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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InkedFur’s Furry Friday: In re Boomer The Dog (An Argument for Boomer)

Jesus christ, somebody call Animal Control, it’s InkedFur’s Furry Friday again here on Lawyers & Liquor. This means that as I’m writing this I have the strange and discomforting sensation that only comes from knowing there are a thousand fursuited eyes reading every word, never blinking…never blinking. While I’m recovering from that mental image, take a mosey over to my sponsor, InkedFur.com, and see what they have in stock for all you sick puppies.

So you may remember back when I first stepped into the steaming heap of dogshit that led me to interact with the furry fandom in the first place I watched a little documentary called Fursonas. There was a lot to unpack in that little show, but one character/person that stuck with me through it was Gary Guy Matthews, a/k/a “Boomer the Dog” . To put it politely, Boomer is…eccentric. He’s been all over the media, I’ve found, and generally speaking is a fully grown man who not only has developed a fursona, but lives the general life of a giant fucking dog. The guy has a fursuit that he made and maintains completely out of shredded paper. He said in an interview that he has a doghouse he sleeps in.

I gotta say, I’m both a little stranged out and filled with respect for the dedication that Boomer has here.

But the pinnacle of eccentricity comes back in 2010, when Boomer petitioned the Court of Common Pleas of Allegheny County to change his name legally from Gary Guy Matthews to Boomer the motherfucking Dog. The court, of course, said “What the hell?” and denied the name change. Boomer, however, appealed the matter to the intermediate appellate court, the Pennsylvania Superior Court, which then stood firmly behind the trial court on the matter and affirmed the denial of the name change.

I…well shit guys, I gotta say…I don’t really agree with the reasoning there.

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InkedFur’s Furry Friday: Convention Hotel Rooms Aren’t A Fucking Brothel

Holy shit, is it already time to open up the cages and let the technicolor zoo roam free again? Yes, you fuzzy little assholes, it sure as shit is. Welcome to yet another Furry Friday on Lawyers & Liquor, this time brought to you by my newest, greatest partner in insanity, InkedFur.com. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one making bad decisions related to you furry fucks, and InkedFur has graciously cast their lot in with me for the time being, or until I really and truly fuck shit up. Until that time, though, they’ve also given you guys an awesome discount code on “Dakimakuras,” which my research tells me is a body pillow, for this month only with the code “BOOZYSENTYA.” Go buy shit from them. They pay me.

So, it’s been an interesting fucking month, hasn’t it? The amount of messages that have poured in since announcing you assholes were getting a monthly spot on the round-up of bad decisions has been amazing, and every suggestion you made was duly considered, then immediately disregarded. As I’ve said before, I don’t even let other attorneys dictate what I write on this site, why the hell would I let a collection of animals tell me what to do?

BUT there was something that became really goddamn clear as I spent my month awash in a sea of dildos and art (which, by the way, may just become the name of my autobiography at this point), and that was convention season is on the horizon and none of you motherfuckers have even the barest understanding of what legal rights you do and don’t have when wearing massive costumes and consuming copious amount of liquor in a rented room. So, after a few brief moments of consideration, I decided that may be a good thing: giving you guys an idea of your legal rights in regards to hotel rooms in a likely ineffective effort to keep you from getting picked up by animal control as you criss-cross the continents in search of the next sketchbook to glance in and then immediately fucking regret.

So, let’s take a moment this Furry Friday and look at hotel rooms and the law.  Go get a smoke or something. This one’s gonna be long as hell.

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Furry Friday: Furry Legal Stories – Boozy’s Mailbag Edition

Alright folks, it’s feeding time at the zoo with the first official Furry Friday.

A few notes before I get the ball rolling today. I’ll be appearing tomorrow at Furthemore 2017 to do an adults-only Q & A tomorrow night. I expect you all to be there and to bring questions that appropriately let me tell rambling stories filled with sauce and booze. Failure to do so will result in me simply reading War and Peace on stage for an hour and a half.

Now that’s out of the way, let’s cut into the meat of today’s fucked up foray into the furry fandom. So, earlier this week I was sitting around thinking about a post topic that brought up the perfect intersection of furries and law. There were a lot of suggestions, from “fursuit contracts” all the way down to a forensic examination of the “Boomer the Dog” name change issue, but I decided, based on the amount of love you assholes were pouring into my inbox and my direct messages, to take a look at some legal situations experienced by actual furries.

Each and every thing we’re going to look at today is an actual issue that has been faced by a furry in the past, which has implicated their participation in the furry fandom. These are all drawn from actual furries. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because none of your  motherfuckers are innocent (Dudes…I found your porn), but I’ve excluded them nonetheless.

So, without further adieu, let’s look at how the fuck furries are getting fucked because they’re furries, okay?

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