The Patriot Post® · Do You Have a Fricasseeing Wabbit License?

A few weeks ago, I spent quality time with some too-brainy-for-my-own-good colleagues, who exchanged views on famous historical figures who influenced their intellectual development. A usual litany of dead white males peppered the air thick with politically incorrect cigar smoke, fortunately whisked away by a breeze that deposited it in another zip code populated by members of the opposing party — or, that’s what our host said, and he’s never wrong. I’m barely smarter than the average bear and these discussions intimidate me. Nevertheless, when my turn came up, I answered, unequivocally, “Why, Bugs Bunny, of course!”

Quizzical looks pierced the smoke and poked my forehead, demanding an apology for lowering the discussion’s IQ by a few standard deviations. Though I have a trunkful of purple hearts for losing arguments, I plunged forward anyway. “Listen, fellow consigliere (our host is of Italian persuasion), Bugs Bunny is never wrong, sees through every scam, and always wins in the end (I went into mourning when the turtle bested him in a race, but that’s not important now). Further, his wisdom about human nature is unparalleled. How can you beat that?”

They waited impatiently, through plumes of smoke. “Go on,” someone said.

I cleared my throat. Didn’t work; all that smoke, you know. “Consider ‘Duck! Rabbit, Duck!’ for instance. Elmer, Daffy, and Bugs dispute what season it is. Bugs flummoxes Elmer with probing questions,” which I presented to the best of my memory:

Elmer Fudd: Got you, you wabbit stew, you.

Bugs Bunny: Look, Doc. Are you looking for trouble? I’m not a stewing rabbit. I’m a fricasseeing rabbit.

Elmer Fudd: Fwicasseeing wabbit?

Bugs Bunny: Have you got a fricasseeing rabbit license?

Elmer Fudd: Well, no. I…

Bugs Bunny: Do you happen to know what the penalty is for shooting a fricasseeing rabbit without a fricasseeing rabbit license?

Elmer is risk averse, Daffy’s calamitous gullibility gets his beak blasted into calamitous contortions (don’t worry, he always snaps it back into place), and Bugs continues bamboozling them with pronoun puzzles, convoluted verbalisms, and brilliant beguilements. Finally, Daffy loses his mind and screams, “Shoot me again! I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt feathers, and gunpowder, and cordite! I’m an elk! Shoot me, go on! It’s elk season! I’m a fiddler crab! Why don’t you shoot me? It’s fiddler crab season!” Elmer’s not far behind. When he questions Bugs dressed as a game warden what season it is, Bugs says, “It’s baseball season,” whereupon Elmer takes on a cockeyed look and dashes away shooting at an elusive baseball.

“And the point of this is…” one of my colleagues said.

“It’s like Mueller’s investigation of phantom Russians influencing the last election. He should have gotten a fricasseeing duck license and gone after the real perpetrator of Russian schemes, Hillary Clinton!”

This imperfect analogy — okay, it’s not an analogy at all — gave them pause, mostly because they weren’t familiar with the story. And I must admit that companies of Cossacks populating Pittsburgh polling places seemed suspicious, but at my age you learn to ignore some things. So, I pressed forward.

“Think about it. ‘Any Bonds Today?’, ‘Super-Rabbit’, and ‘Hare Force’ cover World War Two. ‘The Hare-Brained Hypnotist’ explains insanities in higher education. ‘Baseball Bugs’ covers that sport perfectly. ‘Racketeer Rabbit’ and ‘Bugs and Thugs’ illumine crime. ‘Gorilla My Dreams’ explains bad parenting. ‘Ballot Box Bunny’ unveils the idiocy of politicians. ‘Hyde and Hare’ unmasks global warming enthusiasts. ‘What’s Opera, Doc?’ expresses high culture. ‘Hareway to the Stars’ inspires our space policy — and who wouldn’t want an ‘Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator’? Bottom line, taken all together, Bugs Bunny cartoons explain every aspect of Western Civilization!”

I paused to let all that sink in. A few seemed impressed but still were put off by my interrupting the flow of conversation. One by one they sauntered away, leaving me and their cigar smoke behind.

The last one to depart turned and said to me, “You know what?”

“No, what?” I said.

“You’re despicable!”