Random Stuff

I’m doing my own thing cruising through the forums when I noticed there’s a new submission to the banned players. Being nosey I check it out. Oh hey it’s someone I’m quite familiar with. Message them to find out what happened and wouldn’t you know?! They got banned for “Tracing and/or heavily referencing”!!

The “copied design” ? HORSE LEGS. 

Please, someone tell me how “horse legs” are something that can be copied when it’s a natural animal who regardless the breed of horse their legs are ALL THE SAME.

Here’s where I got those images, because sourcing is important:

https://www.britannica.com/animal/horse

https://www.foxnews.com/us/colorado-charged-animal-cruelty-dragging-horse

https://www.horsetalk.co.nz/2016/08/08/horse-shiny-healthy-coat-skin/

https://extension.unh.edu/resource/good-neighbor-guide-keeping-horses

Here’s some good pages about tracing vs copying vs referencing.

https://aminoapps.com/c/monster-hunter/page/blog/art-etiquette-referencing-vs-tracing/aVeq_dnPu0ulq00qpKgnErBwLlaKQlD5NZ

https://aminoapps.com/c/furry-amino/page/blog/what-is-tracing-copying-referencing-and-inspiration/xpvg_mX2i2uWV4QVb8XXEkgoM06rpBQ31rX

Even if you’re tracing to learn, you should either not share the image publicly, or if you do, you MUST show your source where you got the image, and you cannot use it for profit, as an example of your own art, etc.  

Compound butter, a mix of butter and other ingredients, is an excellent way to create an endless variety of flavors for meats, fish, veggies and even freshly baked bread! Read on to learn how to make compound butter in a few easy steps!

https://www.urbanfoodiekitchen.com/how-to-make-compound-butter/

Follow for recipes

Every Disney castle from Snow White to Frozen.

My freshman year of college I was walking around campus when a very friendly looking girl waved at me. I’m awkward, so of course I waved back. The next week, the same thing.

This began the weirdest saga of my life.

For the next two years, we greeted each other as old friends every time we came across the other. She knew my name (somehow?), I never could figure hers out and it was WAY too late to ask. I just pretended I knew who she was and why she knew me.

Finally, I joined the honors program and entered my classes for my thesis. Who should be in this class but mystery girl! I was horrified. I wouldn’t be able to pass it off anymore.

First day of class we are all sitting there chatting and she greets me by name, again. I had finally learned her name from attendance, thank God. Someone asks, finally, “oh, so do you two know each other? Where’d you meet?”

Silence.

I stare at her. She stares at me. Finally she breaks down wailing. “I don’t know! I don’t know, okay, we’ve just been waving at each other for two years and it was too late to ask!”

Dr. Z. was, easily, the best and most competent doctor or dentist I’ve ever encountered – and after that accident, I encountered quite a number. He came stunningly highly recommended, had an excellent record, and the most calming bedside manner I’ve ever seen.

That last wasn’t the sweet gentle caretaking sort of manner, which some nurses have but you wouldn’t expect to see in a surgeon. No; when Dr. Z. told me that one of my broken molars was too badly damaged to save, and I (being seventeen and still moderately in shock) broke down crying, he stared at me incredulously and said, in a tone of utter bemusement, “But – I am very good.”

I stopped crying on the spot. In the last twenty-four hours or so of one doctor after another, no one had said anything that reassuring to me. He clearly just knew his own competence so well that the idea of someone being scared anyway was literally incomprehensible to him. What more could I possibly ask for?

(He was right. The procedure was very extended, because the tooth that needed to be removed was in bits, but there was zero pain at any point. And, as he promised, my teeth were so close together that they shifted to fill the gap to where there genuinely is none anymore, it’s just a little easier to floss on that side.)

But Dr. Z.’s insane competence wasn’t just limited to oral surgery.

When I met Dr. Z., he, like most doctors I’ve had, asked me if I was in college, and where, and what I was studying. When I say “math,” most doctors respond with “oh, wow, good for you” or possibly “what do you want to do with that after college?”

Dr. Z. wanted to know what kind of math.

I gave him the thirty-second layman’s summary that I give people who are foolish enough to ask that. He responded with “oh, you mean–” and the correct technical terms. I confirmed that was indeed what I meant (and keep in mind, this was upper-division college math, you don’t take this unless you’re a math major). He asked cogent follow-up questions, and there ensued ten or so minutes of what I’d call “small talk” except for how it was an intensely technical mathematical discussion.

He didn’t, as far as I can tell, have any kind of formal math background. He just … knew stuff.

I was a competitive fencer at this point in time, so when he asked if I had any questions about the surgery that would be necessary, I asked him if I’d be okay to fence while I had my jaw wired shut, or if it would interfere with breathing.

“Fencing?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “like swordfighting,” because this is another conversation I got to have a lot. (People assume they’ve misheard you, or occasionally they think you mean building fences.)

“Which weapon?”

“Uh. Foil.”

“No, it won’t be safe,” and he went off into an explanation of why.

Turns out, he was also a serious fencer – and, when I mentioned my fencing coach, an old friend of his. (I asked my fencing coach later, and, oh yes, Dr. Z., a good friend of mine, excellent fencer.) (My coach was French. Dr. Z. was Israeli. I never saw Dr. Z. around the club or anything. I have no idea how they knew each other.)

So this was weird enough that later, when I was home, I looked Dr. Z. up on Yelp. His reviews were stellar, of course, but that wasn’t the weird thing.

The weird thing was that the reviews were full of people – professionals in lots of different fields – saying the same thing: I went to Dr. Z. for oral surgery, and he asked me about what I did, and it turned out he knew all about my field and had a competent and educated discussion with me about the obscure technical details of such-and-such.

All sorts of different fields, saying this. Lawyers. Businessmen. Musicians.

As far as I can tell, it’s not that I just happened to be pursuing the two fields he had a serious amateur interest in – he just seemed to be extremely good at literally everything.

I have no explanation for this. Possibly he sold his soul to the devil.