Previously: The Elixir of Life.
“Archaeologists in Peru say they have unearthed the previously unknown tomb of a nobleman from a pre-Inca civilization known as the Moche. The tomb contained the remains of an adult male, plus artifacts indicating the man’s elite status, according to the Peruvian newspaper El Comercio.
Among the most intriguing artifacts are ornamental metal pieces fashioned to look like feline paws with claws. The paws may have been part of a ritual costume used in ceremonial combat, El Comercio reported. The loser would be sacrificed, while the winner would get the costume.”
I mean, it COULD be that. It definitely could be the trappings of an ancient combat ritual. But as long as we’re digging up stuff and loosely free-associating about what it might be, is this truly the most logically satisfying explanation? Does the “death combat war trophy” theory stand-up to a cursory cross-examination? Since this costume could only be acquired by the death of its previous owner, it stands to reason that if it were found in a grave, this would be an indication that this person’s fighting career ended in voluntary retirement. We also know, from other artifacts in the tomb, that this man was wealthy nobleman, and thus someone for whom killing would not be a grim necessary, but a choice, a diversion. This man, then, would have entered death matches, not because it was compulsory, but out of compulsion, out of a desire to water his predatory ego with the blood of his adversaries. What are the odds that such a man would humbly bow out before leaving their prime fighting years, retiring and dying of old age? It cuts against everything we know about the psychology of wealthy men who believe they’ve achieved their station on merit. More than arrogant, such men are blind to their own weaknesses, their own failings. Such a man wouldn’t realize that his death combat fighting career was over until presented with the most tragically inarguable evidence.
No, I think we can reasonably conclude that the “death combat war trophy” theory lacks a certain plausibility. I think we need to go back to the drawing board on this one. What do we know about this man from his tomb? We know he is a member of the indolently wealthy upper class. We know he owns a animal costume which includes a pair of paws. These paws are not generic — they are not the claws of some unnamed and formless monster. They are a pair of specifically feline paws, which, while ornamental, are utilitarian. They are not pure form, they are designed to function AS paws, hence the lifelike and functional claws. This costume was so important to this man, so central to his identity, that he chose to be buried with it. The answer is simultaneously so obvious, and yet so incomprehensibly monumental, that I almost dare not utter it, and yet I must: this man was a member of an ancient secret furry BDSM sex club.
I repeat, for posterity, for history, for the benefit of those who come back to this moment to find the hinge upon which the future of the human species turned, to find the final cusp of the whole great project of human civilization: ANCIENT SECRET FURRY BDSM SEX CLUB. This is a sentence that I never could have predicted I’d type, for who would have the arrogance, who would have the sheer audacity to believe that they would be the one to tear asunder the thin veil, the gossamer curtain that hides the gears upon which history itself turns? But here I stand — here we stand, before the most important discovery in the history of archaeology, in the history of human scholarship, in the history of history itself. Here we stand looking upon our summation and consummation, before, to put it plainly, an unknowing — for what is completion except the infinite silence that follows the period at the end of the final sentence? There is nothing more to be known. But once our eyes acclimate to the blinding light of this cataclysmic discovery, we can see we stand in a new geography, one that we must ask questions of.
The most salient question is the one that might have immediately occurred to you, and fortunately, it is also the one that’s the easiest to answer: is the ancient secret furry sex club still active, and if so, has it infiltrated the highest levels of world governments? If you consult your soul, if you consult your instincts, if you consult the core of the truest part of yourself, I think you’ll find that you already know the answer to these joined questions: yes, and yes. Conspiracy theorists have long sought to uncover the secret cabals that have their hands on the levers of the world’s power — but they’ve been heretofore distracted by the impossible (aliens, old men of various races), the ridiculous (lizard people, bankers), and the plainly absurd (the world churns forward borne by the inertia of history and there’s nobody in particular in control). At last we have the truth, which is not only plausible, but is incredibly simple once it has revealed itself to you — the world is run by a secretive group of cultists who dress up as various animals and engage in sadomasochistic sex rituals. What could possibly be more obvious?
I have coined a term for this group. It is unlikely that they themselves use it to refer to one another: Furrydom, being a joining of the words “furry” and “dom,” in which the latter refers to the idiomatic abbreviation for the dominant person in a BDSM relationship, but also the traditional etymology of that English suffix. You can see why I thought that apt.
The other questions have less obvious answers, and there are probably still more questions that have not occurred to me yet, for I too am still a newborn squirming in the afterbirth of this new consciousness. But I will list those that I have, which I believe to be the primary questions, of which there are three:
1. Who are the members of Furrydom? Are those who we presume to wield power members, or is Furrydom a shadowy collective operating from the margins?
2. What do the members of Furrydom want with us? Are they benevolent rulers, or do they rule to please their own avaricious whims? To what destination do they steer our future?
3. Has Furrydom any connection to the publicly existing furry or BDSM communities? (I believe this answer to be unequivocally “no”, although as a scientist and a rationalist, I am open to contradictory evidence.)
I have no answers for you, for these questions nor any others. But one sentiment is clear, and I cannot help but adapt words which reverberate through the mists of time to capture it: I, for one, welcome our ancient secret BDSM sex club overlords.
Tags: archaeology, Ezekiel Kweku, fact-checking breathless claims, history
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Ok but there’s no way the Moche could have developed furrydom with their primitive BDSM Sex Club technology! Iii’m saying it was aliens. Alien furries.
Would aliens dressed as humans also be furries, or do they need to be dressed as something non-bipedal?
I think a cursory review of prehistoric art demonstrates that ancient furry BDSM sex clubs felt no need for secrecy. How the hell else are you going to appease the spirits of the hunt, if you don’t tie them up and have sex with them first? And by “them,” I mean “me,” the shaman wearing the sexy elk costume. No, seriously, this is totally what the spirits want. Trust me, I’m a wizard.
This comment has taken the entire second season of Hannibal to its logical conclusion, and I don’t know what my feelings are doing right now.
although as a scientist and a rationalist, I am open to contradictory evidence
I don’t think there’s any reason to assume it was secret back in the Old Dayes. It’s secret now, obviously — it’s not like you can openly control world governments by shamelessly wielding money and influence — but probably in the Old Dayes it was just how people rolled back then, dressing up like jaugars or what have you in order to get their respective bones on.
Please do not place too much blame for this egregious misinterpretation on the poor archaeologists. Clearly Furrydom has suppressed the truth in order to disguise their true origins. We should instead applaud this team of brave scientists for publishing what little they could of their discovery, doubtless risking their careers, nay their very lives, to bring us even the smallest hint of the truth.
Other brave souls no doubt tried before, but were found dead under mysterious circumstances before they could make their findings known. Authorities were baffled as one after another was found mauled as if by wild animals, despite having locked themselves behind several closed doors, several stories up.
Now imagining which world leaders are part of the Furrydom. Angela Merkel, of course, but who else. Hmmmmm.
Putin, obviously.
His tiger obsession is so telling. Like, be more obvious, Vlad.
Joe Biden obvs
the Congressional Republican leadership, probably
well that certainly explains this picture
Against the notion that the secret masters of the Earth and its apparent leadership overlaps, I offer a theological argument; that the concepts of a higher Providence or greater force of good in the universe are mutually incompatible with the possibility of Dick Cheney dressing up in a sexy lynx costume and giving Donald Rumsfeld scritches.
Does anyone else find it oddly suspicious that Nicole “had to leave” on “maternity leave” on the same day that furrydom has been exposed? Our favorite site has experienced quite a meteoric rise…
Archaeologists did not speak of this before now because the first Rule of ANCIENT SECRET FURRY BDSM SEX CLUB is
1. We Don’t Talk about ANCIENT SECRET FURRY BDSM SEX CLUB.
Excuse me, but the most obvious and obviously important question is shockingly absent from your list: HOW IS THE ANCIENT SECRET FURRY BDSM SEX CLUB CONNECTED TO RONBLEDORE?
As a Jewish person I can now confirm this long-held secret: Upon their first encounter with the phenomenal cosmic powers of Furrydom, the Elders of Zion gave up on world domination and settled for cornering the bagel industry.
Once in my city’s 4th of July parade there was a van full of people dressed up as roosters who would jump out every two blocks and do a song and dance routine to lobby for a statue in honor of a local free range rooster that had lived in the community for years, but had tragically been hit by a car and killed. In light of this new information, I’m very curious and somewhat afraid to know what was going on inside the van between stops.
These men and women were clearly powerful cultists performing the necessary rituals before the erection of a totem to their feathery god.
(They were successful; a bronze statue of this rooster sits in the center of our small downtown to this day, its sinister purpose unknown)
Your town sounds pretty awesome.
Your town sounds both whimsical and quaint.
I can get 100% behind anything that includes a weird ancient Peruvian artefact, socio-political commentary, the exposure of an ancient conspiracy that continues to secretly shape the world as we know it, and a Simpsons reference.
Indeed. An embarrassment of riches.
The Toast is so good to us.
But fighting to the death for an awesome outfit sounds AWESOME. I’d do it, for the right outfit of course.
But maybe it was both. Maybe they fought for the outfit, and the loser doesn’t get their pick of position in the ensuing orgy.
I love everything about this piece, and these comments.
Me too! I’m going to make “Trust me, I’m a wizard” my email signature.
The Toast is a glorious place today, having run both the best tea advice I have ever read AND a very serious academic article using the phrase “ancient secret furry BDSM sex club” multiple times.
How could any other respectable publication compete?
The Toast is a glorious place today, having run both the best tea advice I have ever read AND a very serious academic article using the phrase "ancient secret furry BDSM sex club" multiple times.
How could any other respectable publication compete?
I honestly just read it as ‘death wombat trophy’ and now i need to know more about death wombats.
The death wombat (Mortivombat carnifex), sole carnivorous member of the Vombatidae, is a nocturnal marsupial native to Australia and Tasmania, and has also been introduced to Florida. An apex predator, the death wombat stands nearly 50cm at the withers, and a fully-grown specimen can weigh over 40kg. The death wombat uses its bloodcurdling scream to stampede its prey, then drops from an overhanging tree branch onto the unfortunate victim, sinking its razor-sharp fangs deep into its neck. Stocky and powerful, the death wombat is also deceptively agile and graceful, and observers have frequently remarked on its majestic and attractive appearance. Death wombat fur is uncommonly sleek and glossy, and has long been sought after for its mythical aphrodisiac properties. Now you too can possess the legendary erotic appeal of the death wombat, with the purchase of a Sexy Death Wombat fursuit from Ancient Secret Furry BDSM Sex Club. Arouse your mate by brushing them lightly with your cheeks and flanks, anointing them with your musky pheromones, then grasp them gently but firmly by the muzzle and drag them into your burrow for a marathon session of savage marsupial loving. Sexy Death Wombat fursuit is machine-washable. Sexy Death Wombat Harness and Pouch Clamps sold separately. Ask about Ancient Secret Furry BDSM Sex Club member discount.
I honestly just read it as 'death wombat trophy' and now i need to know more about death wombats.
Yeah, this theory is yiffy at best.