Call me one of the out of touch elitists, simmering in a hot bed of bleeding heart liberalism...
But I just don't get it.
I was browsing the gallery of  AndamanSea
Full of "beautiful" wolves, either trapped and freshly killed and bloody, or staring at the camera, waiting to be killed.
I suspect these... lovely pictures are not consistent with the photography AUP, which allows taxidermy as long as the finished product is displayed... not the raw, bloody kills being featured. But what do I know. The AUP and I never got along. Apparently I should display road kill if I want to keep my pictures from being deleted.
So...

I'm not in a bubble. I know enough rednecks to know that they just love their animals... especially with mash potatoes and gravy.
They love nothing better than to hunt all these "beautiful" animals. They can't wait for hunting season to come.
Lots of explanations about how all these animals are overrunning everything and need to be "culled" periodically.
I don't disagree with that. I suppose it is a necessary evil, er, service to thin the population and make more room for... us.

But I just don't get how people can admire these beautiful animals and talk about being one with nature blah, blah, blah and then trap them and kill them. It's a bridge I cannot quite cross. Oh, sure, there are animals I would like to see dead... mostly cats. Yes, and the pigeons that poop on my car. And the dogs that use my prized rose bushes for their personal toilet. Or even the skunk that digs up my lawn for grubs. Yes, I wish they were all dead... or at least gone.

Did I have a point?
Um... I get that there a valid reasons to kill animals, and I acknowledge that there is even valid reason to display such pictures to raise consciousness about what goes on in the world. But it creeps me out that people praise the beauty of these animals and then trap them and kill them and put them on display. Now that I think about it, that sounds like the plot of some stories here on FA.
Nevermind. Forget I said anything. I'm out of touch, you see.

Love, -D.

Bargain Basement "Roo"...

Warning! Self induced furry drama. Sensitive furries need not read further.

Well... well... well.
How the mighty have fallen.

Now don't get ahead of yourselves, darlings. Today we are going to discuss one of my favorite furries,  stormwolff

Those of you who read my journals may remember that I share... a minor piece of 👑 Roo-Kiss related history with said furry. Namely, we ended up in a bidding war over the dubious privilege of receiving an auctioned commission offered by 👑 Roo-Kiss. Like drones fighting for a piece of our Queen bee. To no one's surprise, I lost out to StormWolff. The winning bid was $975.00. American. Not that awful Canadian money. You can read the whole sordid tale of lust, greed and heartache in my journal: "👑 Roo-Kisses St. Valentine's Day Massacre".
Now, there's a limit to what I'm willing to pay for a 👑 Roo-Kiss commission, but the defeat still stung me. Since then, I've always had the nagging feeling that I wasn't going to win no matter what I bid.
I notice that no one has ever tried to assuage me of that nagging feeling. Just saying, is all.
Whether by chance or design, StormWolff was the better furry. I will remind you that I congratulated both Stormwolff and 👑 Roo-Kiss on their coup. The loyalty, the fervent devotion that Stormwolff showed for our Queen was impressive. And the pride StormWolff took in showing off the costly custom work was admirable.

That was then, darlings. Fast forward to today. 08/08/2016.

I'm innocently browsing submissions and I come across this eyebrow raiser from StormWolff:

"Furry Graphic Books/Novels for Sale

Since I'm going through all my belongings I'm looking to sell some of the Furry/Anthro graphic novels and books I own.

All of the items for sale today are made by [👑] [👑], who wrote and drew all these books. I will include links to the items on FurPlanet so you know what to expect for each item, in order to sell them I they will be priced lower than what you'd find on that website. Just note me if you are interested in purchasing any of these books, please include which one you'd want, a email address so I can send you an invoice, and a shipping address. Shipping cost for all of these will start at $4.95 domestically here in the United States. I've done the math and there are to many variables to ship the item internationally, so I'll only be shipping to addresses in North America. I will include a tracking number for you to use. I'll mail them out within 24 hours after receiving the payment.

1. (CLAIMED, awaiting payment) R3d L@nt3rn: The Cr!ms@n D!v!ne (Paperback), ($15) Link

2. Off Th3 B3@t3n P@th Books 1-3 (Paperback), ($20) Link 1, Link 2, Link 3

3. !nst!nct (Paperback, signed by [👑] herself), ($15) Link

Thanks in advance and I'd appreciate if anyone would be willing to help spread the word on this."

( Let's just say I'm helping to spread the word. Snicker.)

So much for StormWolff's unwavering loyalty to our Queen. Imagine, our 👑 Roo- consigned to the bargain bin. The Horror. I haven't felt this bad for an author since I saw Kathy Lee Gifford's autobiography on sale in the bargain bin for $1.98. Now Kathy Lee has company. Oh, dear. How embarrassing. *giggle*

Now, much like StormWolff, I was not interested in the books, but I was considering... leaving a comment. And believe me, I had a few things to say. But I declined. Because I am such a class act. In fact, I was concerned. What traumatic thing could have happened to make StormWolff betray our Queen and sell off these beloved tomes? I dug around StormWolff's journals and found this one dated 17 days earlier:

"I feel broken...

mentally, emotionally, and physically. To the point I feel like I've lost my way in life, I honestly have no idea what to do next...

I thought I had a clear idea of that at the beginning of the year but the recent death of both my grandparents has changed my perspective on life. I guess at this point I'm looking for something... whether it be help, wisdom, inspiration, or meaning in life I don't know."

My heart went out to this furry. Certainly we can all empathize with loss. If we live long enough in this world, we face the specter of death. We look for meaning, we seek out answers. How often it eludes us. I have answers to these things, but how few want to hear. That is something I have learned through pain and tears. It is said that the unexamined life is not worth living. Upon this forced examination, StormWolff seems to realize that a collection of furry coffee table books is not important anymore. Don't I know it. I was moved to write a comment. It was along the lines of: "My condolences for your loss. I'm certain your grandparents are safely in God's memory."

StormWolff never got my message. And never will.

Because, it would seem, StormWolff blocked me. That @ssh@le blocked me.
Why, I don't know. Other than offering my congratulations, I have had little, if any contact with this person. Why was I blocked? Maybe it was a show of solidarity with our Queen. Maybe it was one of my journals. Maybe it was my... unexpected appearance in the bidding process. I don't know. I don't really care either. All I know is that I'm not the one schlepping the Queen's stuff in the bargain bin. Looks like we have another defector.

Love, -D.

AC 2017 meme

I've never done this sort of thing before. A meme, that is. Other things I've done before. But not this.
There's a first time for everything and now is my time.
Yes, I know AC 2016 just wrapped up, but AC 2017 is just around the corner. So let's get a head start.


How do you want to be addressed?
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is my preferred address. But I will take Dreamwindow.
But most likely, I will be addressed as "The creepy old dude casing Roo-kisses' table."

Arrival and Departure?
Sure. Yes, both of those.

Where are you staying?
Someplace with a concierge.

Mode of Transportation?
The usual: Black suv with tinted windows and a driver.

Who will you be with?
I'm currently in a relationship with two furries. They are not aware of this fact yet... so technically I'm all alone.

What are your Major Plans?
See first question.

What fursuits do you have?
I have a belly-button lint collection and some hairballs that the cat threw-up under my bed. Does that count?

Attending Parties?
I used to be the life of the party until I was blocked/removed from the invitation list. So... no.

How do I find you?
I'll be wearing a Bernie Sanders mask and a red suit with a belly like a bowl full of jelly.
I'm Bernie Sanders Claus and if you youngsters sit on my lap, I will give you candy and promise you a bunch of free stuff.

What is your gender?
Sure. I'll accept "What".

How old are you?
The young people where I work ask me that because they want my job when I retire.

Can I talk to you?
Such awful grammar.
As my English teacher would say: "I don't know... CAN you?"
(It's MAY I talk to you?)

Can I hug you?
"I don't know... CAN you?"

Can I buy you a drink?
"I don't know... CAN you?"

What's your poison?
Red Lantern. Like most of you, I'm dry for months before I go off the wagon.

Can I commission you?
"I don't know... CAN you?"

Do you do free art?
All my art is free. And... no.

What events will you be attending?
Hopefully the Inaugural Ball. Oh, furry stuff. Don't care.

How tall are you?
Who cares? My belly is all you will be looking at.

Are you nice?
Read my journals and decide.

Are you friendly?
Shy. But I will open up depending on topic. And topics that I am not interested in discussing include, but are not limited to: Pokémon, anything related to diapers, children, your dog, or the question: "Do you text?"

Can I touch you?
"I don't know... CAN you?"

Are you Cliquey?
I wish.

Can I Stalk you?
If I'm wearing the Bernie Sanders mask, then it is inevitable. If I'm not, then you're just watching me to make sure I don't steal stuff.

Can I buy Breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner?
"I don't know... CAN you?"

What/where will you be eating?
Who will I be eating would be a more interesting question.

Can I get a Picture with you?
No.

Can I Steal you Away for *Censored*?
No.

You Wanna Cuddle at the Con?
No.

How long are you going?
How long am I? What?
Oh. How long am I going? idk.

Where will you be most of the time during the days?
See first question.

Do you have an artist table?
No. I do all my drawing in bed.

Can I give you a gift?
Why yes, you can. Especially if you are stalking me. There is nothing wrong with an occasional stalking, as long as you don't bother me all day. The gifts you should give to me are: Money with no strings attached, scented candles, and specialty chocolates. Gifts you should not give me: Mugs, stickers, and any other crap you took off a table. And don't give me your phone number, I don't want it. I am not calling you, no matter what I said.

If I see you, how should I get your attention?
Look up "gift" above.

What's your goal(s) for the con this year?
See first question.

Love, -D.

“Roo” should get the Dish by Hopper

First of all, there is a lot of celebrating of freedom going on right now, especially with this being Independence Day week. So everybody’s got the grill out and having a good time. Speaking of grilling, Secretary Clinton received a grilling by the FBI over the weekend. I guess the charcoal briquettes weren’t stacked properly because she survived the fire. Though she does look a bit charred for the experience. Mr. Trump stood by the grill and added seasonings, rubbing salt into her wounds. Don’t stick a fork in her yet. She’s not done. I’m not done either. I’ve still got some grilling to do this week. Let’s see what I can throw on the grill:

Ok people, I’m just trying to get up to speed on my 👑 Roo-Kiss journals. I’ve been lazy about it. Well, I had nothing to say about 👑 Roo-Kiss. Well, nothing worth talking about, anyway. I still don’t. But I’m in a mood. Could be the diet I’m on. Had to limit myself to one slice of pizza instead of the usual six. I desperately need some grissle to chew on… so let’s get the barbeque fired up and grill some Roo.

So our Roo is in a sticky wicket of her own making. Another one. Yes, I know. She is the architect of her own suffering, you might say. And how we have suffered right along with her. Call her the Secretary Clinton of the furryverse. I empathize. Truly I do. If you don’t stack those briquettes in just the right way, they tumble like a house of cards. Oh, those pesky email servers and cable hook ups and such. Setting up all that obligatory technology can be such a headache, a stumbling block to progress. Two steps forward, two steps back. Sometimes you just need what you need, and however you get it is how you get it. Our Secretary needed secrecy and control. She didn’t get it. She then needed to pacify the people with an explanation of why she did what she did- and what she was thinking. She didn’t do it. She also needed a break. She may have finally gotten that today. Stick a fork in her later to see if she’s done.

Our Roo has needs, too. Namely, someone to lay their cable for her. (And not in a good way.) It seems she lives in some remote part of deliverance country where electricity and such is a newfangled thing. No word on whether she has running water. One can only hope she’s not drawing it from the well by hand. She has better things to draw. Our pioneer has planted a flag, cleared a tract of land, built a home (She lives in a trailer. I kind of instinctively knew this was inevitable, but I was horrified just the same to find out it was true.) Again, I empathize. I am no stranger to roughing it in the wild. I actually stayed in a hotel with no room service. For two whole days. I still have nightmares about it.

So she needs this cable run from civilization to her homestead in order to stream out furry pictures to you- and for some reason she can’t make this happen. The consequences of living in the wilderness, perhaps. If only she had chosen a building lot just a little bit closer to existing amenities. Everyone else in the neighborhood has cable, she reasons. Why not her? Life is so unfair. To be singled out, to be deprived of due freedoms granted to others. Who will be the scapegoat- who must be blamed for her ill-thought out choices? I suspect a vast right wing conspiracy against our Queen.

Well, darlings… the bed is made, now our Queen must lie in it. What to do? If the cable won’t come to her, then she must… get a satellite dish. The horror. But in fairness, I’ve never seen a trailer home without one, so I’m sure it will look right at home between her chicken coup and the couch that will one day sit in the pile of dirt that is her front yard. (I’m guessing.) We all have to give in to the… inevitability of our Roo’s steady decline into the abyss. But at least she has already received her coronation, unlike Secretary Clinton, whose once inevitable coronation keeps on being delayed and delayed. The nerve.

We sincerely hope that this matter is resolved quickly and there is no further delay in the streaming of all those furry goodies. You, dear readers, tried to help, but all you had was bad news for our Queen. Horror stories about how the dish goes out whenever it rains, snows, gets cloudy or windy or if a bird flies over it. More horror stories about weak, untrustworthy signal strength, lots of technical problems that sound bad and universal admonition that she needs to move heaven and earth to get her hands on someone’s cable. One person actually suggested that the cable company did not think our dear Queen “was worth it.” Gasp!

I feel her pain. As I have many times before. But I have no doubt our Queen will rally. A way will be found. She is a progressive who gets things done. Sadly, no matter what system she implements, cable, dish, whatever, it will be an exercise in mediocrity. Poor service, needlessly expensive, a burden on the common people. Kind of like our government. Just don’t blame Madame President for it. Or our Queen 👑. After all, it’s a rigged system.

Love, -D.

Ruxit

Some say FurAffinity is a river that drowns the tender reed
Some say Furaffinity is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed
Some say Furaffinity is a hunger, an endless aching need
I say Furaffinity is a flower, and furry porn its only seed

So, darlings… forgive me but I simply must do this. Simply must. It is a sickness that scoffs at a cure.

Just like republicans are addicted to Bengazi, refusing to let go, even to their last dying breath.

So l… am addicted to snarky comments about the train wreck that is F.A… Or is it F.U… as in Furopean Union. And at the helm… the five car pile-up known as the Queen’s page. Yes, we are talking about 👑, or the RU.K, for short.

The royal subjects of the RU.K love their Elizabethan Queen. So do I. Long may she reign over her people. One can’t help but feel empathy for her. She has been through so many trials and tribulations, including coughing up a princely sum to fix her hatchback. That her reign should now bear witness to such turbulent days. As you might have heard, there seems to be some… division over there across the pond on the RU.K’s page. It made all the papers.

There has actually been talk of leaving the F.A…um…F.U. Now, royalty is a big money maker for the RU.K, as we all know. Lots of tourism, millions of visits to get a glimpse of a regal hand waving from the royal palace. (I'm guessing it's a doublewide). As a member of the elite, of course she wants to stay and keep on collecting those checks. But the unwashed masses are reckless. Why do they want to rock the boat and interfere with her and her elitist friends? Yet rocking the boat is precisely what they have been doing. Invading the once open borders of the RU.K. and daring to change the status quo. Lowly immigrants and refugees coming to her country and taking jobs from the locals and sucking up resources and leaving unwanted comments on her user page. How dare they! The borders must be sealed. The riff-raff removed. And the money kept in the RU.K. where it belongs, lavished on the Queen. But it appears the only way to do this is to… part ways with the Furopean union. Gasp!

There’s already a movement to increase her presence elsewhere as a prelude to the inevitable. Hence the comment regarding one such site, “Twitter”, on one of her many recent journals: “I'd be very curious to hear what I could do to improve my presence over there, and make it a better tool to get information out to you guys than FA is. I hate that I'm so reliant on this site.” -👑

Decisions, decisions. 👑’s head says one thing, her heart says another. Such difficult choices. Despite her queenly rule, she finds herself in strange waters, at the mercy of the whims of the common people. Such perversion. This new found concept called democracy is a bitch. But we can all agree that no one wants to see the lights go out on F.U. from yet another cyber-terror assault. Being down for weeks is not good for business as usual. Time for protectionism. A bit of a knee-jerk reaction, but it has the virtue of being tried and true. Just ask Kim Jong Un.

Our Queen of hearts is trapped in a loveless marriage with the F.U, having outgrown it, but still hopelessly entangled within its grasp. I well know the feeling:

It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance
It’s the one that won't be taking that cannot seem to give
It's the one afraid of dying that never learns to live-

Some marriages just weren’t meant to last, no matter how public they are. No matter how many people are rooting for the fairy tale to last forever. Just ask Princess Diana. Um… well. Don’t ask her. Ask her divorce lawyer. If our Queen gathers the courage to abort herself from the bloated bureaucracy that is the Furopean Union like the overgrown fetus that she is, nobody will blame her. Will they watch her? I don’t know… but they won’t blame her. Having been untimely ripped from the womb of the Queen’s fickle love, I offer my services to help that abortion along. Bring me… a knitting needle!! Buahhahaa.

PS- I know five Supreme Court justices who will offer their services as well.

Love, -D.

It’s been a long wait, darlings. But finally, there is something on 👑’s page almost worth writing about. Almost. Meager material at best, but I will try to fill in the bare spots. Now I know what you are thinking, but I have been very good about keeping these journals to a minimum. Too good. So let’s see if we can make a mountain out of this mole-hill.

Actress Sharon Stone once famously said: “Men are frightened by a vagina and a point of view.” This is true. Personally, I think people should be more frightened by a teenager and a set of car keys. Yes, darlings. It seems our Queen has been involved in a car accident. A real one, not the flaming wrecks normally featured on her page. It seems our Queen was galavanting about on a treacherous piece of road high in the hills above Monaco, when she missed a curve and plunged to her death on the rocks below. Oh wait. I’m confused. That was the Queen of Hollywood, Grace Kelly, now known as Princess Grace of Monaco. Well, formerly known as Princess Grace of Monaco. Now she’s just… the LATE Princess Grace of Monaco. (The long persistent rumor is that her teenage daughter, Princess Stephanie, was the actual driver. This would go a long way into explaining why Stephanie survived the crash and her mother died.)

Speaking of late, the Artist currently known as our Queen will not be known as our late Queen. As least not today. Be assured, she is a survivor and will not be joining the ranks of deceased royalty such as the Artist formerly known as Prince, the King of pop, or the Queen of hearts, Princess Diana. Our survivor details her harrowing account:

“We were slammed into at a dead stop by a couple of teenagers not paying attention to the road. The Scion is badly damaged and going to the shop tomorrow, and we're HOPING it can be repaired in time to make it to Anthrocon.

I will find a way to make it no matter what. Right now we're just not certain if we'll be making it in MY car, and if we can't bring the hatchback I'm going to be limited in what I can bring. We're trying to work out the logistics right now, I'll keep everyone updated as I know what's going on.

I'm fine. Neck and shoulder hurts, but I'm resilient and I'm hoping it's just a minor twinge that'll go away. Luckily, we got hit from behind.”- 👑

I’m not sure what is so lucky about being hit from behind. I’ve been hit from behind (and not in a good homoerotic way) and I did not find it to be lucky at all. But who am I to judge another person’s tragedy? (Keep your snarky comment to yourself.) Picture it: A black suv registered and insured in New York. Inside: One New Yorker, one Bostonian, one from Washington DC. Driving through Vermont. (Heading to Bernie’s house, btw.) Waiting at a stoplight. Hit at full speed by a lost Denverite busy reading a fold-up map. Felt like a Mac truck hit us. Argument on the roadside. Hospital stop. Police station stop. Our car’s insurance did not extend outside of New York. Insurance paid for nothing. Court case took seven years.

Hardly the only accident I’ve been in. Our Queen mentions her “scion” being hit by teenagers not paying attention. Sure, I’ve also been there. Hit on the side by two snotty girls with bad intent. Like all teenagers, they didn’t give a f*ck. The only thing they cared about was being… late. I was driving an audi at the time. I named it “Klaus”. Klaus was never the same after that. I don’t know what a scion is. If it’s anything like the time someone pulled up to my call box in a kia, thinking I would open the gate for them, then I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss.

I realize all of my travails pale in comparison to our Queen’s latest drama. Especially since the high-speed pursuit of life, liberty, and furry porn is involved. Lateness is the issue and our Queen does not want to be late. Rest assured that she will not be late, late, for a very important date. Namely Anthrocon. She will find a way to make it no matter what. Nothing will stop her from her appointed rounds. Neither accident nor injury will separate her from your love. No obstacle formed against her will succeed. Ain’t no mountain high enough. Ain’t no valley low enough. Ain’t no river wide enough to keep her from you. The powers of heaven shall be shaken and earth shall be moved if necessary. All to avoid disappointing you furries. I can’t even make it to the bank and the drug store on the same day. Bless her dear young heart.

I truly do wish her a fast recovery from her neck and shoulder pain. I realize how irritating it is to have a pain in the neck that just keeps lingering on and on despite all efforts to ignore it. Here’s to hoping that minor twinge will just go away. But if it persists, the Artist formerly known as Prince has some great little pills for that… oh nevermind.

Love, -D.

What could this mean? Any comments?
Learned Helplessness

Hello, Darlings. I have been forced out of my slumber. You see, during my trolling sessions on Furaffinity, I never fail to find a new, fresh horror to darken my day. I have decided that today's revulsion is worthy of sharing with you, dear ones. It comes straight from the journals of:  Eyesofthenight
In summary, the journal titled:"Another so True Life Wisdom" discusses the torture of assorted animals in the name of the god of science. Eyesofthenight directs us to a Wikipedia page that describes an experiment where dogs are repeatedly shocked and unable to escape from their torture. After a while the dogs give up trying to avoid the torture, even when given the opportunity to do so. Hence the term, "learned helplessness". Eyesofthenight then goes on to gleefully describe experiments with rats who are forced to swim, sometimes for days, until they all drown. Apparently, Eyesofthenight thinks it is a valuable life lesson for us to know that the rats with "hope" never gave up the fight for life... until they died just like all the rats that had no hope. Eeewww.
I did, however, find the journal educational and poignant in the era of #me too and self victimization. I could not help thinking of all those young, white Hollywood wannabee starlets complaining about being forced onto the casting couch out of fear that they would never work in this town again. I say... maybe they should have found another town to work in. They had a choice to walk away from Harvey Weinstein. These animals were not free to walk away from their torturers.
I was also reminded of the "South Park" episode where all the white people took DNA tests to prove that they were also victims of racism. After all, why should so-called minorities be the only ones playing the victim card... I guess that inevitably leads to the example of Jussie Smollet, who wasn't satisfied with being black and gay. He was not being victimized enough, he reasoned, so he would force his victimhood, his badge of honor, along.
These privileged people don't know what it is to be a victim. To read about what victimization is, read Eyesofthenights journal below: You may find the real lesson is that victimization is what you force on others, not what you force on yourself.

Love,-D.

"Another so True Life Wisdom"

"Is your mind curious and questioning one? Like What went wrong, what I could do differently.
OR
Is your mind fast to blame (someone usually yourself or rich people) and state how things are.

https://youtu.be/m6pWEzkbnDE

My mind used to be blunt, blaming and full of statement. Some of that stuff still blurts out.

I used to be like a lot.. very, very blaming. And helpless.

It is called learned helplessness. That term comes from Martin Seligman

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Seligman
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Learned_helplessness

He found it with some animal testing... rather cruel stuff. Especially how they treated dogs on that test.

Maybe even more horrifying was his Rat test. But, hey! They discovered cure with that too!

hmm.. I was trying to find reference for that rat test and I found instead this. And this looks much more useful for those who actually are interested!
Go for it if you feel hungry for more. This should sustain you well, if it doesn't ask for more. I know lot what to look for.

https://positivepsychologyprogram.c.....pression-cure/

It seems that those rat test are likely erased from the net / sources for good.. perhaps better so because it was really cruel stuff.
Old fox told how those rat test went though.. and I could tell you that story, as it kinda does give hope. Especially with video above.

Okay I am not going to escape it.. i'm going to tell it to you guys roughly as Old fox told it to me. So its likely not correctly told as it is from person to persons to person.. but well see.

The RAT test

Professor and Students placed huge amount of Rats to a tall narrow tubes with water so that rats had to swim there, and they started to take time.

Idea was that they would take time how long it takes for rats to give up.

It turned out that it took way too long, so they decided to speed things up and put there kind of like sprinklers that poured onto rats making them have to swim for their life instead of just floating and waiting.

-

So the situation is that, well lets imagine that you're the Rat. You had no other option than to swim for your dear life or you will drown. And those bastard humans are all excited and taking time when you're going to give up and drown!

You know... swimming there for hours and hours and eventually dying at fatigue or giving up

Well... eventually one rat after another stopped swimming and drowned until all of them died. Results were interesting.

There was this massive portion of Rats that were like any rat, they swam and struggled there like lets say that average was 20 hours. I don't truly remember amount of hours.

So that was the average 20 hours.. those normal rats, some drowned faster some struggled longer.

But the most interesting to students and professor were the groups at both ends. At the top end there was that very small group of Rats that just refused to die and to give up.

That small group of rats just kept going and going, though the night to second day. 24... 28... 30 hours, or so until they died, their muscles probably burned all the calories and stopped working. And so, one after another this small portion of hero rats died after ridiculously long time.

That however is somewhat normal. There always are those who can do whole lot better than the average. Not many, but some.

However what was most interesting to researchers was the group I have not spoken of yet. Those rats who... once placed on the class under spinglers and in matters of hours looked up and though.

Screw this.. those are making fun of me and aren't going to stop. And just drowned.. like quite literally chose to die rather than to live in matter of few hours.

those bastards a'rent helping and are timing. Perhaps it is just easier to stop and to take sip of water. Rest of the life is more pleasant as this ant going to end otherwise.


That made professor to think and so they came up with another test example.

It was exatly same as before but with a small twink.

Quite shortly after starting. Short enough that none or very little of rats had died.. there happened something. Like accidents.

Straw fell to tube, that rat could use to climb out or tube tipped, giving rats change to escape, and then those rats were chased around the classroom.

unfortunately this was a plot, all the rats were eventually caught and put back to tubes to swim to death.

Just this time.

No one

Not a single rat

Gave up!

They all

Everyone of them swam to the night

to second day

and to the near other night... every one of them! They all swam more than 30 hours! Some even 36 hours!

THEY HAD HOPE!

Those rats though in their minds. Perhaps something will happen.

Maybe great manitou gets mad and punishes these humans.

Unfortunately they all eventually died, after burning every last bit of their strength.

But no one of them cave up.

Why? Because they all had HOPE.


----

So Video above and this story I told, it all comes to following.

Ask yourself what you can do to improve and get better. Make use of this experience you just had. No matter if it was negative and awful, you can learn from it.

WHAT can you learn of it, what can you do differently.

And guess what. When you put that to action, and the more you do. The more you will eventually get hope. The more there may come straws from the sky, from friends, from the great unknown. The more likely is that world will flip over and suddenly you have your change to bloom!

DONT JUST SIT THERE FEELING SOUR AND LISTEN NEGATIVE STATEMENTS OF YOUR MIND.

Be active and question. - WHAT CAN I DO IN THE NOW - To make DIFFERENCE!

The more you DO, the more straws you may have.




You know... I have read many stories. And in the stories, in almost every story the hero of the story does small things at the beginning. With the small act helps someone else or unselfishly does something very small.

Those things eventually pay off. That is where your straws come from. From things you may not consider important at all. That you did just because it was right thing to do.

Just keep doing. Keep asking what can you do in the now to make the difference and out of blue someday you will get your hope.


---

Thing with hope is.. it doesn't give you what you expect. - It wants to surprise you. - Old Fox 2013"-Eyesofthenight.


Eeewww.-Dreamwindow

I have 600 watchers as of today. That's what it says on my watcher list. I almost didn't notice. But I DID notice.
I am so appreciative and I love you all. But every silver lining has its cloud. Sadly, that also means... 172 of you unwatched me. Was it something I said?

Love, -D.

Which option is worse? Getting online for F.A... or getting inline for T.S.A?
Just sayin' is all...

And can't login.

I was at work doing something close to nothing, no different than the day before. A coworker approaches me and starts up a conversation. He is all exited because has a new tattoo, he says. And he wants me to see it. I really couldn't care less because... let's not get into that right now. Being the warm, caring person that I am, I smile and pretend to be interested in his dreary little life. I don't think I even got a word out... He brought me into an unoccupied side office a few steps away. The door closed behind us. I assumed he brought me in there because he didn't want anyone else in the office to see it. I was expecting him to roll up his sleeve or something. He said the tattoo was on his penis. He then unbuckled his pants...

You may safely assume that there was no tattoo.

You may also safely assume that this really happened.

How would you have reacted?

A) Point and laugh?

B) Point and shoot? Then circulate the selfie of his penis to everyone in the office.

C) Call human resources?

D) Take the hint and offer to give him oral sex? He was young and fairly cute.

E) Tell his wife at the next Christmas party?

F) Suggest Artdecade do a comic about it?

This being the spring season, I thought this would be timely.
You're at a lawn party, and having lost interest in the croquet matches, you head for the buffet table to gnash.
The buffet table is- unfortunately- located under the shade of a stately old maple tree.
As the rest of the crowd is distracted by the games, your eye catches a spider dangling on a thread from a limb of said tree, hovering over the buffet table.
The spider lowers itself down ever closer, until PLOP! It falls straight into a big ol' bowl of slaw.
The slaw is a little watery, and as the spider struggles to get out, it promptly drowns in the murky depths of the bowl, never to be seen again. Maybe.
Do you:
Tell someone?
Try to fish the spider out?
Pretend it never happened and keep sipping your mint julep as the horde descends upon the buffet table?

₪

Actually I thought I was watching Zootopia, but I wasn't. I was dreaming. I woke up rather pleased with myself, because my brain thinks I saw the film, even though I didn't see it. Not going to see it either. Might watch the obligatory TV series, though. What brought the dream on? The last thing I was doing before I went to bed was scanning FA for images of Nick Wilde. I wasn't interested in him at first, but after looking at all the copious amounts of fan art, I just want to cuddle him and squeeze him and kiss him. Kind of like all the Disney foxes.

I wake up, turn on the TV and instead of the usual fodder about how small Donald Trump's penis is, I get "Breaking news in the O.J. Simpson murder case".

Um...What? I'm watching helicopters circle O.J's Brentwood mansion, seeing footage of O.J's murder trial complete with Robert Kardashian and Johnny Cochran and Marcia Clark. Photos of Nicole Brown, Cato Kaelin, Faye Resnick, Kris Jenner, and assorted Goldmans and Kardashians are plastered on every news channel. Damn Kardashians. I blame Kim. After all, the epicenter of all bad things seems to emanate from little Kimmie's bedroom. Oh, snap! That reminds me:

I had this feeling of deja-vu only a few weeks ago. I thought I was just watching a really bad made for TV movie about the Simpson case. It was chock-full of Kardashians. They were gratuitously spattered all over that plotline just as surely the blood stains on O.J's ill-fitting gloves.

But maybe it wasn't a movie at all; maybe it was real. Maybe I was caught in a causality loop. And I'm still in that loop today, moving back and forth between realities. Let's see: In 1993, the conversation revolved around how large O.J. Simpson's hands were and, strangely, Michael Jackson's penis. Personally, I did not see the relationship between the two. Maybe it was a black thing. No one had ever publicly said the word penis before. But there is was. For all to hear. There was a loss of innocence that year, and I am not just talking about the children at Neverland Ranch. Even so, 1993 is still a kinder, gentler time compared to the future. If this really is 1993, I must try to warn you people not to elect George W Bush. Don't let Monica Lewinsky wear that God-awful beret. Oh, and that this new thing called the internet is the invention of the Antichrist and must be stopped.

I suppose there is the more remote possibility- that there was, in fact, a terrible made for TV movie, and this movie has somehow shaken forth new evidence in the cold case. But really? Who cares. O.J. is languishing in prison. If you want to find bloody knives, just look for them in the backs of the presidential candidates. Who wants to go through the O.J. trial again when we have the blood-fest that is the electoral college? Of the horrific choices, I'm really pulling for the stroke. At least if I was having a stroke, there might be hope for a partial recovery.

In any case, the gloves were on, now they are off. And I smell blood. Is there a silver lining to these bloody gloves? I suppose this throwback in time is... well... timely. All this talk about the size of The-Donald's hands. (Yes, he was called "The-Donald" back in 1993. That was about, oh, I'd say two mail-order wives ago). I don't know how big Donald Trump's hands are... but I know O.J. Simpson's hands are quite large. I have the evidence to prove it. If it doesn't fit, you must acquit.

Now you don't even have to type someone's name into your block list?
You can just go to their user page and you now have the option to press a button and you blocked them?
It's just sitting right there on everyone's page like some sort of invitation?
How insulting.

The number of empty promises bandied about in the U.S. presidential race, or number of page views I have received?
Keep in mind I have 20,000 page views as of today.
I know. It's not even close. Damn liars. Build a wall, my fat ass.
But still I am grateful for my measly 20,000 views, because it took friggin' long enough to get there.
Five long years. Good Lord. That's like, longer than a presidential term.
Yet, strangely, shorter than a presidential race.
I thought for sure I would be banned by the establishment before seeing the day come.
But we overcame the obstacles, stayed the course, turned a corner.
I'm still in it to win it, and even if you are not yet there for me- I'm here for you FurAffinity!
So, I thank those of you who supported me in my hour of need.
The fight to become a popufur goes on.

I, Dreamwindow, approve this message.

Felt it was time I let people know what's been going on in my life, so you know why I've slowed down significantly on my 👑 journals.

None of my [future] 👑 journals at the moment are in any way canceled, I've just been focusing on paid work over the last... 25 years or so.
Yes, I've just been too busy earning a living to take advantage of the bounty of subject matter that is user 👑's page. It's just as well. The usual feast has been replaced by famine because has 👑 slowed down significantly on her so-called "free" or pay later projects, focusing instead on projects that pay immediately.
The collaborative Furbuy auction held 👑 with Foxamoore yesterday would be an example of getting the money upfront. You can bet the hills were alive with music for "rooth", the winner of that auction with a modest bid of 825$, no doubt a disappointing sum for team 👑.
Anyway the prize includes musical accompaniment from  foxamoore for the benefit of rooth's entertainment. And radio silence for those of us without deep pockets.

The fact that there is less of 👑 to go around lately also means less fodder for me to nibble on for my own journals. Great for the 1% like  Stormwolff, bad for the 99% of us living off of 👑's government cheese handouts. It's trickle-down economics for us bottom feeders, I suppose.
But the benevolent 👑 still came through with something for me to slice up and serve to you, my dear watchers. Don't you agree?
No?
The silence is deafening.

Anyway, 👑 needs funds to buy a house. The first one she will ever own. Good for her. And it's of interest to you because, well, you are the ones paying for it. So... fork it over, people. I'm guessing three bedroom, two outhouse? And a chicken coop. Something in the country, I suspect. In order to get money for that down payment, she listed projects that she put aside for later as well as what she is working on now:

Things to expect from 👑 in the coming months -

Art for  Kyell- Kyell's last book in the 'Out Of Position' series, look for that in early 2016

Illustrating Kyell's book 'Black Angel', the last book in the 'Dangerous Spirits' series, also coming out in 2016

'Chain of Command' is slated to get finished in December, that's an online release

'Legacy', a Novel set in the Red Lantern universe, is coming out online steadily right now, around 1 chapter / month. You can read it here - http://www.furaffinity.net/view/16364412 (If you're waiting impatiently for Red Lantern updates, this could be a good way to ease the wait)

'Menagerie' is ongoing, and will continue into 2016 if you sign up for the mailing list

'(F) Menagerie' is a potential extension to Menagerie. Roo-kiss is going to try to get funding for this year. More about that later!

'Red Lantern' will be picking up steam again in January of this year, once most of the above are wiped off 👑's plate.


Whew! that's a lot of stuff. Puts my sad, sorry ass to shame. But her unending list of money making projects inspired me to write my own comparatively meager list of things to expect:

Robin Hood. It started out as one paragraph and is now over twenty pages of pure, unadulterated crap. I may or may not finish it. I may or may not have more artwork for it.

Ithamar and I: Who would have guessed that throw-away comic got almost 10,000 hits. May or may not resurrect it from the grave.

Wuffle: I keep putting it off, but I have lots more to say about that ungrateful bastard.

👑 journals: 👑, the gift that keeps on giving. We will see.

Watchers: Perhaps I will send out a search party to find out whatever happened to them.

Thanks for your patience guys, and please feel free to enjoy the other stuff I've posted over the years while you wait for the comics / other projects.

Love, -D.

No, not 2000 watchers. That will never happen, but...
I finally have a submission with over 2000 views.
I waited and waited and waited, and it happened today.
I feel the love.
Thank you all, darlings.

Love, D-

Are we finally getting folders?
BTW administration... naughty naughty for showing adult artwork in the line up.

Regarding the recent 👑 /Sidian art auction http://www.furaffinity.net/view/17387885/

First of all, I applaud 👑 for championing the cause of the less fortunate among us. The selfless act of using her time and talent to raise funds for a fellow furry in an hour of need has not gone unnoticed.
Brava, Darling!

Ok, so if ,  Sidian, or any of their horde of admirers are reading this… now would be a good place to stop.

Now let’s dish: Once upon a time there was this “comedian” named Jerry Lewis. People would claim he was a funny man. Yes. People claimed that. Personally, I didn’t see it. But I suppose there was some meager entertainment value in his brand of… slapstick… according to the French, anyway. If his sort of… humor did not interest you, at least the ocean of black shoe polish slathered in his comb-over kept you looking. Say what you want about him, the man could put on a show.

Hence, The Annual Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon. I don’t know if they still do it or even if Jerry Lewis is still alive- but if he is, he still probably doesn’t have a grey hair on his head. Go figure. Maybe one of you munchkins could be a dear and let me know if he’s still doing that- Labor Day is just around the corner.

Legend has it that Jerry Lewis had a disabled child. Hence, his passionate cause celebre to raise funds and awareness for “Jerry’s kids”-namely children with disabilities. Perhaps you have seen the collection jars full of coins on countertops. Whatever.

Although no one has ever seen this alleged mystery child of urban legend, Mr. Lewis has no trouble trotting out other peoples’ disabled children in their wheelchairs, walkers, crutches, wearing their coke-bottle glasses. Mr. Lewis then kneels by said child, going over a narrative of how, oh how that child has suffered so… and if only something could be done… if only we could help this poor unfortunate soul in need. (Yes, I can hear Ursula the sea witch singing, too.) If only we could work together to find a cure for what ails them… won’t you help this child?

Ok, so Mr. Lewis knows there’s some morbid entertainment value in putting a cripple on stage. Is it alright to say cripple? Forgive this old fossil. But to my credit, I never put a cripple on stage.

But Mr. Lewis knows that’s not enough. The masses want more. Hence, the singing, dancing, and all-around hideous D-list acts to follow. It was a freak show, to be sure, but it was… entertaining… or at least interesting. So for generations this slow train wreck tied up our TV sets for a whole weekend each year. However, if you tuned in, some aspect was bound to capture your interest. Those were the days. Looking back, I doubt this foolishness actually helped any of those poor unfortunates. Did even one of those kids ever get out of their wheelchair? Were any of them ever cured of anything? As long as the money kept coming in and we were entertained… that’s all that really mattered. Right?
Enter 👑 and her Nearly-Almost Labor Day Bidathon to raise awareness and funds for the medical expenses of her cohort, Sidian. Now… unlike the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon, the Nearly Roo-kiss Labor Day Bidathon was… notably devoid of any entertainment value. It was a travesty. A fend-for-yourself, no-frills affair. Kind of like being in the waiting room at the dentist’s office.

Does 👑 not know how to put on a show? Where is the grand entrance? Where are the videos and selfies highlighting the plight of the hand-picked victim, Sidian, being wheeled out like a dessert cart for us to gawk at and pick over? Where is the sad sob story of Sidian’s fight to overcome the sickly, disease ridden body that was surely cursed by God? Where is the narrative that only we have the power to help? For just 68 cents a day, less than the price of a cup of coffee, you can make the difference in the life of a furry like Sidian. That your pledge is the key to finding a cure to end Sidian’s struggle. So that one day no furry should have to suffer again… Blah, blah, blah. There was none of that. Perhaps 👑 calls that “dignified”. I call it “boring”. (Host boring, victim boring, show boring. That’s three strikes, darlings.) I was starving for a crumb of entertainment. Nothing. No singing. No dancing. Not even a fire breathing dragon. No live streaming during the event. She could have at least drawn some pictures of dicks to keep us interested. But no. She could hardly be bothered with us. Yes, I said it.

“But Dreamwindow”, you say, “Wasn’t the bidding process entertainment enough?” No. Even that was a dry well. In the past 👑 bidathons, there was some inherent drama- some tension- some mystery to keep us watching. Who will win? Is it rigged? How high will the bidding go?

Not this time.

👑, who clearly wasn’t looking forward to suffering through another bidding war, made every effort to ensure that this bidathon was suspense-free. No more ending the bidathon at midnight, which is fine with me. No point in dragging it out. Our Roo wants to get to bed early. And no surprises, please. She even suggested- that in these kind of auctions, it would not benefit us to put in a bid at the last minute. We should simply put our top bid in and be done with it already. I know that… um… helpful suggestion raised my eyebrows. Did it raise yours? There is more to that statement than meets the eye of the casual observer. As my journal readers are aware- I have some personal insight on the 👑 bidding machine. After some previous debacles, some of which involved me, our Roo wants to determine the winner of this auction in advance, so as to avoid a guessing game. And this time around, she and Sidian made it clear that there is no rush for the winner to choose their commission. They are in no hurry to start on the art. “Take all the time you need [to decide what you want to commission].” –Sidian.

How exquisitely boring. Where is my motivation to put in all my money? The only drama provided was 👑 stating how rarely she does commissions and this opportunity may not come again for a long, long time. So if you really want something from her you better bid now. I suppose it’s true. But when I hear that, my mind can’t seem to help going back to those QVC jewelry shows where every week they feature tanzanite and they keep saying that they’re so fortunate to have any tanzanite to offer- especially of such high quality because the country of Tanzania is tightly controlling the flow of these precious gems and if we want it, we had better buy it now before supplies run out. Because once it’s gone- it’s gone and they don’t know if they will be able to obtain any more for their buyers.

Then next week comes- and somehow- it must be a miracle- they have more tanzanite to sell. How do they do it? The same shtick year after year. So… if you hear it enough times… maybe you are not as motivated to pick up that phone.
Likewise, all these things may have come together to be factors in the lackluster bidding process this time around. Yes I said it. Despite the fact that 👑 and Sidian teamed up and appeared to be offering more bang for the buck this time around- [ coloring done by Sidian, multiple characters, a graphite drawing by 👑 on an actual physical piece of paper… oh, joy.]- the bidding didn’t go quite as high as it did last time around. Let’s face it, darlings- few furries have pockets as deep as Stormwolff and I. Stormwolff, I assume, already paid dearly for his 👑 vanilla porn. As for me, I’m still in recovery from my last entanglement with the Roo-kiss bidding machine. How come no one is holding a bidathon for me? I guess I’m not a popufur.

The conspicuous result? A winning bid of $750 by  silverdragon41. Which is still too much money for a 👑 commission. But it is for charity, so that’s alright. What made up the difference, and made the bidding extra special is when  Oceaner kicked in an extra $200 “for nothing at all.” –in order to help out Sidian. And I’m sure “nothing” is all that Oceaner got in return. Kind of like "Jerry’s kids".

Perhaps one day… if we throw enough money out there… science will find a cure for… something besides small pox and erectile dysfunction. But I doubt it. I very much doubt it. They can’t even figure out how to make Oprah thin- and she has more money than God. What hope is there for the likes of a poor, tragic furry like Sidian? If only furry porn was the cure for all that ails us. Dr. 👑 would have you up and erect in no time. But just try to get an appointment. Sheesh.

Love, D-

Of course you have!  blackhowler12
I wasn't paying much attention to this furry, at least not consciously.
But recently my sub-conscious began to put the pieces together and I reached a moment of clarity:
 blackhowler12 has left a comment on every userpage I have been visiting.
I mean it's only a heart, but every damn page!
This furry has made 49,630 "comments".
Maybe blackhowler left so many comments because everyone but me is watching said furry.
I'm guessing all blackhowler's submissions are adult because I don't see much on the page.
Oh, well.
Love, -D.

JasonWerefox made a lovely sandwich:
👑 stuff is the bottom slice of bread.
Zaush stuff is the top slice of bread.
Dreamwindow is the creamy filling in the center.

JasonWerefox was faving stuff and he faved 👑 stuff, then something of mine and then Zaush type stuff.
Which is, of course, as it should be.
If you're going to be sandwiched between other faves, that's a really good combination to find yourself in.
Don't you agree?

Too many journals?

Love, Dreamwin[color=#817EFB]d[/color]ow

I could watch them for hours. Must be nice to have this many friends to do this with.

👑 Re-mastered

To my darlings, my wonderfurs- my rarest gems- those who actually read my journals. It is time to celebrate! Yes, it has been two whole days since I uploaded my opus, "The Unconventional Challenge, part 1"- and no one has deleted it...yet.

Therefore, as a special gift to you, I shall regale you with another 👑 journal! It has been awhile, so I know you are ready and waiting. So let's dish:

Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away- the entertainment industry put out something called "records". Large 12" awkward black vinyl disk-things that were used to record sounds. An actual needle would drag across the surface in order to release those sounds. How barbaric! A torture worthy of Jake-the-Bear. A big, black 12 incher can be intimidating for some people, so they put out smaller versions called "singles". These things would be housed in "sleeves" and "covers". Sometimes they would mix it up a little and put out these disks in different colors, you know, collectibles. So people would buy these things- yes they actually forked over money for music- and they would store these things on "shelving units" for years and years.

Then someone invented something called "tapes". They could be 8 -tracks or cassettes. Long spools of brown ribbon that recorded sounds. Some people thought these tapes were the greatest thing since sliced bread. Other people did not feel that way. They still clung to their "records". The record execs wondered how to get these people to buy their tapes. Then some savvy person said, "I know. Let's 're-master' these things and add a bunch of crap to them so people think tapes are better." And so they did. And everyone bought them. If you were really "hip" and "with it" you played your tapes in something called a "boom-box". People actually carried these things around with them in broad daylight. So people would scratch their records and play their boom-boxes and do something called "break-dancing". Yes. It happened. I myself once performed something called the "worm"... In public. Tapes, however, had their drawbacks. The ribbons had a way of "catching" and getting "stuck" in the "tape deck". Once that happened, you were "screwed". I spent countless hours "respooling" them to get a few more plays out of them. If you were tech savvy, you made something called "mixtapes", often used as an expression of affection between lovers. The quality of these mixtapes was poor, which I suppose, delighted the entertainment execs.

Then came something called "compact discs". Shiny, golden, alien things. For many years, only the wealthy could afford them. I was not one of the wealthy. I looked at them from afar. The same problem persisted: How to get everyone to buy them? I know, let's re-re-master everything and force people to buy them. And so people bought them. And eventually the price went down and I bought a stack of shiny, golden discs so that I could be part of the "in" crowd. People who had money used to store them in "towers". I tossed them in a basket. Long, long ago. Far, far away.

Eventually someone asked: "How many times can you re-master something- and get away with it?"

So that was the end of that.

Let me tell you something: Having lived through all this re-mastered, down-loaded, digitized crap, the old vinyl doesn't seem so bad. Moving on to film.

Long, long ago- In a galaxy far, far away- there lived a humble director named George Lucas. He made some little crappy film called "Star Wars". Using actual spools of film. Personally, I did not think it was crappy- but George Lucas did. For years he droned on and on about all the things he would change if only he had the "technology". That dreaded word. Eventually he developed the sorely needed technology and re-mastered all the things he did not like. Which was almost everything. So he re-released his re-mastered monster. And we saw it... again... because it was remastered. So it was better... right? At least we could take solace in the fact that George Lucas could sleep at night knowing that his "vision" for that crappy little film had finally been fulfilled.

Yeah, I watched it... again. With great antici...pation. But something was...amiss. Rather than enjoy this re-mastered vision, I kept picking out all the crap that didn't used to be there. It was slightly... creepy. But as least I could sleep at night knowing George Lucas made that extra little bit of money off of it. Having lived through all this re-mastered, down-loaded, digitized crap, the original doesn't seem so bad.

Which brings me to 👑, who recently revealed that she has "re-mastered" some of her "art". For the purpose of selling it, of course. Don't get me wrong. I don't begrudge her the opportunity to squeeze a little more blood from the porous stone that is the furry community. Or to dredge the bottom of that seemingly limitless well that is her art trove. The question arises, however, whether her artwork is indeed better because she added a bunch of crap to it. I suppose this could be taken as a compliment. The witty banter between artist and adoring minions is telling. See 👑's submission here:

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/16902658/

👑 mentioned that while the remastered art was for sale, she would only sell the original sketch if she literally needed to eat. The minions hinted that they would be more than happy to take the sketch off her hands should that day come. But we all know it won't. 👑 refuses to sell the sketch because it is "really important" to her. I never took 👑 as a slave to sentiment. Perhaps there's more to that sketch than sentimental value. A lot more. The moral? Both 👑 and her savvy minions know the value of the "original" art. Remastered may mean better- but not necessarily best. Just ask 👑 and her minions.

Love, D-

If you are watching 20580 people, are you actually watching anyone?