Rabbit-Rabbit, I guess. It's not a truly ancient salutation to the first day of the month, around 1909 it appears in print, it was something children were saying in England and might have soon disappeared if President Franklin Roosevelt, who was diagnosed with Polio in 1921 hadn't adopted it for his polio charm or whatever. For a long time, across many countries, rabbits have been a symbol of growth, abundance, fertility, rebirth. You only have to see them in spring, there's something in new grass that hops them up, they bound around with no shortage of self esteem, like rabid mental patients, frightening the cats. The thing about new spring grass, it's very high in moisture, sugars and starch and contains very little fiber, it is like an all natural doughnut washed down with a caffeinated soda pop for the rabbit world as well as a source of rabbit constipation. You can always talk about the rise or fall of collective insanity anytime you want, go back to the Roman Emperor Titus and the equally autocratic Roman Emperor Claudius in 52 AD and 80 AD respectively, they put on sea battles as an entertainment for the masses. So why not a healthier diet, a more stable body mass index, no facial hair something called FAFO, something else called PT, they must both be naval expressions. Either way these bunny hopping offerings from our higher echelons must have been a less expensive alternative to the massive cost to the treasury of Sea Battles with Real Live Casualties as Spectacle to keep an understanding of the world simple and stupid, or KISS as it's called by the very un-woke safety people on the big boats that aimlessly wander the oceans looking for good will or trouble. After that sort of mind blowing desperate hunt for spectacle by the destroyers of the Roman Republic, the First Century AD decision to introduce a more formal practice of Condemnation to Beasts, otherwise advertised as publicly feeding lions with fresh Christians must have been a rather clever economy measure. In our own Post Enlightenment, Post Irony arena my own current favorite in state orchestrated spectacle is that of unlabeled, and slightly pudgy, slavishly obedient to a bee stung and aging princess, masked men with bearded JD running styles employed by the taxpayer attempting to chase down urchins with Brylcreem free and wonderfully flowing youthful hair on bicycles. Me, as an upstanding, and paid up member of the back row, it's a narrative I heartily approve of and can't get enough of. I think David Wallace had he lived would agree..
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