I want a giant regal lion bunny!

I am sad. With new scientific advances and nobel-prize-like achievements, we have been able to combine chocolate and peanut butter to make the glory that is Reece's Pieces. Yet with all of our expertise, our mapping of the genome, and our good old American know-how about designing animal babies, we have still failed miserably at having a giant bunny that looks like a lion. These two pictures to my left show the hollowness of all American victories: on the far left, we have a regal lionhead bunny, who is, like most of his ilk, small. On our less far left, we have a bunny that has eaten his wheaties but has lost something far more precious, namely, that which he never had, a lion's mane, and all the cuteness that would accompany this accoutrement. I do not care if it is "impracticable" or "contrary to the laws of physics," or if we have "two bunnies whose heart is elsewhere" or "too much male anatomy." I want these bunnies to mate! I want them to make me a super big lionhead bunny!

It's not as if I am asking for a bunny and a lion to mate; I know that they're different species. And it's not as if I'm asking for a giant werewolf baby. Although maybe I should. Nowadays, you don't see many babies that have hairy faces or that are bigger than you. And you don't see many giants that are werewolves. And the problem with giant babies is that they don't stay babies; Rabelais wrote a beautiful story about a cute baby giant named Gargantua whose first precious words were "Drink! Drink!" But then he got old and spoke in complete sentences, and the magic was gone. I want them to make me a giant werewolf baby that will always be a baby and that will always gurgle in sentence fragments. Nevertheless, I am willing to accept that the baby might only be a werewolf during the full moon, so long as it meets the "eternality of babyhood" condition.

But given that I have reconciled myself to the impossibility of a giant werewolf baby, I don't think that a giant lionhead bunny is too much to ask. In the past, I would have thought that a giant bunny would have been but an idle dream and a flight of fancy, or perhaps the feature character in a movie starring Wallace and Gromit. While the two pictures above may sadden us by reminding us of thwarted ambitions and unfulfilled dreams, they must also press us on to engineer a world where such such wonderful rabbits coexist. By "coexist," I mean inhabit the same spatio-temporal location. It is time for the age of the genetically engineered bunny to commence.