Pour them the right stuff and feel alive

Tested by a troublesome mouse this morning, but (as ever!) your hero prevails. Ahhhh what a thought! Me, your hero. The tables might have tipped over long ago, but surely they have not been completely upturned. Oh, but you were never really mine either... antihero, perhaps — our generation's favorite kind. We may cry that we want media wholesome and heartwarming, but we would reject a modern version of a boomer's Superman.

Try and give us a positively charming utopian vision of a super human: unwavering moral fortitude, faultless virtues, selflessness and smiles. Think we want that? No. Perfection? Who wants that? We want Henry Cavill — dark and brooding, deeply flawed, haunted by mysterious inner torments, his voice disturbing our ears like loose gravel shifting around our eardrums, women salivating at the sight of him and swooning at each growling utterance of "fuck."

Millenials have at least figured out one thing — humanity's meaningful beauty is in the blemishes.