Indy Fur Con: The End Result Of A Series of Bad Decisions

My life is a blur of furries and cars these days.

There is nothing left for me. I’m dispensing with all of the neat and happy intro stuff this time to dive right into the breakdown of my time at IndyFurCon 2017.

I swear to god these guys are like a cult. They lure you in with all of the neat art and friendliness, you think maybe it’d be a little fun to interact with them, then next thing you know you’re hauling ass across three states in the dead of night because they raised money for a convention and your stupid ass made a promise to go to another convention on like three days notice if they did that. So, you know, you hop your ass in the car and drive in the dead of night through fucking Ohio to go visit the furries in Indianapolis, arriving in the “Oh my god, there’s a three in the morning now?” hours of Saturday worn out from a drive to shamble into a hotel and be greeted by a giant goddamn panda who, despite running a convention, is now currently waiting for your arrival in particular.

Every weekend has turned into a mixture of Hunter S. Thompson and Salvador Dali for me now. This is my life. So take my sweaty, cold, oversized hand and close your eyes tight, and we’ll just get right down to business here as we discuss Indy Fur Con: The End Result Of A Series of Bad Decisions.

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Charlotte-an School of Law: A Eulogy

DING DONG, BROTHERS! You kind and generous folks who have been putting up with my shit longer than a grizzled police detective has been on the force may remember last year’s antics over at the Charlotte School of Law, or as I’ve now dubbed it, “Charlotte House of Pancakes and Legal Learnin’,” an Infinilaw owned cesspool and boil on the butt of barristers the nation over! It really wasn’t that much of a thing, you know, just a little bit of old-fashioned chicanery that got them put on probation, had their ability to accept student loans revoked, and slowly became the death spiral of all times and a great example of how not to “cover your ass” by insulting students and generally sticking their head in the sand as the world falls apart around them.

However, boys and girls, the ride has come to a definite end now, as the Charlotte “I Can’t Believe It’s A” School of Law has now closed those doors forever. Yes, the storied and esteemed history of over six years of proving the ABA accreditation process is so lenient I could likely run a law school from a port-a-potty has come to an end.  Having failed to follow the advice of legal ethics professors everywhere, namely “Don’t Miss A Goddamn Deadline,” not only once but twice in a time where the entire ability of this squad of for-profit fuck-ups to prey on those least likely to ever actually practice the goddamn law was dependent on not missing the goddamn deadline.  This, combined with the fact that the ABA has now definitively stated they have had more than enough of Charlotte “Look Ma, I’m Lawyerin’!” School of Law’s  shit, has led to the final closure of the law school.

So, here to do a moratorium and eulogy for the dearly departed Department of Dipshits that ran the place, let’s bring in the Right Reverend Boozy Barrister from the First Universal Church of Internet Lawyers.

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Tuesday Tunes: Tom Lehrer Calls For Unity!

Here’s a lifelong lesson that hearkens from way back: In trying times, we can either laugh or we can cry. I like laughing more than crying.  This is something I learned growing up in a household the loved Jewish comedians, who had sayings like “If you can’t say anything nice, say it in Yiddish” and “Rejoice not at thine enemy’s fall – but don’t rush to pick him up either.”

So in that vein, here’s Tom Lehrer, embodying the quote from Mel Brooks: “Humor is just another defense against the universe.”

 

InkedFur’s Furry Friday – Fursuit Contracts: You’re all Morons (Part 1)

 

Funny story: On August 1st I was sitting on a porch in the mountains of Tennessee, reviewing the damage the bears had done the night before to the furniture. In the midst of it though, it hit me: I was on vacation and had forgotten to post the InkedFur.com Furry Friday post for the month of July (By the way, there’s a special code for you reprobates at the end of the post)! Those weren’t bears!  Those were furries!  Furries tracking me through the mountains to make me pay for forgetting about them!  So, this month, in hopes you guys won’t come to my actual goddamn house, here’s a special mid-month edition of Furry Friday where we’re gonna start talking about a highly requested topic:  Fursuit Contracts.

Holy shit, you little fucks suck at money. I mean, you guys make enough of it, a lot of you, and you invest it and shit, and I know for a goddamn fact that there are a lot of you out there who are good, responsible people with your cash in your day to day lives. But Jesus, for the past four months since I started doing these Furry Friday posts all I’ve fucking heard about is people wanting me to start talking about fursuit contracts. It seems like every goddamn time I open up Twitter, one of you is diving headfirst into my messages with a tale of how you gave hundreds or thousands of dollars to a creator only to wait years for someone to deliver a fursuit. You know. If the fursuit was ever delivered to begin with.

Then there’s all the salt over on the other side of the creative fence, where fursuit makers are contacting me and saying shit like “They did a chargeback, what can I do?” or “I shipped and they never paid,” or my new personal favorite: “Could you review my terms of service?”

Terms. of. Service.

…Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick, my tiny lawyer heart withers a little more each day.

Oh, and let me clear:

Commissioners:  I’m gonna piss you off today.

Fursuit Makers:  I’m gonna piss you off, too.

Fuck it. You all goddamn well deserve it.

Also, let me be clear on one more thing: This isn’t the end.  These fucking commission agreements and how these things are being done have more than one problem with them, and I’m gonna be coming back to this shit.

Today, though, I want to talk about what seems to be one of the biggest fucking sticking point I’m hearing about: Paying.

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Fido is Contraband: No Property Interest In Unlicensed Pets

Holy hell was that vacation just what the doctor ordered.  I mean, the doctor didn’t order it. My office did. Because I’ve been going full bore for a few years now without the chance to unwind for a bit, and I was starting to have the burnout effects cropping up all over.  Still and all, I’m back now, and that means it’s time to bring everything up to date, doesn’t it?  So, for the first (belated) Lawyers & Liquor post back from the mountains of Tennessee and my revelry in the numerous distilleries bordering a great national park, we’ll be lighthearted.

Like, you know, how a court recently ruled your unlicensed dog can probably be shot by the cops without violating the Fourth Amendment.

Just some really light stuff.

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