what would Cape Town do?

This climate needs a therapist. 21 June, the winter solstice for this hemisphere. How does the city mark the midwinter feast? Clear skies, an absence of rain or the recent biting cold, and a gosh-darned berg wind barely stirring the city's warm, fuzzy layer of smog. Honestly. This place has no sense of occasion.

On the subject of having birthdays on damned nearly the coldest, shortest day of the year, pshaw, Saturday's party is full steam ahead. Against the advice of my friendly psychologist, at some stage in the proceedings an Evil Landlord-constructed Heath Robinson device of some sort will ceremonially drop an anvil on the bunny. I figure this may be traumatic for me, but if we don't destroy the bunny, given that its entire, demonstrated success as a motivator is predicated on its destruction, irretrievable damage to the space-time continuum may result. Even worse, the book may mysteriously become unwritten. Party attendees of a nervous disposition may wish to bring peril-sensitive goggles.

Bunny Threat Level: Critical. Lock up your bunnies!