Down to business. Recently, while browsing through artwork, I came to the realization that I have been stepping on the paws of another artist. (Check out her page. She's quite talented. ....  inkwolf .... Did that work?)

At any rate, she has been on Fur Affinity for a much longer time than I have, and she is also a much better artist. It is for these reasons that I have chosen to step off. Do not contact me via this profile. Instead, go to my other one. I have created a profile under the name  Diogi. If, for any reason, you wish to contact me, or if you wish to continue watching me, visit that page to do so.

That being said, I'd also like to point out that I will NOT forfeit my character who went by Inky, I am simply changing his name.

And, with that, I bid you all adieu! See ya on my other page, maybe!

And, remember, check out Inkwolf's page.


This is the fella once known as Inky, stepping down and signing off.

Good GOD, I'm a cheap fuck!
Alight, so, I'm not very good at guitar. My picking hand refuses to cooperate with my fretting hand, which in turn is NEVER in the right place... Also, I'm pretty sure i'm holding the pick wrong...
All that aside, I've been eying a guitar for a while now. Not because it's nice, or anything special, but because it's cheap. Secondhand, parlor size acoustic... 30 bucks. So, I went ahead and bought it. And I couldn't be happier. It's a definite improvement from my old Gibson six-string, what with the fact that this one doesn't have the bridge superglued back onto the body!

In other news, I had an evangelist visit!
It was hilarious, especially since I've been talking to this fellow named Jesus lately. I have his number on my phone and all, so when they asked if I had found Jesus, I whipped out the phone, found his number, and spoke softly. "Yeah. Wanna talk to him?"

Yeah, yeah. Bitch complain, piss, moan, whine. That's all I do. Get used to it. That's how I roll.

At any rate, what's burned my ass latley is the following:

For the past two years, (In other words, since age 16.) I have held down a full time job, and therefore have paid taxes, forking my hard earned money over to a faceless entity so they can waste it overseas. For the past year, I have lived on my own, or with a roommate, paying rent and keeping myself fed and clothed. I have been in one car accident, and it was proven that it was not my fault. (The cops showed up, to find the driver of the truck that t-boned me passed out with a bottle of vodka in his lap.)

In addition, I am currently at the ever so "wonderful" age where I can be sent to war to have my head blown open for this country. If you're still reading, please continue while I get to the point:

Why is it, that even though I have been a productive member of society since the day after i dropped out of school and got my GED, I can't drink a fucking beer? If you ask any lawmen, or anyone who was around at the time, they give you a somewhat outright answer: Insurance statistics.

Supposedly, back when the drinking age was 18, people under 21 were found to be the demographic most involved in drunk driving incidents. So, they jacked the age up by three years. Okay, I can understand that, but here's my rebuttal, fuckers:

If, because of insurance statistics, they raised the drinking age, why is it that I also pay out the ass for insurance? I pay $137 a month for minimum coverage on a 1983 2 wheel drive tyota pickup, with a 4-speed manual transmission, and a 4 cylinder 22r engine. It's apinted white, which is not one of the colors that increases what you pay.
A 21 year old man, in other words, someone who can legally drink, could get full coverage on the same exact vehicle for what I pay for liability. Give or take about 20 bucks.
Am I the only one who sees a problem here? Wait, so, I can't legally drink, but the folks who can still pay less than me for insurance? Why?

That's about all of it. I just get pissed off that I pay taxes, drive safely, am of age to be conscripted, and yet, am not allowed to have a beer at the end of a stressful work day.

Questions? Comments? Complaints? Tepmtations to slap that fucking Inky bitch in the mouth? You know what to do.

Okay, so, I sold my rifle. It took alot of swallowing of my pride to sell the fucking thing, as it was not only a damn good firearm, but also a peice of American history... 60 years ago, the m1 Garand became a widley used weapon in Europe and the Pacific, when America entered World War 2. I once was in possession of such an artifact, but yesterday, i sold it.

On an "Unrelated" topic, you can all stop seeing me as some sort of Charles MansonJr. psychopathic serial killer... Not that you had reason to before, but it happens. Apparently, getting pissed means you have anger management problems, which in turn makes you a psychopath.

Whatever.

Also, an a seriously unrelated topic (I mean it this time,) I have recently realized something... What is it with me and Pacman? i never even liked the game, but for some reason, my fursonas are often named after characters from it... For example, Inky is one of the ghosts. I used to have a fursona that was a horse called Clyde, which is also the name of another of the ghosts from pacman! I mean, what the fuck?

My hand... Is fucking... Sore... as a motherfucker. (Not that I feel it at the moment, mind you. *Hugs his pills bottle*)

In other news:

Work sucks.
Music kicks ass
Never lock your keys in the car
*Lights up a lung dart* Smoking's bad for you.
The purple man has eaten the sandwich.
Dear corporate America, FUCK.... YOU!
And when you go to a barber to get a trim, make sure to specify that "Trim" does not mean "Hack off half of my ponytail."

FUCK NO IT DOES NOT! Man, if that were true, I'd be motherfucking Michelangelo by now. (No ninja turtle jokes.)
Especially with the god damned mice! FIFTEEN PAGES OF FUCKING RODENTS! In addition, even aside from the damn mice, the fact remains that I have been drawing for fucking years, and have gained damn near nothing in the way of skill! Which, in turn, leads me to believe that some people have it, and some don't.

"Why the whiney little rant, you fucking dipshit?" you might ask. Well, here's the deal: I have heard the phrase "Practice makes perfect" at lest ten god damned times just today!

The next person who says it should either run, or, in the event that someone says it online, they need to hope I don't figure out how to bust them in the lips through the computer.

I'd also like to note that I am a horrid artist, and a sick fuck, and that the (Two) people watching me need their heads checked. That, or stop kissing my ass. I am not a good artist, and I will never be.

So, like, just before I finally managed to get an FA account, I busted a knuckle. Don't ask.

There is no purpose for me telling you this, other than the fact that it means that the crap on my page is all the crap there's gonna be until this heals!

And, by the way, the doctors give out some pretty good pills for broken bones.