Posted on 06/30/2010 7:49:05 AM PDT by Thurston_Howell_III
Somewhere in America right now a Religious Studies graduate in white shutter shades is sucking the Pabst Blue Ribbon from his wispy mustache while listening to a pig-tailed girl offer her position on Metamorphosis. They are hipsters. I know this because I met them. They hang out in front of a Coffee Bean. They are Aubrey and Aubrey and they live for the moments when strangers suggest that name ought to be gender exclusive. They work part-time gathering signatures for obscure causes and spend the rest of their time arguing about Sartre and Derrida and who borrowed whose pants.
They are preparing for a revolution, slowly.
When I first met the Aubreys, they carried clipboards and told me that if I wasn’t furious then I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t furious at the time, I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be furious about, which started to feel like furiousness and that seemed like a pretty good start.
“The American consumer is the raping and murdering foreign cultures,” mustached Aubrey told me while jabbing a finger in my chest. He was pale and even behind his glasses I could see that he was ugly. He had the kind of face you could believe was cooked up inside a human body, not like the usual miracles you see running around. “Who do you think made those sandals you’re wearing?” he spat. “Those cutoff jeans? That Looney Tunes sweatshirt?” It was a laundry day. “I’ll tell you who, some poor kid in the third world getting paid pennies so that you could save a couple of bucks.”
(Excerpt) Read more at cracked.com ...
Don't forget the patchouli. Ugh!
Sounds like “tribulation” to me.
I went to Facebook to post the article for the benefit of my hipster nephews. True to form, one hipster nephew had just posted a video to facebook which he had taken of a naked, pierced hippie singing and playing guitar at a little party near Bakersfield. (Thankfully, the guitar was strategically placed in the initial picture, so I didn’t have the full monty displayed on my facebook homepage). At least he has a sense of humor, so he indicated that he “liked” the article.
I’ll have to see if my local library has it. If not, I’m sure I can order a copy by the time I’m spending a week on the Outer Banks next month!
Thanks again.
If your library does not have a (nearly) complete collection of Barth’s works, then it is a strong indication that the director needs to be replaced.
I will let you know!
Hipsters: another generation discovers sex, alcohol, and how to do nothing.
If it isn't, billowing clouds of patchouli, BO and hemp comes mighty darned close.
Thus, TIKs talk to you and me, from the start, as if we are not in-the-know or just lesser enlightened beings. So a TIK, Aubrey, can say, “The American consumer is the raping and murdering foreign cultures.” The point that he really making is that they he is enlightened as to the next logical action. We could argue with him for hours, yet he is fixed in his view - he is a TIK - we are not. Of course, a TIK as a politician will use the coercive power of the government to enforce his enlightened view, because we surely will not let him do otherwise. He can handle the government, after all, he is a TIK.
The end result of such decisions looks nihilistic, indeed.
Trustafarian Fauxhemian have taken over much of western Brooklyn (to the point where “Brooklyn” has become synonymous with “hip” amongst the “people who matter” in New York), and have been showing up here in NW Queens as well. New York today is yuppies, hipsters, and immigrants, and if you don’t fit into those three categories, you will either be assimilated or sent to Siberia (aka Suffolk County or New Jersey).
A guy at work named his daughter “Brooklyn” and I said to him “you’ve never actually been there, have you?”
yeah. like studying mosquitoes.
In the words of Jim Kerr, "...vanity, insecurity..."
flip flops. hard rock cafes. strip clubs. frat parties. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
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