The Philadelphia Weekly's Lit Gloss column gave us a nice mention:
The photographs in this book prove Cinnamon was not unique. Each and every rabbit therein gazes autocratically, and Stiteler has helpfully provided translations. A portly white puff sternly says, “Are you still here?” A reddish bunny on a leash says, “You know, not everyone can wear spandex.” A similar-looking bunny, this time enjoying an outdoor scene, says, “Your insufficiencies wound me to the core.” That’s right, folks. You’ve got 179 pages of this, and you’re going to laugh at about 160. You can’t say that for Danish existentialists. If I remember grad school correctly, they aren’t nearly as judgmental as bunny rabbits.
What Nietzsche knew about despair, he learned from rabbits. It's a fact. There's more good stuff at the link.