The Ramblings of a Madman: Millennials are C**ts

The Ramblings of a Madman: Millennials are C**ts

Us millennials are the innocents, born just that bit too late to do anything significant. Born too late to go to the moon first, born too early to travel space. Constantly on the brink of achieving, yet never crossing that threshold. Doomed to create hipsterism and listen to shite music, wear shite clothes and walk around with an undeserved sense of accomplishment. Most of us will only live to serve one purpose, to procreate and provide the next generation. Personally, I don’t think that’s a bad thing because, although innocent in respect of opportunities, we are the most spoilt, deluded and possibly the most heartless generation the Homosapien genus has spawned.

 

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Where to begin with us. All millennials have this belief that you HAVE to be well travelled, and to not be well travelled is to be an uncultured chav, who gets their hair cut at Sports Direct and is often seen outside the off licence in pyjamas, talking to someone in a stolen Vauxhall Astra. The amount of conversations I had with people at university about their fabled “Gap Year” where they did relief work in Africa, repairing the damage that the families of these privileged wombles caused or how they “Found themselves” in Thailand or India and just sound like a walking Thomas Cook advert. How do you “find” yourself somewhere you’ve never been? You couldn’t have left yourself there in the first place. I doubt putting a GPS tracker on these people’s personalities could make them visible. These are the type of white people who tend to return wearing t-shirts with the sleeves ripped off and dreads, talking about spiritualism, and how they’re vegan because meat is murder, but wearing sweatshop Primark leggings and taking pictures on a phone where most of the raw materials were mined using children. Its like a training ground for hipsters. Telling me I need to go travelling to find myself. I’m right where I left myself, I’m not as careless as you. I don’t treat my personality like a set of keys, and leave them in a forest in Thailand, only to be discovered as I’m being ragged out by a tour guide named Tristan who plays ultimate frisbee.

 

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Get a load of Tristan and his f**king skateboard

 

We seem to think festivals are brilliant. Coachella is brilliant. Rio Carnival is brilliant. Festivaling in Britain is paying £400 to camp in the middle of a muddy field, out of your nut on Ket while its pissing down with rain and some c**t stands on stage playing his iTunes music library. Everyone pretends to have fun and then spends the next 2 weeks telling me how “the burgers were expensive” and how they could almost see the whites of a celebrity’s eyes from a distance that if a trained marksman pulled the trigger, would go down as the longest confirmed kill in military history. We convince ourselves that festivals in Britain are amazing but it’s just your favourite singer, singing songs you already know but worse, with half of the words missing in the hope that the audience knows them, then holds the mic to audience like the situation needed assistance from high powered speakers. IT’S THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE, Of course they can hear themselves! The only thing that perks up the weekend is if some prat overdoses in a tent. We always talk about making memories but you can’t pay for a nursing home with memories.

 

“Sorry sir, we don’t accept memories. We’ve had a few millennials in here asking that and you know what they got? The room by the bus stop. Hope those Leeds Festival tickets were worth it!”

 

Suddenly everyone is allergic/intolerant to everything. Suddenly everyone is eating quinoa and rye bread. Smashing avocado on everything and doing the “clean living” thing, just to go out on the weekends, down vodka, smoke cigarettes and have unprotected drunk sex with strangers. Bread has been in the human diet for 5000 years, I don’t recall cave dwellers providing warnings about bread in cave paintings, as he smears shit over the wall for it to be unearthed by some millennial wank stain on a gap year, trying to discover himself. Most people’s coffee orders sound like when someone is trying to impress with Italian but knows no Italian, so they press a bunch of Italianesque words together and produce a sentence only comprehendible to anyone with access to a “Rosetta stone” of coffee orders. All girls want to look emaciated and all the guys are gym douchebags with the emotional depth of a blow-up paddling pool on a shooting range. Youtubers show poor people all the clothes they bought or were given for free by companies, and show women how to contour their make up so they end up looking like Pete Burns from Dead or Alive.

 

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Women nowadays must be watching “Contouring, with Pete Burns”

 

We all have an incessant need for likes online. Women contort their bodies into shapes I’d report to the Vatican for an exorcism, just to get their arse and face in the picture, and post it online with a caption like “I’m ugly today”. Most guys would unfollow if they didn’t think they could smash because you look like you’d be wetter than a spastic’s chin. Men post up pictures with their “team”. Everyone’s got to have a “team”. I use the word “friends” but that wasn’t good enough for millennials, we have to make every Friday night sound like a five-a-side. Its 3 for £5 jagerbombs, not penalties against Germany. Birds caption selfies with things like “Rate my pic”. So, am I rating the many filters you have on that or the duck lips you’re pulling that make it suggest you can suck dick? When the only thing that sucks dick is this f**king picture. “I’m like Marmite, you either love me or hate me”. Yeah, you’re like Marmite, because half the world hates you and the other half think you’d look better on the end of a knife.

 

In short, we are the worst generation. We don’t provide anything. We just live to make the word a little more snobby and unbearable. You’d think spending a month around monks and learning inner peace would make these people into decent human beings. Instead, they just use it to fuel their egos at parties to make themselves seem more interesting, in the hope that no one peels back that veneer of culture to reveal a vast nothingness, the likes of which could only be compared to black hole opening up in Chipping Norton.

 

Let’s face it, millennials are the worst, and admitting it is the first step.

 

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