Last night I started mentally writing a column about a truly stupid commercial, but now it just seems pointless. I mean, it's just a bad commercial, and I've already trodden that particular ground.
But jasona's column mentioned popular columns, and that reminded me of the subject of my most-read column: Furries. Well, Furry music, actually. And that reminded me that a friend mentioned that some Furries…oh, hell, why capitalize it? As I was saying, a friend mentioned that some furries marched in the last San Francisco Gay Pride parade. Thinking, perhaps, that they would fit in amongst the other oddly dressed participants. My friend also mentioned that they had signs, or were shouting, or barking, or were in some other way communicating a desire for recognition and respect. Which is delusional, at best, because furries already have all the respect that they deserve. That being, of course, none at all.
Let's reiterate the facts: Furries are adults, wearing animal costumes. Oh, sure, some of them say that it's not a sexual thing, but that rings hollow. If you're dressing up as a giant squirrel, how much of a step is it to say "Well, let's try it, just this once." Which, frankly, is one chance more than most of them get, or deserve.
Now, am I really saying that anyone who dresses up as an animal and parades themselves around in public is a freak, a deviant, an amoral, sub-human wretch? Yes, I am. Too strong a stance? Not really. I'd welcome a debate on the topic, but I would have to point out that anyone taking an opposing view is wearing an animal costume and lasciviously stroking their fake fur, which tends to harm one's credibility.
Now, sure, it can be considered a kink, like many others, but it's just such a ridiculous one. Whips, candles, specially-constructed gymnastic horses? Sure, you can take those seriously. Oh, you'd probably want to take a few steps back from someone who evidences a profound fondness for such things, but you probably wouldn't openly laugh at them, mainly because they're likely to have one of those whips with them at the time. But furries? What are they going to do, slap you with their big, furry paws?
It's like the thought of people wanting to have sex while wearing Spider-Man underoos, only even more insane. Actually, maybe it's more like wearing Scooby Doo underoos, or Yoda underoos…ok, I think I've made my point.*.
So, let's be sure to keep up the level of mocking, and tell these deviants that we won't abide their animal-fetishizing antics. Oh, they're welcome to continue their sickening practices in private, as long as they don't bark, squeak, or chirp loudly enough to disturb the neighbors. Because I, for one, just don't want to know what sort of things a six foot tall man in a bird suit who calls himself "Polly" wants.
*) For the record, I do not own any underoos, and haven't for quite a few years. So let's not begin harboring any suspicions about me.