, Old Man du Toit is flat out wrong about this one.

There are (theoretically) two right angles in this diagram. The theory goes like this: look at the progression of your basic geometric shapes: triangle. Square. Pentagon. Hexagon. Decagon. Etc. Etc. As the polygon gets more and more equal straight sides, the sides get shorter and shorter. As more sides are added, the polygon begins to resemble the shape of a circle. In theory, a circle is just a polygon with an infinite number of straight sides. It then follows that you can’t theoretically have two points so close together that you can’t draw a straight line between them. Therefore, on some infinitely small scale - there has to be two right angles on that diagram.

The Old Man may not like it, but... he is entitled to his own opinion, but not his own facts. Anyhoo... I have to wrap this up. The doorbell just went... I wonder who could be calling at this hour...?

Let There Be Light

 

I love Coleman lanterns. I couldn’t buy one that actually worked, though. Mine all hissed and sputtered and farted before trying to set you on fire. I bought two or three and right from new, out of the box, the sonsabitches tried to kill me. I dunno what I did to offend The Coleman Gods... but whatever it was, the sentence was death.

I had NO trouble with the stoves, my little single burner was more reliable than death and taxes. By contrast, my buddy Skinbag couldn’t make the stoves work to save his life. “These are simple machines, Filthie! All ya do is order a simple parts kit, put them in, and ya back in business...!” Skinbag was one of those guys where - to hear him tell it - he just had this natural mechanical aptitude that made him a handyman that could put real tool slingers like Phil and M to shame. I still remember him bragging as he swapped the parts out, oiled some others, and pronounced the job done. It was a good thing because the Dreadful Valley rifle rodeo was the next day and we’d but the stove to work on the coffee perkers. We were charging 50 cents a cup which would earn us enough money to buy another bag of Folgers for the next club shoot.

The next day we showed up early to get ready for the shoot and set up. The stove came out, I pumped it up... and it wouldn’t light. I clicked away with the cheap BBQ lighter... but that POS wasn’t gonna cook nothin’ for me. “Oh FFS, Filthie! Can’t you do nothing right?”

Of course, you know where this is going, right? Skinbag pushes me aside and is clicking away with the Fisher Price BBQ lighter and getting nowhere. Baloney Bob pipes up and says, “dribble a little fuel into the burner cup, and light that instead...”

The dribble of fuel lit up and sullenly burned and smoked. Skinbag leaned over with the can of fuel in his hand... annnnnd - 

FLUMPPPP!!!

Houston, we are GO for main engine start! Skinbag starts careening about, flapping and gobbling in fright. The arm of his plaid jacket was on fire, but fortunately he dropped the can of fuel before it ignited. Bob helped Skinbag shrug out of his jacket, and I carefully carried the stove out from the shooting shack and carefully set it down out front. The damned thing had singed the rafters of the shed when it flared up.

Once we got Skinbag sorted out everything went fine. The stove settled down to an efficient burn and did its job, we got coffee going for the shooters as they began to trickle in for the tournament and it was a great day. His jacket was only mildly singed, and nobody noticed the sooty smudge on the roof of the shed.

Take The Shot - I Dare Ya...

No, I will not be helping you pack it

out...

 

When I was a kid I saw myself as one of those skinny old guys that would go billy-goating up the mountainside to shoot the rams and goats and pose for hero pics. But something else happened - I got fat and stupid instead! I am just peachy if the critters keep their own skins.

F-Tard Friday - Rude Joke Round Up

 

Living On The Air In Cincinnati

 

In the Before Times, in the Golden Age Of Television... the broadcast networks managed to put on at least one good show every night of the week. Some were good enough that you could actually look forward to them and schedule your life around them. It was a good time to be a kid. There were still rational adults in the institutions, the nutters were largely marginalized and contained, and with a little effort you could still make a living and raise a family.

The other day on Blab one a the wanks posted a home vid about his school days and it went viral. He must have been about the same age I was, I instantly recognized the fashions of the kids and the other trappings of the era. There was nothing deplorable in the vid, just some random doings of highschool kids as they horsed around and goofed off set to 80s music. One of Blabsters said it was like watching a clip about life in a foreign country. Indeed it was... I wonder whatever happened to it? It almost evoked a sense of sorrow and loss. Everything has changed.

I also saw a blurb somewhere that Disney had flagged the old Muppets as being offensive and not suitable for children. Jim Henson must be spinning in his grave. Perhaps it is better that he’s passed; what would he make of Bert and Earnie, characters he created to help children learn how to read and count? Now they are a couple of faggots that push homosexuality and sodomy at children. The sense of cultural displacement really hit home after that clip of the high school kids. Then I watched part of an OyTube where that creepy Jewish man dressed in drag was getting interviewed by the politicos for... the Surgeon General? What did they call that farce? A confirmation hearing? GAH... Why not, I suppose - the president is a pedo so anything goes. 

It reminds me of that old gag by Red Green. One day he stopped by the 7-11 and was going in to buy smokes or a hoagie or something... when he spies some teens in the parking lot. They’re all smoking and gobbing and swearing, so Red gives them the very hell of it: “Yannow, when I die and pass from this world... it’s gonna be a good thing because then I won’t have to look at you kids carrying on like imbeciles...”. The kids turn around and tell Red it will be a good day for them too - for the exact same reason! HAR HAR HAR!

Come to think of it... I miss Red, Harold, Ranger Gord and all of those guys too.