We gratefully acknowledge the original 'Disapproving Rabbits' website, that inspired this site, and its creators, Sharon, Bill, Cinnamon, and Dougal. Without you, we would not be here. We Approve Of You!
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Monday, May 29, 2017
We kicked off the day with an excellent, breakfast picnic salad. Espresso tells me this we don't have to do the M*nd*y thing today and this does not count as work. Well, how come it's not work; because Espresso got big ears; is that it?
Anyway, the mint in the salad was extra yammeh, freshly picked this morning!
Then, all three of us got a ride in the bathtub. All went well. It turns out I blend well with Espresso and Latte!
Hoomins think we'll make a proper Apollo crew yet!
- We'll keep you posted, Charlie
Sunday, May 28, 2017
I'm not sure how this happened, but apparently, I drew the lot to work this weekend. Thus, I claimed this here bed and chinned everything.
The good news is we're making slow and steady progress with Charlie. Our hoomin did a session with her and Latte in the tub, and it went well. Aside from that, we're enjoying a quiet plateau with our three bun circus of relationships.
We'll keep you posted, Espresso
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Author's Note: Hopper, Mel, and Mr. Toes triggered a major incident at the St. Cinnamon's station and the facility is in danger disintegrating. The three bunstronauts are working their way toward the hospital's shuttle deck.
We were about to turn into the tunnel leading to the central part of the station, the "axle" around which the circular part of the hospital rotated. Mel, leading the way, stopped abruptly, turned around and crushed into Hopper who didn't realize what happened. Mel moved back, turned to his left, right in front of me and opened the door to one of the nurses' station. I didn't even notice it was there. Mel got on a terminal, and as he started typing something, he pointed to a locker in the wall and asked Hooper to open it.
"Don't panic, guys. We need to lose our monitors. I'm disabling our old ones. Hopper, get those blank ones, would you?" said Mel. Hopper handed him three little boxes containing the blank monitors. Mel took them, and one by one initialized them with our current data. He handed us the little monitor beads that were about the size of a half a lingonberry, and we left the room.
We went back a few steps again and entered an emergency life support pod. It acted like a shelter, providing basic means of survival in case of a fire or pressure loss in the hospital. We glued our monitor beads to the seats with a little bit of a medical adhesive paste. Hopper grabbed some food packs and water pouches, handed them to us and said, "We may not need them, but you never know."
We grabbed the food packs, and we headed for the main tunnel junction. "Mel, stop!" yelled Hopper as we passed by the nurses' station again. Mel turned around with a puzzled look on his mouf. Hopper pointed to a locker with nurses' scrubs. It took me a second to catch what Hopper had in mind. "Who are you gonna fool, Hopper? Look at this place; there are no patients here; we are it," I and pointed to a screen showing zero beds occupied.
Officially, we didn't even exist. I was pretty sure there were no nurses left in the hospital, and security goons entirely staffed the place. But after a second I said, "Hopper, what the hey, grab a few!" "Right, let's use the maintenance tunnel, just in case." said Hopper as he grabbed three sets of white scrubs.
We looked for and got into the first maintenance junction we found. From there, it was a straight line running toward the central section of the hospital. If the pods we just escaped from were located on the outer edge of a giant Ferris wheel with tunnels for spokes, we were moving along in one of those spokes toward the axle.
I could feel through my feet the imbalanced rotation of the wheel as we made slow progress. We worked hard against the centrifugal force pushing us out toward the outer rim of the wheel. At least the tunnel was empty. All the airlocks were open as far as a bun could see. We started to feel lighter as we got closer to the center, and we began to work more and more with our front paws, pullings ourselves forward more than pushing off with our feet. Once we've made it to the last junction, we looked through the little window in the door to see if anybun was out there. It was quiet. One or two buns would flat by this way or that. We decided to change into the orderlies' scrubs before we went out. The central segment of the station was straining under forces placed on it by the out of balance rotation. We could hear the creaks and bangs of the stressed sections. The meal wheezed and groaned with pangs of impending death.
We looked around one more time and in a moment when there was no bun in sight, we floated out into the main tunnel. We turned toward the main shuttle deck. Next to it were a series of large storage bays and an auxiliary control station. If we could lock ourselves in it, we could monitor what's going on. If they were going to evacuate the station, the rescue vessels were most likely to dock here. Or we might have to take our chances in one of the shuttle crafts.
The news ship with Abby and everybun else on board was closing in on the hospital and monitored all the communication channels known to them. A couple of news buns were checking the setup of a live broadcast studio, just in case a story broke, and there was something to tell the public at large. They arranged for relays of their broadcasts by a few small, independent news organizations.
As the hospital started to experience the results of sabotage, perpetrated by Mr. Toes and his crew guys, it broke its radio silence, and the news buns picked it up.
"We have a signal from St. Cinnamon!" somebun blared on the intercom. Abby, Pancake, and the rest sprung for the flight deck. They watched the transmission roll up on the monitor. It was all generic telemetry. It only listed crew members as souls on board and no patients. Molly and Pancake looked at each other puzzled. Then, the ship picked up a response signal from a supply vessel, giving its location, direction of flight, and other technical minutiae. It intended to rendezvous with the hospital and was ready to accept any evacuees if necessary.
"That's the ship with Penny and Freddie!" exclaimed Ava. The supply ship was almost ready to dock with the hospital.
Then, mid cycle, the distress signal from the hospital died. If the emergency was resolved, everybun expected a resolution transmission to be aired next. But no such thing happened. Shortly after, some official news outlets mentioned, almost in passing, that the hospital was conducting emergency preparedness exercises.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Monday, May 22, 2017
Hi there. It's a little bit before midnight and we just found out about the explosion at the Manchester Area in Manchester, U.K.
Our thoughts and prayers are with the hoomins of Manchester and the U.K.
We've been following the events via http://www.manchestereveningnews.co.uk/ and by listening to the BBC Radio Manchester at http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio/player/bbc_radio_manchester
- Everybun at Disapproving Bun
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Hoomin moved Charlie out of the art room and now there's only a double pen barrier between her and us. And here we are, this morning, enjoying breakfast kale. Then scrappy Espresso got into a paw scrape with Charlie through the barrier. It's shameless how they flirt! Then they loafed together across the barrier.
We'll keep you posed.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
The story had to be rolled back to the Story Assembly Building again. Pancake looked dejected as she sat alone at her console late at night. She squinted her eyes as the smoke from her catnip stogie, left unfinished by Bruno, kept getting in her eyes. She thought, "By golly, I'm gonna finish something tonight!" as she took another drag.
There were problems with the Retrofire Pt. 22 episode right from the start. First, the Story Dynamics Office, Molly, couldn't get her crew to the pad to do the last minute checks and corrections. They detected multiple plot leaks and misalignments.
Then a high-pressure system arrived from the dark valley of the tar pits and tried to smother everybun with a thick layer of strato-nightmare clouds spewing fumes of desperium-sulfate. They couldn't even attempt to fuel the art pods with doodles, or watercolors or anything else.
A clump of ash fell on her weather forecast report for next week. They would just have to try again later.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Thursday, May 18, 2017
You'll figure it out my child, I promise you. You see, the salaaaad could have been crispier.
- Thank you, Ken and Kaci!
PS: Ken says, "Here is our rescue bunny Dublin with baby Kerry. Mom Dublin and her youngsters are doing fine, and eager to begin the disapproval process they have heard so much about."
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Monday, May 15, 2017
Sunday, May 14, 2017
|You sure took your time this morning, hoomin!|
Latte and I are doing better. We quit fighting, and we're best buds again. Our hoomin keeps the door to the art room open and lets the strange smells mingle. That strange bunneh we keep smelling must still be there! Latte tried to take a bit out of her the other day. Right through the pet gate. Well, the hoomins covered up all the gaps so now we just smell her.
We'll keep you posted.
Saturday, May 13, 2017
I spent the next couple of days snooping about the station, trying to find out the best way to disable it. I was learning more about the station than I thought was possible. A strange thing took place. Time seemed to melt away as I dove deeper and deeper into the station's systems. I would forget to eat or drink, and I hardly moved from my spot. Every time the orderlies came by for their rudimentary visits, they would startle me to death as the sound of opening doors violently jarred me to the surface from the depth of an almost alternate reality.
I discovered that I could trigger a shutdown of the weight balancing system of the hospital's pseudo-gravity mechanism. I reconfigured parts of the spin controller to speed up when it was instructed to slow down, and vice versa. It would slow down when told to accelerate. The sysadmins would have to immediately restart all systems without any delay if they wanted to foil my little mischief. I didn't have much going for me. I could only hope they would have the good old "it never did THAT before" stupefied reaction to the developing disaster. Yes, the plan was risky, and a bit far fetched, but how could it not be?
What worried me wasn't the plan, but the funny feeling I had in my gut. It was my incessant exploration of the station's systems and the pace at which I was moving through them that gave me a pause. It perplexed me whenever I stopped to think about it during my forced breaks. It would be one thing if I were involved in the design of the labyrinth I was exploring, or if such designs were my specialty or a point of interest, but as far as I could attest, none of those conditions applied to me.
On the one paw, it led me to wonder again who I think I was; on the other paw, I was glad for it because it would let me bust out of here that much quicker. The question still hung over me though, where exactly would I go after the breakout? At that time I had no idea that two vessels were converging on St. Cinnamon.
I don't know at exactly what time I ran out of energy to dig any deeper into the station's systems. I was way past what I needed to know to do the job. I didn't so much go to sleep but rather passed out. I didn't check on Hopper or Mel. For some reason, I wasn't worried about them anymore.
The sound of the doors sliding open for the orderlies bringing breakfast salad and paying their respects on behalf of the big brother woke me up. I sat up straight, even though my body screamed for twice as much sleep as I had gotten that night. When you're not up for their visit, they think your temperature will tell them something about why you're not up. So they proceed to check your temperature. I don't like it. No, they don't check it like THAT — not anymore. They take pictures of you and strap gizmos to you. I don't like my pictures taken, and I don't like their gizmos. So it's easier just to sit up.
I served my usual sideways stink eye and the harshest frown I could muster to both of the orderlies. They were used to that and cleared out as soon as they could. I had some of the salad and went back to sleep. Next time I got up, I finished the leftovers and went to work.
I didn't have to turn off completely the weight balancer; I only had to slow it down. I tricked it into thinking it had a lot less weight to balance, and the balancer slowed down. The system detected that something was not right and reacted by trying to speed up the balancer. Well, the system sent the right command, but the component responsible for its execution didn't work anymore the way it was supposed to. It slowed down the balancer even more.
That day, whoever worked the shift in the control room, tried to fix the problem manually. Again, he or she did the right thing, as the manual instructed them, and attempted to speed up the balancer. Now the balancer continued to slow down until it stopped. Thus the rotating part of the hospital started to gyrate and threatened to tear apart the entire installation.
Of course, no one has seen such a combination of failures, and while they tried to figure out what had happened, the system tried to recover on its own. Since it couldn't make heads or tails out of the puzzle either, it opted for the easy way out by initiating a shutdown of the station.
The system sounded an evacuation alarm and started shutting down, isolating the hospital sector by sector. Going into full emergency mode meant getting help from the outside world as soon as possible. The hospital broke its radio silence.
I left my pod as the mayhem started to froth and began looking for Hopper. He was waiting for me.
"You know, Major, when it rains, it pours. I bet the ventilation system is about to have a very bad day," said Hopper as he winked at me. I was not surprised.
The two of us went on to look for Mel. He greeted us with a smile and growled,
"Gents, the airlocks are about to go out."
Hopper and I grunted and nodded in approval as we kept on moving toward the shuttle deck.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
If you feel like you got a dollop of the M*nd*ys on a Tuesday yesterday, we have a bit of a good news. Charlie's big V. E. T. visit, on M*nd*y out of all things, went great. There were no complications with the spay procedure and she's recovering very well.
The first day of her recovery felt rough, but by Tuesday night she was hopping about as if nothing ever happened. She's noming and bunstructing already.
We'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Well, hoomins, it's my second tour here. Have you any disapproval to spare? Being the 'no nonsense and no time for shenanigans' kind of guy I'll just say we're running out of reserves. So, we'll be grateful if you can help.
- Thank you, Ken and Kaci
You can make a post on the DisapprovingBun timeline, message us on FB at https://www.facebook.com/disapprovingbun/ or send it to
Monday, May 8, 2017
Sunday, May 7, 2017
It's been a long and arduous week at our local bunstronaut office. The arrival of Charlie put Latte and me on edge.
Our hoomin was very distraught over that and felt we became unbonded :-(
But, we worked it out and by Friday Latte, and I were on snorgling terms again. Of course, our hoomins try to bribe us
with treats more often than they should, but I don't complain.
I hear that this Charlie girl is very sweet and friendly. Well sweet and friendly with our hoomins at least. This mess
I'm in with Latte doesn't feel to me very sweet nor friendly. OK, OK, I know, it's been a week, so we'll have to give it
a little more time, maybe "little" months of that time.
We'll keep you posted.
Saturday, May 6, 2017
At the time I was plotting a riot at the hospital, the crew of the Buzzard were about to go on a wild ride of their own; they just didn't know it yet. The night they all went stargazing on the observation deck of the repair hub, another crew decided to relax and throw back a few a carrotinis. Somewhere on the other side of a row of banana trees and prehistoric ferns, a bunch of very vocal buns set up for what sounded like a long night of raucous debauchery. Abby, Pancake, Molly, Joey, and Ava were about to call it a night. Abby knew that she and her friends had at least a few long days to enjoy themselves with no assignments, so they were in no rush to pack everything into one night. But, just then, something caught Pancake's ear, and she grabbed Abby's paw. As Abby looked at her quizzically, Pancake made a motion to keep quiet and pointed her paw in the direction of the loud party. Caught off guard, Abby stopped and listened. They were all listening now.
The strangers beyond the banana trees sounded really upset; they were not going off the rails because of too many raspberrinis. They were loudly venting about something. Abby listened carefully. The strangers were talking about the Behemoth! She couldn't get every word they were saying because they were talking a lot over bun another. It sounded to her like they were upset over getting ordered away from the area of the Behemoth. She heard something about all the news crews getting orders to drop the Behemoth coverage. Could it be those buns were reporters?
All of a sudden, Abby started to work her way through the thicket of the ferns toward the loud party. Pancake and the rest followed her. As they parted the nutriberry shrubs and braved their way through the greenery, their wrestling spooked the news buns. Abby stuck her nose out from behind a thick bunch of fig leaves and slowly worked her way out of the greens and toward the strangers. Molly, Pancake, Joey, and Ava followed her into the clearing. The news buns were surprised by the number of buns that materialized out of the shrubbery. Everybun got quiet.
The strangers looked at Abby, puzzled and a little frightened. Abby proceeded to break the ice and calm down everybun. "Hi! I'm sorry for scaring you; we overheard you talking about the Behemoth. You know, I lost my Mr. Toes to that thing." Everybun remained frozen in place as the strangers tried to process the surprise. The only sound came from Joey, who noticed that the fig tree was loaded with ripe fruit and proceeded to nom one, smacking his lips loudly. Molly ribbed him gently, and he became quiet, returning to the presence.
Abby introduced her crew to the news buns and asked if they didn't mind sharing what they knew about the Behemoth. Lately, all news about the mysterious object came to a trickle, and one had the feeling somebun was turning off the information spigot. After the news buns regained their composure and started nomming the fresh figs, Joey picked for everybun, and they began talking about how they just got pulled away from covering anything related to the Behemoth story. No explanation was given to them. They were convinced something nefarious was brewing and were furious at the situation.
Pancake shared about Mr. Toes and his young crew members. She talked about how Freddie was convinced the authorities were trying to cover up something and how confident Freddie was that they are hiding Toes and his guys. One of the news buns nodded in agreement and added, "There might be something to that. We heard a story that an SOS was transmitted from the location of the Behemoth shortly after it appeared. But all traces of the messages are gone. Well, access to them is prohibited, and there are rumors that they are off-line."
Ava shared about Freddie and Penny cracking their way to hitch a ride to the St. Cinnamon's station aboard a resupply ship. The news buns stirred.
The entire warren stayed up till the early morning hours, local time, talking about the state of journalism these days, and what the Behemoth "affair" is flushing to the surface of bunkind's consciousness.
After everybun had gotten properly worn out, they hugged and shook paws, and left to catch some sleep. The artificial day at the repair hub was obnoxious and rubbed everybun the wrong way, so it served as the perfect excuse to burrow under the blankets and wait out the "sunny" menace.
Around evening time, Abby and the rest of the Buzzard crew got approached by one of the news buns with an offer to fly and get a closer look at what is happening at St. Cinnamon's; orders be damned. It took Abby no time to accept the invitation. Ava, Pancake, Molly, and Joey were delighted. They were already getting tired of sitting around with nothing to do.
Everybun managed to pack into the now-crowded news ship. Some non-critical equipment had to be unloaded to make room for Abby and her friends in the cargo bay. The news buns filled a flight plan to return to Earth's surface and did not declare the extra passengers on board. They put Joey to work to help with an EBA. They had him work a mixer making some seriously not-silly, semi-liquid putty. Somebun else, I think her name was Jarg, was stirring a batch of carbon-molybdenum epoxy. The ship undocked from the repair hub and set its initial course for Earth. It moved slowly through the busy space surrounding the hub. The watchful eyes of radar and flight controllers kept it clear of other traffic. Upon leaving the sector, the ship resumed its own navigation. The vessel kept floating along, though, postponing the initial burn that would send it on its way home. Inside, three buns suited up to go outside with the "serious" putty along with the epoxy and two hydraulic dispensers. The bunstronauts, including Joey, got into the airlock and worked their way outside.
The commander of the vessel declared a minor emergency. He told the flight controllers that the ship had experienced a malfunction of its primary navigation system and the crew would have to switch to a backup system. He spun the yarn well, and the controllers ate it up. Even when they were told the ship would have to cycle its power system and the ship would disappear from radar temporarily, they didn't blink an eye.
Thus the three buns outside, using the "serious" putty, began to cover up all the communication sensors embedded into the hull of the ship. One worked the putty dispenser; another one applied the epoxy. Joey played the safety guy, keeping watch over his partners and assisting as needed, making sure no bun floated off into oblivion. The "serious" putty acted as an insulator. It temporarily covered the sensors and could be pried off later. The epoxy went on top of the putty and shielded the sensors from receiving any signals and prevented them from sending anything out. One sensor at a time, the ship disappeared from the view of all tracking equipment.
When the last sensor was covered, Joey helped the other two bunstronauts get inside the craft as quickly as possible. They stowed away all of their implements of deception and strapped themselves into their seats. The commander reoriented the craft and commenced the burn for rendezvous with the St. Cinnamon base.