The Rabbit is a little irritated with me. He's plodding about in the background, and I can hear his "What About Me." So I tell him it's been at least thirty years and probably more like fifty, so what difference will a little longer make. Then I try not to listen to his reply, because it's rather scathing and he can be kind of cruel with his Keynesian attitude. "In the long run you'll be dead."
I have considered the possibility of suggesting, "It's all
about you my friend." But he's got his bit of straw in his
mouth, and he's been practicing his swagger and he's been
shopping for bonnets. So instead I ask him to remind me when
our life together began. "February the 7th 722 in the Julian
Calendar," he replies. So I guess he's kind of in a sulk and
who knows how long it might last.