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.

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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. 

FILTHICUS: BLOOD AND SNOW

Well! Harrrumpffff!

The glaciers around Castle Limegreene are slowly giving way up here. We’re finally getting spring weather. There still are going to be some cold, shitty days… but winter has pretty much had the bun. The babies will start showing up now any day - and there’ll be nests, goslings and ducklings in all the parks. Life returns, by God Almighty - it’s all good! The winters get more bitter and longer, the older I get.

But the other day, my dawg gladiators got their first kill. A baby weasel or ermine was loose in my back yard and the Niglet accidentally-on-purpose stomped it… and little Ferg moved in and finished it off! I dunno what it was… it was about twice or thrice the size of a field mouse. After the li’l beaner killed it… he ran around parading the dead body and wouldn’t give it up to his mom or the Niglet. He got downright pissy when mom  finally got it away from him and threw it in the garbage. Ferg wanted to bring it in the house and eat it, HAR HAR HAR! HAR HAR HAR!!! 

I can’t wait to sic him on Cederq or Don or one of the other senior delinquents: he’ll run up their pant leg at the speed of light, chomp their balls and then go for the jugular when they double over!!! HAR HAR HAR! They will be killed and eaten too!

😂👍

So… in other news… I am already in trouble with my beloved Ruger No.1 single shot. Awhile back I lost the lever latch screw and the spring. And gawddammitall to hell… the local smiths are not wanting anything to do with it!🤬 Ruger’s parts and warranty outfit in Canada is in Queerbec. I’ve got inquiries in with them now but if things go the way I suspect… getting any customer service out of them will be an iffy proposition at best. I also have inquiries in with Ruger themselves… but getting parts over the border can be a bear too. I am not hopeful. All I need is a two bit tiny machine screw and the tiny leaf spring and that’s it! The fuggin parts’ll fit in an envelope! If I don’t miss my guess… this thing is going to turn into a goat rodeo…But even if it does… I have options. I’ll take the .223 Tupperware rifle out after deer this year if I have to. I also have my BPCR rifles.

I have other life or death issues on my plate too. My tobacco seeds went into the dirt on Monday and I’m not seeing any sprouts yet. My seeds are two or three years old so who knows? They might not be any good…? It appears my new pipe off Fleabay is about a week out too… and I don’t know what to expect from that. I am looking for a short stubby pipe of the type favoured by guys like MacArthur or Chesty Puller… just a regular pipe with a short stem that’ll fit nicely in a shirt pocket. But down at the tobacco shop they have these mini-pipes and they look like a regular pipe but they’re super tiny which makes me think they’re pot pipes…? I definitely DON’T want that but it’s hard to tell exactly what yer gonna get from just a picture. I will be hacked right off if I get a pot pipe! If I get a fuggin pot pipe, I’ll go over to Poli’s and get some grass clippings, poplar and tomato plant leaves and some ofmom’s flower plant petals..and grind the mess up and make what the black powder geeks call “kinnikinnick”… 

😂🤢😂🤮

I have so many little-big chores that are pressing down on me as well: I need to make a tobacco/pipe roll, some leather scope covers, I gotta see if my insulated rubber boots are still in my plunder down in the Reclusium, I gotta mend my leather suspenders, I gotta get my diesel heater plumbed into the Dawgmobile camper, etc etc ad nauseum. I also want to get out to my hunting camp and see how things went over the winter and just poke around and see what the game situation is. But that is the life of the compleat stubfart: high pressure, deadlines and stress!

😂👍

And I effin LOVE it!

Soooo… Artemis, eh? I was a wee little tot when the Apollo moon shots were going on and I had a hoot. Us kids were all going to be astronauts. We’d have jet packs and live on the moon. The adults told us so. As an old goat, watching these things is different. I just worried. Artemis 2 had the new re-entry heat shield and I worried about that. Then I watched the endless circling of the boats and choppers once the capsule was down. Then I worried about the capsule getting swamped when they opened the hatch. Did one of the flotation balloons fail to inflate? FFS… I just wasn’t going to be happy until the astronauts were all safely on board the aircraft carrier and signing autographs for the fanboys. I’m gonna have a fuggin stroke when the moon landings start. 

You all mind yer P’s n’ Q’s… and do something FUN this weekend! That’s an order! Poost yer plans in the comments so I can read them over and evaluate their worthiness! Hopefully one of us is doing something constructive and productive!

Cheers!

Filthie

The Wisdom Of Chudstack

 

- Mea Morrow 🖤

Read on Substack

Retardation is the mind killer.

Retardation is the little death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my retardation.

I will let it pass through me and over me.

When it has gone past I will turn my inner eye to see its path.

Where the retardation has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain.

- Glen Filthie

*** Alright. I plagiarized that. But I’m pretty sure Miyomotomamammia didn’t write that either. 

Nothing

 

Hopefully her career is over.These two are both anti-American don't deserve their current or previous positions.

- America First News

Read on Substack

This shite’s EVERYWHERE now. It’s ten times worse up in Canada. The NDP party made an  international brown splash when they had a rally that was literally MC’d by a lesbian version of Adolph Hitler. Some First Nation Freeloader added about 6 more letters to the LGBTQ files. And basically it was a bunch of fat women, ding bat vibrants and queers all fighting to proclaim themselves the Most Oppressed Victims In The Universe EVER!!! The fount of faggotry never lets up either. Read the Bible? Racist. Drive a car, own a house? Racist. Fart in your sleep? Racist…!!! It used to drive me nuts and have me foaming at the mouth and spitting and gobbing about niggers and retards but I just don’t care anymore. 

Another prob that cropped up is with our parliamentary system of govt. Canada is a broken country and deeply divided. In our system a majority govt is much stronger than a minority govt. All of a sudden our Conservative MPs are standing up on their hind feet… and crossing the floor to join the liberals. In Canada you can vote for a Conservative, have your Member of Parliament change her mind, and join the liberals - and it’s as legal as church on Sunday. They’re effectively stealing your voat. In broad daylight. Canada is now in the ludicrous position of having its first unelected majority govt. 

Again… I just don’t care. The country will live or die and I’m good with it either way as long as I don’t get any of it on me. I’m on the western separation bandwagon for good, now. There’s no fixing any of this. All that’s left now is a reckoning. In the meantime it’s business as usual… funnel billions into the Ukraine, flip the finger at Blumpf and the Americans, and playing Canadians off against each other. I don’t care about any of that either. 

Which is a good thing because I just had an infuriating gun failure at the range. My beloved Ruger No.1 has mysteriously started shooting like its old self. I had it re-barreled to 243 a couple years ago and accuracy wasn’t bad… but it was nowhere what it was. All I did was swap the scope off it… I replaced the old B&L scope with a new Zeiss 3x9… and the damned thing started shooting 1/2 MOA. With cheapo Speer boolits! Great says I.

Not so great, says Murphy. The damned trigger latch pin fell out as did the spring and I lost them in the snow. They’re tiny parts and they could be a major PITA to replace. Getting gun stuff across the border is going to be a bear. I’m hoping a local machine shop or smith might have some parts laying around… but who knows. I’m going to go over that gun this summer from stem to stern… it has been shooting hard for 25 or 30 years and it’s past time for a check up.

It’s not the end of the world because I have other guns that can take a deer. I’d like to take the Tupperware Rifle out this year… but … damn. That Ruger single shot has started to sing again. Getting the parts will be easy or a bloody pain… and no in between.

We shall see.

I Can’t Stand Stuff Like This

 This is from the “If I Gotta Look At It, So Do You” files. Run it at your own risk. Ordinarily I won’t watch stuff like this … but I’m trying to make a point.

Indian Police Academy Training

- Talking Head

Read on Substack

I don’t care if it’s just pajeets or kebabs either. There’s folks that watch this shite for entertainment. The other thing that provides no end of amusement for them are the “Ow My Balls” vids.

Darwin and Murphy are cruel, and so are their people. 

No Easter Baskets For Old Men

Will my children get Easter baskets until they’re thirty? yes

- Ginger Cook (GC)

Read on Substack

Would you give your adult children an Easter Basket? What would ya put in it? With my kid? Ughhh…I’ll take The Fifth on that. Adults eat and love chocolate so a little bit of that’s a given. The girls’d probly get a pound or two of fancy coffee, maybe? Maybe a novel? They’d take some careful planning because if yer not careful… you could buy something awful like “50 Shades Of Gay” or, gawd forbid - ‘female gooner monster porn’. The polite term for it is “romantasy” I guess. Probly would have to get the help of the old lady because an effort like this for young women would be truly serious business.

The boys’d be easy - a couple a boxes of 22 shells, some fishing lures… carton of smokes. Go down to Home Despot and just cruise the front aisle for the latest and greatest cheap little gizmos. The little tiny tool collections are a big hit too. Drill bits, miniature pliers n jeweller’s screw drivers - they got all that crap and they tend to go over well. They’ll eat chocolate. Hell…  step on their foot, their mouths’ll open up and you can shovel in any biomass ya want and they’ll run just fine on it.

Adult Easter baskets’d be a great way to get a few yuks too with some gag gifts. What would an Easter basket for an old stubfart look like? 

🤨

Welp… chocolate is optional for us. Most of us’ll probably be avoiding it actually. A big jar of stinky pickled eggs would be mandatory. It’s Easter, after all - so fuck your triglycerides and cholesterol and man up! Load them up with lots of salt n’ pepper - and let the crop dusting begin! HAR HAR HAR!!! I suppose we could do with 22 shells and lures too. Maybe a box of Brussel Sprouts… a couple cheap cigars. Ya want to keep gifts for cheap and small because we already have everything we need and most of our wants are taken care of. A rotten joke and your time is all we need, when ya get right down to it.

What about an Easter basket for Grandma…? You definitely will want help with that one…