I just want to hug every robot in that game. That's really all they want. But noooooo, because humanity keeps failing to die apparently and would rather get their arrowheads and crap from our spines instead of you know, making a god damn tool out of rocks and shiz like normal people.

No, but actually the game is full of hotties and bishies.

And by hotties, I mean the adorable Watchers and by bishies: all the robots bigger than them.

They are my bishonens.

My bishies.

My phone is over 3 years old this month (which is 150% of a smartphone's intended primary usability lifespan) But it seems the (3rd party) case, of all things, has deformed with time and now pushes the (3rd party) battery out of its socket so much it can no longer be used. I'm now using the phone without it's case (playing with fire), but it still works. Part of the reason I haven't gotten a new phone yet is because they don't design phones to work like this any more: where the back is removable and battery replaceable. In the service of making devices thinner (dumbest thing in the world, really), these essential features were lost. Although: there is trouble: since this phone is so old, it barely runs YouTube music and maps at the same time, and software, as a rule, only gets bloatier with time, which means I will soon have to reinstall the OS to stave off hard-obsolescence.

My mother was visiting for a couple days, and despite warnings against going in my room, she did, and found my unmentionables, but it didn't matter. But it's still weird. Because she totally picked up the laundry basket they're sitting in (even though I told her not to) and then put it down presumably the instant she realized what was IN that laundry basket. Weirdness ensues. At least I was at work when it happened. I hope.

Theres a tiny chance that there will be a Fight Club ending with Tai and Mei cathartically watching every monster in the universe levelling Odaiba over-and-over again from an unfinished highrise.
Actually, that would more accurately, that would be a Godzilla 2000 ending, I suppose, but I do suspect that Tai will at some point lose his shit and snap at Mei, and then Yamato when he defends her. Joe already had his ultra-Japanese achievement/salaryman crisis. Izzy arguably had his already, and Sora's might turn out to be a bigger one, since she's now digimon-less. The government apparatchka woman (forgot name) has obviously lost her shit already, on account of her crazy-eyes facial expression when she ran into her (previously deceased) Tapirmon, and the Big Bad is basically just kinda dancing around in the symphony of misery raining down all around. I suspect that Mei might be indestructible, and also not real because early on, she was highly ambiguous about her home, and then as the series progressed, more and more specific and idyllic versions of it were made apparent. If they are false memories, she certainly believes them.
They've clearly set up Hackmon (Who is very hawt BTW, 10/10 WOULD YIFF) as some vector for "divine intervention", but I'm worried they're going to pull that out at the last minute as an erase-rewind thing (a Donnie Darko ending, where Hackmon is the like the Bunny (from Donnie Darko) and at the end, Mei goes and gets herself squashed by an airplane engine to save everyone else or something). They've already set up all the pieces for it (including demonstrating a "reboot" condition, and having the sexy, sexy Hackmon discuss it with the other Government apparatchik guy. Even the words "great sacrifice" were mentioned.

So there it is: I've extrapolated(speculated) the yet-to-be-released ending of Digimon Tri, which is basically Donnie Darko.

It's Donnie Darkomon.

I'm all caught up on the digimans

Episode 17 consists of about 15 minutes of ceaseless evolution sequences, so if you really like that 1-minute loop of the "Show me your brave heart" song, this is your episode.
Then there's also a ton of My Bishie (Machinedramon) being generally menacing. There's surprisingly less Metalgarurumon showing up than I'd like, and then My Bishie literally gets blown up. Which I suppose is better than the first time around, when all it took was a Horny Orange T-Rex with some fancy claws to kill him up good. In a sewer. Kinda nasty if you think about it.

The animation quality compared to the original series is incomparable. Things actually move!
And I'm really glad they've gotten away from the whole "evolution means more humanoid and also stick a bunch of doo-dads and baubles on them yay" thing which kinda killed the series for me after a while. Wargreymon actually still looks like a T-Rex, following the same pattern as the rest of his sequence.

I just wish they didn't phone-it-in so hard on Metalgarurumon.

No idea when the next one comes out, but the fact that there IS a next one is pretty cool.

My underwear has been incinerated!

The Machinedramon in Digimon Tri actually moves, stomps, and does things other than look like he's about to take a shit. Some douchebag even gets to RIDE HIM.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I am not accustomed to seeing so much Muge!

[[EDIT: and his (sexy) cannons still take a long time to warm up and still can't actually hit anything unless it is scenery/dirt/the air immediately surrounding protagonists/etc... which is the way it should be.

Also, apparently he has a laser tail? Really?
... Okay then]]


RIDE ME
I AM HUGE

1. There's some skull-headed, possibly robotic dragon/dinosaur thing which keeps showing up briefly every once in a while. No idea what it is, but from what little I've seen it is 10/10 would yiff.

{{EDIT: Turns out, it's "Hackmon" and he is indeed extremely attractive}}

2. It has Machinedramon in it and obviously this is a huge deal for reasons which are probably self-explanatory if you've ever seen my FA page.

This show is probably going to absolutely destroy every piece of underwear I own

I'm only on episode 8 (I haven't even seen their machinedramon yet, so don't tell me anything, I just know its there because it's on a cover, and also I skimmed it on wikipedia, looking for what that first, new one is)

I took the day off because I ate a bunch of ramen last night and blew chunks.

It was the chicken flavor packet.

((EDIT))
It was the canned-soup I mixed with it.
I just discovered all the soup in my cupboard expired two years ago.

So, I just spent the whole evening writing a post bitching about how much New Sincerity is dumb but finally dying for several, unreasonably thorough reasons, and in the process, I realized that this is a waste of time and I should be doing something else like:

I need to re-make the stop-motion film I tried to make in my senior year of high school.

I made several short films in high school. Starting with a horror movie called "Chase" about a haunted tricycle with deliberately inappropriate music for the scenes. There's also a CGI cliff in it. Myself, Derek and Andrew became a sort of video team as a result of that. The next one was about a guy who gets seduced by a chat bot online and then gets stalked by her kinda - it was dumb, but it did win an award at the student film festival. Then I made a fake documentary about a hobo living in the school to protest the displacement of Prarie Dogs, which secretly had actually been made into hamburgers (but it's buried in dialogue and only hinted at). Then there were the two unfinished ones: A sci-fi about people being put into bodies through a computer for implicitly nefarious reasons, which I had to build props for and tried to make floating screens using some compositing effects, and actually had a larger cast for, in addition to some frantic body-horror montage stuff that I was pretty proud of at the time, but I had to abort it because I was convinced it didn't make enough sense and couldn't figure out any scenes to add to fix that, and also it was getting logistically complex and time-consuming. (which is stupid, it's visual, it's student-made, it doesn't need to make sense it just had to be interesting, and the body horror bit with the wires sticking out of the guys arm in a blank white room (it was a raquetball court and white drop-cloth) certainly was. (I don't know if this survived. Part of the problem is that all of this was stored on tapes, but I hope I saved it), and then of course... there was the stop motion animated one.

I got about 75% done with principal photography, made a musical score (which was actually completed the next year), but fell short of getting it voiced.
It never got finished because my parents convinced me to stop after about a month, after they watched it, with visuals only (unvoiced), and "not getting it".

I know, it's a common reaction for someone to respond to that by responding to that with "(Those) Philistines!"
But, really, I severely regret not seeing it through. I would much rather despise that film as a complete (piece of shit) than spending a long time presuming it to have been a total waste (of shit).

The only part of it I know for sure to have survived is the score. Possibly three scenes.

For the record, neither parent would have been able to get it. I didn't realize it at the time, but they were about as far as you can get from experts on the subject. My father only watches movies if someone takes him to one, and my step mother had really bland taste at the time. A dusty stop-motion animated neo-noir emulating the style of The Brothers Quay, about angular dromeosaur-shaped critters, with several different set-pieces for scenes ranging from a highway car chase, shoot-out inside a hospital and also a night club... in stop motion... was outside of their repertoire.

But anyway.
It was about 11 minutes long. Had an idiotic super-hero plot which turns out just to be a super-hero delusion that gets the main character killed. Also everyone is a black or maroon-colored dromeosaurid made of angular shapes. I used two or three songs that I didn't make myself, they were "Destination Skyline" by Aura (opening credits), "Baniya u Cygana" by Polski Zero (club scene) and I forgot what I did for the closing credits. I produced the rest of the music (about 3 tracks at the time, later 8 or 9 when I finished it as an album the next year)

I had three character puppets, which was enough to produce the illusion of well-populated rooms/small crowds with a few tricks. The setpieces were in two different scales. A smaller one for the car chase (with a smaller 3" puppet and tiny leather jacket used to indicate the protagonist), and a larger one for the 7" puppets and a scaled-up leather jacket to denote the main character. Lots of other practical effects were used to acheieve character's eye-view scenes of holding things, manipulating objects with a larger-scale dummy-hand which resembled the puppets' minimal hands, some frame-rate tricks to make scenes achieved with linear movement (not frame-by-frame) have motion that appears consistent with the frame-by-frame parts (important for visual consistency).

Anyway. The story wasn't anything spectacular, but it's genericness makes it conducive to being campy, and it's noir-ness makes it conducive to something referentially-stylized.

I think this, and the score could be reworked and turned into something extremely somethingwave.
Not exactly retrowave, because it's less overt, but... there's definately 'wave' in there. I don't remember, it's been a long time and not much survives from it except for some of the props (The "Pants" car: A blue beattle with the word "pants" on the windshield, used in the car-chase, Maybe the "Silver-headed Barbie" robot dancer that was in the club scene, which was actually a white elephant gift, and possibly... very remotely possibly... one of the puppets (which I could remake easily, they were very minimal - no eyes, no mouth, just an implied face. Having to convey all emotional responses with head and body movements. Lots of tail swaying... raptor-bobbing... I know two or three scenes weren't lost, and now I have to find them and get them uploaded somewhere.

One of the problems I had back then with a lot of these was trouble devising stories for these. They were never very good. Chase being the exception. I need to find these.

My brother has finally moved-out.

Time to fap in every room of the place or something.

Not really.
Probably for the best, since 99% of my electronics knowledge is in DC (and digital) and not in the sort of AC that one would use if they were in fact trying to induce sexual response by applying a voltage across or through an erogenous zone. I don't know why I'm going into so much detail over something I'm not doing, but you know how much trouble I have with knowing when a joke has gone too far.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that, even though it's funny on paper, don't actually electrocute your nipples.

As you may or may not know, I'm working on a Minecraft model of Cinderella City - a large shopping mall in Denver that was demolished in 1998.

But how is this Furry? You ask, because I'm posting about it on a Furry site.

Well, I /am/ going to eventually fill it with Doggos, Deer and Werewolves. Hopefully the Werewolves don't eat the deer.
Eventually I want to get this opened up into a server or something maybe. It will be a little like Werewolf: The Apocalypse, almost literally, because there are Werewolves and this mall was actually in Denver (although, I don't know if Cinderella City was ever a campaign setting in the books, it should have been though. Because it was tre Huge).
I've been mostly using photographs, maps and the one VHS camcorder video of the mall on YouTube taken in 1991 as references. If I could find record drawings (unlikely, because they would date back to the early 80's renovation or 60's originals) it would be spectacular, but it is very hard to get record drawings of a demolished building, especially one which everyone hated at the time of its demolition (I believe Cheddar would call them "Philistenes!" or something). So despite having the shape about 90% correct, I'm having to make a lot of guesses and assumptions.

One of which was that the original ceiling tiles in the lower level - east side 'Cinder Alley' segment of the mall were still painted black after the 1980's renovation.
And I just found a photo which seems to imply that they weren't.

Hooray research!

By the way, this mall is way older than me. I only saw it once, when I was like 9 or 10 years old, and it was almost totally empty by that point. (But it was the largest building I'd ever seen or been in at the time). So my reliance on reference photos and maps is very heavy.

So, Cam (my brother) comes home tonight, and reveals that he has run out of weed money. I make it clear that since it is impossible for me to give negative fucks, he'll have to settle for absolutely zero fucks. I take my Chinese food to my room and eat it.
A half hour later, he opens my (not lockable) door and informs me that he "still loves me" even though he "doesn't express it enough"
I reply in the most neutral tone, "Ok" and he leaves.

I will not be following-up on this.

Following up on this means letting him know that I'm okay with his careless wasting of my time, which he does opportunistically, and that it is okay for him to impose his rampant, conspicuous substance abuse on me by burning hashish like incense and filling the entire apartment with a substance that I do not choose to use. So far, I've let him commandeer nearly the entire place, including the kitchen, because his hobbies are so destructive to having normal things like, you know, pictures on the wall, or watching tv, or even having a dinner table, because he simply must spin and juggle everything in sight all the fucking time without regard for how extremely inappropriate that activity is indoors, and how incompatible it is with literally EVERY OTHER ACTIVITY ANYONE ELSE MIGHT WANT TO DO. It's hard to focus on things when you're constantly worried about getting hit by poi balls and fucking clubs. I know... because that's what tends to happen if I do homework anywhere at home outside of my bed.
Nothing about this is okay. And there is no amount of him telling me anything that can make these things acceptable. More importantly, the way he handles his emotions around this time of year is hazardous to my health. I refuse to even be in a car with him anymore because at about this time last year he was "emotional" and it was December, and he spent upwards of an hour informing me that I was a useless waste of space, immature, overweight, and pursuing a basket-weaving degree to the point of exhaustion. My exhaustion.

I don't even have my so-called "basket-weaving degree" yet, and I'm already working a real "basket weaving" job. And by "basket weaving" I actually mean, something that nobody seems to think constitutes "basket weavery" in the derogatory, figurative sense except for my drug-abusing, disrespectful, (insert ad-hominem attack here) brother. But the problem here is that for a long time, I believed him. I had fully internalized the doom and presumed that he must be right because he was the loudest and oooh, ahhh, look how many friends he has, so he must have his shit together. Months go by.

Then some things happened. My internship ended, I didn't want to face him with it because he'd just give me more shit and win arguments through endurance because arguing is literally the only thing he applies himself to. So I ran off for a week, sliced up my forearms a few times, then came back. Gave him $60 of groceries as a peace offering then spent the next few weeks on-call for him, driving him around to his far-flung friends' houses, until Halloween when I had to wait in the car for 45 minutes at 2 in the afternoon while he just partied at a Krispy Kreme with his rich stoner friends even though he clearly saw me (he said so) when I arrived to pick him up at the agreed-upon time.

I got a job to replace the internship, and after a few months with normal, well-adjusted people, it is plainly obvious that my brother uses emotions as a weapon and is virulently anti-intellectualistic. Now, when he asks me for rides, I offer to call him an Uber (and strangely... he seems to find a ride after that and doesn't need it. He seems to see it as a statement that I would rather do something inconvenient on the phone than spend any time with him and his shit music in the car, where I'm captive). Supposedly, he is now moving-out in January (although I think he's going to make the transition take as long as possible.) I've stayed out of family functions and other activities where I relinquish the ability to walk away from him since October. The objective here is to deny him any and all ability to have control over my time and deny him opportunities to butter me up in an attempt to get me to lower my defenses.

So, if he finds himself alone on Christmas Day, because all of his rich, crack-head, stoner friends are busy or too high to operate their bodies and are located 30 miles away from him and are unwilling to take the god damn toll-road to pick him up or whatever (seriously, one of his douchier coke-fiend friends lives in a far-flung McMansion only reasonably accessible by E470 (a toll road)), and I'm in Fort Collins with my phone turned-off, then that's how it's going to be.
And I don't give a flying fuck how he feels about it, because I am fresh out of fucks, of all kinds, to give.

So that I can put ANIMAL PEOPLE in it.

It's actually surprisingly hard to find record drawings of a mall demolished almost 20 years ago.


I ' M S O V A P O R W A V E
T H A T I T I S P H Y S I C A L L Y U N C O M F O R T A B L E
F O R M E T O U R I N A T E




/music plays

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEPS8TbE5fY

“And I don’t care how many hamsters you shoved up John Podesta’s ass, I’m not having any of it!”

IT'S ONE OF THOSE WEEKS I GUESS

(Redacted)
There's enough to be worried about. So I'm going to hold off on this for a while until I've thought about it some more. Please refrain from gloating or imploding here, but if you want to send a note, go ahead.
Just be safe and keep your head on.

There is apparently a restaurant called Cheddar's near where I work.
...

The image that comes to mind is:
-Salads made of handfuls of grass taken from a field out back.
-All of the forks, spoons and other utensils are plastic. ALL of them.
-None of the interior colors match, especially those colors of longer wavelengths than 'green'.
-The lamps above the tables are all blacklights for some reason.
-There is a very good chance that you'll be served the balls of somebody (who probably deserved it, but still).
-They don't have water.
-Some of the food still has the packaging attached (and mixed-in).
-Some of the (Nachtan) waiters are probably eating eachother.
-If you call for the manager and you have a lot of hair, he will play with it using static from his electrical field the entire time while you're trying to talk to them.
-There's a really annoying, 160.67 Hz buzz from all the lights.
-Everything is cooked unevenly. Either still raw or incinerated, sometimes both.
-There's 'hand-drawn' grill marks on some things. Sometimes it's somebody's "finger soot", other times it's just done with sharpie.
-Many items served are not actually food, or even remotely resemble food to the typical food-user. Items like "Masonry Brick" and "Cardboard Cereal Box" have been incorporated into dishes.
-Everything smells like ozone.
-They irradiate their own beef in small batches, in-store, excessively.
-The bathroom is a room with a single, small, Little Tikes toddler toilet in the center. There is no sink.
-There's an awful lot of melted plastic.

You know, like "a school of fish", "a flock of sheep" or "a murder of crows" (actually correct).

A clomp of Gomi
A synecdoche of Coronans
An umbrage of Nachtan

Gomi would of course, have several weird ones too
"A Coquettiment of Gomi"
"A Clankening of Gomi"
"A Superfund Cleanup Site of Gomi"
etc.

The 'Umbrage' in "An Umbrage of Nachtan" is from the older meaning of a "shade" since the species absorbs light, but their alternative group words are:
"A Curse of Nachtan"
"An Occlusion of Nachtan"
"A Freakish Ball-Lightning Incident of Nachtan"
etc.

And I had a dream starring the US presidential candidates last night, which is NOT OKAY.

Stabbing myself just isn't my style, I'm more of an occasional verbal-outburst, incoherent-analogy-using piece of furry garbage. So you probably don't have to worry about me going away any time soon. For better or worse. But do know this: I compartmentalize other people too. Everyone I meet goes into the "don't get attached/temporary" bin. Its pretty foolish not to, since I know that's what bin I will always be relegated to no matter where I go, and there's no point in putting effort into something that is regarded as irrevocably auxiliary to the main, sex-driven core of society. Quite simply: I have nothing to contribute except for a handful of skills which are of relatively little use in a culture which abhors itself - which further worsens the outlook since there is no amount of acheivement that can ever put me into the sort of status where one can fill the holes in their life with money, I'll always be behind. And even that dismal life of an architect is fundamentally out of reach. Is it any wonder then, that I assume residence in the temporary bin and can't dare to initiate anything more meaningful towards anyone? Why is the measure of eligibility not one of "is he good at what he wants to do", but rather, "can he excel at games devised by those who absolutely can't"?
I've made A's in every arch class I've ever taken, and three of them were earned under handicap of second hand pot smoke and medication interruption. Either these were A-for-effort classes, and the stories of Dr Zoltan driving students to tears were exaggerated, or I just have a natural talent which has been almost, but not quite, beaten out of me by living with people who regard all this invention as an indulgence and a luxury, rather than a necessity for solving any kind of problems bigger than an individual person, or the allocation of a week in a single dimension.

I can't do it anymore. I'm just straight-up leaving the apartment. I'm trying to get my parents to take the cat, and I'm going to give them Cam's shit that he handed me this morning to take care of (because he's too dumb to use a fucking ATM across from his work) and I'll be coming back to move my stuff out into storage this weekend. The goal is to never see Cam again, hopefully he ends up in rehab or something - that is honestly the nicest I can hope for him.

I just live with a little dumbass piece of shit that is too stupid to cook his own food and needs to be as far away from me as possible.