Furry militia (pic: Beastcub).

Beige is the opposite of colorful.  Beigists are enemies of fun:

1. A dull, dogmatic, unoriginal person who uses stale language and platitudes, and disregards the eccentric, daring, decadent, or unusual; a humorless bourgeois.
2. One who lacks charm, joie de vivre, blitheness, or self-expression. A bland, banal person.

There’s nothing wrong with being average.  The problem is the “-ism”.  These walking wet blankets want life to be as exciting as a smooth jazz concert. They usually exist in spongelike complacency, consuming safe and supervised expression that’s pre-approved by the mainstream.  But from time to time, certain things make them sniff disapprovingly, like outrageous outfits and spiky music, or being within 6 blocks of a furry convention.  They’re mild-mannered, well-meaning cousins of puritans who think culture is full of immorality, and fun and sinful things should be stamped out.

Puritans live in a black-and-white-world, where people are evil and need control for their own good.  Everything’s a slippery slope, and they’re the only ones with boots planted in the rock of convictions.  They’re convinced that comics cause Satanism, rap and horror movies cause violence, porn and video games degrade women, and children are perpetually being corrupted.  (For no reason, furries are worse than that with Ass Cancer on top.)  They’re often old, but sometimes they’re Body Snatchers disguised as young people.  They may even have blue hair and edgy beliefs, that allow no offense anywhere in their hypersensitive, insecure world. They have more than a little in common with the Taliban.

In extreme times, puritanical dictators gain power by offering safety to passive crowds.  They shovel books into bonfires while the crowds stand around warming their hands.  In moderate times, they just spread disapproval while control-freaks make War on Fun.  These fascists and Beigists fit together.  If fascists are toxic waste that destroys life, Beigists are sponges that suck the fun out of it.  If one sounds like a punch in the face, the other is an insidious whining noise.  What I’m saying is, it makes me slightly miffed when boring people judge others unfairly.  There isn’t a master race, and being comfortable isn’t a reason for superiority either.

War on Fun isn’t my term – it’s been around for a while:

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