Hard times for rabbits

Hard times for rabbits

I have no patience for people who don't give a damn about health safety instructions.

They are tired of the crisis … but they are doing everything to make it last!


As a friend of mine said, “The elevator doesn't go all the way to the top. Lights are not on in all bedrooms. Some buttons are missing from their remote. Their radio does not pick up all frequencies, etc. ”


But I'm still forgiving when it comes to young people.

Because, admit it: it's a bad time to be 20 years old.

I often laugh at my little bunnies, but I wouldn't trade my youth for theirs.

At my age, confinement is pretty much good news.

“Finally, I won't have to invent a reason for not going to dinner at Machin's tomorrow night!” ”

A book, white wine, a good series, my girlfriend leaning against my shoulder on the sofa …

What more can I ask for?

I went to dance in all the bars, I drank everything there was to drink …

Grandpa takes it cool now!

But at 20, you're a fun machine.

That's why we put you on earth: to have fun.


To grow old is to walk in a large corridor.

At the beginning, you open all the doors that you cross, to see what is behind.

Here, I'll try this. And that. Worse still. Worse still that.

You are looking for yourself. You experiment.

But the more you walk in the corridor, the more you know yourself, the more you know what you like and what you don't like, and the less you want to open doors.

Well, our young people today are starting to walk in the corridor of life and all the doors that they come across are locked.

No party! No one night fuck!

Talk about a flat youth!


Youth, it lasts the time of a flash.

You blink, and it's over.

You end up with the job, the life of a couple, the apartment, the rent …

I will remember my graduation party all my life. Look at “Fart the flask in half” in the dictionary, and you will see my fat face.

They didn't have a party.

Or click on Zoom.

Ye. The fun is stuck. Wow.

So no wonder they escape it sometimes. Who wouldn't?

They are 20 years old, hormones on the ceiling! “They bandy in the wind”, as Michel Barrette would say.

You will say to me: “Yes, but there is the PCU, they are paid to stay with their parents and to take the CU, it's still nice! ”

But who will have to pay my uncle Justin's expenses?


Young people don't know it, because they know the rules of the economy as much as I do those of cricket, but they are the ones who will pay for the election that Justin is buying for himself with our credit card!

These are the ones Justin – or his successors – will mow!

So before you blame the kids, put yourself in their shoes.

And you say: what would I do, in their place?

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