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The Se7en deadly sins of being a millennial

In the 1995 thriller Se7en, John Doe (Kevin Spacey) attempts to complete a series of murders, each inspired by one of the seven deadly sins. Detectives Somerset (Morgan Freeman) and Mills (Brad Pitt) must stop the serial killer before he finishes his gruesome task. But how would this grisly plot play out today? Move aside gen x and baby boomers, it’s the millennials who now must pay the ultimate price for their sins (probably with mom and dad’s credit card).

“Damn, Kim looked so good on tonight’s episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Like, so good. I would literally kill for her lips.” You fly to L.A. to find Kim — those lips will be yours. You make it to Calabasas, and are hiding in the bushes outside the Kardashian-West residence. But Yeezus is always watching. He sees you and goes on a rant, calling you out on Twitter. People subtweet so many snake emojis at you your phone short circuits and explodes, killing you. You are Taylor Swift.

You think gluten is the food of the devil and only eat gluten-free. Your parents, being baby boomers, think this is stupid and buy you gluten-filled food without telling you. You begin eating it. The gluten builds up in your body because you can’t digest it. Your millennial digestive system is weak, and the food is too good. Nothing can stop you now as you consume so much gluten you become a human-sized ball of gluten. You either die a hero… or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

What do you do when the latest movie, album, version of Microsoft Office, or video game is released? Spend your precious barista tip money on a TIDAL subscription? Hell no, you torrent that shit! With a terabyte of trouble on your hard drive, and a BitTorrent queue a mile deep, your number is up when Quentin Tarantino, Beyonce, and Bill Gates show up at your door for revenge. But don’t worry, all seeders go to heaven.

You match with the chick you superliked on Tinder. You’re in. You message her, saying “sup girl, your pretty” and she messages you back, even with your atrocious grammar. You start taking it to the neXXXt level, asking what she’s wearing, what her favourite position is, and then casually sending her dick pics. She’s not appalled like most girls. You ask her to come over to “watch a movie.” She takes the bait. She shows up at the door looking like a dime and ready for the D. Tragedy strikes: Netflix crashes mid-chill. You weren’t watching it anyway, but she leaves before you can get it in. You’re not getting laid.

You post six Instagram photos per day. A couple #ootds from the outfits you tried on earlier, a #foodporn pic from last weekend’s brunch, some #nature shot from your trip to Banff five months ago, a quote you filter the shit out of with #goodvibesonly, and a baby photo with your grandpa #throwback #tbt #fbf. You include multiple unnecessary hashtags that fill up the comments section in order to gain more followers and likes on your photos: #followforfollow #likeforlike. Seeing your iPhone homescreen blow up with people liking your pics is what you live for. You open the app to see your ex liked your photo. You stalk their page and accidentally like a photo from two years ago. You die of shame.  

You keep putting off getting your driver’s license. We get it, biking around Edmonton all year is so convenient, and our ETS routes are impeccable. It totally makes sense why you wouldn’t just go to AMA and take the test. Five years later, your lazy ass still don’t have your license. Your friend who picks you up for literally everything finally gets fed up and runs you over.

Mommy and Daddy are confused by your obscure solo art performance. You snap at them releasing a barrage of tear-filled insults about them being “out of touch,” likening them to fascists who want to destroy the environment and the entire Earth. They stop paying your cell phone bill, and cut you off from the family money. You die from homelessness. Your arts degree can’t save you now.

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