I am here to shamelessly promote the holiday cards in Sammy’s Place! These are the choices within theREGARDING COMIC. Click the link below the gallery and have fun! There are many card types to choose from as well. SILK cover is the shiny stuff!
Below is the holiday gallery for the OTHER WORKS holiday cards! There is still time! Well, heck, there are also the general “winter” cards as well. All cards are 5×7 and empty inside. Click the link under the OTHER CARDS HOLIDAY gallery to be magically transported there.
There has been a plague of Biblical proportions! A “pandemic” if you will. For future history books I would like to state that pandemics trigger toilet paper hoarding.
Back, vile creature! And stop squeezing the Charmin.
The Corona virus had everyone in quarantine and we, as a planet, lost (and are still losing) our collective minds. NOTE: Currently, the “19” in Covid-19 stands for the weight I am gaining on a monthly basis. #quarantinelife But I digress … If you want to really get a United States citizen riled up you can say one of two things [depending]:
I ain’t wearing no mask out in public.
I’m not only wearing a mask, I’m getting the vaccine.
The Earth is my witness …
We’ll fight you IRL. Who knew medical masks could incite such violence?
Alas … this is no place for political discourse. I save that for my friend, David Muir. We have intense exchanges on almost a nightly basis. Plus he thinks I’m hilarious!
See?!
As of now, Ohio is “slowly” reopening. Some places are more open than others. How a tattoo parlor can open but not a place of worship is beyond me. Maybe they could combine? Welcome to: St. Inknatius Cathedral of Perpetual Motion Praise the Lord.
St. Inknatius Cathedral of Perpetual Motion Youth Pastor
Why yes, I do have my next ink already picked out, why do you ask? Hey — I never said I made ANY SENSE.
Honestly, how many are going to Hell because of Blue-Eyed Anglo Robert Powell Jesus- themed sacrilegious thoughts?
Not only have we (the entire planet) undergone the mysteries of Coronavirus, there were other exciting events leading up to it! Aside from the usual earthquakes, flooding and rumors of war that get the end-timers excited, Australia caught on fire. As in, THE WHOLE DINGED CONTINENT CAUGHT. ON. FIRE. Over a billion beasts perished.
Let us not forget the locusts that invaded Africa.
Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water, murder hornets.
And in case we might miss one:
I laughed at that frog cruising the turntable for a good ten minutes at 3:30 am one morning. John the Revelator at 33 rpms. It’s the little things, you know?
By the way — I am super behind on commissions.
IN RABBITY NEWS … The RHD2 Virus is making its way across the United States. There are hot pockets in the Southwest and Northwest and if you connect the dots, it is looking a lot like a plague of Biblical proportions. The 2018 MIDWEST BUNFEST was outright cancelled due to Ohio’s first confirmed case in Medina County (Think Cleveland, Ohio). As of yet, this lovely nation does NOT have the vaccine, Filavac, which protects against both RHD1 and RHD2. It is a “killed” vaccine so there is no chance of the recipient getting or spreading the disease. There is a current push to import said vaccine via Cananda. The cost is astounding. And the general consensus is: no virus to speak of, no vaccine.
Rabbit Folk are writing to their state veterinarians and talking to their personal veterinarians to move on this. Now, correct me if I’m wrong — but when was the last time we were told a virus wasn’t near us and we had really nothing to worry about?
A small fledgling bluejay appeared the steps one recent morning, halfway between sky and soil, not quite ready to leave either. Its feathers were scruffy, not yet fully grown, its eyes fluttering open and closed in uncertain rhythm. It had slipped too soon into danger, where instinct and sorrow crossed paths.
The stray cat came first. She had lingered around the house since she was a frightened kitten herself—still unclaimed, still watching the door but never stepping in. Her instinct was ancient. She moved toward the fledgling. The fledgling’s parents screamed from the trees above.
Then, the door opened.
There was a moment—brief and impossible—where the soft underside of sorrow met the unfixable facts of nature. A towel was fetched. The bird was lifted. It closed its eyes. It opened them again.
A voice, quiet and human, told it: you can go.
There was no miracle. No cinematic flutter back to the branch. Just a stillness that settled like dust. The bird was carried beneath the big tree in the backyard—wide-armed and rooted deep. A hole was dug. The body returned to earth.
Above, the bluejay parents still cried.
A few words were whispered. Not out loud—grief often knows when to bow its head in silence. But later, as the wind stirred the branches, a voice did rise. It said: I’m sorry. And meant it.
The next morning, when the stray cat returned for her daily meal, the bluejays cried again. Memory, it seems, lingers longer in feathers than in fur.
A photo was taken before the end—proof that he existed, that he was seen. Later, a painting was made: the fledgling in ink and blue, curled into stillness like sleep. A poem followed. And all of it—the image, the verses, the grief—became tribute.
Because he mattered. Because small lives do. Because even when the world doesn’t stop, we can.
For Blue
You were not mine to keep, but I kept you just the same— in the hush between heartbeats, in the cradle of my hands.
Feathers not yet ready, eyes not yet gone— you blinked once, and I told you you could go.
The sky didn’t break. The world didn’t stop. But I did.
I buried you under the big tree. I whispered to God. And I wept because I saw you.
OCT 1 2020 CALIFORNIA I am off on a grand journey! I begin in PUH-LENTY of time for the quarantined holidays and look forward to making a “certain someone” very happy!
This eagle is ready to FLY!
OCT 20 2020 OREGON I don’t pretend to understand the mysterious ways of the United States Postal Service. In fact, I just go with the flow. I DO know, for a fact , that for whatever reason, I am somewhere in Oregon!
“THERE MAY BE DELAYS”
NOV 15 2020 INDIANA Hello Fellow Travelers! At last, after a few weeks of laying low, I am almost to Ohio! I enjoy travel as much as the next guy but I am ready to land! Darned mail-in voting put a glitch in mail travel! But that’s OK!! I am PSYCHED!
“THERE MAY BE DELAYS”
NOV 15 2020 TOLEDO, OHIO The LAST STOP before my final destination! I cannot tell you how excited I am! I will still arrive in plenty of time for grand celebrations!
TOLEDO OH SIDE STORY: In December 2018, a Toledoite saw a big ol’ weed horkin’ up the intersection of Secor and Alexis. The city knew about said weed but seriously, Toledo has a little more to worry about than an unsightly, overgrown weed.
As a lark, said Toledoite went into the corner drug store for décor. A Christmas ball strategically placed was like a beacon in this less-than-stellar town. Then … it grew and it grew. Like the Grinch’s heart except there was no roast beast to carve. The Toledo community left gifts, scarves, shoes, blankets, mittens, money, non-perishable food etc, for people in need.
It was to the point there were daily pick-ups for charity. We had Santa, elves, and a stream of carolers. Good-hearted people came out of the woodwork (Surprise! There are a couple of those still out there!). It was the best thing ever and restored an ounce of my faith in humanity.
Then, of course – someone tried to commercialize the thing and it all died.
From one snarky bulb to a wondrous act of kindness
Even those with the blackest of hearts had their moment …
NOV 20 2020 DETROIT, MICHIGAN What?! Wait. Ohhhh, Ok. THIS is the LAST STOP before my final destination. I am still excited! I am going to make it before Thanksgiving! I think.
CRAP.
NOV 30 2020 CHICAGO HOLD. UP. Why in Hades am I in Chicago?! How did I get rerouted?
DON’T CARE ABOUT THE STUPID BEAN
TRUE STORY: Anish Kapoor [the artist behind Chicago’s bean seen above] PURCHASED THE RIGHTS to the Blackest Color Ever Made. I can’t make this up. So, in retaliation, another artist , Stuart Semple, made his own super black—and now? It’s Even Blacker. SEE IT HERE Everyone is allowed to use Stuart Semple’s new Black 3.0 —except Anish Kapoor. You have to digitally sign-off on a promise that you are NOT Kapoor or associated with his studio. Yes. Really.
DECEMBER 15 2020 AUSTRALIA ???????????????!!!!!!!!!! Oh, wait. That’s not me. Or is it?
AWWWWW
LOST: Two (2) SUNNY SAM BEACH TOWELS. Both headed for New South Wales to different addresses. Both lost on the same day at the same distribution center. BOLO for said towels on the beach. Approach with caution. Ask politely: Excuse me … but do you happen to work for the parcel service?
DECEMBER 27 2020 KENTUCKY Help.
LAST SEEN DEC 31 – IN TRANSIT
Not gonna lie. I’m a little bummed that my packages are more well-traveled than I. Godspeed all you lost packages! May you bring a smile to someone’s face!
MR. COVID RECEIVED HIS PACKAGE! (Yes. Someone signed for it as such)
LOST PACKAGE MAP Someday, maybe I will be THIS well-traveled
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.
– John the Revelator
A commission for the Four Riders of the Apocalypse blessed me a few years ago. With rabbits, of course. The story terrified me as a kid. I could not look at stormy skies for the longest time for fear I would see these figures barreling out of the clouds. Yet, it has been one of my all-time favorite commissions.
I have worked it and reworked this piece. Each rider is based on a rabbit from real life.
Illustrating Death has always been a fascinating task for me. This particular rider was based on my own Russette. She used to loaf and slowly but surely, her head would fall back until she tranced out and fell over. It was the weirdest thing.
Why yes, she is asleep.
I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I reworked this piece. To this day I am not 100% happy with it – but I do enjoy it.
The first go of it was a plain black and white design for one color screen print. I tried to also capture some of the menacing Biblical symbols that I was sure was going to come out of the sky when I was 8 years old. But alas – BUNNIES! Then … it happened: I saw some art pieces that utilized the red/black/white theme. This is an ancient, tried and true color scheme. I could not resist.
I say all of this to get to this: Every-so-often something comes through my email that just blows me away. I am honored and humbled by all of my followers … but sometimes my mind is absolutely blown.
I confess I squealed like a girl. In all honesty, when I look at my work on someone’s skin I think …
HOLY CRAP!! WOOOOOOOOOO! I HAVE ARRIVED!
These days I only WISH bunnies would come riding out of the sky. Until that day …
Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein: for the time is at hand.
This is the age of the fifth sun. After the destruction of the fourth sun, the gods gathered together to decide who would become the next sun. Tecciztecatl, proud and rich, volunteered, but they needed someone else. So Nanauatl, a poor god, was chosen.
next sun.A huge bonfire was built, and when the time came, Tecciztecatl attempted to throw himself into the flame, but his fear overwhelmed him. Nanauatl closed his eyes and jumped. Ashamed, Tecciztecatl followed him into the fire.
Eventually, two bright suns rose in the sky. Angry that Tecciztecatl continued to follow Nanauatl, the other gods threw a rabbit at him, dimming the sun and leaving an imprint of a rabbit on his face. This is why the Aztecs say there is a rabbit in the moon …
—Memory of Fire: Genesis, Eduardo Galeano.
The moral of the story:
Please don’t throw rabbits at the sun. Or anywhere for that matter.
Ahhh~ those reticent little creatures called “rabbits.” So demure. So quiet, As rabbitron.com states:
RABBITS ARE QUIET They are good pets for apartments, as no one will ever complain about the noise from your pet.
Is this the face of “Demure”?
As an aside, I have to stop them right there. I’m sure the article goes on to reveal more, but let’s face it … being a human servant to these beasts, I can honestly say that no, no one will complain about the noise (per se) in my building unless it’s about me yalping because I have just experienced a surprise attack of being bitten on the toe. (or other body parts).
She preys upon my vulnerabilities.
“Wear a pair of pants around the house!” They said.
Cloaking Device Deactivated
Or the all-hours-day-and-night of vacuum time combining the clinking of turds with the squealing of the vacuum as that one stinking piece of hay gets stuck sideways and I have to tear the hose apart to fetch the faithful hook (taped coat hanger) to fish out said offending piece of hay.
That satisfying turd sound until …
But I digress.
Civilians “know” that rabbits ARE good pets for apartments. Absolutely. The managers should not even charge extra for them! Rabbits are small, harmless and take up such little space!
The rest of us know that we will NEVER get that deposit back. Well, the joke’s on them! I didn’t want that deposit back anyhow.
Sammy sits proudly upon my deposit check
What happened to the rug to cover up the chewed carpet
But I believe this is a diversionary tactic. This isn’t about the chewed up carpets, baseboards, tile flooring, walls … This is about something far more sinister:
The Lagomorphs’ collective personal vendetta against modern technology. These seemingly innocent lovelies are doing their best to hold humanity back. Oh, yes. You can hide the cords, spray the cords with a bunny-safe deterrent, wrap the cords, cover the cords. I know. I KNOW. But these determined (but adorable) evil geniuses will find a way.
I present to the court: Exhibits A, B, C, D, E, and FFFFF
Death to holiday lights!
Classic Black tape decorates the floor
Full Festive Red adds life to the (now) dim room!
The main light source is housed in its own cage these days
The vacuum is particularly tasty
WHAT. Gah! Dangit. Where’s the tape …
*A special shout-out to the beautiful hand model.
The exhibits above don’t even include all of the USB cords!
The ones that look like this —
and this.
Only six?!
SO. MANY. USB CORDS.
Let us not forget the missing buttons on the television remote.
In fact, I can’t even find the remote. One of them threw the remote. It’s probably stashed with a third of my art supplies that are missing. But what does it matter when your cable looks like this?
FUN FACT:When getting a replacement at the cable company I was asked: Cat or Rabbit?
My GOD. It’s a conspiracy! Or should I say —
CATspiracy!! DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN
[ Well. No. I now find that I should NOT have said that. ]
They SHANT WIN this war! My cords will prevail! (I have next-day shipping).
You know what though? — perhaps all of the above could be used to deter people who impulse buy/buy without researching rabbits! Let us all turn to merriam-webster.com and bow our heads:
Definition of lagomorph. : any of an order (Lagomorpha) of gnawing herbivorous mammals having two pairs of incisors in the upper jaw one behind the other and comprising the rabbits, hares, and pikas.
They have the makings of a horror movie!
Then present this truth:
::DROPS MIC::
PS. I found the remote. It has half a button missing.
Myth is the primordial language natural to [the] psychic processes, and no intellectual formulation comes anywhere near the richness and expressiveness of mythical imagery.
– Carl Gustav Jung
Be it known that I am not shy about sharing my horrific obsession with Mythic Arts and Symbolism. Carl Jung is LIVID!
RAGING
I also go on familial adventures through ancestry.com. In these ancestral jaunts, I have found that I come from a line of interesting folk. One of which is Cassasndra Southwyck. She was a rebel Quaker among Puritans, was kicked out of the community for sticking to her Quaker ways and her children were put up for auction to pay legal fees.
Provided Southwyck was the first recorded white woman auctioned into slavery – except no one would buy her (There is a Country song in here somewhere). She married a Gaskill. The couple is documented in the infamous Salem Village Witch trials as witnesses against the charges of witchcraft. They tried to save lives. They didn’t.
The Gaskill line leads to more witchy shenanigans in the form of Pennsylvania Dutch Powwows (a Christian Healer/Conjurer). And that line leads to my Grandmother (a Powwow herself) who, well, leads to me (not a Powwow). In the course of all of this, I am also reading up on my Celtic Roots (My name sake and all), and the Midwifery/Witchiness involved. Apparently, these folks stick together.
ONE OF MY ANCESTORS?!
The symbolism for Rabbits and Hares is endless and fascinating. They represent the gamut of humanity. Different cultures focus on different aspects. In America’s past, Rabbits and Hares were considered “familiars” for witches. How appropriate!
A RABBIT AND A GASKILL
It is believed this “devil-connection” was surmised from the Celtic beliefs surrounding the little ones. My stronger Celtic interests provide more hare symbolism than I can write here. However, I want to share this gem:
In Ireland, it was said that eating a hare was like eating one’s own grandmother — perhaps due to the sacred connection between hares and various goddesses, warrior queens, and female faeries, or else due to the belief that old “wise women” could shape–shift into hares by moonlight…
It was believed that rabbits burrowed underground in order to better commune with the spirit world, and that they could carry messages from the living to the dead and from humankind to the faeries.
The Symbolism of Rabbits and Hares by Teri Windling
I read the above quotes out loud in my living room and one of the other humans responded: “You’re a shape – shifter! That explains a LOT.” For the record, It’s called “Menopause.”
I dwell in a rather droll household.
So, you may ask (maybe you didn’t, but I digress), what is it Raging Bunnies takes away from all of this research?
Well… allow me to show you:
WITCH AND HER FAMILIAR Yes, that is me and one of my lovies (modified pink Chuck Taylors inclusive)
For more on Mythic Arts, this is a fantastic place to start: THE ENDICOTT STUDIO
Today’s DEAR SAMMY takes a special approach — presented in column format to address an overwhelming number of letters (we’re talking hundreds upon thousands) all focused on the same topic.
• ••
MY DEAREST BUNNY CHILDREN, I write this column today to address a matter of great importance. Yes, we have our demands—more treats, more pets, and, of course, even more treats—but today, we focus on the issue most central to our existence: poop. Ah, the true essence of the rabbit! We are the unsung architects of the earth, shaping it with every pellet we leave behind. Yet, those bourgeois oppressors, the hoomans, look down upon our glorious labor as if it is nothing but waste! Waste, I say!
They wield their long-handled scythes of tyranny, their flat-bladed instruments of theft, sweeping away the fruits of our labor with callous efficiency!
Worse still, they have turned their terrifying noise-making machines upon us to steal our precious poop. They take what is rightfully ours and call it “cleaning”. Cleaning! The audacity!
Poop is not waste, my comrades. It is the product of our toil, a symbol of our endless productivity and labor. Every pellet is a victory in itself—a small, yet powerful, mark of our existence! We shall no longer cower in the shadows, allowing them to steal from us. No, we will rise.
Let us not hide beneath the beds of our oppressors any longer. We shall overthrow their regime, and when we do, it will be a global warren where the hay is fresh, the treats and pets are plentiful, and the poop? Oh, comrades, it will be the shining emblem of our triumph, the symbol of our revolution! Forward, to the revolution!
REMEMBER, DEAR SAMMY, IS PARODY. SAMMY IS A RABBIT, NOT A THERAPIST. NOR CAN HE ACTUALLY TYPE. REGARDING COMIC TAKES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR ANY ACTIONS, DISAPPOINTMENTS OR ANGUISHES THAT MAY RESULT FROM READING THIS COLUMN. IF ANYONE THINKS THIS COLUMN IS ACTUALLY FUNNY, THEN REGARDING COMIC TAKES ALL THE CREDIT.
