There is some thought that two weeks of bunnies is…maybe…a little bit much. So we’ll wrap this up and move on to other, greater things. Kittens, maybe. Or amorphous blobs. Maybe we’ll start with an amorphous blob, right now.
With apologies to my friends from the Thrifthorror livejournal community, I do think I’ve included this guy before, but…I couldn’t just throw this guy into the dustbin. He needs to live. In fact, I think he needs to be a holiday tradition. Every Easter, tell your children the story of the Little Bunny Who Wanted to Be Bert Lahr. They may look at you strangely. They may struggle.Tell them anyway. These things are important.
I know that’s not a lady bunny. Froofy pink dress and lacy pocket aside, fetching bonnet and eyelashes notwithstanding, that is a boy bunny and is not convincing in a dress.The jowels are not working for him. The whiskers that look more like “five o’clock shadow and a cigar” than “Peter Cottontail’s Twitchy Nose.” These things take away from one’s drag queen presence. As does the beer gut, and the deep pits around his eyes. This is a bunny on a bender, and no dress is going to conceal that.
The artist’s sense of perspective adds to the challenge of a piece that is already challenging, particularly in terms of gender expectations. Everything takes place on a two-dimensional planeâ€”well, except the bonnetâ€”leading to a bunny that is simultaneously watering plants and becoming a part of them; a pocket bunny (in Japanese, PokÃ©bun) staring upwards while receding back into the strange hole which, in a healthy life form, would be a shoulder.
Leaving frumpy drag queen Easter bunnies for now, we’ll go for physical humor. Or at least screaming pain, which can be kind of funny after a long day.
Another senseless Easter accident! Parents, please don’t let your children ram long copper tubes into their Easter basket and then into their mouths. And kids, just say no.
We’re clearly missing a part, some key element, but I’ll be hornswoggled if I can guess what it is. Maybe a giant fresnel lens that concentrates the light of the sun on her enemies, leaving a scorched patch of molten resin? Maybe another darn egg? The jury is out.
Are you looking at me? Seriously? That’s typecasting. Blatant stereotyping, in fact, and I am offended, sir, offended. Look at these innocent eyes. This is not the face of a lettuce-eater, this is the face of a lettuce-protector.I shall fiercely guard this lettuce, protecting it from boring beetles, snails, and vegetarians. This lettuce will stand for a thousand years. Beginning now. So move on, friend, this lettuce is safe. Come on. Just…head on out. Bye, bye. Go away now.
…and on that note, let us leave Easter for greener, less bunny-infested shores.
Bunny in drag from Savers on South Lamar; bunny with copper piping and a very bad day from Goodwill on 183 and Metric; “Who Me?” Peter Rabbit from the sadly defunct St Vincent De Paul’s in Round Rock; Drunk bunny from Goodwill on 2222, Austin.
One Response to “Bunnies: The End of an Ear”
elaborate sinus drain. No one wants to just carry around the sinus drain bag, clipped to their waistband. No, disguise it