The Bun Life - Thumper: Not the Best Posterboy for the Male Gender

Poor Thumps, as all 5 of you know, is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Women constantly talk about how men only care about food, sex, and sleep, and Thumps is not about to start a revolution, lets just put it that way. Even though he is fixed, he still acts like he's walking around...err..with a loaded gun, if you know what I mean. It is so funny some of the things he does, he is so predictable. Lets run down a list of Thumper's priorities, from most important to least important:

1. Food (and whoever he has to kill to get it is fair game)
2. Face Humping Frannie (she's lowered the frequency of this to only on his birthday)
3. Traditional Missionary Humping Frannie
4. Side/Lateral Humping Frannie
5. Snuffing Out Frannie's Life if there happens to be a male rabbit within sight.
6. Killing Sydney
7. All Forms of Sleep
8. Breeze
9. Scanning the room for hours for no apparent reason.
10. Plot my death
    

Anyway, what made me laugh this morning was what Frannie did. I took a few Craisins out for the bunnies, gave each of them one, then both start going frantic trying to be the first in line to get the next one. Well eventually, they wound up face to face, nose to nose like a standoff, noses touching. I was behind Thumper, he couldn't see me of course, and Frannie was facing directly at me now grooming Thumper's head. I handed her a Craisin, she had her head over his because he is the dominant one, but it worked to her advantage because she could take a Craisin, eat it, then go right back to grooming his head and he never knew what was going on. I swear, I nearly burst my spleen with laughter when I saw it. Frannie's cruelty just knows no limits!!

The Bun Life – Takes a Licking and Keeps on..Watching TV

The world didn't end, oh well. Baby Fwan (my big fat fluffy Pumpernickel bunny) was really nervous about being taken into heaven prematurely. Well, it wasn't heaven itself that bothered her, in fact she even considers herself to be "serious upper management angel material". Frannie was nervous and asked me "Wait, when we get taken into heaven, does that mean God has to reach down and actually PICK ME UP into heaven? Oh man, I hope not. Can't they just setup a ramp or cardboard steps we could follow or something?" I'm not a Psychiatrist, but something tells me that Frannie might be obsessing over being picked up just a little tad bit.

So last night I sat down to watch a movie, on the "Couch That Time Forgot" and I picked up little Sydney so he could come in and watch TV with me. He sits on my lap the whole time as he always does. He licks EVERYONE who touches him or even remotely comes near him. He likes to groom the top of my wrist, for a few minutes and he usually dozes off or whatever. Well this time he was licking my wrist, for an hour, 2 hours, I kept turning him around a few different postures and even put on a long sleeve sweatshirt. Then he starts digging up into the sleeve and licking my wrist through the sleeve, then he burrows into the inside of my sweat shirt and starts trying to get at my hands again.

To make a long story short, I have filed an order of protection against this 1 pound furry madman licking machine, lol. He is just like the other 2 buns, at least to me, he is a great bunny with such a unique personality, I do my very best to take care of all of them year after year.

The Bun Life - Jesus Camp

I know this is a bit offbeat, but I just watched a documentary called Jesus Camp, which is basically a Christian terrorist camp where the Al Qaida operatives....I mean children are taught that the world is shit, and it is everyone else's fault but theirs. The leader, Becky, talks about the fact that in Pakistan or Whatever-stan the kids are taught radical Islam at 5 years old, and can basically hold a hand grenade before they can hold a bottle. She says that Christians today are "fat and lazy," which to be honest I found pretty silly due to the fact that she is pushing near 300 pounds herself. Who knows, maybe she isn't lazy, and that's what she meant.

Honestly, about as much good came out of that camp as did Jonestown. In the bowling alley, one little 9 year old girl runs up to a total stranger, a woman, and tells her that Jesus wants you to repent, and that she needs to follow the Lord, and on and on. Then she runs back and tells Dad what she did, Dad is happier than a pig in shit over it all. Insanity.

Look, if you want to believe in Jesus and the Born Again doctrine, fine go ahead, but don't think you have the right to tell me, or anyone else on the planet, what we HAVE to believe, and how we are not going to heaven because we don't believe in your one of 2800 religions.

More people have been killed in the name of God than for any other reason, by far. So you might ask what do I believe, if anything. The truth is that I don't believe that Jesus was the Son of God, nor that he is coming back, but I do think he was a great, wise man, and wanted peace and tolerance. I think those are good things to strive for, morals are good.

Then you have the atheist. Who believes in nothing, no purpose, no creation, we just dripped off of a faucet in a glob of goo for no reason, going nowhere, with no purpose, forever. Okay, fine. Scientific data empowers such an argument, evolution, natural selection, on and on.

The fact is that I think we were created, by some entity, for whatever reason. I also believe we are just not capable of mentally grasping that reason, but something in us beckons for a purpose. I have to admit, society certainly seems to have turned mehcanical and materialistic, where all that matters is a house on a suburban street, an IRA, 2.5 kids, a Dodge RAM Pickup and a $50,000 Suburban to take the kids to soccer practice. Maybe the world could use a little faith, maybe a lot, but we certainly don't need another group of whackos blowing up jetliners for the good of God. Amen to that Fwannie!!

The Bun Life – Par for the Course

My parents visited me the other day, it had been a while since my mother had visited last, so it was nice that she was able to see the rabbits. When she walked in, and started towards the bunnies, I fully expected Frannie to pack an overnight bag and fly to Mexico, but honestly I couldn't believe my eyes. My mother walked right up to her and bent down to pet her, and she sat there enjoying the attention.

She might as well just drove a dagger through my heart right there. What nerve! She NEVER does that for me, I bet all she thinks when she sees me coming is flashbacks of being picked up, brushed, nails clipped, all kinds of horrific atrocities.

My role with the bunnies has become like a tragic comedy, and there I sit, all dressed up with no bunnies to brush. I don't want to offend anyone in a religious sense, but this incident drove me to seek comfort in the Bible, and there was one set of verses that really touched me and helped me through it, let me share a bit of it with you now.

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Psalm 934: "Let thy hocks be guided by thou pellets"

"For art thou not art? Thy will must be thou way, for thou art not art thou ain't thy shoe. Therefore, thou must build an ark, and ark of the Lagomorph. But art, how must thou artest build thy ark?

My son, well adopted son actually but whatever, thou must build four NIC cubes, the breast of which is 9 cubits, the leg of which is 5 cubits, and if there are any wings leftover be sure to refrigerate them."

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I know you may not find that verse as comforting as I did, but it sure helped me through a bad time. Beautifully crafted, I think it is obvious that whoever wrote it was divinely inspired.