I Have Been To The End Of The Internet

I have been to the end of the cyberverse. I’ve been on the internet too long. I’ve seen it all. There’s nothing new. The faces and actors come and go… but the clowns and the metrics are the same, from one end of the innernet to the other. What’s it like on the edge of the cyberverse? What’s there…?

Nothing! It’s like going north to the North Pole. Once ya get there the world just loops back around and in to itself. Everything from that point is south - back through nations of assholes, clowns, murders, rapists, thieves, shysters, beggars…and Stubfarts! It has taken a lot out of me to get here. I’m weary of the travel and lately… I’ve felt a need to rest my soul. I’ve stayed off the internet because the chaos, bedlam and mayhem just ground me down. There’s any number of crazies and stupids out there that want to make me crazy and stupid too. I’m tired, boss.

****

Everything is a matter of time. And for that - I am prepared. Out of curiosity I decided to dig out my watch collection and see if any of them still work - you can view my stately collection here on Chudstack… because the fags at Blooger aren’t letting me poost pics for some reason. I started the race last week, using my cell phone as the primary time keeping standard.

Casio Mudmaster: it’s one of the early miracle watches. It has atomic time keeping and 10 or 12 other functions and it has done them all flawlessly for the last ten years. It never loses a second.

Grampa’s old Swiss Tavannes pocket watch: 5 days in… and it hasn’t gained or lost any time. Not bad for a low tier working man’s watch that’s over a hundred years old. Big bro got Gramps’ gold watch but I’ve never seen it after he passed. I’d be curious to see that one in this race too, to be honest. Unlike the gold one… this watch isn’t worth much. You can get them off Flea Bay for a couple hundred bucks. But they’ll still keep good time if you service them and treat them with the respect due to a precision instrument.

Boschett Cave Dweller: that’s a tool watch I picked up about 15 years ago. I wanted a tool watch that could stand up to the beatings my watches take. It is water resistant to 1000m and it should be… it’s built like a bloody bathosphere! Surgical 316 stainless, screw down crown Swiss movement, yadda yadda blah blah blah. He’s still doing good too… no appreciable time loss or gain. 

Seiko Aviator… she’s dead. Quartz watches are passé now… and being a man of distinction and taste…I haven’t gotten round to replacing the battery. I miss it; all my watches are big clock-like affairs. That aviator is small and unobtrusive and I really miss it. 

So basically it’s my mechanical self-winder vs. Grampa’s old manual pocket watch. Who’s going to win? Both are Swiss, both are unpretentious tool watches for working men. This stuff really makes me think. On one hand, it’d be nice to have grandkids to hand these charming relics off to. On the other…looking at the way my daughter turned out…maybe not having grandkids is a blessing in disguise? And on the gripping hand, as Niven would have said… everyone’s all on cell phones these days anyways. No one even needs a watch -much less a mechanical. I am just as obsolete as my watches are. 

And that’s okay! I’m good with it.

****

While rummaging in my plunder I found some old mags for my first .22…the little Ruger semiauto. Sooo … I’ve got that back on my list of time wasters. I’m going to shoot it tomorrow and see if I want to get back into it. Almost did it 20 years ago… but who knows.

My age must finally be creeping up on me. I can’t explain what’s going on in my head right now. I feel detached. Indifferent. It’s the damnedest thing. I just read a lunatic that posits that the world runs on game theory. All that matters is what people want, Your place in the world relies on how well you can lie and cheat, and manipulate others. Do it well, and the world is yours. Refuse to play… and you will be meat for the wolves that do. He was one of those hucksters where if you pay for his books and buy subscriptions to his content - you too can become an Alpha Wolf and be a leader of the pack. 

I just see rats. And they’re proliferating too. It’s a tempting mindset: screw the other guy because he’s just gonna screw you! Being hated is nothing to be concerned about! God, karma, rules - those are for losers! The problem with rats and wolves is that if they become a big enough problem… they eventually get shot. Or they kill each other.

As a man proficient with rifles, I don’t fear predators or vermin but I am mindful of them. I watch them with the same intensity they watch me. A few of them have gotten pieces of me over the years; that’s how I learned to respect them and avoid them. They have nothing I want or need, and for now, I can avoid them. But I’m growing uneasy… I feel as if there are forces I can’t see that are in motion, as if wolves are on my trail, and hanging back without revealing their presence. You know they’re there… but don’t have anything to aim at…

Any of you with the hair on the back of your neck standing up right now? Like things are going to go full retard any moment? 

Ughhh. It’s a beautiful spring day. The snow is almost all gone. The dawgz whine for their walk, chores beckon.

Watch your six, fellas. Something doesn’t smell right… and this time it’s not me.

F-Tard Friday: Balloonhead Black Baboon Busted 🙈

Hrrrrrrrmmmm. They sure don’t screw around in the Pacific Rim do they?

I don’t follow the big influencers for the same reason I don’t follow the mass media - and YOU shouldn’t either! 99% plus of their “content” is fluff and hot air - goyslop for the mind. If North America had a hive mind… it’d be flopped out on the couch, beer bottles and junk food wrappers strewn about…watching black clowns and other OyTube morons capering, clamouring and tumbling about looking for likes and subscribes. It’s nice to see li’l Johnny Somali going away for a much needed time out. Recently in Japan they had a bunch of drunks in a bar get into a scuffle. The local fuzz showed up, and found a small crowd Japanese patrons pissed to the gills… and calling a rampaging black man a nigger - who was chimping out in rage. The drunk clippers were quickly beaten into submission with some businesslike blows from fists and billy clubs, and loaded into a paddy wagon. The black man wasn’t backing down though - and they beat him like a rented mule, bagged him… and then rolled him up in a carpet and zip tied that. Then they just man handled him like a heavy log. Within 48 hours he was on a boat or plane back to Africa.

I’m of a split mind when it comes to blacks. Canada could probly have its own space program complete with launch and recovery facilities with the amount of money we’ve pissed away on coloured crime. You Yanks could have fully funded, space stations and cities on the moon for the money you’re wasting. And for all that money, it’s the same 20% of the people doing 80% of the crime. They kill, rape and steal, get a slap on the wrist and they’re out and at it again. What would happen if we started just horse whipping pissants like Johnny Somali? I bet you’d straighten a hell of a lot of them out without billions of dollars wasted on feeding and warehousing them. Like - give him the full Kunta-Kinté treatment!

😊👍

BUuuuutttt! Speaking of Kunta…. I was just a kid in school when “Roots” first aired. My mom was all teary eyed and inspired by Kunta’s struggle for freedom. She almost sobbed when the eeeeeeeevil no good white men would catch him and do horrible things to him. They’d flog the shit outta him, they cut off one of his feet… and mom would sob and piss n’ moan about the inhumanity of it. I just laughed. It wasn’t a morality play about the brave indomitable spirit of a black freedom fighter; it was about a black idiot! He’d run away, they’d always catch him and beat the shit outta him…I mean - take the bloody hint, Kunta! Behave yourself, do your job - and you get food n’ water n’ shelter and even a family. “Roots” was obviously booosheeeeit; no slave owner in his right mind would willingly do those awful things to blacks. You wouldn’t beat your dawg or horse like that - but I’m supposed to believe my ancestors did?  Kunta wasn’t a brave freedom fighter - he was a fuggin idiot. 

Mom got pissy and told Pop I was an idiot and should be horsewipped too. So whadda I know? I think Johnny Somali should be waterboarded, along with those fuggin liberal Hollywood jews. And… my liberal mom! HAR HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!

😂👍

Those assholes don’t know a thing about crime and punishment. Hell nowadays they don’t know what washroom to use either.

Buuuutttt… yeah. Stupid, violent black people, eh? It’s not just them - I get it. IQ is real. So is the bell curve. 11% of white people are literally too dumb to work at McDonald’s. Last time I looked I think it was around 16% for hispanics… and 40% for blacks. I wonder where Canada’s natives would fall on that scale? They gotta be up there, I’d think? They’re descended from neolithic people like blacks. They never invented writing, they never did architectural works, and were primarily hunter-gatherers until us eeeeeeevil white people came along. To hear those assholes tell it… they got mistreated by Whitey too! Canadian pastors and nuns supposedly genocided an entire generation of hapless natives just for fun and amuseMINT. But the point I’m trying to make is that with retards it doesn’t matter how hard ya beat them… they don’t have the hardware to run the software… and you’re back to Kunta-Kinté. 

Whatever. Johnny is cooling his heels in a Korean prison. He’s gonna be eatin’ Korean food for the next 3 years and that’ll sort him out if nothing else does… I hope he likes tentacles, fermented cabbage and sesame seeds!

🤢🤮🤢🤮

Thanks for dropping in. And be a sport? Leave your name, phone number and visa info in the comments… just in case I get busted and need to be bailed out too! Have a great weekend!

Filthie

New Fleabay Stinker In

 Sorry for the embed. Blooger won’t let me poost pics unless I give Microsoft access to my cell phone - ostensibly via data back up. I’m confused - I mean… they probably have it already, I’d think? That’s the problem I have with this crap. Every other week Borepatch is warning about privacy infringement problems by Big Tech… and I have no clue what he’s talking about half the time. When they force updates and things on me… I have no idea what they’re installing, what they’re deleting etc. So… screw you, Blooger. I CAN embed stuff… so I’ll just do that instead of relying on Blooger to manage my pitchers n’ memes.

I’m no expert on pipes and tobacco… but I am learning some of the more rudimentary stuff. Anyhoo… good morning and thanks for stopping in.

Well - the new pipe came in last night. I ordered it off Fleabay, brand new, unsmoked… from the Heritage Pipe Shop. Here it is in the pic - below my old Brigham. That odd bowl shape is referred to as a bulldog, and short pipes like these are called “nose warmers”. I wanted something that fit nicely in the pocket. It’s a bare bones pipe that some would say looks “unfinished” but… I kinda like it. It’ll be perfect for camping and hunting trips, or just for vegging on the verandah and watching the sun go down. It has a big bowl for those long sessions that require lots of time and prognostication…like a night in the fishin’ boat or after a morn in the deer stand. It smokes longer and warmer than the Brigham and still has to “smoke in”. As per the experts, I put a li’l blort of honey in the bowl and rubbed it in before smoking it. Supposedly it aids in the formation of a thin layer of carbon cake that protects the pipe and makes for a good smoke.We’ll see how this one shakes out. It sits in the hand well, it’s well balanced, and should make for an excellent piece of gear.

- Glen Filthie

Read on Substack

Spring Break Up

Something is rotten east of Aaaaaaadmontin, Alberta - besides me, I mean! As some of you have posited - I have been in jail on and off for the last little while. I get caught on vagrancy, public indecency and urinating in public parks, and frightening the women and children with my erratic eccentric behaviour. But I just escape and get out again and go back to being a public nuisance. It drives the RCMP nuts because they bust me, I get thrown in the slam… and the prison guards let me out because they don’t want to put up with my bullshit either!!! HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR! 

😂👍

It’s about mid spring here in Alberta. The lakes and sloughs are still iced over, but the ice is thoroughly rotten and untrustworthy. On warm days there is open water. We’re getting a heat wave right now. Yesterday I went out on dawg patrol in my shirt sleeves. It’s glorious, but I’m not putting the winter gear away or breaking out my shorts or sandals just yet. My daughter’s birthday is April 24. It could be balmy spring weather, or a howling snow storm depending on the year.

I’m watching the aftermath of the train wreck over at Tiny’s. He started talking about some of the deceit and manipulation DC was up to… and I just shut my big fat gob. My daughter did the same thing, pitting family members against each other. No two cases are ever the same, but what gets me is the sheer hate and malevolence involved. Maybe I’m just an old fart grumping at the world… but… I think something horrible has happened to our womenfolk. 50 years ago they didn’t do shit like this… at least not with the frequency and severity they do today…? And it’s spreading to the men too. “Death by runaway social experiment” seems to be a serious malady these days. Maybe you want to call it something else like demonic possession? Works for me - your mileage will vary, I guess.

I was tinkering with the idea a precision .22 and looking at all the aftermarket drop in mods for the Ruger 10/22. I found one in my plunder that I was considering for such a project 30 years ago… but I never got round to it. I was talking it over with my buddy who also has an old 10/22… and now he’s ordering custom stocks, carbon wrapped barrels, a custom stock, trigger groups. I think we had more fun arguing and squabbling over which options to go with - than we’ll ever get out of actually shooting them. The Ruger 10/22 has more farkles and sparkles than the AR15 and they’re twice as easy to install! If you’re looking for a great father n’ son project… hot rodding a .22 rifle might be worth considering. 

So…things’re gonna be busy round here for the next li’l while. The snow is gone and my backyard is full a dog sheeit. I gotta pick all that up and rake it. I opened up the shed for the first time in 6 months…and my big red motorcycle fired up happily on the first crank. I gotta get new skins for him this year for sure. Haven’t gone for a ride yet… there’s still a little ice and tons of gravel and sand on the roads. I have a bunch of dental work to catch up on. I’ve gotta get out and do some camping and fishin’ too.

I hope you all are keeping up with your chores… and I appreciate ya taking the time out to stop by.

Cheers,

Filthie

Checking In

I am alive. All is well. New poost coming shortly…

Hey! Thanks fer stopping in. Talk at ya soon…

Humpday Stubfart Ramble

Stubfart Range Report

Well I hit the range on Tuesday and absolutely stunk out the club with my marksmanshit. It’s time to get serious about the upcoming 2026 hunting season. There’s none of this shite about bagging up and shooting off the bench and chronographing loads and measuring groups with the calipers anymore. It’s time to be a rifleman again. At 100m, offhand, I shot 5 out of 10 into the lethal kill zone on a deer - which is about 4 to 6 inches in diameter. The other 5 were scattered all over the target which indicates to me a lack of concentration, trigger control and follow through. That’s okay - I can work with that - for a start. I can tell that I’ve pooched the shot even before it hits the target, and roughly call where it landed before formally checking it in the spotting scope. From the crossed ankles sitting position at 100m all ten were in the kill zone. At 200m I got 6 out of ten in… but I don’t think I will try the little 223 at that range…? I don’t trust it has the horsepower at that range for a clean kill… even in the kill zone. This all will improve. It just takes trigger time. I had so much fun with the li’l Tupperware rifle that I never even got to my .22 rimfire before I had to pack up and go home. Ferg and Hannah were at home and had to go out to pee and walk. I seriously need a couple days just to shoot and shake hands with guns I haven’t fired in years.

The pond beside the range is just drier than a bone. There were a couple mud hens and mallards out on the ice by the beaver lodge, and about 250 yards away on the other side of it… a big mangy old moose was foraging. I think it is going to be a tough year for the game… but whadda I know?

****

Friends N’ Neighbours: The Kids Are Not Alright

I’m watching one of the younger men at church getting ready to walk off a financial cliff - again. B married poorly when he was a young man and got raped in family court. He lost his small trucking company, his house, truck, etc etc. He remarried and he’s spending like a drunken sailor. His new/old house needs repairs, his adopted kids need everything, and his ex wife is dragging him into court again. In Alberta alimony apparently stops when the kids turn 18. In Morontario, it continues if the kids go into secondary education or university. His kids took out loans to go to school, they no longer live at home with the old lady but she is dragging him into court anyways as a “Hail Mary” in hopes of getting more money out of him. Apparently there are all kinds of holes in her argument, B’s lawyers say it’ll get thrown out when it goes to court… but it’ll cost him upwards of $5k in legal fees to get his ex out of his wallet and out of his life. But he wants to buy a new motorcycle (and he lectures me on why his choice of bikes is much better than mine). He wants to buy guns that are all much better than mine, and an RV that’s much better than mine… “and by the way, Filthie… Can you be a sport and drive me to the lawyer’s office downtown…?” Apparently his shit box car was broken down again. I wasn’t lying when I told B I had a dental appointment today.

😂👍

I don’t mind about his sanctimonious lectures about my poor choices in life… he’s an expert and knows more about everything than I do… but Hell’s bells… I may be retired… but I have better things to do than be his driver. He’s taken to using me for his errands and I’ll be a good sport. Up to a point. I went to the dentist today, and B will need to maybe get his car fixed.

****

Friends N’ Neighbours 

A lot of kids are struggling these days. I stole this one off of Joe in Eaton Rapids.  Thankfully it appears to be AI slop, and Magic is actually good with his son… even if he is a bit of a froot. I was initially fooled by it as he  was. It punched me right in the guts because of my own history with my militant lesbian daughter. After years of estrangement… I finally came to a peace of sorts with what happened. All the perps are long gone, a few bad actors in all that dramatic chaos are dead  and others may as well be. I realized I hadn’t thought about my daughter in some time. Some of the sorrow and anger came trickling back but I pushed it down. The only thing my shitlib idiot enabling in-laws got right about that family feud is that at some point, kids gotta do what they’re gonna do. And your job as a parent ends; when it does, you can either go along for the ride, or not. I opted out; my daughter was moving into a degenerate lifestyle and had adopted all the inverted morals and ethics that went along with it. I hated it, I tried to talk and reason with her… but like B… she was an expert, she knew it all, I was wrong about everything. And at this point of her life was where I got off. It was a good call, as hard as it was. I didn’t want to be on that bus when it went over a cliff. I got out of that abusive relationship permanently and remarkably lightly.

Some are not so lucky. All a dad can give… is everything. And there’s a fine line between giving kids what they want and what they need. I think back on my idiot in-laws, scolding me and telling me that kids have to make their own decisions and we as parents HAVE to support them. (Funny how that never applied to them…). Do you support your kids when they are about to train wreck their lives? Do you support them when they are going to destroy themselves? How do ya know which is which? All dads can do after a certain point is take their lumps. From where I sit… given the current state of wokeness, feminism, faggotry and all the other facets of Clown World… I don’t recommend it. I’m throwing up a few prayers for Tiny and his fam. Some of us’ll have to sort this bullshit out in the next realm I guess. It ain’t right, but maybe theses things look different from a higher perspective than mine.

****

Tobacca Road

My tobacco sprouts came up… finally. I had a jar of dried out pipe tobacco that doesn’t smoke very well. I also had a bottle of Caribou Crossing whiskey that is so smooth… it’s actually pretty plain. The meter said 65% relative humidity on the tobacco which should have been good… but to me it just seemed dry and bland. So I got a tiny shred of paper towel, soaked it in the whiskey and then threw it in with the ‘baccy. The relative humidity is now 75%… and it smokes like a dream. I may just assign that bottle to tobacco restoration and other emergency medicinal purposes.

Hope your week is going well, fellas. And spare a prayer for those having a rough one.

Product EndorseMINT

 

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Get ya Visa cards out everyone! 

My prostate is about the size of a large bowling ball. I’m up and down like a whore’s drawers in the night to pee because of it! 

😡 

Something like this could make my life soooo much easier! I stumble to the bathroom in the small hours of the night, tripping on dawg toys, stubbing my toes, and blundering into walls! When I get back to the bed - either the Niglet or Fergus are in my spot and I have to fight with them to reclaim it. Such are the harrowing adventures of the nocturnal stubfart. Send me your credit card details and I will organize a group buy and a lower price per unit! You can trust me! 

😉👍

It’s Range Day today. King Peter has an expensive custom .280 he needs to sight in but he’s too dumb to do it himself and needs a responsible adult to help. Unfortunately I’m the best he can do but between us… I’m sure we can figure it out. I can usually zero a rifle with three to six shots - not including the formal group confirmation shots. 

That’s me re-zeroing the No.1 with the Zeiss 3x9.

First shot at 9:00, and adjust. Shot #2 and #3 are kinda sorta in the bull. #4 and #5 are

slightly high. I couldn’t fire a confirmation group because fuggin Flapz trigger locked his

rifle for transport to the range - and then couldn’t get it off! I got these shots off and then had to

go home! 

Dammit. Pete’s busting my chops to build him another knife. He says he wants a tanto. I hate those goddamned things! He might just be jerking my chain. I can make one that looks like a tanto but I can’t make an authentic traditional copy of one. The Japs have been making those things one way - and only ONE way - for the last 700 years. They’re made to come apart for cleaning, and go back together (and stay together) even under hard use. The parts all have names specific to the tanto; and they are perhaps the most elegantly engineered fighting/utility  knives you could ask for. I’ve seen 600 year old blades that look like they were made yesterday.

Yeah. No. 

This is the work of the gifted artisan.

Black magic and spells may well be involved.

Oh well. We’ll talk and see if the ape is serious. I made a nice little camp Bowie for him years ago. A mutual friend stole it off him - and promptly lost it. Dammit… he may well need a blade too. We need to put together a forge for ourselves too… according to Pete. I dunno if that’ll happen… it’s not hard or expensive but it does involve time and fiddlement. We’ll see how serious he is.

Domestically… life continues apace. My tobacco seeds just sprouted. The wife’s other plants probly have too… I think she has tomaters n’ cabbage n’ leaves and other less meaningful crops coming up too. I’m not touching any of ‘em. I have a brown thumb and only the hardiest cactuses can stand up to my care. When I was a kid my grandma found these li’l cacti that thrive in harsh environMINTS like Arizona and Mars. I kept them alive until I stepped on one in grade six… and then threw them in the garbage in a fit of pique!  

Prince Fergus is growing like a bad weed - in spurts. He shot up and out in every direction, he barely fits into the extra small harness I bought for him a month ago. And… Hannah. The li’l Niglet. She’s coming up on three years old now. How I love her, and wonder where the time goes? She’s not the rambunctious pup anymore - she’s more reserved and mature now. She plays with the new pup, but with me, she’s just different. It’s all good; but sometimes I miss her puppy days. It’s not all bad - I have two dawgs again, their bedlam and chaos keep the silence away - and ya can’t ask for better than that.

That was Ferg… less than two or three months ago…

I suppose ya gotta enjoy everything as much as ya can - while you have it.