Seattle Represent!

I effing hate hipsters.  The mere mention of the word “hipster” will bring me to convulsions at 20 paces. When I see a fixed-gear track bike, some sort of primal urge overcomes me and uncharacteristically forces my usually peaceful mind into a place of vengeance and division. Why do I feel this way? Why does a lifelong, anything goes type liberal foster so much hatred towards a seemingly innocuous group? I just simply can’t stand their supposed indifference and woeful smugness that everybody knows is bullshit.

From my experience, hipsters tend to be the kids who were made fun of in high school. The kids who were into shit that nobody else was into, probably with good reason. I get it – you are an adult now and can express yourself however you choose. This is the same flawed logic that leads kids in red states to join the KKK or the Neo-Nazi party – just because you can doesn’t mean the rest of us have to accept you. The twist though is that in order to be a hipster, apparently you take some fucking oath that prevents you from treating non-hipsters (you know, those of us who can deal with reality without being a walking cartoon) with even a modicum of respect, like so many bartenders on Capitol Hill. It’s humorous though – because while you walk the alleged high road, the vast majority of conscious observers point and laugh at you and your pathetic fashion “sense”.

Listen, the 80’s are gone, get over it. There were 8 years of a douche bag president who left the middle class bankrupt in finance and relevance, there was a bunch of coke, and some really shitty clothes – THAT’S ABOUT IT. It’s not a coincidence that people laugh at and make fun of the 80’s –yet hipsters idolize the era, as made clear by the tight jeans, disgusting color palette, leg warmers, disastrous hair, fucking annoying sunglasses, gaudy accessories, and apparent lack of self respect. I find it beyond ironic that hipsters create their image around an “I Don’t Give A Fuck” attitude – and yet they all wear the same shit. Their claimed departure from “trends” is a farce, as anybody can pick out a hipster from a mile off. Thrift stores are booming right now – no not because the economy is forcing people to buy used, but because smart business owners know a group of suckers when they see one. Crap that hasn’t sold for years at clearance prices all of the sudden flies off the shelf for exorbitantly high costs. Sunglasses that used to be reserved for homeless crackheads are now the go-to item for some scene chick to mask her perpetual hangover.

Even their chosen modes of transport get under my skin. I can identify two – one has a motor (barely), one is defined by it’s lack of gears, and both have a self-righteous prick riding them. I realize that in your constant need to be “different” you must have a fixed gear track bike that you pay to have customized to match the rest of your stupid possessions. What I don’t understand is why you feel the need to put a brake on the front wheel. Would you like to explain to me why you would add a brake to something that is not designed to have one?

Fixed gear bikes employ the same technology as the first bikes many of us rode – if you stop the pedals the wheels will stop, that is what a fixed gear does. So by adding a brake, not only are you showing the world that you don’t know what you are doing, but in all likeliness you have no business riding in traffic and we will (with any luck) be reading your obituary any day now.

I think the name for the other joke you fools ride around is called a “MoPed” – it’s a cross between a motor scooter and a bike, so it has a motor and pedals. It looks like a Vietnam circa 1964 machine and has enough power to eventually get up to a staggering 10 mph. Why does it offend me? Well besides of the fact that you look like an idiot riding this contraption, you are taking up the god damned road, which, I might add, you probably don’t pay any taxes for since most of you are subsidized by your parents anyway. GET A REAL MOTORCYCLE. Or even a Vespa for Christ’s sake. Just for once in your life, try to do something that is even remotely fucking normal.

While I used to live on the east coast and spent a significant amount of time on the lower east side of Manhattan, aka Hipster Central – I was always able to find solace in the fact that New York is full of all types of degenerates and people I don’t care about, so my hatred for hipsters was not able to manifest itself. No, this realization came last August, when the Blue Angels were in town. I had the miserable pleasure of volunteering at an event that, much to my chagrin, was populated almost entirely by hipsters. As the Blue Angels flew over, I was overwhelmed by sighs and whines and talks of “Do you know how much fuel they waste?” I do know, actually, and I am currently working on a process of turning dead hipsters into jet-fuel, I’ll keep you updated.  I do not condone violence against anybody, including this group of ne’er do wells who listen to shitty music and wear stupid scarves, I just don’t want to have to share oxygen with them, that’s all.