They are the misguided children of punk rock.
Children that, while once derided the structural inqequities of systems, realized that they do accept most of the systemic ills, and really were more offended by it’s color. So they color it something quirky. Something that hints at possibilities outside the realm of the math involved, but not conclusive enought to spoil the equation
Children whom realized that it wasn’t alchol that they were against, but rather the current available crop. Nothing that could not be solved by a microbrewery and some taste.
And it wasn’t the formality of clothing and standards shoved down their throat that turned them to black tees and pants. But rather a lack of quality threat counts, and boomer-fitted button downs that had turned them away.
And lastly, it wasn’t the ethical implications of animals being meat, so much as it was lack of identity inherent in eating choices, where one can now appreciate the rareness of a particular greeen bean, rather than haggle with the questions of pain and sentience.
Accordingly, we have new workplaces, new menus, new wallpaper, and new clothing.
But the walls are still the same old shit.