My Freaky TMI idea about Furries from Space.

As Kenny Everett used to say “This show contains Naughty Bits” so be warned.

I don’t know about you, but when I see a cartoon character and they’re not wearing pants… and also lack genitals, well, I find that a bit odd.

It’s not that the cartoonist couldn’t add them, Furries add them all the time with no trouble at all. No the problem lies with society and their warped views on sex.

It’s fine to have people being shot in every other tv show, but show a dick and oh dear, the entire world falls in.

Over on you youtube page, I have a deleted clip from Rockos Modern Life, Which shows a farmer (who apparently can’t see all that well) putting a milking machine on Heffer (Who’s a male bullock or steer) As the machine (hidden from view) pumps away, our hero, quite confused, stands there “ohhhing” until finally his eyes get stars in them and he falls over backwards with a gigantic smile on his face.

Honestly, the people who wrote back saying “This destroyed my childhood”

What if society thought noses were weird or wrong or offensive, rather than genitals, and we all had to wear nose bras, and were deeply ashamed to sneeze in public?

There’s nothing wrong with the parts, they’re just bits of our body.

I had a volunteer position at the Melbourne Zoo years ago, and thought that it was funny that people didn’t mind their kids seeing the animals mating… or just having a wank in the corner, as animals do… but if humans were found making love in the park? hrmmm, I wonder.

Personally I’d just step over them and leave them alone.

OK, so my weird idea, the “meat and potatoes” of this post, uhem…

Sometimes Furry artists don’t want to draw pants on their characters, nor do they want to draw the genitals BUT sometimes they draw a bulge, almost as though the character were wearing a living skin?

Well why not?

There could be an alien being out there in the depths of space which has that sort of body, couldn’t there?

Think of it, a living fursuit, which cannot be removed, but isn’t really attached, except perhaps for the skin around the hands and face.

But in the groin, there is a kind of pouch, where all the goods are kept, and somehow this is quite functional and useable to the species.

The access hole (not to be confused with the other “A” Hole) is also completely hidden, and perhaps can’t even open unless the creature wishes to mate.

Discuss.

A question of taste (NSFW)

Semen, it’s good stuff, but the flavour needs changing, and considering how many of us have come out, it’s definitely not used as often for baby making (Swallowing it is more environmentally friendly than using it for producing kin).

So let’s say that there were plans ahead for a genetically enhanced human with all the nasty diseases removed and a few nice touches… not to say, build a human for sports, that’s kind of dumb… sure you could have a man with the body for basketball but he may want to study music.

Therefore we want healthy bodies, big and strong, alert, active, good heart, good bone structure and…

Semen that tastes better than bleach.

So what if we had a committee of connoisseurs, of Men and Women too, what could we change the flavour to?

I gave this some thought, and reasoned that the flavour needs to be subtle and suggestive, like wine where people talk about field mushrooms or berries, you get the drift?

And why not have a variety? If we have lots of partners (none carry disease remember) then why not have a range of flavours?

Here’s my suggestion, put forth.

- Almond
- Vanilla
- Oats
- Hay
- Honey
- Horse (horse like scent)
- Peach
- Wheat
- Walnut

Might be an interesting conversation starter at a bar.

“I taste like Apricot, What do you taste like?”

Any more suggestions?

*NSFW means Nice Soft Fluffy Werewolves.

On Sex

Reading your post about doing things other than watching TV, Although naturally using the Internet is fine.

“HAVE SEX”

There’s an idea.

Do they sell it in jars at Coles (Supermarket)?

It’s funny how sex seems to be this amazing cure all for lifes shortcomings.

I’ve seen these people bashing their heads against a brick wall because they’re supposedly not normal, because they’re not getting any. Next thing they’re in relationships and being depressed, and having babies, and not enough money is coming in, they’re screaming blue murder at each other and hurling objects and getting black eyes and a lawyer.

I’ve seen (and heard) this first hand, Neighbours abusing each other and relations having divorces.

And somehow, because I’m single and wish to stay that way, and live with my cat and dog. I get sneered at.

And while it’s true that life isn’t perfect, I can pretty much do my own thing.

Perhaps I’m too lazy or inept, but honestly, what’s the point?

Wolfie!

Link to blog.

Brunswick Street nights

You may recall how I mentioned that I wished to work in radio, but my health declined so I left? Well, towards the mid 90′s I began to feel, after several years at home, not doing much, that things were improving, and that I’d like to do something quiet and not very stressful.

So, as I was also going through a crystal wearing hippy phase, I decided Shiatsu massage was for me, So I found a good course, one which would last a full year, and signed up.

Now this is not really about the Shiatsu or my Hippy phase, I’m merely explaining why someone who has since become far more logical in the years to come, got into Reiki.

I did quite well at Shiatsu, but didn’t pass (and get my certificate) because there was a section on Chinese Medicine, which although it was interesting, was far too difficult for me, I only wanted to learn massage… and do the yoga which we had to do as part of the course.

I should say that with the constant massages, and the yoga, I have never felt better in my entire life, so in a time when I needed it, it was probably the best thing that I could have been involved with.

When the course ended, a friend told me that she was learning Reiki at another place, Well that sounded interesting too, and could be used with Shiatsu, and again was a nice gentle thing to do… so I signed up and did the course.

Yes it was all woo, but I found the whole thing rather theatrical. The strange Woman who claimed to speak with Merlin (good grief) who taught Reiki, and the huge room above the crystal shop in Brunswick Street which was loaded with small statues of African deities, which looked eerie when I passed them in the dark on my way to the loo.

It was also the first time I mentioned the Wolf to a complete stranger, but if she could talk to Merlin, then I could be a Werewolf, it’s only fair.

Mum and Dad liked driving me to odd places and waiting for me, they’d get quite a show from the locals as they passed by.

My parents had not seen real punks, pros and openly gay men till I started a course in Audio Engineering in the late 80′s, in Inkerman Street, St. Kilda. But by now they were well used to the free sideshow, and quite enjoyed it.

The Reiki class ended one night, and My Dad came over to meet me, we walked back towards Retro, A lovely place to eat in Brunswick Street, They’d serve the biggest pancakes you ever saw, like a family pizza, massive things.

Then we crossed the road, and as we did so, one of the local working girls came over to us and said Hello quite nicely and asked me if I’d be interested in spending some time with her… I was painfully shy… but said “I’m with my Dad” pointing to him awkwardly and giggling a bit, and then she said… “That’s ok, I can take on both of you”.

I wasn’t expecting that and Dad and I both laughed at the witty comeback.

Dad and I got to the car and we told Mum who thought it was a huge joke, We laughed about it now and then for years later.

My Dad, who was a big strong truckie, would blush easily at any mention of sex, he’d also faint if he saw any blood, I should have pushed it, Perhaps I should have said “Come on Dad, Let’s go back and take her up, You can go first to show me what to do and then I’ll have a crack and you can tell me where I’m going wrong.”

That would have turned my poor Dad bright red, though I’m sure that, when he lived in Sydney that he had probably had the offer once or twice in his life, and had possibly even taken up the offer at some point.

I think Mum suspected, but you know, a single bloke on his own, the two hadn’t met, Mum wouldn’t have worried if he had spent an evening with a professional.

… Although, now I come to think of it, I think Mum suggested something similar to my cheeky idea at the time.

Wolfie!

Today I met a Furry, what now?

Today you met your first furry, and want to know what it’s all about, so the first thing you do is ask a friend, who claims to know, but doesn’t know that much more than you do.

He says “It’s some weird sexual fetish, I know cause I saw something on TV about it”.

For some, that’s enough info, and they go through life thinking that’s what it’s all about… except it’s about 90% wrong.

Now some Furries would write an encyclopedia on the subject, but I know darn well that if this post dribbles on too long that most, if not all of you will tune out, so lets get straight to the short and curlies.

A Furry is someone who “describes themselves as an animal” in much the same way that someone else might describe themselves as “Christian” or a “Footy Fan”.

Why do they do that?

Well everyone has different reasons, but a few include “Because I feel it’s my spirit animal” or “I’m a big fan of cartoon animals” or even “My mates all do it, so I thought I’d try it out too”.

Now a lot of Furries are highly creative, they can draw, paint, sew, design, write and are also often good with computers, in fact some people have said that if it wasn’t for the furries, half the internet wouldn’t work, I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s a fun rumour.

So, you’ll see Furry artwork, Hear Furry Music, and once in a while see Furries dressed in costumes which they very often make themselves after months of hard work, think of the work that goes into something like quilting and you’ll have the basic idea of the kind of effort involved, more on this later.

You may have probably seen a furry on Twitter or Facebook, and here’s an interesting thing, Spammers almost never use a Furry avatar, so if you see a person with a Furry avatar who wants to follow you, then it’s most likely a genuine person who reads your stuff and likes you.

But the sex? What about that?

Bear (see what I did there?) in mind that Furries are quite often teenagers, so there are a lot of hormones swirling around, so yes, sex is going to be added to the mix, but the sex would be there whatever people chose to do, Whether that’s being in a band, playing golf, surfing, flower arranging, fighting fires… you get the picture… It’s just that somehow people got the idea that Furries have more sex than anyone else, you know, like with the Swedes, Yah?

But Furries generally are more laid back (see what I did there?) about sex than most people seem to be, we’re simply not bothered about people who are gay or whatever, if nobody is being hurt, then it’s fine.

You heard something about Plushies?

Oh that’s ok, People confuse Furries with Plushies all the time, Plushies are people who… have a thing for toy animals, now some Plushies ARE Furries, just like some Builders are Smokers. I’m a Furry, and the idea that someone can get randy over a plush Lion King leaves me scratching my head, but nobody is being hurt, so meh.

Furries can, and have sometimes tried to have sex in their costumes, but many don’t want to, because… as I said earlier, a costume represents months of work, these are not some cheap off-the-shelf item, they are designed for one person to wear… much like an elaborate costume might be made for an actor in a play or a movie… they generally won’t fit other people, unlike a sports mascot costume which could be warn by quite a few people and is designed for rough and tumble.

People can spend $2000 or upwards on a costume, so the idea of rolling around, scuffing it on the carpet and getting it really dirty is about as appealing as swallowing a hair ball, and remember that these costumes can get really hot, so sex, although possible (if the owner really wanted to try) is probably not going to be too comfortable.

If two furries want to have sex with each other, it’s probably best to go into a very dark room together and use the theatre of the mind, their own imagination, as most of us do anyway.

If you meet a Furry, my advice would be to sit down with them, pour a drink, and tell them that you’ve heard a little bit about Furries but you’re not sure what it’s about, and do try to ask the odd awkward question… Furries usually don’t mind, and will generally open up about things.

What have I learnt about being Furry?

Well as a White, Aussie Male, I had no idea what racism felt like, I had some idea because I was bullied at school for years, but racism was something else.

When I was on Second Life, which is a kind of Social Network in a 3D environment, there were certain hate groups which I was exposed to, now these guys had basically decided Furries were “Bad” and were going to destroy their way of life in some manner or other, They were really just a bunch of trolls.

My Avatar in Second Life, was a Wolf (of course), a Furry who walked on two legs.

The hatred which came from these guys, hurt, but also gave me valuable information on what it must be like to be someone with a different coloured skin, who goes through this kind of thing, in real life, everyday.

They tried to promote Furries as sexual deviants, child eaters, people who got on the bus without paying their fares but failed miserably.

Second Life had, and probably still has, a strong Australian community, who saw through the situation rapidly.

Because I was so well-known in Second Life (mainly via ABC Island) the Aussies simply thought Furry = Wolfie.

Therefore almost all the Aussies accepted Furries, and many became Furries themselves.

I had done something positive and was very pleased with Myself, but was also very proud of the Aussie community, and felt that if this issue could be overcome so quickly in a simulation, then racism in the real world, could end, and it could happen fairly soon too.

To wrap up, we’re harmless… a little geeky at worst, and we like to gather in groups at times to get to know each other better. We’re a highly creative and generally welcoming mob who don’t have hang ups about race or sex or sexuality… but we are people and sometimes we gripe about something.

As each Furry brings something new to the table, don’t just take my word for it, ask for other opinions and try to find out what’s going on yourself.

Wolfie!

Sex and Good English

On his 64th birthday, a man got a gift certificate from his wife. The certificate paid for a visit to a medicine man living on a nearby hippy farm who was rumoured to have a wonderful cure for erectile dysfunction.

After being persuaded, he drove to the farm, handed his ticket to the “medicine” man, and wondered what he was in for.

The old man slowly, methodically produced a potion, handed it to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned, “This is a powerful medicine, and it must be respected. You take only a teaspoonful, and then say ’1-2-3.” When you do that, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life, and you can perform as long as you want.”

The man was encouraged. As he walked away, he turned and asked, “How do I stop the medicine from working?”

“Your partner must say ’1-2-3-4,’” he responded, “but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon.”

He was very eager to see if it worked so he went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine, and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom. When she came in, he took off his clothes and said, “1-2-3!”

Immediately, he was the manliest of men.

His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes, and then she asked, “What was the 1-2-3 for?”

And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition, because we could end up with a dangling participle.*

Via Peter Adderly (Clickon Science)

lgbtiqjklmngqrfyz

I was looking at a website about gay issues, and see “L.G.B.T.I.Q.”.

Cripes, it seems that they’ve added two more letters since the last time I looked, and not knowing what it meant, I quickly asked twitter and got my answer within minutes.

Apparently the I stands for Intersex, while the Q stands for Queer… Pardon me but I thought that Queer was Gay?

I’ve never been a PC lover, no that doesn’t mean I prefer Apple, I mean Politically Correct, If someone is Short, they’re Short, not Gravitationally Abundant, I call a spade a spade.

I don’t think adding letters and making things more complex is helping anyone, people love short words, pointing at something, looking worried and shouting “HOT!” is usually enough to get the message across.

How many more letters will this thing gain before the whole lot disappears up it’s own orifice?

Sexuality is a multifaceted thing, there must be so many independent sections of it that you could never break it down to a group of letters to cover everyone in any respectable way, doing so would result in something so perplexing that it could have been taken directly from a Monty Python sketch.

As awful as it is to say, at least the light globe went on immediately when people used to say Poofs or Dykes, now we have to sit and think about it, or explain it to someone who doesn’t know, which is awkward.

I wonder how many innocent bystanders asked the question, fumbled it and got branded as a homophobe, it could happen all too easily.

As a Tranny at one of the first Sydney Mardi Gras wisely said “I’m not Homosexual, I’m just Sexual”.

To me there is just sexuality, which is complicated enough as it is, I don’t think we should make it any harder to come to grips with.

Wolfie!

Waiting at the bus stop

I’m just going to write.

For the most part I do ok, I bury myself in the internet, which I’m good at, but I do it because I’m very sad inside, and I’m continually on the search for an escape route.

I use the bus stop as a metaphor, the bus comes, people get on, and they change or they vanish, they move into a new home, or get some new exciting job, or fall in love, or die.

I never get on the bus, it comes and goes with regularity, I want to go, so badly.

When I had the cancer, I got my ticket, it wsn’t the best ticket I could have had, but at least it was a ticket… and I gave it up.

And often I ask myself why.

Having survived, which I did for Mum and Myself, but mostly for her… It was one year later that I lost her anyway, Mum and I got on so well, and being without her breaks my heart.

I did give Katie a life, without me, all she would have got was the needle, she’s had six years more, and that is something I don’t regret.

I have lost a part of my hearing, I loved music, and since this accident I have been quite depressed… music no longer tickles my ears, I have memories of music that I loved, but I mostly enjoy it in my head, sound is not nice anymore.

And now, if you’ll permit, the strange bit.

You see, this “furry” thing is quite serious with me, I took a survey on this recently and one question was “Do you feel like an animal trapped in a human body” Well yes, yes I do.

And this my friends is not somehing I felt after seeing some “weirdo” talk about their odd furry companions… this is how some people feel anyway.

I was feeling like this as far back as the 80′s, and we didn’t have internet then.

I’d like to fall in love, I would *love* to fall in love, but you understand… there’s nobody, there’s just me.

It’s like the earth coughed out another species and that was me, and there’s nobody else.

I don’t do relationships because I feel so awkward because of this, I so so desperately want to be loved, but there’s this, here, and I don’t know what to do with it.

It’s not like I see someone about it in an effort to be cured, unless homosexuals can be cured, unless transexuals can be cured.

And understand that this is not about my sexuality, this bit, it’s about my inner-being, the part which is more ME than anything else.

My heart goes out to the Gay community and so forth, because I know how it aches,
but… I don’t know how to deal with it.

What am I? Where do I fit in? Why am I stuck here like this?

The pain I have inside is just dreadful, I often feel I’m not wanted, I really try so hard to be wanted.

I want Mum and Dad back, I can’t tell you how much I miss them.

When someone gets on the bus, sometimes I’m happy for them, other times, when things go wrong, it’s awful.

Sometimes I’m just a tiny bit envious.

I’m a little scared of writing this, this is about me, not you, I know some of you are hurting too… I was once in a chat room, many years ago, talking to someone who was depressed, in much the same way I am now… the next day I found they had taken their life.

So don’t take this on board if you’re sad, I’m just having a downer, tomorrow life will go on as usual and I’ll be here.

Wolfie!

Wildsex Days

The time had come to think about making my very first website, this was in the mid 90s.

Websites at the time were rather flat and not all that interesting, they were usually rather dry scientific pages, or sci-fi or terrible porn sites… terrible because you’d never get any porn, each link promised something free until you hit the 50th link where it would finally ask you for money and install adware all over your pc.

I wanted to do something different, and perhaps stir people up with the subject matter.

Animals rooting, that was it.
* Rooting is the Aussie word for Intercourse.

I found some pretty crappy wildlife photos of animals doing it and arranged them into something that looked somewhat attractive and added some text.

It looked a bit like an early version of Cracked.

The page was launched and I sat back and waited for the hate mail to flood in from fundies or anyone who felt that the subject matter would hurt their virgin eyes.

Amazingly it gained a following of loyal readers, who not only liked what they saw, but contributed like mad.

Suddenly I had photos of horses and other animals hard at it, and I posted what I considered the best… by this time I had too many to put on my website, and uploading on dialup took ages anyway.

None of these photos were any worse than you’d see on Discovery.

Except the pictures had to be of Mammals, My theory was that documentaries were scared of showing mammals having sex, it was a bit close to the bone, so they’d give the audience the old “birds and bugs treatment” which was less confronting.

I wanted to be as confronting as possible.

Some contributors sent videos, horse owners in particular seemed very proud to show off.

There was this one guy who filmed, yes with actual film, two percheron horses mating… the camera must have been positioned somewhere near the stallions rear legs, looking upwards. You could clearly see how everything worked, it was a remarkable bit of footage, and must have been rather dangerous to film. But nobody else had dared do such a thing, and if they had, would it have ever been shown on TV? I began to realise how amazing the internet could be.

Eventually I had a mountain of photos and videos, and people wanted to see everything I had, so I started selling zip discs, which sold, and allowed me to buy a CD-R which I ran on my P-100 Packard-Bell.

The CDs sold so well that they paid for two new computers.

One of the guys from the ISP phoned me and I thought he was going to tell me off for being a perve and to please remove the page and not do it again. but he told me that Wildsex accounted for most of the ISPs visitors, and that he loved it like everyone else, and wanted me to continue.

We’re talking about a small, privately owned, apana network ISP.

A breeder over in the US sent me an artificial vagina for a bull and a condom for a horse. The AV was enormous, I still have it. I keep it beside my bed incase I get an intruder… If I ever have to use it, I hope I can view the police report.

“Intruder was hit on the head by a large rubber breeding device for bovines”.

Some of you may know that I like furry art, well a lot of artists had no real idea of how animals went about it or what animal genitals looked like and often got their art a bit wrong as a result, but now the artists had their models and adult furry art changed in a big way.

About two years later, The Powerhouse Museum in Sydney ran an exhibition called Wildsex which was all the same sort of stuff that was shown on my page, and then Channel Nine aired a documentary with the same name which was hosted by Don Burke, I got no credit for any of it.

After about three years, the steam ran out, people had copied my concept and those pages were getting more visitors than mine was now getting. and I was feeling a bit more creative and wanted to do something else.

I moved on, closed Wildsex for good, and then created an entirely new page which was popular in it’s own right, although much much tamer than my first effort… a Harry Potter Fanfic page, which is still there, untouched, as I find webpages tricky and time consuming to make, I’m happier sticking to my blogs, facebook and twitter now.

Interestingly, the entire time that Wildsex was available, I got one solitary complaint, that was all.

Wolfie!