Lemon Party
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Proper in and Improper (etc)
So you may be wondering what was up with last week. Not only were there far fewer than the usual number of updates, but we also neglected to holiday themed ones. Well there is an explanation. And it's not that I'm a lazy bitch! Really! You see I am of Semitic ancestry: to whit, a Jew. And as my Jewish heritage is rather stringent in certain respects I, along with young turtle_07, have been forced to leave my lemon stations and take up a task of deep significance. Last friday we set out to kill your savior, and did we ever! It was because of this duty that we "passed over" our Lemon Party duties temporarily. But worry not, we're back and better than ever this week.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.
Wow, I never get tired of doing that. Of course I'm not really finished though. I'd like to continue to write things that apply to the title. I know, I know, that's pretty weird for Lemon Party, but I'm going to do it anyway. Let me talk to you about costumes, specifically about animal-type costumes. These costumes have one use and one use alone. That use is, surprisingly enough (not surprisingly), as Halloween (Hallowe’en) costumes. Using them at any other time is an inappropriate use. But not really a big deal. I mean there's a fair number of reasons for wearing costumes, many of which are at least somewhat valid. The real problem comes when you identify with your costume. It's a costume for Chrissake, not an identity. You think Spiderman (Spider-man) is Spiderman (Spider-man) just because he wears that spandex suit? It's because he was bitten by a fucking radioactive spider. Not because he thinks he's really a spider, not because he wants to make sweet sweet loving to spiders. Not because his mother was a spider. HE WAS FUCKING BITTEN BY A RADIOACTIVE SPIDER AND BESIDES WHICH, IT'S A FUCKING COMIC BOOK; IT'S NOT FUCKING REAL.
In case you haven't yet
figured
out what I'm driving at, I'm talking 'bout Shaft. Just kidding. Actually it's furries.
You would not believe how fucking many of them are out there. And that's really where the problem lies. If there was just one it wouldn't be able to reproduce and it would just die out; its perversion extinguished. But because they're so prevalent, and because they have developed underground name recognition, it's almost become chic to be the waste of space that is a furry. They draw support from each other. They constantly reassure each that it's okay, that they're not freaks. That it's perfectly natural to think you're a dog and desperate to fuck alligators. Well it's not. Duh. Furries are sick fucks who simply need to catch up to reality. Reality is where you face reality, and stop pretending to be a racoon. We all know that's all it is. These are the fucktards who never had any friends because they were so inept at interpersonal relations. They're so desperate for attention that they sink to these depths. They're deluding themselves into thinking what they're doing is a valid expression. They need to be placed in small cages in asylums or simply executed. I lean towards the latter. Perhaps this to impersonal for you. Here we have a specific example to bring it home for you. Here. All right backstory time. This looks like an angsty, pimply teenager, rebelling for the hell of it. Rebelling poorly, rebelling with fur. But nope. Not true. This is a thirty year old. A THIRTY YEAR OLD LIVING IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT. IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT! IN HIS PARENTS' BASEMENT! THIRTY! BASEMENT! THIRTY!
And his friends tell him he's fine, that he's justified, that he's not one of the single most pathetic individuals on the planet. He has taken the uncommon kindness of his parents and used to put masturbate to dirty pictures of cartoon animals. And when his father, justifiably upset upon discovering the idiocy, strikes out ever so viciously (not viciously) by writing the word sick on one of our furry faggot's bizarre sexual drawings our fucked up "racoon" feels "RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION." Fucking unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable. So a here's a commandment especially for the punk/scene/indie/goth/straightedge/alternative and the furries and the plushies and the scat swapers:
There Is No Such Thing as an Internet Subculture. Just Freaks.
And remember the guiding light, lest we forget the glory that be Lemon Party.
Because your blog sucks.