You'd think the bigger the rabbit's foot, the greater the luck it would dispense. But I've developed a theory that once it reaches a certain size, the foot's polarity reverses and begins discharging its misfortune on anyone who comes near it.

You see, the first time I came in contact with the World's Largest Jackrabbit was in June of 2002, which was the beginning of what is now known as the Summer of Hell. A ceiling that leaked water onto my desk, a hospitalizing case of food poisoning, and the smashing in of my front door and subsequent theft of my entertainment system are all highlights from the days that followed my encounter with Odessa's enormous hare.

Of course, I didn't make the connection until almost a year later, when I paid my second visit to this rascally rabbit. Just two hours after burnishing his nose for what should have been good luck, I was involved in my very first car wreck. On the first day of my vacation. On my birthday.

Perhaps its Jack's way of exacting revenge for past treatment of his brethren. In 1932, and again in 1977, Odessa held their ill-famed Championship Jackrabbit Roping. A nearby plaque commemorates the event and tells of public outcry by local bunny-huggers. "Out-of-town do-gooders," as the marker calls them, went so far as to release the captive hares before the contest could begin. Ironically, the rabbits returned at feeding time and the roping went ahead as scheduled.