Don't forget to read
the muck's bulletin board. Connect and enter +read.
Facts of Science
Most furs have noted by now that the SED's plans go awry far
more often that would be expected from ordinary chance. Some
people have speculated that it must be due to unusual
incompetence on Morticon's part, but is such a degree of
incompetence really likely? There's a natural upper
limit on bumbling. If Mort were truly that feckless,
he'd surely have starved by now from forgetting how to digest
his food, or succumbed in some similarly embarrassing fashion.
Logic suggests that the second law of thermodynamics operates
more aggressively in Morticon's presence. How can we
know this? We begin by noting that the SED's plans
always fail, regardless of the methods involved. We may
deduce from this that SED plans are 'state functions' which
will always reach a given state (failure) from a given set of
conditions (Mort's involvement). Furthermore, the SED's
plans in their initial states clearly have potential yet
always result in disorder. This transition from
potential to disorder is nothing more than an increase in
The second law of thermodynamics is a state function which
regulates how the entropy of a system increases.
Morticon's plans are state functions which result in an
increase of entropy. Ergo, the second law controls SED
plans. That it acts upon Morticon to a greater extent
than it does upon the universe as a whole should now be
||A new SpinDizzy
resident showed up in the Rose Garden last week.
Reminiscent of Cinnamon, local piece of paper, Origami Bird, visited
with folks for a while. Consisting of a cleverly folded piece of
scrap copy machine paper. Origami Bird moved quite gracefully among
the crowd. Communicating quite well without the use of
Although only seen once by this reporter, Origami Bird seemed
quite pleasant. It is hoped by many that it will find time
to visit in the Rose Garden again.
| Ringo J. Raccoon
|| Raccoon Research!
When I set upon doing this research, I did so with the general
intention to understand where it is I came from, and the quiet
hope that perhaps maybe, just maybe, there were others like
me; other raccoons who were similar to me. I have reason to
believe now that I am not alone...
Earlier in the afternoon on Friday, while out enjoying an
afternoon walk in the woods to clear my head, I saw what I
thought was a short, fairly chubby individual in a white
raincoat seated by the edge of the creek. Figuring upon being
friendly and greeting this individual, I made my way
down through the trees to the bank, only to stop about twenty
or so odd yards away, hiding behind a tree. There, sitting at
the edge of the creek was a -RACCOON-. A large raccoon just
like myself? That was a raccoon's face all right... and
from what I could make out, the tip of a
ringed tail. From what I could tell, he or she was similar in
height and build, dressed head to toe in some kind of hooded
white robe! I wasn't sure what to think. Despite hope for
finding others like myself, I had prepared myself for the
possibility that I was perhaps somehow alone, unique in what I
was. Shaken, I took a step back and broke a twig which caught
the other raccoon's attention immediately. Below is a record
of the dialogue that took place-
"You've been standing there quite awhile..." said
the robed raccoon, in soft voice, now focusing his gaze
directly upon me. "Why don't you come and sit with me?
I've been waiting for you."
His gaze made me freeze. It was like looking into a mirror,
and seeing myself aged well beyond my current years. Who could
"Waiting for me?" I thought out loud. How could this
be? Did he somehow know that I was seeking answers to my own
past? Was he a link to it?
"Go on. Come over here." he insisted,
motioning with one of his claw tips.
"My name is Albomanthy, and I understand that you
seek answers to your
"Yes... I do... But? But how? How do you know?" I
"We've been watching you since you were a child, Ringo.
That is what they call you, is it not?" he said.
"Well, yes... but how do you know my name? And who has
been watching me?"
"Patience," he said, "You will know all that
you seek very soon."
All of it proved to be a little much for me all at once, and I
don't remember much after that other than passing out. When I
awoke, it was nigtfall, and the strange raccoon-man in the
robe was gone. I looked to see which direction Albomanthy may
have gone in, but was unable to find
any tracks. At my feet where he had been, was a large,
worn-looking, leather bound book. I took the book home with
me, and intend to investigate it further as soon as I can. I
have the feeling I haven't seen the last of this Albomanthy
fellow. When I do see him again, I have many questions to ask.
Who is this Albomanthy, and what does he know about my past?
And more importantly, if I'm not the only example of my kind,
where are the others?
Stars' Pyre came to our small muck just over two years ago,
and he was probably one of the strangest, most imaginative people I've ever met.
It seems so incongruous that he was only 19, since he seemed so much older
with the serenity that he almost always projected. Many knew him
as the gentle celestial dragon, who became my good friend and also one to
many others, but
he also had a host of other forms, most bizarre of all
probably being the 'flock of gryphons' which is the last one he used. Of
course, he was 19, and still had the problems that tend to occur at that age,
which became so tragically apparent.
I knew him always as kind, intelligent, and affectionate in
his online persona, and found him also to be that way in real life on the
too few occasions that I met him - one of the sweetest people I think
I'll ever meet. I don't think he would have ever consciously hurt anyone,
which makes his
decision to leap to his death even more inexplicable. I
can only think that he either didn't believe he'd be missed, or believed he would
fly as a dragon, if he just believed hard enough. It pains me in a very
physical way when I realize that we'll never again see his
colorful wings or warm
smile in our skies. May the sun always shine on your wings, my dear
friend. We'll miss you terribly. Dream of dragons.
The Queen read this at her mother's
funeral the other day. It's apparently anonymous, but very
You can shed tears that she is gone;
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that
she'll come back; or you can open your eyes and see all she's
Your heart can be empty because you
can't see her; or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow
and live yesterday; or you can be happy for tomorrow because
You can remember her and only that
she's gone; or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be
empty and turn your back; or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
Well. Some interesting things have been happening.
On Thursday of last week, Kevin Hogue leapt from a tall building
in Berkeley and fell to his death. In the weeks preceding the
incident I had gotten to know him quite well. And because of
this close proximity to him it has placed me at the center of a
lot of attention that I'm not really sure I'm the right man for.
Because it's like this. I met Kevin first on a muck I connect to
regularly, called SpinDizzy [link]
where he had become a regular. I don't connect to very many
mucks these days. Mostly just SpinDizzy and [link]
Unknown Epicenters. I was annoyed by his presence, to be honest.
Those that know me very well at all know that Rootdown is a venomous, anti-furry troll; and very territorial when it comes
to new faces on SpinDizzy that don't meet with my approval.
And I wasn't very nice to him at all. But I have a tendency to
keep my flames very subtle, and don't attack outright unless
being attacked. (There've been exceptions, but yeah.) And he
persevered. I have a very hard time being mean to someone who
was as aggressively friendly as he was. He became sort of
something as an amusing oddity; I compared having conversations
with him to watching The Tick.
After a very short period of time he became something like a
cause celebre on Unknown Epicentres, where we gossip about other
people a lot. Kevin's live journal [link]
was one of our favorite soap operas. We scrutinized everything
he wrote, not because we were friends of his, but because he was
a fascinating specimen.
And then I noticed something he wrote about some events that
happened to him while he was growing up, placed next to some
remarks in the direction of suicide and depression. I had this a
few conversations with him and later drove out to meet with him
in person and discuss some of these issues. I believe it was
after something he said about having stopped paying rent and
attending his classes that sent the alarms off in my head that
yes, this was for real, and no, it was not just another furry
having the archetypal furry pity-party.
I told a few of my friends on Unknown Epicentres that I felt
like there was something I needed to do here, and they advised
against it. I ignored the advice and got personally involved
Why? Because it seemed like what needed to be done. When
somebody's car breaks down in the middle of the intersection and
you're in the passenger seat of the car behind them you hop out
and help them push. When someone you know has lost their job and
is having a hard time finding a new one, you send them all the
leads you know of. If someone has a heart attack and you know
CPR, you hop to it. There's no question about how good a friend
they are or whether they have an annoying habit of using
anime-derived smileycons. In situations like that there exists a
moral imperative to do what you can to help.
And.. because these are my people. It's like what Kevin's friend
Kyobu said here: [link]
nerds need to stick together. I had, at one point earlier in my
life, been actively involved in the furry community as one of
them and I know their mindset very intimately. I talk a load of
rot about how evil they are, but when the opportunity to help
one of them come closer to living a normal, well-adjusted life
presents itself, I consider it my divinely-appointed mission to
He may have sensed this, or he may have just been really
desperate for a friend. I wanted to figure him out and figure
out if there was a way to help him. I wasn't sure. After talking
to him for a bit, I made the remark to him that his philosophy
had made him a white hole, from which everything flows away from
and nothing can enter. There was no persuading him. There was no
discussion. He wasn't rude or arrogant, he was just convinced.
And that was it. A week later, he's was dead. And for some
reason, I'm not quite totally sure why, I feel no great loss. I
remain emotionally unperturbed. I think it's in large part
because I had already resolved any feelings about it before the
event. It seemed like an inevitability. It would be like getting
distraught about glaciers or tornadoes or taxes or other forces
of nature. And I suppose a part is on account of my deep
religious convictions about the eternal nature of the soul. I
tend not to think of people as dead, but just as having left.
But that's how I've been. On account of a eulogy I'd posted to
the last entry of his live journal, (which you will find partway
down this page [link]
here) I've been in contact with a lot of different people. His
family, reporters, other friends of his from both online and
off, police, and so forth. In writing that, I tried to ensure
that I was neither disrespectful nor dishonest. There was very
little of my personal opinion that were expressed there; I
simply reported events for the benefit of others who would read
it, who wanted to understand the why of what happened.
It is my hope that I'm not taken for uncaring in this matter.
Because I do. If I didn't, I would never have even approached
him. But my concern was the sterile, antiseptic, clinical sort
of concern of a physician. And it's a bit astonishing to me,
when considering the massive, massive number of people that knew
and cared about him, that there weren't more that recognized a
problem and stepped in to do something about it.
Of all the people that knew him, I can't see any among the furry
community that tried to get involved outside of a role-played hug
or nuzzle. This frustrates me. These people were his friends.
They cared about him and valued him. Kevin wanted their approval
and acceptance. The people that took him seriously, though, that
knew intimately his problems, people like Kyobu [link]
and Gwen [link]
knew that he had had a tenuous grasp on reality and did
everything they could to convince him to live his life and not
end it prematurely.
And the people that seem the least capable of acting like decent
civilized human beings come from the furry and dragon
communities. For instance, [link
] Palshife has taken it as an opportunity to build some sort of
bad-boy image he's trying to make for himself and show off how
hard he is by going on about what a loser Kevin is for taking
his life (while conveniently ignoring the fact that, uh, he and
Kevin are EXACTLY ALIKE). Or [link]
Cuttercoon, who, though he was not present during Kevin's
crises, is attacking those people who did try to help, crying
with a loud voice that his blood is on their hands.
It's difficult to keep from wondering if there wasn't more that
could have been done. If I had decided after all to go out and
see him on Thursday, would he still be living now? Would it have
just happened later? Would he have eventually changed his mind?
What if I never got involved at all? Would it have made any
difference? Was my sole purpose in the whole situation to be an
impartial observer who would lay bare his soul and tell his
story when it was all said and done? And bloody why me? Why
couldn't there be more people closer to him that I to do that?
Is it because if there were, it would never have happened in the
There have been people coming to me recently, within the furry
community, offering condolences and telling me what a great
thing I had done. And while I express my sympathy and act the
role I am expected to, I wonder if these people know who they
are talking to. Don't you know Rootdown? The troll who would
just as soon stab you as look at you? Rootdown, who rarely
speaks in the public chat areas except to say some snide remark
every half hour or so? Rootdown, who breaks out in hives
whenever he hears the words 'mundane' or 'furson'? Rootdown, who
is never happy unless he's complaining about some imagined
influx of furries into SpinDizzy? Why are you all being so nice
to me? It shouldn't be me. You've got the wrong guy.
In all of this I'm very worried for the well-being of Kevin's
family. I can't imagine how they are feeling right now. There
had entered into their home this brilliant child who was
brilliant and imaginative, who excelled in his studies, who was
the sort of kid most parents pray to have. But at the same time
he was so alien to them, his interests so completely out in left
field, his manner so indecipherable and his nature so
They worried about his obsession for his fantasy life, and did
the best they knew how to direct him to healthier outlets; but
like a small child with a sharp object, if you try to wrest it
from his grasp there's the chance he will withdraw and severely
injure himself. Kevin had died harboring feelings toward them
that I can't help but imagine they must be agonizing over. And
these are wounds that will likely never heal in this life.
I wish that there was more that could be done.
Rootdown - (From Journal Entry Mon Apr 08, 2002)
asked in this week's survey, "I'm doing a survey to be
published in @Action News. The question is, 'Is
SpinDizzy Politically Correct?'
thinks a moment. "I believe some people do connect
here from PCs, yes."
isn't sure. He's going to guess yes.
says, "I don't think SpinDizzy is PC."
says, "No, fortunately."
says, "Hmmm...Spindizzy isn't a place of political
conversation is it? Otherwise I though it was a place for
chirps, "I think this is about the most politically
incorrect MUCK. Hence why it stays fun to be here."
isn't sure what passes for political correctness these
says, "I think 'No' for the survey question,
doesn't think this place is Politically Correct, no. Not
that the term means anything anyway.
says, "I'll have to go ask Rush Limbaugh Argon, he'll
know the right answer for that. :-p"
says, "I hope the muck isn't PC, that's an evil
blinks at Argon. "What is that?"
says, "I'm not sure."
shakes its shell. Mysterious letters appear, 'Ask again
answers the survey. Never noticed if it was!
has yet to observe any PC'ness here.
mews, "Depends on your politics."
says, "It's fun, I don't even think of pc things
:If you were born this week, you are too young to be reading
this horoscope; but if you were born on the week of April 14th
your horoscope is as follows:
You will always get what you want through your charm and
Unfortunately, it will arrive cash on delivery. A
mysterious stranger will arrive today; but today is a bad day
to meet new friends. Your unlucky color is purple, or
maybe it is yellow. All your lucky numbers this week can
be found on your 1040A form. Do your taxes.
Procedures for Submitting Articles
||Submitting a story
or artwork for @Action News is easy! Just send it to firstname.lastname@example.org,
or qmail or page Argon about it.
Most any type of story or article will be accepted.
Generally, we'd prefer things that aren't out and out lies or
flames about other folks, and have a basis in the reality of
SpinDizzy. Things that occur in public areas are fair
game. The things reported don't have to have actually
happened, (Any more than anything that happens here does.) but
make sure you don't overstep the social boundaries and rules of
interaction that we have. These are pretty broad
guidelines, but we expect good sense to apply.