LaRouche PAC hereby introduces Harey Tales, an occasional post capturing the views of Hares with respect to those deranged Malthusians claiming unceasing love for them.

“Flopsy’s Bewilderment”

One day our hero Flopsy was relaxing beside a creek enjoying the melody produced by the  interplay of the gurgling stream and nearby chirping sparrows, when suddenly he espied the approach of his young friend Wopsy.

As Flopsy watched, the usually energetic Wopsy bounced up in a desultory and erratic sort of manner and came to rest beside him.  He splooted down, and a troubled look clouded his countenance.

“Halloo, my dear Wopsy.  Isn’t it a glorious day?”  Flopsy greeted him.

“If you say so Flopsy,” he paused, “but I am worried.”

“On a day like today, what could possibly be causing you to worry?”

“Flopsy, I have received news that a group of humans want to starve us all to death!”

Flopsy, incredulous, replied, “What in heaven are you saying dear Wopsy?  The humans, other than the regrettable fact that they occasionally enjoy us in a stew, are our friends, and many of them even give us carrots and other delicacies to nourish us.”

“It’s true Flopsy.  This group of humans are now gathered in a place called Oobey Doobey, and they are plotting to asphyxiate the plants that sustain us.  All of us bunnies will soon have nothing to eat.”

Flopsy looked at his friend and concluded that he must have fallen, once again, into one of his temporary mental derangements.  “Methinks you exaggerate dear Wopsy.  Why would the humans act this way?”

“They insist that what they call car-bun dy-ox-hide, or something like that, is poisonous, and they want to reduce the amount of it in the air.  They are even building machines to “capture” it and hide it away so that nothing that grows will have access to it.”

Flopsy, who was willing to acknowledge that he did not keep up with the news of the day, replied, “I have heard of this invisible vapor they call car-bun, and I have learned that it is what nourishes and sustains all plant life.  The beautiful daffodils, gladiolas and camellias breathe it in, and without it there would be no grasses, seeds or nuts for our friends the squirrels.” 

“Exactly,” Wopsy cried, “they wish to murder us.”

Flopsy considered that there might be some veracity in Wopsy’s report.  Finally, he asked, “But if what you say is true, the humans won’t have anything to eat either.  I am sure they can’t all be crazy.”

“Some of them are.”

“Well. . . we have all been doing fine up til now, and I hope that our human friends will come to their senses.  We must trust in the best of them, dear Wopsy, for we are but hares.  But let us speak no more of this.  It is a nice warm day.  Let us enjoy the sunshine.”