The fate of the interstellar community

Okay, so furries will be shot into space. That's a given. How that happens is not important just yet. Only that it does happen. But there are bigger issues at stake here. What happens to furries once they are in space? A ponderous question. One must ponder it for some time.

In a later episode of Star Trek: Voyager, it is revealed that the Borg refused to assimiliate the Kazon because they were considered inferior. Furries will share a similar fate. With beacons warning of contamination, alien species will know to avoid the new home of furries, should they make ground on another world.

There is much solace to be had in the knowledge that when they finally touch down on an unlucky planet, they will eventually die out. There will be no pre-existing internet. Furries on their own cannot have an internet, as they are not creative enough to design a network architecture. Much as if Sega did not already create a blue hedgehog, they would not be able to draw a penis on it. Without the internet, they cannot purchase new fursuits. And without new fursuits, they will eventually be unable to mate. What kind of furry wants to see flesh pressing against flesh? No mating will be possible. It was already difficult to begin with.

Wolves cannot produce offspring with antelope. It's a known fact. Many furries do not know the basics of genetics. Judging by the sheer amount of supposed wolves and foxes that populate the internet, they also do not understand the correct proportions of animals that exist on earth. If every single one of them are reincarnated or transmogrified or regurgitated from foxes and wolves, that would equal a very inordinate amount of foxes and wolves that existed in the recent past/in another, awful universe. Our next campaign, after the successful launch of Furries into Space shall be to seal this dimension from any sort of incursion.

Thank you for your time.
Angular Jaunt

Still Living

Yes, your host still lives, fear not. I apologize for the lack of updates, but as you must realize, a plan to blast furries into space is not one to be entered into lightly. In fact, what if one escapes? We will be cursed with terrible art of dog-people looking up at the sky, a single cliched melodramatic fucking tear streaking down thier furry face, as all of thier fellow perverts leave on a rocket ship. Nobody wants to see that.

Why?

The first question is: Why?

If you are an experianced web surfer, you won't be asking this question. Chances are, you've already stumbled across some aspect of furriness - be it distasteful fan art of Tails getting raped by Big the Cat, or any of the more or less horrible aspects of a furridom.

If you are lucky enough to have escaped the curse of ever running into a furry, let me give you the rundown. Imagine you are walking down the street (this excersize should not tax even
the most dim-witted among you). You see a cat. You would think, "Oh, what a cute cat," or maybe stop to pet it. Or maybe not; maybe you're not a cat person.

But a furry would not have this reaction. A furry would say, "I wish that cat was a six foot tall man with two dicks, both of them planted firmly in my fat, greasy asshole". For you see,
furries are truly sick, twisted individuals who find animals erotic. This can run the gamut from the harmless practice of drawing cat ears on cute girls to actually fucking dogs and cats. Because we have determined that furries need to be blasted into space, you may guess which side of the spectrum most furries fall on.

Furries sport a unquie type of personality disorder where they imagine they are some kind of animal. Some furries belive they are the reincarnation of, for example, a dragon with two eight-foot long penises. They then draw pictures of this creature and pollute the Internet with them.
Furries often gather at "fur-cons," where they don cheap suits patterned after whatever imaginary beaver with dragon wings or other creature they would like to pretend they are. At these "cons," furries form a "Furpile," where they hump each other through thier suits in a disgusting mountain of flab, fake fur, jizz, and pathetic, broken dreams.

Furries are also menaces to society because they destroy treasured childhood memories. Remember those cartoons you liked to watch? Maybe Rescue Rangers? Somewhere out there, some furry has drawn Gadget getting double penetrated by Chip and Dale.
These are the kind of monsters that we are dealing with. Clearly, something needs to be done. If not for us, for the children. Let's leave them a better world. A world without fur-suited fatties drawing themselves spurting on the teenage mutant ninja turtles.

Thank you.

**Update**

It's been brought to my attention that it should be, of course, "Tails," not "Tales". I blame the lack of sleep. One must be ever vigilant against these furry fiends.

Welcome!

Helllllllllllllloooooooooooo!

Welcome to Blast Furries Into Space. As you can guess from the title, this is a blog dedicated to the idea of blasting furries - every last dog-fucking one of them - into space. This is just an introductory post, so be on the lookout for followups, explaning:

1. Why?
2. How?
3. To which planet should the furries be sent?
4. Perhaps into the center of the sun, ridding us of thier curse for all time?

Oh, it's an exciting time! Stay tuned!