Only The Best: The Peerless Side By Each

The grouse season almost upon us…

The Filthie Aniquarian

 

Once again I have assembled a collection of strange and marvelous artifacts from days gone by.  Can you identify any of them...? 

I might have seen one of these as a kid.

Can't remember what it was for...

something in the kitchen maybe...?

This is an octopus defibrillator....

This is the commode located under the hood

of a 1956 Volvo 5 cyclinder

Furfenuggrn. 

M has one and was kind enough to let me use it.

This is a shoe thing.

It's not a meat grinder or a can opener.

Given the brand it must be a sewing thing.

No friggin idea...?

If there are any geezers out there that can shed some light on these strange and wonderous artifacts, we would appreciate your enlightenMINT.

Well Thank Goodness We Got THAT Straightened Out...

 

.

 Y’know everyday I seem to hear about the dangers from the far right. But there are absolutely NO threats at all from the far left! Good heavens, no!!! Apropos of nothing at all… if you strive for any form of self suffiency…you are political threat from the far right.

…which is why they will try to outlaw it…

I love the farmer’s markets and not for any political reasons. Good gawd - everything is political now. And  at the official level, there is no longer any such thing as “left” or “right”. They’re all on the same team and all their debates and differences are just so much a finger puppet show as anything else. Out on the street, politics are now left, right, up, down, forwards and backwards…. And the best we can hope for is a gridlock so that they tie each other’s hands and can’t do anything.

We should have started cracking heads when they turned the Chinkypox into a state religion. If they start going after farmer’s markets…?

Aw chit. If I keep going I’ll be fedpoasting again. 

Dad Joke

Now we’re talking!

Why bugger about with foolish puns

when a good wet fart is available 

to lift spirits and morale?

🤣 💨 

Units Of Measurement: Gigapizza

 

…terrapizza…?

The Filthie Undertaker

 Well I had my chores all laid out for the day. I started with an early morning shoot and then after that I’d get ugly on the mower and the housework. My intentions were the best. After I finished up at the range I sent my texts for the day: I asked the wife how her day was going, sent one to Big Al to see if he was still alive, and then one to Queen Mary. Little time went by and Mary dialled back. Her prize German Shepherd had had to be put down and she asked if I could go out and help her dig the grave. 

I got down about four feet. Mary prattled and spoke and would square off the hole when my spade wandered. But at four feet my back was knackered. When I was a kid I’d have been half way to Australia by coffee time… but I was done. She backed up with the car, and I laid the puppy to her final rest in the sunshine beside the trees. And Mary went to pieces for a bit when I started filling the grave. King Peter was up North, and his brother was there but had just had a hip replaced, so I got the honours. Mary recovered quickly though… and I was so happy when the job was done.

Husband Beating

 

Poor devil.

Bare bummers are the worst.

Not that I’d know anything about

that sort of thing, of course.

Haaarrrrrrmmmmpppfpfpfff!

Filthie’s Tree Stand

 

Sunday Swipe At Covitardia Nervosa

 

The other day I went and did the advance voting by special ballot at Elections Canada. I don’t have to wear a mask anymore so I don’t. When I went in the geriatrics were the only ones there and of course they were all masked up. During the process I was reminded 3 times that there were masks and hand sanitizer conveniently placed everywhere and I could use them if I wanted to. I politely declined and nobody seemed too upset by it.

That is maybe the proper way to handle it? Because I don’t want to live like this. I am not risk taker by any means. I live day to day minimizing my exposure to unnecessary risk. But there are some times where I do engage in risky behaviours. I ride motorcycles. I still drink and smoke occasionally. As a younger man I rode horses, ATVs and had a go at ultralight aviation. I did it because it made me feel alive.

Looking at the covitards… I see the opposite. They want less contact with the world. They want others to have less contact with it. They want to scream at people that want to live and embrace it, and snitch on them if they have too much fun. Their idea of fun is denying it to others. There’s so many people like that now. They want to cut themselves off which is fine… but they want to impose it on you too. 

They aren’t alive… and maybe they resent those that are?

 

One thing they say ya never talk about in polite company is religion or politics. For me, religion is no big deal because the subject matter involves dimensions and doings several pay grades and dimensions above mine. I don’t know the mind of God, He does not talk to me and I have my hands full just trying to spot His hands at work in today’s modern world.

I do know that Jesus wasn’t a homo, or black, or a communist or a pedo. I do know he He was dead set against the virtue signalling poseurs of the day. There are very few people I’d trust to lecture me on God’s word and intent… and this clot headed cankle blossom isn’t one of them.

It’s curious, yesterday the wife and I were chatting and I noticed how many churches were getting pozzed and ended up closing as a result. The press gleefully reports declining numbers and closures too. But the wife caught me unawares - she asked if I had noticed all the new little churches opening up? I thought about and was shocked. There are tiny churches popping up all over the place, now that I thought about it. It’s the damnedest thing… they’re little tiny affairs, tucked in between the big box stores in strip malls, or in office buildings or the old declining shopping malls. They might serve a crowd of maybe a couple dozen, seldom more than 50. The wife thinks that when the queers and SJWs infiltrate and pozz the church - the Christians abandon it and establish smaller ones out of the way where they can do their thing without getting hassled by govt, perverts, Karen,  and other cultural fascists. Maybe the closure of those big powerful mega churches is a good thing, ultimately?

Have a great Sunday y’all. Thanks for stopping in.

Retard Olympic Shooting Team

Earlier in the week I took a new shooter out to the range. He'd bought his first handgun - one a those new plastic Sigs... P320? I think the Marines are using a variant of it now. I like ol' B. He is one a those guys that knows it all but I don't care. I am one of those guys that only knows two things - f*** all, and nothing, HAR HAR HAR! B's been giving me an earful for the last little while about what a great shot he is. He has some interesting theories on pistolcraft too. He goes to our church and is a good friend of the wife's as well so I didn't say anything.

His boy is 14 and temporarily in a wheel chair. Seems the lad asked a dirtbike to do the physically impossible, so the machine broke his leg for his impudence. I saw the X rays too - there must have been about an inch between the bones in that pic. I cringe just thinking about it - but the lad is made of the right stuff and will be back on the bike as soon as possible.

Bruce shot like dirt. He did alright, I suppose, for someone with no instruction or experience and the humbling was good for him. I couldn't let him get away without at least a minor spanking - I put 5 out of 5 on the gong he couldn't hit for love or money. I was kinda surprised too - this was experimental ammo made from a bullet mold sold to me by AB. I had been having some teething problems getting set up for cast lead pistol bullets, but AB stepped in, gave me a few pointers and sold me some lead - and I was off to the races.

I woulda been happy if the ammo just cycled and fed properly and it did that in spades... but it shot well too. 

I'll be damned. Without that flyer it would have been a 25 yard solid two inch group...

 

Here is the pic of the home made hero: a 200 gr. 

flat point with home-made pot lube!

The classical 1911 45 ACP load is a 230 gr. round nose, moving at around 750~900 feet per second. A common load for that uses around 5.1 gr. of W231 - I have shot that for years with great results. But a flat point...? Mine is a match grade target gun and was Springfield's answer to the Colt Natonal Match Gold Cup gun. I am running HP38 rather than W231 but that shouldn't matter as it is virtually the same stuff. I kicked the powder charge up .2 of a grain and kept them on the slow side where I seem to do my best shooting.

B was flabbergasted. He thought I was an expert and I gotta admit that I started laying it on thick too. Usually offhand, my groups run 3~5 inches and I probly just got lucky here... but I dinkishly pretended that this was just par for the course and that I am a shooting champ, HAR HAR HAR!!! I am such a dink - and the gun gods will punish me for my arrogance and foolishness. 

I can tell by listening to him that B won't take correction and/or coaching from a gas bag gunclub stubfart, so I kept my advice simple: get some snap caps and practice the trigger pull. Get a book and read up on the biomechanics of pistol shooting and practice what you read. Take a course too. I know B would listen to a trained teacher much more so than me. 

Maybe I shouldn't lie either - part of the reason I was such a dink about my fluke shooting session was that he and his boy laughed at my beloved 1911. In their opinion I may as well have been shooting a flintlock! But I suppose old people should not be offended when young folks laugh at them. I should have taken it in good grace.

I'd really like to thank AB for all his help in getting started in boolit casting. Like B - when it came to boolit casting I thought I knew it all, when I was actually full a beans. What worked for my retirement rifles would not work with my pistols. With a few pointers from an expert - I am now up and running and can pass for an expert to the untrained eye!  

Apparently AB has cobbled together an old 12 bore progressive reloader press and it's running like a top. If any of you guys are interested in a machine, pipe up in the comments and leave your contact info. AB is here in Alberta with me and will get in touch if you are interested.

Ol’ Mort Laid Down On Me Today

 

My dawgs are geriatrics - just like me, I suppose. Today we got up and decided on a Dawg Adventure Day and went out to the country for a walk where they could run around off leash and misbehave themselves without getting into too much trouble.  

I can forgive Macey because she is older than dirt in dawg years. I've been carrying her up and down stairs on bad days and putting her into the old lady's Rav when we travel for awhile now. Today Mort couldn't get in under his own power. I cussed him out but then remembered that he is 8 or 9 now and is no longer a young pup. Looks like I will have to harden up a bit and start lugging him around too. He is only a bit over 100 lbs but good grief... I am getting old too!

When I was a kid I coulda grabbed Mort, squaushed him into a ball and spun him on a finger tip - and then sunk him through the basketball hoop like a Harlem Globe Trotter. Today I almost shat my pants on a minor lift, HAR HAR HAR!!! HAR HAR HAR!!! Later on in the patrol a rabbit bolted from the bush. Macey didn't see it (she's almost blind now) and Mort took a few steps but decided he wasn't interested in chasing it. He stayed close to the wife and guarded her and Macey as we walked through the late summer/early fall leaves.

I live an exciting life.

And So It Begins…

 

I guess the COVID rent moratoriums are coming off. I wonder how many evictions will actually take place. Will land lords ever recoup the back rent?

Saturday Morn Cartoons

 

Filmed in Super 8 Filthievision!

Bring It

Well I’ve got my fedpoasting in for the day. And I’m smart enough to know when I’m being goaded. 

FFS. This is a Marine? Guys… I have been the number one fanboy of the USMC in Canada for over 40 years! What am I supposed to make of this shite? 

I’m so sorry. Here is my official fanboy slide whistle, decoder ring, and membership card. You guys have some house cleaning to do.

We Need To Go Back To Putting Stuff In Tins

I inherited an Outer’s gun cleaning kit

like that from my father in law 100 years ago before

our families collapsed.

I used up the patches and solvent, and foolishly threw out

the tin and the rod. 

My current cleaning rod is a superior one piece carbon fibre wrapped metal

and brass affair. I buy brushes and jags

separately and individually…

but that ol’ tinned kit sure evokes some fond memories.

Comrade Misfit Spotted

 

Inukshuk

 

Friday Fed Poast

 Last week I got so pished off with the world, I just hit the off button on the computer and said the hell with it. I’d troll my fellow blogtards, scan the headlines… but other than that I had chores to do, and I really needed some time away. I needed to decompress.

It helped. Like everyone else, I am just steamed at the doings in Afghanistan. They could stuff the returning airplanes with smelly moslem fig farmers and goat feltchers and bring them back here… but not our own people? And now the bombs are going off, the bodies are piling up, all the leaders want to talk about is Chinkypox and more lockdowns, pox passports and other nonsense.

Focus. Perspective: Biden and his team could not negotiate with the Taliban even if they wanted to. The Taliban is a coalition of mud flap militants, illiterate moslem mutts and 7th century warlords. All of them have guns and will use them without a second thought. They all have their own agendas, and they answer to no one except themselves. They are murdering their own people in droves right now and the vid and pics are going up on Gab as we speak. Americans aren’t being treated any differently than anyone else, believe it or not. The bodies of men, women and children dead in the streets are everywhere. Biden’s team can’t negotiate because there is no one to negotiate with. If he brokers a deal with Yafeel, Farsid and Goopinder will feel slighted and start shooting. Without any kind of unity there can be no civilization, no negotiation and no peace. This is race reality kicking the democrats (and by extension, Americans) in the balls. Those guys are what they are and we all knew it going in.

What Joe IS culpable for is the botched evacuation and the loss of millions of dollars in military equipment and civilian lives. In better times, when we were better people, he’d be up on charges with his finks in the military. 

And this is what bummed me right out last week. Nothing resembling justice can come of any of this. The courts, from the Supremes on down - are as pozzed as the democrats. The bloody conservatives are pozzed now too! So is law enforcement. If you “back the blue” you’re nuts. Those guys beat up old ladies for not wearing a mask, they arrested some petty drunks and tourist grannies on Jan. 6 and charged them with sedition and insurrection, and they take their orders from queers, pedos, and gangsters. The military itself is hopelessly compromised: who was that fart sucker general defending woke critical race theory and woke policy in the military? Miley? Milley? And… he was a Marine?!? 

America is being run by domestic enemies now. And they are busily importing plane and boatloads of foreign enemies. I don’t officially condone violence….buuuuuuuuuut….the systems and laws and agencies designed to prevent all this have been compromised and have fallen. When people can’t resolve this kind of stuff peacefully, they will do it violently. America’s (and Canada’s) problems are not in Afghanistan or anywhere else… they are right here at home. The establishment has evolved to maintain the status quo… so nothing is going to change. Sure, you can vote Joe out, but if you get someone in who actually wants to improve things, they will tear him to shreds. Trump spent most of his term fighting off swamp creatures and lawfare.

From where I sit… this can only end one way. And that is what bummed me out the most last week. It’s time to shake off the funk, and do what preppers always do: keep your eyes wide open, and be prepared to do what you gotta do when the time comes.

Today I am going to vote via the advanced special polls. It’s probably a wasted gesture, and the conservative opponent of Justin Turdo is the typical eastern cuck… but we aren’t going to vote our way out either. But maybe this other shithead might put off the cartridge box for another day?

May God have mercy on us all.

Slowly Taking Shape

 

Well we're getting there I suppose. The stitches are in and preliminary fitment is good, the holster won't release the gun without a strong deliberate tug... which could be good or bad according to which expert ya listen to. I put some border stamping along the stitch lines that I hoped would draw attention away from the retarded stitching but I think it only highlights them worse. I will trim and edgecoat it and seal it and then I am done. You can tell it's an amateur job... but not bad for a first effort by a harelipped retard, HAR HAR HAR! I catalogued the mistakes and hopefully the next one will be much better.

Okay Well…Now Ya Know

 

Trump had the mass media eatin’ outta

the palm of his hand…

While those awful, awful journalists

pick on poor ol’ Joe.

Apropos of nothing at all…

I feel the need of something to bind my bowels.

 

My G-G-G-Generation

Awhile back I was yukking it up laughing at my elders, imagining them in their prime: fags like Kim du Toit dressed for the disco in frilly shirts, tight pants and platform shoes. I could see Quartermain at the disco, dancing with a fattie land whale and going for that dramatic lift of his massive dance partner… and collapsing under the weight, squashed like a packet of ketchup! HAR HAR HAR! Pete, M, and Jack woulda still had hair in those days, and would have grown down it to their shoulders and woulda looked like the Freak brothers.

I came of age in the early 80’s. And that ol’ nickel about tards that live in glass houses goes around and comes around at near lethal velocity. This is what our young women looked like.

 

Go ahead and laugh, you little chits!

But to me, they were beautiful- and most of them still are.   👍

 Go ahead, laugh if you will, youngsters. But… before ya do… how do ya think YOUR women are going to look 40 years from now?

HAR HAR HAR!

😊👍

To everything, there is a season

And a time to every purpose under heaven

I am currently binge watching a horrible soap opera on Netflix called Downton Abbey. It's set in 1920's era Britain with the last of the titled aristocrats giving way to a new age of egalitarianism. It's your usual chick-flick soap with impossible women and retarded men... but the furnishings, the cars, and the clothes are to die for. The social justice warriors are of course represented in the plot but held to the background for them most part, with the faggotry and nigolatry controlled, for the most part. It drives home the changes of time have had on us with a profound impact. I think most of us would far rather be servants or tradesmen in Old Britain rather than upper class professionals in modern Britain. Sadly I think the same thing is going to happen over here In another century, we won't recognize our countries or culture anymore.  They are going away... and won't be coming back.

And maybe that's a good thing, who knows.

But What About All The GOOD Things The Talibangers Do?

Aerodynamic Fact:

Anything made out of Lego

will fly.

Bail Out? Or Hunker Down?

 I am no expert on such things but I am not uninformed either. Today me and a bunch of others got a case of The Hershey Squirts in the comment section of The Z Blog. Someone was going on about the impending fall of civilization and advised everyone to get out of the cities because living there in the days ahead is “going to be a death sentence”.  The noggers will all chimp out and burn the cities down, the commies will be executing people in the streets, the starving zombies would be rampaging everywhere…in short the SHTF is upon us and city dwellers are all DOOOOOMED.

And you can avoid all that by hauling stakes up and going out to the country! Build a little cottage, plant a garden, maybe have some chickens and livestock… and watch the lunatics in the cities burn from a safe distance.

I dropped the bomb on them: wherever you can go, others can follow. If you have food, water and supplies in a SHTF scenario - you will become a target and getting away in the countryside will be no escape. In fact, if civilization falls, and the cities start to starve… everyone and his dog will be heading out. How many rural preppers can guard their families, homes, gardens and livestock from determined thieves? Think, for a second, about the tactics required for that. Is that realistic for most of us? The tactics of bugging out may actually be worse than hunkering down. Lot a folks didn’t like that one single bit!

Riding out a disruption may not necessarily be a death sentence in the big city. I am thinking of the “roof top Koreans” during a black race riot: when the blacks showed up to chimp out in their neighborhoods… the Koreans shot them. Blacks stopped going into those areas immediately. In cities, the potential enemies are closer, but so are allies too. Assets might be easier to guard and defend too.

Shelter in place? Or bug out? I suppose it depends on where you buy out to….?

Humpday Music Poast

 

These gibbons are the only

ones fast enough to dance to the Reverend Horton’s

music…

Dreamscapes

I cannot, for the life of me, imagine

what would induce someone to put a red dot on such a fine

traditional gun.

 

Rippers

 

The Redhawk Holster

 I am just having a ball with this project down in the Reclusium. Anyone can get a pattern, cut out the pieces and sew them up and call themselves leatherworkers and that is good enough for them, I suppose. 

A real leatherworker knows how to create his own patterns, which materials will work and which won't, and the limitations of his materials, tools and talent. I am one of those tards that is no leatherworker, but I can fake it under certain carefully maintained artificial conditions.

I can't get down on myself because so far I have made two or three blunders. They are by no means the end of the world, and God willing I will still end up with a serviceable holster. If this plays out right, I should end up with a heavy duty rig that is plain to look at, but will hopefully fit like a glove.

My pattern was great, the mistakes I made were awful to look at... but easily corrected for the next build. This is why I won’t do commissions. At this stage, for me… my work is too crude and unrefined to charge somebody good money for. I do everything by hand too, where the pros use advanced tools like vacuum formers and sewing machines. The forming process has begun, and I think my leather is too heavy. I am going to need steroids and road rage to form it… so we’ll see what happens I guess.

Boomer Anthems: The Missing Generation

 I am a big fan of Gerard over at American Digest. The olde Yanks over there make sense for the most part, and the blog is an excellent window on their thought processes and how the boomers there came up with them. 

It's a curious thing, the "Boomer" phenomenon. When the subject of Boomers comes up, most people think of the elderly Stubfart Depends Diaper & Velcro Shoe Gang. We are talking about guys like Du Toit, Jack, Quartermain... and most folks forget that there were actually two generations of Boomers. And though the younger kids can't tell them apart... there are differences between the two generations. When du Toit starts droning on about the music of his day I just want to stick my finger down my throat. No, Kim - The Beatles were gay back when that was an insult - and so were you, HAR HAR HAR! Not that he'd know, running around as he did in tight pants, platform shoes and frilly shirts and hanging out in the disco with the fat chicks, HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!!!! HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR! Errrr.... and discos were gay too!

I made the tail end of the Boomer Era by a couple months. The leading edge Boomers put away their toys, got jobs, grew up and started having families in the mid 60's and early 70's, and had thoroughly sold out themselves, their kids and grandkids by the early 80's. By the onset of the 90s they'd sold out their great grandkids. Their horrible style of music ended in the late 70's I think... and the last of the last of them might have been Meat Head.

I wonder to this day what it was that he refused to do

in the name of love?

Put the terlet seat up...?

I was still a mite too young to claim Meat Head as a singer from my generation... but my older brother by three years - I remember his 8 Tracks and top of the line Pioneer stereo in the 68 Firebird that Pop and I built for him. I would a been 14 or 15 when Meat Head came out with this one.

It was an odd time to grow up. I was a Latch Key Kid - came home to an empty house after school, and was expected to find my own way growing up. It was bewildering for me to look round at my peers and watch them deal with the epidemic divorce rates. When I was small, we called single parent families "broken homes". By the time I was in high school everyone knew someone with parents that had broken up. It was obvious that something was deeply wrong with our parents' generation but for them it was what it was, and what we kids thought of it didn't matter. Most of us kids at the time were just background noise to parents who had not yet found their own way. I remember watching the show that epitomized Boomer angst -  The Big Chill. I didn't get it at all.

They are starting to die off now and I wonder at times if they ever managed to get over themselves and sort themselves out? In my world, Pop struggles because he knows something went badly wrong long ago but has no idea what it possibly could have been.  Mom just went batshit crazy. I wonder what I will do when I am their age? The elderly leading edge Boomers often refer to themselves as the missing generation... but I wonder if it was us tail enders...? Regardless... the sense of displacement must have been massively worse for our millennial kids. They have no sense of identity either, so they invent their identities and some of them are so bizarre they border on mental illness.

If you can handle your PTSD - get a load of Meat Head singing about paradise by the dashboard light as he makes out with a vintage 70's era tire biter on back up vocals! Retch!!!

ohhh....GAH...!!!!

Well I better get on with my day, y'all. I've had better trips down Memory Lane, and some landmarks are best left in the rearview mirror.  Meat Head later went on to do bit parts in the movies and often starred as a villain ... and IIRC he did a pretty good job too. I hope you all find your paradise today... and as always, thanks for stopping by.

Comic Books For Angry Old Stubfarts

 

There we go!

What a waste of cinematic talent, focusing the story

on the webhead and his idiotic teenaged friends.

Maybe they should spin JJJ off and give him

his own comic book…

Wouldn’t mind seeing those nudie pics though…

Cat Bastards

I guess TB got turned inside out and pulled through his own bunghole - by the family cat. HAR HAR HAR!!! Serves ‘em right! The orange ones are the worst. 

😂👍

My daughter’s cat was a grey one and she loved that little chit like a brother. One day he just disappeared. He was way too smart and fast to get run over by a car and I just didn’t get it. Did a hawk grab him? That didn’t make sense either, he was too big and fat and ornery for a bird of prey to get him… and he probably would have made a meal of the bird in such a situation. The days passed, and turned into weeks and the kid and I looked at each other with longer and longer faces as the time passed. Smokey Joe was MIA. 

One day close to a month later he just turned up out of the blue as if nothing was wrong at all. One of the neighbours was saying that he’d come home from a vacation and when he opened the doors, a cat came bolting out as if he’d been scalded. Joe might have wandered in and gotten trapped when he left and went out of town. It had to be something like that because we looked for him every day and saw no sign of him. But what would he have eaten, and where would he have gotten water?

Perhaps cats can phase in and out of this dimension and drop into other ones where the hunting is better and time passes at a different rate.

Rude Tee Shirt

 

Perfect for church on Sunday,

and formal occasions like graduations and weddings 

😊👍

There’s a lot a folks wanting to import plane loads of smelly Trashcanistannies in the wake of the latest debacle. Of course… the idiots pushing for this want to settle them in your neighborhood, not their own. 

Been A Tough Week

JFC… It’s too much sometimes, inninit? Every time i turn around somebody’s in my face or in the news giving me the gears and the reason seems to be BFYTW. 

Everyday there’s shit in the news like this

that just makes my trigger finger itchy.

The kids hate me because I’m a boomer who got everything in life for free and never worked for any of it. I’m white, male, and older so I’m responsible for every slight and insult - real or imagined - against the vibrants, the queers, the wahmen and all the other fake victim groups. My leaders hate me too - Justin Turdo wants to replace people like me with pakies and chinks that will vote for him. He’s running for re-election and by gawd… the little flit will prolly win. Fuck me… and pardon my fwench… I had a job interview and it said masks were required on the door, but I didn’t have one. I went in anyway and my interviewer wore his mask for a bit and then took it off and threw it aside. When we parted, we shook hands like men instead of fist bumping like monkeys. Our airheaded politicos are talking about lockdowns again BFYTW.

Then that crap with Afghanistan…! I wanted to clutch at straws to find something… anything good in it. Everyday though, there’s more revelations and more scandals and more blunders coming to light.  And the most popular US president in history decides to go on vacation. “Nothing good to see here Filthie! Oh - and f**k you again!” I’m tellin’ ya… I am getting bummed right out about it all!

But y’know… what goes around comes around, and sometimes it may take years. It’s like those journalists getting hunted down in Kabul right now: as OC notes, maybe they are facing God’s justice, eh? With all the treason and fake news they printed, maybe a slow and agonizing death at the hands of the Talibangers is a just reward? Maybe in the future, if these things go as they usually do, Jacqueline of the Tranny Scouts will do everyone a favour and open his wrists. Maybe, if there’s any justice, the degenerates that encouraged him and enabled him will get hit by a bus too. Some of these doofuses are so damned stupid that if God doesn’t get them… Darwin and Murphy will! It takes a force of will to remember these people are less to me than the mud on my boots. My attention is needed elsewhere.

I’ve got to find a better way of keeping these people out of my life and off my radar. They are too exhausting. I’m going to spend a little more time off line, and maybe a bit more time in the Reclusium Subterrainiae trying to cut off my fingers or sew my face to a holster. Posting will probably be light for a few days. 

Have a great Sunday. Keep yer stick on the ice, and God bless.

Filthie

We Spit On Ours

 

NOT Funny

 

I dunno if I think it is funny or not... but I can't bring myself to feel any sympathy at all for them, given the tripe they print and the lies they tell. They've gotten people killed often enough themselves, and airily dismiss it all as being part of gathering the news and doing their jobs. Their publishers and editors are no better. The public has a right to know, dontchya know...

I've read somewhere that Biden was bragging about not prioritizing Americans in the evacuation process... and for all I know it could be fake news... but that would make me smirk a bit. The thought of them hiding and huddling in fear for their lives, while the most popular president in history takes some well earned time off for vacation...? That makes me laugh, in a dark humour way. 

One of the things that drives me bonkers about the faith (and good taste, actually) is that ya can't pray for certain people to have an anvil fall on them. Or maybe that they get run over by a steam roller. Or fall down 32 flights of stairs....

 

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Obsolescence & Antiquity