Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Wednesday, 31 August 2022
Usually this time of year, fall starts knocking on the door. It’s a little chilly in the morn, you can smell the seasonal change in the forest, maybe there’s some dew on the windshield. People start drifting back in from summer vacations. Back when I still watched TV, the back to school sales ads would give the kids bouts of depression and PTSD. The fuggin hornets are coming out on schedule if that means anything.
But this year we seem to be getting an extended summer. It’s hotter n’ blazes out there! If you’re still out on the holiday road… do yourself a favour and take your time coming back.
If ya follow the links in his poast, one of the videeyahs comes up where that odious carbunkle is out gassing about how “people saved up too much money during the Covid scam, and she and her gubbimint need access to that money to drive an economic recovery…”
Chrystia… you ignorant slut.
Maybe I better leave off there lest Alberta be accused of more incivility. But… FFS…how do you reason with people like this? That cankleblossom runs her bloody trap the same way the shitlib females in my family run theirs. Women shouldn’t voat, because this is the kind of shite that results. You can get out the puppets, colouring books and show them how they’re wrong - but they’ll stick to an emotional narrative like shit to a shoe! And when reality and Darwin send that clue bat around to crack them across the pan for their idiocy - they’ll blame you and claim that you did it to them just to be mean.
Tuesday, 30 August 2022
But Ya never see people actually buying this crap or money actually changing hands. Y’all should come clean and just be honest about it. Tell the truth, shame the devil!
Monday, 29 August 2022
The Artemis launch scheduled for today got scrubbed. I suppose it’s actually a good thing maybe?
When I was a kid the astronauts were gods. And Mission Control was full of guys smoking cigarettes and pipes. Literally - America’s best people were on the job. All of them were backed up by their own best people. The goal was space exploration and putting people on the moon.
Sunday, 28 August 2022
I was in the hobby shop picking up glow plugs for my little RC airplane when I spied a thing of absolute beauty hanging up in the rafters.
What a sweet old bird.
It was made back in the 40s. Given the tools and materials of the time… that thing is a work of love and art. There are no control surfaces. No throttle. If I understand these things correctly, the engine ran briefly at top RPM on a very small charge of fuel. It would circle and climb until it ran out of fuel… and then glide back down on its dihedral and permanently offset rudder. There was no control, just simple free flight.
The finish looks horrible in the pic but looks are only skin deep. The surfaces are all smooth as a baby’s bottom, wood that was lightly and lovingly sanded and polished, and doped tissue paper. The cowling was hand made out of metal and the work is a delight to the eye.
It's close to 80 years old. In it’s day it would have been a high tech marvel. It’s been kept around all these years for sentimental reasons - the reason I know this is that RC planes are big, fragile and an absolute pain to store.. I absolutely hate this end of the hobby… a lot of our guys are older and are dying off and when they go… you can’t give this stuff away. The kids don’t want it, they live indoors and play video games. Older kids like me don’t want them…we are building our own. So…they end up being donated to the club, and hopefully one of the guys will take them home. Or Scotty The Retard gets them… and that kid is the Dr. Mengele of model aviation.
Mind you, some go to a good place. At the other hobby shop in town, an old boy scratch built a Tiger Moth biplane from scaled down plans of the actual airplane. It’s a giant 1/3 scale model and it is a spectacular a masterpiece. He passed away back in 95… but that bird is still hanging up in the shop. It never flew, and it’s not for sale. There’s a pic of the builder with the model and a short obit. It makes me happy to see it there as a benchmark set by a man with top shelf skills. It really shows you what’s possible.
As for me… I got hacked right off with the fuselage of the Turd Bird. It’s slightly out of square and I got so damned mad, I just said to hell with it… I’ll build another one. I tried to work with magnets and save the plans like the advanced cool kids do… and I wasn’t happy with that either. I am going to go old school and pin everything down and build right on top of the plans the way they did back in the old days.
ThThats a chinkish Evolution donor engine that Flapz gave me.
The engine I want to use is on a test fixture I am building in the background.
Working from plans is great - IF you know what you’re doing. My plans were drawn up in 1965. Engines and servos and batteries and components have changed in the last 50 years… and my CG came out a little too far forward. It’s not the end of the world, I can rebalance things and still make it fly… but… dammit… I am a stickler for keeping the corners square. I hope to get better results this time.
I have an OS 55 AX going on the Turd Bird - I hope. It was the damnedest thing.When I started working with it, the fuggin tank wouldn't fill. It would go into 'full' mode and start pissing the gas out on the ground or the bench and I just couldn't figure out WHY that was happening. I got so damned mad, I pulled the tank to pieces and went through the fittings end for end - everything was clear. I put it all back together ... the same way I had before... and it worked like a charm. I don't get it. The aviation gods piss upon me. I set the carb jets up as per the users manual and ... no dice. So I set up the carb the way I learnt to do it with two cycles... and she opened right up and ran beautifly on the high end with the throttle wide open. I leaned out the high jet, and then brought it back for a slightly richer mix. These things get hot so ya want enough oil to blow through them to keep them cool. But she flat out refuses to run on idle. Hopefully some more googl-fu will help me sort that out.
This thing WILL fly, I swear it!!! Life is still hard on the stupid down in the Reclusium... but it's a great place to be if you can put up with the nonsense going on down there.
Too hard to hold
The two hardest things to hold weigh nothing: Our breath and grudges.
Some folks are "energized" by grudges and presumed wrongs. They are sadly mistaken. Those grudges are maintained at a high, but hidden price.
In general, I don't hold grudges. My memory is not that good and I am lazy. Other people might hold different opinions regarding my zeal for holding grudges.
I hold grudges but I am not energized by them. Were I the man I want to be, I’d cast them away without a second thought and be free of them. But… I cannot. Time heals but leaves an aching scar. Reading my bible on the cell phone helps.
It used to be that my daughter and in-laws lived in my head, rent-free. Now, days and weeks go by without me thinking about them. Later in my life I became a problem solver and an acolyte of General Stormin’ Norman Schwarzkopf. He’d tell the kids to draw up a list of goals and objectives. Then do a feasibility study, and evaluate the costs and sacrifices and benefits. Once you selected your goals, you push toward them with everything you have, and success would come. If you failed, regroup, analyze the failure, change your approach and try again. Every problem can be overcome.
But… my in-laws, particularly my father in-law, and my daughter were problems that defied resolution for me. They lived rent-free in my head for years. They still make the odd appearance… but… I’m coming along. Contrary to Joe I think laying burdens aside is incredibly difficult. It’s changed me.
Saturday, 27 August 2022
I shouldn't be such a grumpy miserable old shit. Cher can actually sing a toon or two well. But in my wretched geezerly opinion - this isn't one of 'em.
The old bird really has had a good run of it. Although her politics, taste in men, and morals are right out of the Hollywood sewer, she played well to the cameras and kept herself in top shape - and plastic surgery did the rest. But as she must... she's losing that battle against time now. The surgeries on surgeries can't be brushed over or hidden by the cameras, and you can see the struggle of skin that wants to wrinkle with age - but is tortured by vanity and modern technology to try and look young.
I keep seeing Stallone and Bruce Willis in movies doing roles that they are just too old for too.
Hmmmmm. I'm sure that unlike Chere - I could defeat the ravages of time and old age! This is might be a pressing concern: none of us old farts and tards are getting any better looking as time goes by. I am particularly concerned for Pete and Jack! I wonder if STxAR could get a gasifier powered lipo-suction machine working? If he does I am calling dibs on that. One of Quartermain's ex occult girlfriends must be familiar with witchcraft? Maybe he could convince one to hex up an anti-baldness spell..? Bah! Maybe a guy should just play the hand he's dealt, and if he ends up looking fat and gross like Cederq - then that is just the way of it!
And speaking of cards - for me, it's gonna be another restful Saturday night of penny ante poker with my fellow stubfarts, tards and cranks. I hope your Saturday was meaningful, fun and productive, and thanks again for stopping by.
So - whose deal is it?
Last night Mort began pacing about. The wind had started to blow up, and he had to go outside to do his business. So I dragged my carcass out and took him downstairs to let him out. He got two steps out and some silent lightening lit up the raging clouds a few miles away. He turned about, saying the dawg equivalent of, "Nope! Nope, nope, nope! I will just poop in the house, thanks..." I planted myself in front of him and told him he wasn't getting back in until he did his business. The far off lightening lit up the house like Dracula's castle... but no rain or thunder. I spent half the dawn trying to convince that craven dolt to do what had to be done when I could have been snoring and farting in bed! I hate to say it - but it is time for a replacement! I will have to build my deadly K9 Crime Fighting Team back better!!!
Hmmmmmmmmm. Obviously that thing is junk with one caress of the trigger on a 35 cent round.... but then you have a scrapped robot and worse - live munition on the battlefield. Possibly nigger-rigged with a proximity fuse. That was what I'd do if I were the Russkies. Go ahead and send the bomb squad out, guys!
But... on the other hand it wouldn't be afraid of weather, smell like a goat's arse, drool, and wake you up in the night for bathroom breaks and treats.
Bah - I think I'll stick with Mort for now.
There's just too many things a robot can't do.
It’s all fun and games until it’s time to pick up the brass and reload it. Yeah… I used to have a progressive Dillon that could slam out rounds almost as fast as something like this could eat them. The problem I have with progressive presses is that - sure, they’ll crank out tons of econo-bullets that are just fine for a squirt gun like the Skorpion… but I tend to shoot carefully tweaked handloads and I tinker a lot. The single stage press suits me fine… but they’re slooooooooow…
I got rid of my Dillon but sometimes I wonder if that wasn’t a mistake…
The freaks no longer shock or outrage me anymore. Every second kid has face tats, or a ring through their nose or lime green hair. If I saw this chick on the street, I’d start looking round for that dude in the goalie mask, with the scoped .357 and assless chaps. Wouldn’t be surprised to see him either, these days.
Are sanity and lunacy separated by a wide gulf of varying shades of grey, or is it a sharp, defined line that can be cleared with one stride?
On Blab, Matt Walsh was interviewing a doctor that did sex changes on kids. She had the technicolor hair and bearing of the enlightened socially just warrior-clerics of our day. Matt is a conservative performance artist and right away starts asking pointed questions about chemical castration and the ugly aspects of what it actually is that she does.
She shuts him down right off the bat, claiming that he “isn’t framing the issue properly” with his choice words and language. So Matt digs out a dictionary and the dog-and-pony show starts: Matt is in the dictionary while the green haired dyke claims that words don’t mean what the dictionary says they do, and the whole thing degenerates into a clown world shit show.
It’s all so tiresome.