Musings on why I hate Hipsters and what they can do about it if they care

Musings on why I hate Hipsters and what they can do about it if they care

A friend wrote the following based on the recent New York Times article and related blogs dealing with the impact of the Great Recession on hipsters in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NYC:

I was going to make this a response to [my friend's] excellent update on the financial happenings of hipsters. But instead, I’ve decided to vent my spleen here. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to respond.

Hipsters……oh Hipsters…..how I hate thee! Let me list the ways:
A. Conformity. Every hipster seems to look the same. Crappy clothes (that aren’t actually crappy they just are styled that way), chuck taylor shoes, clove cigarettes, etc. etc. I believe they called it Derelicte in Zoolander—homeless chic.
B. Cheapening anything of value. They search for the authentic and then when they think they’ve found the authentic they cheapen it by making it into a style that they desire to globalize. This is not unlike their wealthy Daddies with their Italian fashions and imported cars. Or their unemployed mommies trying to save some piece of the rainforest, doing yoga, and having the Dali Lama on their shelf.
C. An insult to the working class. Their drink is Pabst Blue Ribbon, yet so many of their parents and admitted futures are with management or “designer wall paper”—whatever the fuck that is. You ask them to work an 8 hour day and they leave in a huff. “I am too good for the 8 hour day.” Good enough to drink the working man’s beer but not good enough to do the workings man job. Scuttle off “puss-cakes,” as Clint Eastwood would say.
D. Handlebar moustaches. Shave that shit off. This isn’t the 1890s.
E. “Avant garde” bullshit sessions at the local coffee house don’t make you an intellectual. I am not saying you need to go to college to be smart, though it does help. Reading and *thinking* about what you just read is far more enlightening than sitting around a hookah talking about what you’ve read without actually understanding its meaning. Reading widely and making intelligent, thoughtful conversation beats any new fix you can make on Noam Chomsky. All the fixes have been made kid.
F. Arrogance. Just because you’re from NYC or Brooklyn doesn’t make you special. I’ve been around both for quite a time. And, considering the experiences of my own travel, they aren’t special. You think NYC is the world? Dip yourself into Hong Kong. You’ll feel like the bumpkins you make fun of except you’ll lack their tact, grace, or taste.
G. G stands for Get a fucking job! Deliver pizzas, wait tables, work as a mechanic, do something with your life other than live off of mommy and daddy’s wallet. Part of the reason you have no self-respect and must act arrogant and fake is because you’ve never worked a day in your life. Work! Even if it doesn’t cover the bills entirely. You might actually learn something about people beyond your tight little cohort.

How to Stop Being a Hipster and Get Real:
1. Shave and start taking care of yourself. Look the part of a decent, normal human being. Stop trying to be an artist if you’re not one. The Bohemian life is for people of true talent. If you’re a hipster you probably don’t have any.
2. Stop trying to make statements. Be your own person. Don’t be derelicte unless you think there is some value to it, which I think if you asked a real homeless person they’d say, “Shiiiit If I had the money you had I’d buy myself a nice coat and some nice clothes. I wouldn’t dress like this.”
3. If you feel guilty about your money, stop. You want to help laboring folk out? Ask your Daddy if there is another way that he could save those 20 jobs he has to cut. Don’t drink PBR and think, “I am so pro-Union.”
4. Contribute something to society.
5. Spend time with books and old people. Both will fill you with more wisdom than all the late night jam sessions at Hal’s coffee shop you can have in one lifetime.
6. Learn to enjoy the simple things in life. But don’t overdo it.
7. Have an interior life. That’s where those simple joys should go.

Finally, get the fuck off my lawn.

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