This is bad luck Brian if he had been born in the late 60’s. Depressed living in his parents basement. They force him to join the military. Thinks to himself “This wont be to bad, i’ll finally be able to toughen my skin”. Get’s placed in the basement doing a mediocre job. Despite the war lasting only 43 days. No one told him. So he’s now served 5 tours of the basement desert storm operations. During all this time he has been honing his study of the blade due to the lack of work from the war ending decades ago. Recently relieved of his great american duty he has spent the last two years defending this great nation against thousand year old snowflakes. Now in his final hours he braces and suckles the life force of his Starbucks triple espresso vanilla caramel extra diabetes frappe. As the blizzard of these snowflakes surround his aged fat body. He has one last request. Roast me you damned millennial snowflakes, the eldest millennium snowflake speaks. “It shall be done”. All the snowflakes know their mission. Casting over a 1,000 roasting comments. It was supper effective. The desert storm veteran goes into a diabetic induced comatose. The last thing he hears are battles cries he doesn’t understand, of yeets and suh dude from a group of Gen Z’s.