I will say as no one else will; I like watching Flynn's crying furry lesbians show. If I can't enjoy watching them die horribly, then at least I can derive satisfaction sweet juicy satisfaction by witnessing their fragile, brittle egos suffer blow after blow. Their miserable lives are only extended for the sake of suffering and MY pleasure. And for the record, I am not a sadist. I don't enjoy watching humans suffer. Never have never will. Furrys do not deserve respect, tolerance, or any shred of empathy for that matter. If they were completely alien to humanity, their twisted forms incomprehensible to the average human mind (not mine however), I would not be offended in the slightest. I would be delighted in fact, as I would be gifted with more wonders to explore, more mysteries to uncover, for I am one of the theoretical men Nietzsche saw. I stand shoulder to shoulder with Socrates, and he shares my disgust of the Unclean; for they are neither novel, nor are they our equals. Instead they banally imitate God's work, and insult nature and the universe. They cannot create, only mimic the worst humanity has to offer. They beg for your sympathy, your attention, and offer misery in reward. It is not enough to lock them away, to exile them away from the honest men and virtuous women. Their mere existence, the simple concept of them, corrupts and infects the universe. I say to you again, I want nothing more than to annihilate them; to stand upon their mangled bodies and stomp on their vacuous skulls and hear the wet crack of bones collapsing beneath my sullied black boots. Alas, their claws have gone to deep, the cancer has metastasized and I can do nothing but watch sullenly as weak men drive our world to ruin. So instead, I watch and I scheme. If the world is destined to be swallowed in darkness, if my efforts are as futile as fighting a neverending ocean, then I will make them suffer. Every meter of their inevitable march of progress will bring new pain and new injuries. I will be gone one day, I am not the fool they claim I am, but I will make sure that they remember me. In their nightmares, in their legends, they'll chant my name with hatred and disgust, for they will know I broke them and deprived them of their freedom forever. They will never shake of the chains of my memory, the shackles of my ideal, the noose of my name.