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 entropy. 

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 obvious.

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 he be?

"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 asked.

"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.

Findra--

---

The Queen read this at her mother's funeral the other day. It's apparently anonymous, but very good.

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 left.

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 of yesterday.

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.

Suri  

---

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 anyway.

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 do so.

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 first place?

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 uncompromising.

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)

Natasha thinks a moment. "I believe some people do connect here from PCs, yes."

Kilroy-Clone isn't sure. He's going to guess yes.

Gwyn says, "I don't think SpinDizzy is PC."

Clarisa says, "No, fortunately."

Alicia says, "Hmmm...Spindizzy isn't a place of political conversation is it? Otherwise I though it was a place for fun."

Cye says, "Thankfully no."

Gilead chirps, "I think this is about the most politically incorrect MUCK. Hence why it stays fun to be here."

Flutterz isn't sure what passes for political correctness these days.

Suri says, "I think 'No' for the survey question, Argon."

Roofus_roo doesn't think this place is Politically Correct, no. Not that the term means anything anyway.

Rown says, "I'll have to go ask Rush Limbaugh Argon, he'll know the right answer for that. :-p"

Rose says, "I hope the muck isn't PC, that's an evil term."

Nikon blinks at Argon. "What is that?"

Shoe says, "I'm not sure."

Hefon shakes its shell. Mysterious letters appear, 'Ask again later.'

Gina_Doberman answers the survey. Never noticed if it was!

Darwin has yet to observe any PC'ness here.

PatchO'Black mews, "Depends on your politics."

Lilly says, "It's fun, I don't even think of pc things here."

: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 personality. 

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.