Furries: Man or Myth (1092 hits)
Category: Humor -> Dumb JobsRating: 2 on 11 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Drone of Industry (View user info) at 2005-01-25 12:32:38 EST
I remember this from my teensy youth...
I am peeking out from behind an arcade game, examining the epileptic funhouse that IS the Showbiz Pizza Palace. Dizzying flashes of over saturated neon pinks and yellows are burning imprints into my cornea. But silent and stoic, with an indispensable shit eating grin frozen to his face, the Showbiz Bear slowly waddles thru all of the stray bullets of the electric battlezone... completely detached. Like the grim reaper he gravitates toward any shy and helpless child of his choosing to bestow his presence upon them. Utterly mute, he attempts to communicate. Their tongues become limp with awe and their minds fragile with confusion as Showbiz would sway his hips, rub his tummy, and simulate sunshine with his gesturing paws. One by one all of the children were being turned into stone by Showbiz Bear's Medusa stare. I don't know if it was Showbiz Bear's celebrity status, the fact that the cartoon realm had become a perplexing, empirical reality, or that simply a seven foot brown bear with a tank top was out to get me, but I was scared shitless!
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My coworkers and I were browsing through the mind numbing, heart wrenching, soul sucking corridors of gooooogle this July, researching foxes for a slot machine we were designing called "Party Animals". Like so many other miscellaneous distractions within gooooogle, we happened upon a wolf character flaunting gargantuan breasts and seething foam from its huge lactating nipples. Needless to say an office full of alpha males was quite intrigued. But little did we know that we would be opening the door to a whole new phenomena of which we could have never fathomed in our wildest dreams. From link to link I clicked the mouse with fury to find the source of such a vile, corrupt creature.
The Mid West Fur Fest, November 19 - 21, 2004.
Furries: a subculture of animals trapped inside human bodies. For whatever the reason these people are bound to an anthropomorphic alter ego, and under the viel of this identity, they live out their geekiest of fantasies beneath the judgemental eyes of society. What was their mission? Was it all just a cover up for some cartoon fetish? I had to find out! So I rounded up a batallion, and armed with notebooks, tape recorder, and one of them high falootin DV cameras we were going to hunt down these freaks of nature and get to the bottom of their obsession.
Our caravan hauled ass into the depths of suburban wasteland to the Hyatt Regency Hotel (not the most primal territory for the animal kingdom) for a chance to infiltrate furry headquarters. Unfortunately the Mid West Fur Fest convention was 40 dollars a pop, but aaaah, there was a loophole in their fortress! After some tedious investigation of their master plan, I learned that Saturday the enemy would be gathering in the north parking lot of the hotel at midnight sharp to howl at the moon in ferocious furryhood.
Upon arrival, we marched our way up to the back door of the Hyatt, incognito, as innocent, registered guests of the hotel, looking just like anybody else. Guarding the entrance, there was a giant skunk on the smoking patio puffing a cigarette thru the head of his furry suit. I refrained from giggling as I stepped through the threshold of the revolviing door.
Oh man, was it fucking tripped out! The inclination to giggle ceased as I slowly paced the confines of the hallway in a frightful stare, yet desperately trying to devert my eyes from any inhabitant of this dimension. For I was on their turf! I was the outcast now! Like homeless, goths littered the floor of the hotel, many of them with simply tails, ears, of puffy dog feet as their furry accesory. Freaks and geeks conversed with each other in furry jargon, a secret code to convey their ultra lame interests. And, of course, humanoids in giant, custom made, fur costumes paraded through the corridors. You could not see the inhabitants' faces through their animal guises, and they refrained from talking whilst inside their character. It was Eyes Wide Shut and shit! There were wolves with saddles riding on each others backs. Dogs barking into the acoustics. And repressed memories of mine came rushing back as a scary brown bear with a flame red nose knawed on a frisbee. I secretly pointed my camera towards the bear as a goth stroked his dark fur and cooed at him like he was a baby urging, "Don't chew on the frisbee. It's okay. Just give me the frisbee. It's all right." This was truly an awkward experience. Quickly returning to the safety of my circle of friends I instantly blurted,"Oh my god, it IS a fetish!"
I was very reluctant to do any interviews as I felt I was witnessing an acid flashback! But luckily my comrades took it on their own to conduct one with Babs Bunny in the art room. As she carried on about the furry spirit, the efforts to build their community, and the accomplishments of their creative endevours, I perused the aisles of their artistic displays.
And whaddaya know?... Cute fuzzy foxes with huge breasts and erect nipples. Studly horses with angel wings and enormous hard ons. A strange concoction of big-eyed animal innocence and primal sexual instinct reigned the thematics of nearly every piece of merchandise! On the brighter side of it all was that part of each artist's proceeds was also being donated towards the support of no kill shelters. This was the only compensation I could see for their behavior. Big fat hairy deal.
I circled the room back to Babs Bunny who was still vibrant with excitement to inform us of this fun loving community. As she babbled in between breaths, a man in a long trenchcoat slowly baby stepped to us and showed his notebook to my friend, John, which contained an anatomically correct foxy lady spread eagle in a bathtub. My friend simply nodded in affirmation. Dipleased with my freind's reaction, the humanoid literally whimpered like a puppy and retreated back to his herd.
Our cover was obviously blown. They had recognized us as infiltrating their territory. As we made our way to the smoking patio they clearly announced our presence. One of them mimicked us, "Ooooh, look at the weird furries! They're sooooo scary!"
The clock struck midnight and we prowled to the north end of the parking lot to join in a celebration of furry liberation. A man with a raccoon tail asked us if we were affiliates of their arch nemesis somethingawful.com, in which we claimed that we were soley there to be part of the festivities. We rounded out into a circle and the leader of the pack stated that when wolves howl they do so in different tones so as to stand out of the crowd. 1, 2 ,3... and all of our jowels bellowed out an orchestra of shrilling dissonence as we attempted to express our own tone of individuality. The moon was buried beneath a formless blanket of clouds, eliminating any sort of focal point in the sky, yet we insisted to caterwaul.
But as I howled with all of my might, I began to question the furry spirit. This wasn't an excercise in spiritual outreach, a release of our innermost primal urges. We were in the Hyatt Regency parking lot for chrissakes! This was just weird for weird's sake. Our magnum opus was one of superficiality, petty pornography, furry merchandise, and pitiful escapism... one huge ugly tone that resonated with insincerity, passive aggresiveness, and total geekdom.
But it was too late! In the midst of my realization, a fat guy with a wolf t-shirt and one of those Britiney Spears microphones was questioning our cameraman. We had been apprehended! The howling ceased, and all of the furries circled around us, eyes locked in a cultish stare. I was frozen like a dear in headlights, but still bracing myself to kick some furry ass. What had I gotten my fellow comrades into? They began growling at us, mocking our voices, flicking us off, and getting in our faces yelling "Go home, Mundanes!" We were the hunters how being the hunted.
So then we started yelling at them! "You guys are paranoid motherfuckers... turning us into the outsiders! You are such fucking hippocrites beneath your animal guises! Sure, we're not furries, but that doesn't mean we don't know how it feels to be alienated, to be ugly, to be outcasts... to be fucking human! FUCK YOU, FURRIES!" ...something over dramatic like that.
Then we denied the coordinator's accusations that we were loitering, that we did not pay forty dollars, and that we were there to see what fools they were. But inside I knew that all of these things were true! I knew that our facade was just as obvious as theirs. And so did they. But strangely, one by one they seemed to dissipate from around us in a slow, sulking retreat... back to the security of the hotel, safe and understood in the circle of their own breed.
Alas a few strays stuck around to clarify the reasoning behind their own personal furry movement.
The dalmation raved about the degradation of the furry image within mainstream culture. Their noses apparently bloodied by the likes of MTV and primetime's CSI, in which television exposes the furry as a fetish fiend party animal nutjob. He then proceeded to explain his alter ego mate, Cat. He went on an unintelligable rant (constantly reminding us that our "normal" minds were too feeble to fathom his concept) about how he was acheiving a balance with yin and yang by dressing up and acting like a dog.
The American Indian asked if we were guided by religon. Because the religon of his people was very scarce to come by in today's modern society. He found spirituality in furryhood. The furry movement lent itself to the polytheistic belief of a happy cartoon animal kingdom in heaven. It is the only way he knows how to communicate with the mythological mentors of his forefathers.
The wolverine filmed us with his digicam. He worked in an office like everyone else. He claimed that the furry sect was a family for all of those who have become outcasts from their own family and freinds and had come to find salvation with the rest of god's recluses in the foul, festering crevices of internet chatrooms. He only sees some of his "freinds" once or twice a year at various conventions. "If they didn't have this family they might just kill themselves," endquote.
I needn't to write a retort to any of their sale's pitches. That's the thing about the furries. They are open to advocate their pathetic nature because that is the mandatory prerequisite towards their acceptance of you.
So we parted ways. Our caravan, more confused than ever, headed back east to Chicago, bickering the whole way about the ethics of our mission. When we returned to the city we stopped at the Hollywood Diner to clear our heads over coffee. As we crossed the street, a cab full of frats screamed, "Nice pants, faggot! Fuck you!" and threw a lit cigarette at my freind John.
I guess no one in yellow plaid trousers is safe from the malice of the "mundanes."
After the weekend I returned to work with footage of the furry contraband. I showed the video to my coworkers and they all laughed in spite of the funny, fucked up furries. But as everyone was laughing, I was overcome with a depressing dirge for the furries... as they searched for freedom from their miserable selves through the restraints of isolation and anonymity. They possessed the power to create a world that laughs with them, but in destitute and a contempt for anyone outside of their circle, they forged a world to laugh AT them. And now I have as much contempt for them as they do for me.
But maybe the really sad thing is is that, in a way, I am no better than the furries. They think they are better than the "norm", which is anyone that does not wear a furry mask.
We all had a good laugh, and after I had gained the respect of my fellow coworkers we returned to our workstations. I sat silently staring at my computer monitor as the rest of the room swirled through conversations of Seinfeld, basketball, superheroes, and blockbuster movie stars.
Let us never speak of the furries ever again.
User Reviews
Submitted by A_D_Sweetmeat (user info) at 2006-01-24 15:37:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Banga3386 (user info) at 2005-02-11 04:03:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow, I've got nothing man.
Submitted by Chinaski (user info) at 2005-02-11 03:23:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
it was good but you overreacted ets.
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2005-01-25 18:59:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.
Just wow.
Any chance we could see some of that video footage?
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-01-25 17:37:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hate them forever for having a name close enough to 'fluffer' to be confused with it, and then leading me to all sorts of embarassment. No, that made no sense, but I am at peace with that fact.
Submitted by Vomit (user info) at 2005-01-25 16:19:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bango Skank
Submitted by Quartermain (user info) at 2005-01-25 16:09:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-01-25 13:49:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
.............................................
I...
I want to comment...
But I can't...
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2005-01-25 13:38:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was BRILLIANT as usual! If you proofread a little more, your shit would be absolutely unstoppable!
Your posts are excursions and examinations into the internal worlds where empiricism meets subjectivity, and the dialogue of the head crashes against the beating of the furry human heart. Awesome stuff.
It's strange how much humans need to be needed - need to feel acceptance. It's universal really. Even the hermit, who is in the woods alone by choice, will crave human contact. The origins of this, although not necessarily sexual in nature, always will carry that as at least one aspect. You can see it plainly when you trip on psychedelics... The colors of people's souls tell you their true thoughts as they leak out into the room, in spite of their best efforts to hide them.
This was very thought-provoking. Too much so perhaps for ubersite. I don't think many here will get it.
Submitted by Feijuada (user info) at 2005-01-25 13:02:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Somethingawful.com is so notorious that furries everywhere fear them.
Submitted by Donitsu2002 (user info) at 2005-01-25 12:45:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
was this supposed to make me almost have a twinge of compassion towards those geeks?
DAMN YOU!