Hipsterisms

I’m not sure why, but the sight of someone drinking PBR with a trucker hat, tight pants and a beard makes me see red. They’re harmless, but I can’t escape them.

Q: How many hipsters does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Oh, it’s a really obscure number, you probably wouldn’t have heard of it.

The male of the hipster species sports the most unfortunate, unkempt mustache/beard combo he can coax out of his stupid face. I want to waterboard him with that PBR then hit him over the head with an LP of some obscure band no one’s ever heard of but he loves because he’s so cool until he goes unconscious and then remove the beard with some scissors, and maybe stab him a few times with a pencil sans gripper.

It’s a strange vanity, making yourself look ridiculous and ugly. It seems to me like it’s an aggressive statement of I’M COOL LOOK AT ME! Like, I don’t even care. But, maybe? I do care. Because no one could accidentally look this bad. Like, seriously, check me out.

No. You’re not cool. You just have some old lady’s fur stole from the early twentieth century glued to your stupid face. I hate you. Go move to Williamsburg because I know you want to.

Maybe I’m just jealous. I can’t grow a beard like the Riker or make myself look like I was in the Civil War or have fluffy, luxurious Lambchops!

Maybe the hipster thing is good? After all, how much ‘irony’ can we stomach as a culture? It must eventually pass.

But this guy also has some points.
Maybe they’re not so bad.

This guy said some interesting stuff.

Let me be clear: I’m not against the indie/alternative lifestyle. There is nothing more reassuringly traditionalist than the counterculture. For 30 years, the music, the fashions, the poses and the urban weeklies have all been the same. Everything in this society changes except nonconformity.

But if the hipster trend is going to make men look better, if this is the next logical step after metrosexualism, a reaction against that movement to say “I don’t want to look manicured (in fact, fuck being manicured, I’m a man- look at the size of my beard!) but I still am mindful of aesthetics want to have a strong look,” that’s great. But I hope the next step isn’t one that’s as painful to my eyes.

It’s not just the look that pisses me off. It’s the attitude. The cooler than thou thing that I’m sure we’ve all gone through as teenagers. I had this friend, let’s call him John, because that was his name. John seemed cool when I first met him. We went to see shows together, cooked, and drank delicious microbrews. Thanks to John, I now know that not all beer is piss water. While we were becoming friends, I noticed that he would always make obscure references to things I’ve never heard of, and being curious and interested in learning new things, I would ask. Usually this is how it works when you make friends. You learn things about their sphere of knowledge, and they learn yours. I soon learned to stop asking. He looked for little obscure pieces of information, stupid YouTube videos and rare bands. He could pull out random quotes to try to look well read. If I talked about something he didn’t know about, or called him out on poaching stuff from a book I’d actually read, he would get this look of extreme insecurity on his face and immediately change the subject to the next strange meme he’d discovered. Every once and a while, he’d say something interesting, which is why we remained friends for a little while, but it got tiresome.

Don’t get me wrong. I like obscure facts just as much as the next person. After all, I YouTube QI sometimes. But this strange fetishizing of information has got to stop. It’s appropriate for the times, I suppose, but I’m ready for people wearing Cosby sweaters to run out of irony and be stuck with the realization that their cool has left them and they’ve been drinking crappy beer for three years for no reason.

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3 thoughts on “Hipsterisms

    1. Wow. Every paragraph of that had something awesome to say. Thank you! I love love loved the paragraph about dancing. I’m going to go back and read it again.

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