Saturday, April 26, 2008

Just to show you I have more than three dimensions...

What follows is the audio track of a teaser I wrote for a cartoon series about a fuzzy bunny - a series that I have yet to script or animate. Though I do have a tentative title: Confessions of a Fuzzy Bunny.

Episode 1 is called "The Grapefruit of Danger."

I'm embedding the "Grapefruit of Danger" teaser below using QuickTime (I hope), but you can also just download it yourself by clicking here. Trust me, it's worth it. I would never say that unless I was reasonably sure, or unless I was being paid a vast sum of money by someone to lie. In this case, though, the person paying me the money would be me, and I can't afford to pay taxes on income I've already paid taxes on, I don't care what the storybooks say. So I'm telling the truth. Have a listen.


I am not an animator or a cartoonist. Sure, I dabble in writing (evidence, evidence, evidence, evidence, puke), but the sum total of things is that I am about as much a cartoonist as Lindsay Lohan is sober, which is to say that I've messed around with it in the past, and it didn't particularly agree with me. But the colors were fantastic! And for a little while, anyway, I managed to have some self-respect.

My point is that I can't animate shit. Or turkeys. Wanna see how far I got with A Fuzzy Bunny?

He blinks, except that I can't show you, but he does. He blinks almost derisively. It's hilarious. Only you can't see the hilarious, derisive blinking because of


I don't really know how to use Flash either. I once designed a highly acclaimed training cartoon in Flash when I was 25, and thanks to this rotten hubris of mine, I've basically considered myself a Flash designer ever since. But it's a lie. I have even removed "Flash developer" from my résumé, although that was because I'm pushing pretty hard for this Pope job, and the last thing I need is to be caught bearing false witness.

But it's not entirely my fault that my Flash skills have deteriorated. YOU try taking a ten-year deal at a major North American fruit and legume conglomerate, opting out after seven of the ten years, and then opting back in even though it meant forfeiting your hard-earned number 2 ranking in the company's Briggs-Goering Existentialism rating scale (as if there really is a way to rate existentialism in the first place) and see how much Flash you remember.

Of course, these problems pale in comparison to


which, as you can plainly see, is that the bunny has no fucking ears. And YOU CAN'T HAVE A BUNNY WITHOUT FUCKING EARS.

Actually, you can't have a bunny without fucking bunnies.*

Also, a sarcastic bunny who fight crime by night and is, by day, a mild mannered restaurant manager at the Cafe Olé in an as-yet unnamed town on an as-yet unnamed Mesa? Is that not the oldest, gayest, and most Jewish story ever told?

Nevertheless, animators are welcome to contact me. There's probably (read: certainly) no money in it, but at least the hours are long, and the work is grueling and thankless. Come on down, and bring a Lindsay Lohan CD and some Hi-C so we can celebrate. Don't worry, the work will still be there when we're done, don't worry. The work is ALWAYS there.

Oh, and I almost forgot


I don't technically own the rights to the song in the clip I played at the top of this page, so I might be in violation of copyright law. I mean, there's never really any way to be sure of these things. But, as Mr. Show With Bob and David so wisely once pointed out, "court cases are decided by a series of blow jobs," which means I'll have the law on my side this time.

So please, enjoy the teaser, but for the love of Zod above, DO NOT TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT!

*The staff of You Are the Only Person Not Reading This Blog does not in any way endorse the fucking of bunnies, except by other bunnies, and in a consensual setting.

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