Ugh! Those entitled jagoffs.
Millennials have no idea how good they have it. I saw a commercial yesterday for a pretzel crust pizza. Really? Regular pizza wasn't good enough for you? In my day we exclusively ate feces. You can just walk into a Little Caesar's and they have a pile of pretzel pizzas just waiting for you, but when I was growing up it was dung or it was nothing. It was on you to find it and roll it into a ball and bury it.
You hear millennials complaining about apartment prices in the city. Oh, boo hoo, your Park Slope walk up is $3400 a month. I'm so sad for you, because I grew up in a moneyless society where our only currency was literal excrement and we also lived in feces. Huge piles of feces. We burrowed into them and lived.
You millennials just flush it down the toilet and don't even think about where it goes. When was the last time you saw a millennial rolling 250 times their body weight down the street in the form of a huge ball of dung? Been at least seven or eight years. They wouldn't even know how to bury it.
Millennials have no idea with their grinders and tinders. Yeah, dating sure is tough. In my day, dating was life and death. If you wanted to impress a mate back in my day you had to acquire, roll and nest in thousands of pounds of literal shit. As if that wasn't bad enough, you had the dung jackers.
Oh, sure, because huge boulders of feces were what everybody wanted, so of course they try to roll yours away whenever you get distracted. You're pushing it one way, they're pushing it the other, and it turns out their thorax is just a little bigger and... whoosh! That's it. Forget it. There goes your dung ball you spent all day collecting.
But you wouldn't know about that, would you? With your Uber cars and your Amazon drones.
Now these millennials are complaining about cops being too mean. Yeah, sure, they are pretty mean. Now try a parasitic wasp. Go ahead, I'll wait. Try to roll your sorry little dung acorn past a wasp that wants to a lay a brain worm in your back. Ohhhhh, sure. Now you're too busy to roll your dung. But guess what: nothing is worse than those wasps. And we were all black back then. Hard black shells just loaded up with wasp worms.
They get Twitter and forget all about stomping their feet in rhythmic patterns and clacking their mandibles to attract a mate.
Take everything for granted. You millennial pukes just dial it up on your phones and before you know it you are getting laid. In my day, you had to roll up a dung ball and you would actually have sex with that and ejaculate into it, then some broad comes along and sticks her eggs in there. It was like a Fruit Gusher only made of dung and jizzums.
We didn't have those either. Fruit Gushers, I mean. We had lots of dung and jizzums, of course. Pretty much nothing but those two things.
This libtard terminator keeps asking for guns that don't exist and I may have to close early out of frustration.
Editor's Note: Due to a freak power outage, this obituary of Barbara Bush was written without the benefit of research. In order to pay our respects to this great woman in a timely fashion, we have decided to post this piece as-is. We hope you forgive any errors on our part.
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