So I am finally getting around to watching The Last Unicorn

Somehow, the subject of the movie came up in discussion when I was hanging with the fuzzies this morning, and I mentioned that I had a weird history with it despite never having seen it.

A friend gaped at me when I said I hadn’t seen it, then promptly dug up the link above so I could rectify that situation.

About the weird history : way way way WAY back when I was brand spanking new to this whole “furry” thing and playing my first character, a minotaur named Farmboy^[1], on good ol’ FurryMUCK ^[2], I people kept making references to “the Red Bull” (not the one that gives you wings) and I hadn’t the foggiest idea what they were on about.

After all, I wasn’t red. I was chestnut brown!

And these people seemed to want something very kinky from me, and that was not something I can provide. Whether I have pointy horns or a fluffy waggy tail, I am the same gentle affectionate harmless critter and they were definitely never going to get tied up and abused (or worse) by yours truly.

But they would cozy up to me being all subby and cute and sexy, and I would cuddle and pet and fuck them, but inevitably they would get all frustrated and leave.

I disappointed a LOT of submissive males back then.

Luckily, a few of them, like Furlup and Luagha, got over it and became friends anyway.

Anyhow, back to our odd looking friend the Unicorn. [[3]]

I had multiple opportunities to see the move in my mid to late teens but I always balked because what little I knew about the movie suggested that I would find it to be upsetting and sad and possibly even traumatizing.

And I can’t take those kinds of risks. Anything involving animals cuts straight into my heart and the wrong thing can leave me depressed and upset for days.

This is why I have never, and will never, see or read Watership Down or any of the other works by that author.

As brilliant an idea it is to write fantasy from the point of view of animals for whom the human world is magic, I am not going to go there.

My sad and sensitive little heart couldn’t take it.

But I am willing to risk The Last Unicorn now. What the heck, it’s worth it just for the sheer potency of how Seventies it is alone.

I mean, the songs are by America!

And Seventies nostalgia is quite potent for me. I think it’s because, having been born in ’73, things from the Seventies connect me to my early childhood, before I had the sort of jadedness and filters we develop as we get older.

Sure, lots of stuff from the Eighties is also highly nostalgic for me. But it doesn’t hit me with the megaton force that Seventies stuff does.

After all, that’s when I lost everything.

More after the break.

[[3]] What? She’s weird looking, with those enormous eyes and that weirdly streamlined head of hers. I get that she’s not just a “horse with a horn”, but still. [[3]]

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A very uninteresting fact

I won’t be ordering from KFC on Saturday nights any time soon.

It took a few times for me to “get it” but this time I remembered that since our KFC switched from bottled to fountain drinks, it’s become extremely trick for my walker bound butt to pick up my order from the door.

Because a fountain drink in a cup has to be kept level at all time or it spills. Just imagine trying to keep the damned thing level when you need both hands to use your walker.

So I was moments from ordering up some KFC when I remembered this salient factoid, and as a result, Donair Dude got my money instead.

Ergo, I am now happily shoveling what amounts to donair poutine (fries with donair meat n’ sauce on them) into my mouth and pondering the vagaries of fate and the law of unintended consequences.

Like, whoever made the decision to switch to fountain drinks at KFC certainly did not intend to exclude disabled persons like myself. That was probably the further thing from their minds at the time.

The truth is, the markup on fountain drinks is WAY higher than on bottled drinks, so presumably it was just a cost cutting measure.

Yet it still means that I couldn’t get the KFC I was craving, or at the very least, that getting it had a hidden cost for me that I was not prepared to pay.

It should comes as no surprise to anyone that the world is a different place when you are disabled. What is a small, negligible distance for you is a hike for me. What is a simple form factor for delivering Diet Pepsi to you is a major roadblock for me. What is a basic staircase for you is an impossibility to me.

And so forth and so on.

I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I may never walk normally again. And I am increasingly pondering whether I should make the transition from walker to wheelchair at long last.

Moving around while sitting does have a lot of appeal. But having to pilot the thing around obstacles and around the apartment seems like it would really suck.

So honestly, I dunno. Maybe.

I will talk to you nice people again tomrrow.