feren: Feren smoking (atomicfiction_ferensmoking)
In late June of this year put a new stereo receiver in my truck is from Pioneer and has many fancy features such as HD Radio, iPod control, iTunes tagging, Bluetooth link to my phone, etc.

Today, while the engine was being particularly stubborn about turning over, I drained the battery on the truck. The radio promptly rewarded my by losing all of my station presets, all of my preferences and the date/time was wiped out as well. The date & time I can understand, but station presets and user peferences? That's just unforgivable!

I cannot believe that in this brave year of 2012, car radio manufacturers STILL do not know what NVRAM is and how they might use it for Good. 

I can't believe I have to get angry about this shit! Technology should have solved this First World Problem a decade ago.
feren: I AM THE MAN (ashryn-blahblahblah)
Good: A link I suggested has been posted to Boing Boing. If you're like me and frequently find yourself on the verge of a psychotic break while trying to fold fitted sheets for storage in the linen closet, I suggest you give it a look. I'm making civilized life better for all of us. Go me.

Bad: My white cotton socks get dirty. This is a normal thing that occurs during day-to-day sock operation (note: if you wear white socks all day long and they do not get dirty, I can only surmise you're an alien with technology far in advance of our own and I desperately want to join your society on Buugan-Selta-Three as an emissary of my people). What's abnormal -- and bad -- is that they never come clean no matter how many times I wash them. I'm not completely compulsive about having my whites their whitest, but it still irks me when the bottom of my socks are grey-brown even after being laundered. When I take a pair out of the drawer and find that funky ground-in dirt I feel like I'm scavenging socks from the bedroom floor rather than putting on a clean pair like all the rest of us upright-walking apes. These socks... they vex me with their dirtiness. I've washed them with regular detergent. I've washed them with bleach. I've washed them with detergent and bleach. I've watched them with detergent and bleach and OxiClean but still they do not come out remotely whiter on the bottom!

Different: I put up a curio shelf today, then I put a scented candle on it. I believe this is 65% "domestic" behavior.

And as a special Friday bonus, I give you an additional "D" for no added charge!

Disturbing: Buying 5.1 speakers for my PC and then testing them by experiencing the Ravenholm chapter of Half-Life2 in surround.

needs a headlight fixed
feren: I AM THE MAN (Default)
I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see.
-- Fight Club

Where did you go, Psycho-Boy? )

Well...

Aug. 25th, 2001 11:21 pm
feren: I AM THE MAN (Default)
I knew, as this year ground interminably on, that it was no longer a matter of "if." Too much has transpired for the question to remain at that. No, it had slowly shifted to being simply a matter of "when." That when has been reached, my friends, and I have finally hit my breaking point.

I'm weary of Furry fandom: I'm tired of the politics that all the little groups play, like a group of kids in junior high school, who act (and evidentially think) that they're the only true answer to saving the image of the fandom. While the fandom is tarnished, it will never be saved by some mythical "group" that has "seen the light." It's not possible for such a multi-faceted fandom. I'm tired of being around a bunch of people who can't even manage to wield a bar of soap properly. I'm tired of the back stabbing, the sniping responses to logical, reasonable propositions and the attacks on anybody who dares to think -- good or bad -- outside of one of the borg-like collectives that have been forming over the years. I'm positively fed up with the smugness that half the fandom exudes towards the general public, this attitude of "mundanes suck," and "we're so much better than every one else because we're computer geeks/in touch with our animal spirits/vegetarian/whatever." I mean, how dare somebody outside the Furry fandom look oddly at you when you walk into a restaurant, "scritching" your compatriots while wearing a tail, ears, slippers that make your feet look like paws and a badge with your persona on it? The audacity! How dare somebody who claims to be inside the fandom get annoyed that you keep trying to hug him or "scritch" him. How dare a person just attend to see his friends! He must embrace his inner furry and become a part of the group, otherwise he is an outside who cannot be trusted or is against the group. God forbid.

I'm tired of the strife that results from people who can't stand to see other people happy getting on their cases, I'm sick of the infighting between factions who can't stand that the other groups exist and/or hold differing opinions. I'm fucking done with people who get snipey because you dare to have an opinion that is less than stellar of the people whom you're associating with as a whole. Then why are you associating with them at all? you ask. Good question! I used to associate with them because I had fun with the idea. I mean, talk about a great way to exercise your brain -- how WOULD a person who had a tail react if he were presented with some situation or another? Would the tail flick to reflect his nervousness? Would ears swivel forward to represent curiosity? All sorts of possibilities existed. Furry gave me a chance to blow off steam, to escape from my day-to-day world for a little bit, to hang out with other people who share similar interests, to be creative with role playing and see how far I could stretch my imagination. Later on, as my life got more hectic and my creativity gradually eroded, I used the fandom (Yes, I used it like a grease monkey in the cheapest garage in town uses a spanner, get used to the idea) to stay in touch with the friends I'd made over the last few years. It was nice to chat with them and stay in touch, primarily because I thought they were worth keeping in touch with. Even though it meant "associating with the riff-raff" I still felt there was a redeeming value in it: my friends, and all of the good things that the fandom could do when it really felt like it (contributing to animal shelters, creating inspiring and often lovely art, and so much more).

After a while, I admit it... I took interest in the politics, near the end. I thought maybe I'd try my hand at helping to make the fandom more pleasing to be a part of. I went through a number of methods... I tried to offer positive examples, and to lead by those examples. I tried the snipey, bitchy method to see if I could shame some of the factions I perceived as trouble making. I tried being quiet, I tried yelling, I tried cajoling and coaxing and hinting. Goddammit, my friends, you can lead a horse to water but you can simply not make that motherfucker DRINK. People have to want to change, and nobody in there wants to change -- or the people who do want change don't have spines strong enough to let them step forward and join the effort. Hell, at the end, I got to the point I was acting just like the very people I earlier despised, all in some foolhardy, cluster-fuck effort to try and help these people. I knew my vision wasn't everyone else's vision, I also knew my ideals had flaws. But dammit, I wanted to try and help in SOME way, to try and give back to the people who had, for quite some time, given me so much pleasure and helped me through some very dark times. I figured maybe if I made a big enough spectacle of myself others would rally around me, or criticize me and take things into their own hands. Regardless, so long as I stirred them to some sort of action to try and improve the very thing they griped so much about I would have been happy. I thought people wanted a renaissance.

Good CHRIST on a stick, was I wrong. Thusly, having had that experience turn into sour apples in a manner so spectacular my face should have imploded from the pucker effect, I've reached the decision that the good, for me, no longer outweighs the bad.

So I'm done with it and shutting the book on that chapter of my life. I'm shedding the people I associate with it, and the constant bullshit that continues to fly around. When I was still part of Furry I could try ducking, or I could try standing tall and voicing my opinion; no matter what option I chose I always got hit straight in the face by the massive piles of horse dung. You know what? I get enough goddamn aggravation from my job and the various things that go on in my life, I don't need the added stress and bullshit this collective continues to churn out added to my misery. So, as of tonight, I'm done and shut of the whole thing.

Is it all bad? No. Don't let my ranting here mislead you, I continue to believe that the fandom has the capability for incredible amounts of good to come from it. I do not let my current anger and dismay taint or cheapen my memories: I had a good time, it filled a much-needed void at that time, it helped me through some dark periods in my life and (most importantly) I made (and, at times, lost) some very good friends thanks to the Furry fandom. I just no longer want to be a part of it, because if I continue to participate those positive aspects, those memories that I do cherish will become obscured, tarnished, and eventually evaporate entirely. I don't want that to happen. I want to walk away with something I can still feel good about.


Do you come from a land down under?
feren: I AM THE MAN (groat)
Every time I think I see some redeeming feature to our society, some light at the end of the tunnel that might actually help guide our species to a state of being where we don't believe that rockets must be shaped like enormous, erect penises so we can fuck the other countries while simultaneously bombing them back into the stone age, just when I think we finally have something to be proud of... something else comes along and blows that image all to shit. I mean it just completely demolishes my hope for the future. What am I bitching about now? Read on and find out. Warning, this contains an overdose of testosterone, cynicism and probably some unresolved teenage angst. No gin or rum was harmed in the making of this entry. Yes, believe it or not I am stone cold sober as I write this. Jen, I suspect, will approve of this fact even if I do not.

In rants past I've stated that I fully support, nay, demand that people take ahold of the huge steering wheel in front of them that is their future and bring their lives out of the horrendous flat spins that they already are in. I give suggestions just to prove I'm not being a totally unreasonable bastard: drive courteously, participate in the rearing of your children, try not to be so dense that you think your ten-dollar toaster will actually hesitate to burst into flame when you leave a gods-be-damned Pop-Tart jammed in the stupid thing with the elements on "crisp it darker than a Baywatch Bikini Line" for over twenty minutes. All of these things, one might assume, would be classified as "common sense," perhaps even the sort of thing that might become sheer instinct and be handed down from one generation to the next, the sort of thing one simply knows innately through some intervention by mother nature.

But no.

No, instead, we continue to thrive on making our fellow man miserable. SUVs sell in record numbers, and at the same time the auto industry continues to execute a bitchin' headlock upon the oil refineries so that gasoline remains plentiful and cheap enough to continue to power these Lexus-brand tanks. People burn down other people's homes. Stalking. Styrofoam peanuts. Abortion clinic bombings. Any number of atrocities are perpetuated in the name of any number of causes, but because it's "for a cause" that makes it OK. I mean, dammit all anyway, wouldn't it be so much more WORK stepping back and acting like the sentient monkeys we claim ourselves to be? Can't have that, mercy, no.

Here's where Fer tells more than you want to know: I don't know, for various reasons involving my sordid medical history, if I can even bring a life into this world (Yes, I can just go give a sample and get an answer, but this is one of the things I Just Don't Want To Know at this juncture in my life). If it should ever prove itself possible, the next question is should I even do so, when/if the right conditions ever present themselves (house, marriage, savings at the right level, etc)? Am I really doing right by my offspring to bring them into this world? I'm one ranting person who really dislikes the environment around him. I, alone, cannot change the world around me -- and as much as I might like to think otherwise, it isn't very likely that the world at large will hear my relatively simple plea and decide to participate in the global overhaul of our species... if being alive for this long has taught me one thing, it is that I am about as insignificant to this planet as that ant you unknowingly stepped on last week on the way out of the Burger King was to you.

I know that you are thinking "But you can pass down your morals to your child! You said it yourself, loser," right about now. Yes, those of you who have children already CAN make sure the world is a better place by instilling values into your children that YOU approve of, rather than letting the television, the school system, the babysitter and the X-box do it for you. This idea, if practiced by a number of people, could result in quite a movement within the next fifteen years -- and I for one would love to see it.

But as I have said before, I'm a practicing pessimist: I don't think anybody is going to go out of their way on this to make things better. So, that leaves me with this thought: if I were to have a child, this would amount to me sending out MY child, one of the beings I care most about in the world, out into a world that I already don't approve of, just so he can battle for beliefs I myself have been fighting for all these years already. I don't know about you, but I don't think that's fair to my child, not in the least.

Perhaps Kette will interject later in the comments -- I already have a sneaking feeling crawling up my back like a scorpion on a sleeping bag that most of the armchair psychologists will be jumping on this one with a few different theories about why I'm so adamant about everyone else altering the world and my lack of faith in my own child to do some of the work along with the rest. Maybe it has to do with my childhood -- I saw a lot of things I don't think I should have seen, and while I know I haven't had it as bad as some classes of people in far-off countries (Women in India, anybody?), I certainly did not have a lot of positive experiences in the public at large as I grew up (although I will take this moment to interject that my mother and my father, while tough-love types, were indeed quite loving and very devoted parents who did the best they could -- which, I like to think, was pretty goddamn good). I'm actually sort of interested in seeing this, because I've been staring into this mirror for a while now and the answers still aren't making themselves any more apparent to me now than when I first started. Whenever I start trying to figure out why I am the way I am, and I'm sufficiently agitated about the topic, or past a certain level of emotional involvement, the thing becomes more difficult than putting the proverbial square peg through the round hole. I mean, I might as well be trying to stuff a marshmallow into a friggin' piggy bank. It's fruitless and exceptionally frustrating.

Oh dear. I'm rambling and appear to have lost the exact point I was striving after. Bloody hell, I suspect that means I should wrap it up...

Is bringing a child into this world a fair thing for me to do, when I already disapprove of so many things that are occurring? Are the memories of my youth making me fear that perhaps my child would have to undergo some of the same traumas, ones which I don't think a child should have to go through, ones that can, in my opinion, rip away the thin veneer of wonder that's left in life for children in this day and age? Am I afraid of the commitment it represents to raise a child to believe in what I believe in, and believe in it enough to go out and fight for it? Am I out of my bloody mind to be staying up at night thinking about what it'd be like to find out I'd brought a life into this world, just before some incredible disaster occurs? Or am I just being paranoid about the whole damn thing?

I dunno.

It sucks to be introspective when you don't have the qualifications to even inspect a piece of wood.

I got a crazy teacher
He wears dark glasses

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feren: I AM THE MAN (Default)
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