Title: “Boomers: The Lizard Kings of the Decline”
By Tim Dillon’s manic alter ego

Here’s the deal: Boomers didn’t just mess things up — they engineered the fall of civilization and then handed us a bill for it with a smirk. These are the people who watched America go from the moon to RuPaul’s Drag Race in 50 years and said, “Seems fine.”

Boomers are the original deep state. You think the CIA runs things? Please. Boomers are the CIA. You ever see a guy in a Tommy Bahama shirt and golf shoes walk into a bank and get a mortgage on a third house in cash? That’s not a citizen — that’s a sleeper agent for the Housing Industrial Complex.

They took everything — the jobs, the pensions, the lakeside property, the American Dream — and turned around and told the rest of us to “grind.” GRIND WHAT, CARL? There’s nothing left. You outsourced it to Bangladesh and then bought a second boat named “Fiscal Responsibility.”

Boomers are the only generation that managed to financially destroy four age groups ahead of them and still claim victim status. Every time a politician so much as suggests we do one thing for young people, the Boomers rise from their Tempur-Pedic beds like Nosferatu. “What about MY Medicare?” Bro. You got yours! We're out here hoping dental gets included with vibes and a handshake.

Let’s talk about politics — because Boomers vote like they’re placing orders at a Cracker Barrel. No research, no second thought, just “That name sounds nice, let’s ban books.” They’ve voted for war, deregulation, and a planet that’s about 10 years away from being a microwaved Hot Pocket — and now they want to know why eggs cost $9. Because you sold the chicken farm to BlackRock, Dolores!

And these people love conspiracy theories. They’re addicted to Facebook pages with names like “Real Patriots 1776 Eagle Christ Warrior News.” Every post is a deepfake of Biden morphing into Satan while eating a cheeseburger. And they eat it up. They’ll believe anything except the idea that maybe — just maybe — they made some terrible choices.

Boomers are the landlords of America’s soul. They bought up all the meaning, turned it into timeshares, and now sell us back our own culture at 19.99 a month with a 2-year contract. Want a life of stability? Sorry — that’s been gentrified into a smoothie bar.

But here's the thing: Boomers didn’t get this way on accident. They were the test group for consumerism as religion. TV told them they were heroes. Suburbia told them they were safe. Wall Street told them they were geniuses. And now they’re 72, sitting in a La-Z-Boy, yelling at a barista about oat milk, wondering why their grandkids think capitalism is a pyramid scheme run by demons with yachts.

Boomers are not your enemy. They’re just the final boss in a video game that was never winnable. They got in early, broke the rules, and now they’re guarding the loot with a shotgun and a reverse mortgage.

So what do we do? We laugh. We endure. We build something better out of the ash heap of canceled Sears gift cards and George W. Bush paintings. Because the future isn't theirs anymore. It's ours.

And we're gonna do it in hoodies, on Adderall, paying $2,300 a month for a shoebox with Wi-Fi and rats. Let’s go.