The mighty pony has whinnied and I hear his roar! In my first blog posting, I made reference to Bronies and Furries as sexual deviants and social miscreants. They are like the Island of Misfit Toys in the classic Rudolph clay-toon – only these misfits are human and don’t have much hope at finding love. I’m not trying to be unfair or pretentious, but I was deemed so by several readers. So, I have done a little soul searching. No one likes to be told they are sinful and judgmental, especially Christians. First, K O writes to report that Furries or Fens like himself work hard and “Care about the important issues.”
“Furries”, He says, “Have existed since ancient Egyptian times.” I reported that the Furry trend originated in Canada, but no, they first furnicated in the land of the Pharaohs. This explains everything now. Egyptians mummified their dead , used incest to expand their half witted dynasties and believed cats were demigods. What a bunch of crazies! The cats I know are about as God-like as Great White sharks; they claw, bite through flesh and cause blood infections. No, I wouldn’t worship cats at all. The ancient Egyptians were lunatics and their half-beast half-God-deities point to a civilization ruptured at the seams. Even their art shows signs of a warped society. No wonder their country is in crisis.
Christopher Rickett has a thing or two to say.
As ignorant and mollusk- brained as I am , I still wanted to reply to the passionate Christopher. He asks us to look back to a time when civilization was without a Bronie / Furry ethical foundation . It must have been hell. I can imagine there was much suffering indeed. Rickett says, “People were crucified and burned at the steak.” This burning at the steak business has my panties bunched up in a tizzy. When I hear that people are intentionally burning steaks it feels like my nerves are on fire. Once I bit into an over cooked Filet Mignon and thought I was chewing my purse. After chugging an entire martini to wash away the taste, it was as if a small piece of me died. I fired that chef and his worthless staff. The only people that burn their steaks are Cajuns and backwards folk who practice voodoo. I don’t mess with them, and I certainly would never eat their blackened Devil meat. If you can’t prepare a rare Christian steak , then serve me some escargot. Maybe it will induce more mollusk-inspired ignorance on my behalf.
Finally Babz Barbara chimed in to say that she would just like her pony Please! Enough of this deviance crap, if it makes her happy, she’s doing it! Pony Style and all! I assume this means her quest for further happiness is carried out within a Bro-nanza of Dream Beauties and Breezies. She, along with the other pleasure-driven heathens believe Vermin Supreme should not be taken so seriously, after all, the man wears a boot on his head. Therein lies the danger of the Vermin Supreme candidacy conspiracy.
Yes, friends, Vermin Supreme indeed wears a boot on his head and often appears in the media with props of wizardry like magic dust and starry purple backdrops. This is no coincidence, it’s meant to deceive and trick young voters into believing that Vermin is a wizard himself, like Harry Potter. It appears however, that Vermin has turned a new leaf. On November 5th , Vote Jesus is being screened at the 5th Annual Cape Ann Film Festival in Gloucester MA. Vote Jesus examines the man behind the Vermin Curtain, Ken Stevenson , and his undercover exploits across Evangelical USA. This is Vermin’s come to Jesus moment, and I would love to be a speck of glam dust on the Jesus glitter bomb when that shit explodes. I may see you in Gloucester friends, if my jet can get out of this rubble Hell Hole left behind by the storm. Hurricane Sandy has been such an inconvenience.
I will continue to search for my inner Pony, as well as the fundamental truth. Somewhere , I shall locate it. The South Shore of liberal Massachusetts has a lot of hidden cracks, so I’ll search deeply. Meanwhile I’ll try to spiritually connect to my inner pony, now that I’ve found him. His name is Bloody Maree Mayhem. Now that pony needs taming – and a stiff drink!