This is what I thought of when I first read online about fursuiting.
The Free Software Dog
I'm wearing a fursuit, either a not-so-friendly dog or maybe a blue fox.
I have a fake Russian accent [that I'm practicing while I daydream].
I'm at a con, maybe PenguiCon, which apparently isn't the fursuit-friendliest
place. There's resistance to letting me in with a suit on, so I say, "My
day job -- make proprietary soft-uvare with DRM. Khere at cohn, am free
softuvare dohg. I am -- khow you say -- in-cog-ni-too." Once inside,
I engage the people in discussions of open-source philosophy, and everybody
loves the fursuited dog. Of course, they're all relatively mundane, but
I'm wearing a silly suit and speaking in a silly accent, so what do I care?
Eventually I come across Eric Raymond,
but he's surrounded by a mob of supplicants and cannot see me. I start
whistling the theme from "Star Wars" to attract the old goat's attention.
I pull off a polyphonic rendition for the first time in years! All
conversation stops, a wind from nowhere blows eddies around my feet, and
Eric is reminded of similar situations he has created with his flute.
I'm not sure what I talk to him about, but apparently it has something
to do with succession issues at the Free Software
Foundation. "Stallman is not well," I say, but the rest of the conversation
is unclear...
[Another version of this dream appears as my answer to question 34
on the furvey.]
-- Pyesetz
the Dog