InkedFur.com’s Furry Friday: FOSTA Parents Suck – Pounced.org and the Sex Trafficking Shutdown

Welcome to Inkedfur.com‘s Furry Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor, where it’s time to let out our inner technicolor zoo to run rampant over common sense and good taste.  For one day one each month I, the Boozy  Barrister, sprout the head of a badger and become the Boozy Badger to rant profanely about legal issues and news in the furry fandom.  So snuggle up to your favorite, unconvicted-of-any-crime fursuiter, settle in, and let’s get this Dead Dog dance started with this month’s discussion of…death.

While March has seen a lot of death in the fandom, we’re going to be talking today about the death of the …what is this here…furry dating site called Pounced.org.  A furry dating site? I thought that’s what Twitter was for. Huh. You learn something new every day, don’t you? I mean, with the number of furries showing their raging assholes on Twitter, I assumed…never mind. Let’s all turn into maw lovers and get right to the meat of the matter to discuss how the federal government swooped in to destroy the dating scene of those poor, lonely furs out there on their lonesome.

Go get a coffee or a cigarette.  This is gonna take a bit.

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Guest Post by Bill M. Hours – A Concussive Blow To Contact Sports Coming to a Family Court Near You?

[Boozy:  Today we welcome back Bill M. Hours, our erstwhile contributor, with another guest post to keep my goddamn queue from overflowing.  Bill is an insurance defense attorney, a peon, a pleb, and an all around nice guy despite his work for the evil empire of Defense Attorneys.  You can find him on Twitter at @billmhours.]

If someone you cared about asked for your opinion on whether they should play football; full contact, pads and helmets, grass-in-mouth football, what would you say?

Many of us today probably would caution against it. I know that when I run this scenario through my mind, my hypothetical self goes through various derivations of “fuck no” before deciding that phrases which aren’t broke don’t require fixing. I’d imagine that if one of my children ever asked me to let them play football, I’d most likely ask for a paternity test, but then also immediately lodge my opposition. In my case, this probably wouldn’t be too difficult to enforce because my spouse, while very interested in cooking, probably isn’t looking to be dealing with scrambled brains any time soon.

Perhaps I’ve tipped my hat too soon, in terms of expressing my opinion on the effects of football, but I don’t wish to make it sound like I hate ‘sportsball.’ In fact, where I come from, football in all its forms is a celebrated pastime. I even partook in the bashing of heads myself as a younger fellow (it was “Billy” back then), and I know from secondary experience that playing football can help young men in having an outlet to express hormonal emotions, and by helping them to develop discipline which can transfer into everyday life.

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InkedFur’s Furry Friday: Hewwo Copywighted Wowks! Who Owns Your Commission, Part 2

Hello my fuzzy little horde of anthropomorphic intellectual property infringements! It’s time once again for another Inkedfur.com Furry Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor, where I pop open the gates and let the technicolor zoo roam the streets with wild abandon. This time, in a continuation from our discussion of copyright and your totally original and not at all Disney derivative original character, we’re going to go totally vore and get into the meat of the matter. That’s right, this time we’re going to discuss who, in all actuality, owns that commission  you just paid someone to draw of a giraffe named Gerald seductively eating an ice pop or something.

Look, I don’t know what you fuzzy little assholes pay people to draw. That’s between you and whatever god you’re currently making cry.

So last time we covered a lot of the basic of what a copyright is, how you register one, etc. etc. etc. You know, all that advice that you guys are totally not going to listen to because, goddammit, you definitely have better things to do with your time and money then protect your art and fixed tangible ideas. This time we’re going to talk about something a lot more personal: what if the only fucking reason the art exists at all is you paid your hard-earned money to get someone to draw it for you?

Well. That’s a horse of a different art style, now isn’t it?

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Fetish Friday: The Questionable Legality of Consent

Welcome to the second Fetish Friday here on Lawyers & Liquor where I’m going to walk you leather and latex clad fetishists through a legal issue surrounding the world of, quite literally, Fucking kinks. So Bigs, cover the eyes of your littles or send them somewhere to go play, owners go crate your pups, and scat enthusiasts, put a plug in it and hold it for later because this morning I’m gonna run my mouth like a bad boy about legality of consent in a BDSM atmosphere, namely, does consent remove the risk of legal action.

Hold on to your paddled-red asscheeks, folks, because the answer is “Probably not.”

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Fetish Friday: Not Bound to Be Bound – Master/Slave Contracts

I am such a glutton for punishment. Last week I wrote about the furries, and now I’m speaking at a furry convention next week. My Twitter feed has been taken over by animals.  Someone’s making a fucking fursuit. This is my life now. Seriously. This is my life now.

But it got me thinking: maybe I should make this a thing? I’m already locked into giving the furries (who are great fucking people by the way) one post a month focusing specifically on their legal issues, which we will call “Furry Friday” and will be doing on the last Friday of each month. Why not dive into some other shit on Fridays that nobody else in the blawgosphere is really talking about?

Hence what I am now calling “Fetish Friday,” the first installment of which is today and which will continue until morale improves in general. Third Friday of every month…which is today. And today, today I want to talk about something I read about on Twitter:

Master Slave Contracts. Because I fucking love contracts, and the fact these fucking things exist just blew my tiny little mind right the fuck away.

So, that said, let’s chat.

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