I Hate You, Hipsters

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I don't consider myself "hip." In fact, you could say I am the complete opposite of hip: I cut my own hair; I routinely re-use clothes from the hamper; I like to wear cargo shorts and put tissues and napkins and other shit in the lower pockets so they bulge outward like a fat man's love-handles stuffed in spandex. Needless to say, I am an abomination to anything labeled "chic" or "in." Why? Well, mostly because I don't give a fuck. There are more important things in life to worry about (i.e. why does Javy Vazquez suck so bad? Why is there no more toilet paper? Who greenlit a remake of "The Karate Kid" starring Will Smith's stupid scientologist kid?) than what I plan on wearing to go and get a slice of pizza.

But I am smart enough to know when someone looks ridiculous. Case in point: Hipsters. There is just something about coke bottle glasses and fedoras and flannel shirts and jeans that are so tight they can give an unwanted sex-change that makes me want to start hurling Molotov cocktails in the general direction of the stoops in which they inhabit. You idolize Allen Ginsberg? Well, then go write shitty poetry and take it up the ass, but just stay the fuck out of my way - CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I’M TRYING TO BUY LOTTO TICKETS?

And what the fuck kind of hairdo is this? Dunk your head a piss-filled toilet and flush? You look like an asshole. Actually, you look like a fucking soccer mom in full mid-life-crisis mode...is that the angle you're going for? Every single douchebag (both famous and common) who wears his hair like that can go fall into an open sewer filled with Chlamydia and molten lava. If I ever have a kid who one day decides to look like this, I'm going to shave his head with a broken Budweiser bottle and force him to watch “The Wild Bunch” until he can recite the entire script word-for-word, and then make him reenact it for me and my friends. Why? Because "The Wild Bunch" fucking rakes, and it's the farthest from hipster ideology possible.

And what about guys who wear skinny jeans? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? Skinny jeans were invented for women, not for you, dickless. The fact that I have to look at you as you mosey into the subway like a fucking cowboy on your way to Urban Outfitters is grounds for castration. STOP IT RIGHT NOW. You are not a part of an Indie Rock movement. And if you were, you'd be double-fucking-dead, so be happy you're not.

This speaks more to growing plague of pansies in this country. Whiny cry-babies who would rather smoke American Spirits, watch a shitty French movie, and listen to terrible bands from Williamsburg, than go out to a real dive bar, listen to brain-melting rock, punch someone in the fucking face, then go home at the end of the night and bang a waitress like a real man. But this is beside the point. We need to start the de-pussification of men somewhere, and I think it starts here. So go home, grab a pipe/baseball bat/axe, head out to the streets, and start prowling for anyone wearing a fedora and Buddy Holly glasses. Just make sure it's not an 80 year old senile man who still thinks it's 1957.