Fbod Studio
Fluffy Bunnies of Doom. Scared White Folks. Betty's Big Book of Voodoo. If you can't see the insidious hidden connection between these concepts, it's only because a government conspiracy has clouded your senses.

Florida, as I'm sure you'll agree, has always been associated with the idea of Doom. It's something about the palm trees - I mean, think about Key Largo for a minute. The place is just dripping with existential angst and the foreshadowing of the End Times, right?

That's got to be the explanation for Floridian Lisa Clardy's Fluffy Bunnies of Doom, the eponymous apocalyptic lepines of Fbod Studios. Now, the Fluffy Bunnies themselves are sort of the main event, so having foreshadowed them, muahahahaha, I'm going to sidestep that and prowl around a little.

Weird Crap and the Good Old Days, Sorta

Fbod Studios is a pretty eclectic site. You'll find remixed vintage graphics, unmixed fruit crate and luggage label art, political statements, classic illustrations, memorable quotes, and, um, doom.

Highlight? You bet. Take a gander at the left, where good old 1950's Mrs. America happily sips a slug of Instant Whupass. Betty and the girls had best watch out.

And speaking of Betty - she may not have to worry much, since her suburban kitchen is fully equipped with her Big Book of VooDoo. I tried to warn you about Florida - but did you listen? Oh, no.


There's just heaps of this sort of inverted retro goodness in Fbod's "The Good Old Days - Sorta" department, but don't miss the "Pop Art Princesses" and "Weird Crap" aisles, either.

They're filled with T-Shirts, greeting cards, stickers, notebooks and other swag guaranteed to make you chuckle, even in the face of the impending arrival of the, muahahahaha, Fluffy Bunnies of Doom.

Can I foreshadow, or what? I can even make up verbs.

Other departments are equally full of some unadulterated vintage graphics for luggage labels - with some pretty humorous observations - crate labels, and some lovely vintage illustration from greats like Maxfield Parrish, Arthur Rackham, and Elizabeth Gordon and Penny Ross.

But I can't move on without pointing out one of my personal favorites - the 1950's paranoid science fiction race-o-rama of "Scared White Folks" - a staple of both 1950's movie theaters and the civil rights movement.

While they - and you - await the Fluffy Bunnies of Doom - who are even now approaching on their nuclear-fueled Death Machines - we can spend our final moments appreciating some memorable quotes by Mark Twain, Mae West, Robert Benchley, Jane Austen, and Marlene Dietrich. Try to match this one with that list:

A boy can learn a lot from his dog--obedience, loyalty, and the importance of turning around three times before lying down.

Hint: it's actually not Jane Austen. Even though it sounds just like her.


The Main Event: Fluffy Bunnies of Doom
Okay, okay. Here you've been patiently awaiting the apocalypse, and all I could do was go on and on about everything else.

How does one truly capture the eldritch miasma of despair, the awful, soul-destroying portent, the undeniably cute, and yet world-shattering, demonic fluffiiness of these bunnies?

They come in many guises - the original, unspeakable bunnies; the completely Psycho bunnies; the unstoppable Mexican wrestler bunnies; the future-spanning, and probably future-destroying, bunnies. Thee are bunnies who'd be content to flip you off, and there are bunnies intent on world destruction. There are bunnies, in fact, for all occasions. As long as those are, you know, final occasions. They're fluffy. They're bunnies. And they mean to end the universe.

Take your time, ma'am - does any of these bunnies look like the one that stole your doomsday device?

And though it all ends there, it doesn't end there

That's right! There's more! The demented Ms. Clardy - which ought to be the title and name of a high school principal - has, I think, done a brain dump of her delightfully twisted unconscious mind all over her selection of tee shirts, coffee mugs, noteboooks, gewgaws, and gimcracks. You hardly even have to wipe off the ectoplasm.

I mean, unless you're squeamish.

All in all she's provided the answers to those two questions that have nagged philosophers since the days of Socrates:

1. On what web site would you spend your final hours, if you knew that the Fluffy Bunnies of Doom had at last succeeded in bringing about the End of the Universe As We Know It?

2. What would you wear?