I’ve long enoyed the standup stylings of grinning but grumpy Bill Burr. I’ve even followed him on social media, just for the odd tirade or epic download of “You people” complaints about those less politically astute than he.

But never have I ever been more relieved to hear someone sniff, “Okay, BOOMER” at a character, and hear Burr’s let-my-demographic off the hook comeback in his film, “Old Dads.”

“GENERATION X!”

Burr plays an amped-up version of his public persona in this starting-a-family-at-50 comedy about an unfiltered vulgarian, “toxic” rageaholic and judgemental jerk who takes 90-plus minutes of screentime to finally take a hard look at himself in the mirror.

It’s funny, here and there. Burr’s not a bad actor, and he surrounds himself with better ones. But this “Last Man Standing” is a smug, presumptuous, pose for any funnyman, even if you are slightly more evolved than Tim Allen.

As Jack Kelly, he’s got a crew, two lifelong friends (Bokeem Woodbine and Bobby Cannavale) who have stuck with him through thick and thin. Their vintage athletic jersey reproduction company did well enough to be bought out, and as Jack has a little boy and he and wife Leah (Kate Aselton) have another on the way and private school is ruinously expensive in SoCal, he agreed.

The script briskly sets us up for a movie where working class/outspoken Jack is at odds with his performantive, buzzwording touchy-feely new Gen Z boss (Miles Robbins), and his kid’s school’s pretentious, even more touchy-feely Generation X principal, “Dr. L.” (Rachel Harris)

Let the f-bombs fly as Jack tears through coddled kids (“Just rub some dirt on it!”), indulgent parenting, smirking, ageist Millenials (“How f—–g self-inolved ARE you?”), rants at “the United States of Gender” and blasts at the legions of “snowflakes” among his true peers, sometimes to his amen chorus of friends, often directly to the faces of permissive parents and judgmental, bullying-obsessed mothers and educators Jack finds himself at odds with.

“I’m paying you to educate my KID, not me,” he barks at his academic nemesis, Dr. L., a character drawn in to make one realize that the decade-long obsession with “bullying” isn’t so much to end the practice, just to change who’s allowed to do it. Harris, by the way, is wonderfully loathesome as Dr. L.

The waypoints of the plot have only limited promise and little originality. Post-vasectomy lawyer Mike (Woodbine) has to face a fresh pregnancy and possible marriage with his uncomplicated, much younger girlfriend (Reign Edwards) with his pals counseling “Just flush it,” a refreshingly blunt blast at the abortion debate. Pretending he’s younger and hipper Connor (Cannavale) has to grapple with the fact that he’s not young and hip, and that he’s letting his younger wife (Jackie Tohn) empower their out-of-control preschooler by refusing to correct or restrain the tantrum-tosser’s impulses.

Business “issues” come to a head in an impotent generational clash.

The best reason to reset movies like this Burbank/Pomona picture to the Pacific Northwest, the northeast or southeast is to avoid the laziest trap “Old Dads” falls into, the inevitable “guys roadtrip to Vegas” to escape all these feelings and complications. Nothing like gambling, coke and a strip club brawl to sort it all out, eh, Gen X?

Woodbine and Cannavale do decent. energetic work in support. And screen legend Bruce Dern shows up for some third act giggles as Jack meets Future Jack in the most obvious way.

Burr has a few ideas, none we haven’t seen before, and one can appreciate his rants while recognizing that there’s nothing subtle about them, no pre-cancelation Louis C.K. nuance.

What we’re left with is the spectacle of watching a “bully” punch down at assorted cultural straw men, with his “boys” there to high five him after he does. That gets old fast, “Dad.”

Rating: R, drug abuse, fisticuffs, profanities by the bucketful

Cast: Bill Burr, Bokeem Woodbine, Bobby Cannavale, Katie Aselton, Reign Edwards, Rachel Harris, Miles Robbins and Bruce Dern.

Credits: Directed by Bill Burr, scripted by Bill Burr and Ben Tishler. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:44