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.