You're a nineteen year old lieutenant colonel named Pro-Am Rugburn. You still have brain zaps from an adolescence of weekly use of the worst Molly imaginable. Your lips are cracked and dry from all your spitting. You are a member of the Nothing But Main Battle Tanks urban combat unit. You are taking heavy casualties, but you cannot extrajudicially kill windows whenever one of your guys dies. You're trying to make Infected Mushroom's 2007 psy trance classic, Becoming Insane, into the unofficial song of the Gaza invasion, much like Fortunate Son was to Vietnam, or Bodies by Drowning Pool was to GWOT, but people keep redubbing your TikToks with Yakety Sax. The IDF gave you a gun that looks ridiculous. You fear that GoPro footage of you getting your head blown clean off is going to be put into Sony Vegas and edited to look like the VATS menu from fallout. Nothing is passionfruit flavored. You wonder if there will be EDM in heaven.