- Joined
- Oct 14, 2020
The worst part is it's always a choice.Imagine being the parents of a young, beautiful, talented singer, who dies early of cancer.
And then you’re left with...... Ravioli.
Hoping for their sake they have no knowledge of his Twitter account.
Maybe it's not a choice as to your sexuality or what you "prefer to be".
But it's an active, human decision to pursue what you do, and how far you take it. Do I play videogames, or do I become a NEET and do nothing but play WoW and sit in a chair all day? Do I smoke weed on occasion, or do I buy meth by the pound for personal use monthly? Am I gay, or am I a raging HIV-positive cumdumpster that wears BDSM gear in public? Am I a furry, or am I going to attempt to bring a fetish-adorned fuck-holes-included diaper-strapped fucksuit in public? Am I trans, or is my hair 24/7 dyed pink and IT IS MA'AM, TRANSPHOBE?
Even if we are to play devil's advocate and consider the idea that Rioley cannot help that "they are x in a y body", or that their only sexual desire is fetishes they can't help, even if we believe in the most generous of ideals, it's a decision as to whether or not they keep it to themselves / people sharing that interest, or if they go out in public wearing a shit-filled diaper and clothes that implicate their strong desire to fuck children. It is their decision to continually make themselves everyone's problem, a decision to be even so terrible that the retention pod that is the furry subculture has to forcibly eject them from a convention- after they paid money to be there.
They could just as easily decide "I like weird things but I don't want to be a problem" and act fucking normal in public, or moderate their degeneracy just enough to fit in at a furry convention of all things.