The Hipster

Guest Post by Ben Russell

I decided to rant about the one thing that all of us get the shits with, the one thing that no matter the race, colour and maybe religion, if you’re not one of those damn terrorists, can all agree really shits the tears out of us, wees on those tears and then throws a bucket of shitty wee tears in the face of all good, hardworking, robot fearing folk; You.

For you are the Hipster.
You have a moustache, you ride a fixed gear bike, you listen to bands with stupid names as well as some old school Hip Hop to counteract the crackers and you pretend like there is nothing in the world that can make you excited. 

Everything is something that you’ve had better of at some point in your life. You wander through your existence pretending like you know shit and yet your just as afraid and in the dark as every other poor bastard on this planet.

Now let me take a breath by saying that I have been called a Hipster and I can see why on the outset, I have large thick rimmed glasses, I ride a bike (thought not fixed geared, I prefer bikes that aren’t fucking stupid) and I used to have a regular spot on RTR fm. So things aren’t looking great for me, but the main difference is I love life and continually gets surprised by new information and people, plus I have the facial hair of an adolescent street urchin.

Of late I have been working at a popular internet t-shirt distribution centre, collecting t-shirts and putting them in bags to send to happy people who love puns. You would not believe the sheer amount of dirty hipsters that work at this place. They are all in some band or date someone whose in some band, they all dress amazingly and at the smallest chance they will hijack the iPod and put some shitty short, fast, loud band on and faux yell at each other, because that shit is funny. I go down to Wicker Park and I’m suddenly in a sea of whimsical tattoos that “their friend the artist designed for them”. There are so many tattoos I sometimes feel I’m being edgy by not having one, when asked if I have a buxom she panda with a robot squirrel on its shoulder holding a flaming dice in each hand and inform them that I’m too edgy to fall into the trend people shall gasp with fear and admiration... or continue to ignore my very existence, after all I’m not in a band.

Now there is a way to be these things and get away with, you just have to be interesting. The payoff has to be worth the hype otherwise we are left with the equivalent of a Roland Emmerich film with Jeff Goldblum mumbling down our faces with his dick out about what is essentially nothing and Bill Pulman giving a speech about how the 4th of July is now not just America Day but World Day.

So why don’t you take your shitty, baseless opinions, your amazing looking hair and skinny jeans and fuck off. Maybe I’m just jealous, jealous of having a defined cultural identity, I can’t call myself a Hipster because I like things, things that may be considered Commercial, plus I just don’t have the time to go through all the clothes at the Op –shop. Maybe if you weren’t so fucking pretentious all the time and didn’t think that you were somehow better than everyone else I would want to join you as a bracket of our social network. Maybe I’m just happy wondering the nether regions of society, every now and then giving the goods a poke and tickle and finding some enjoyment out of life...

wait, wait that didn’t sound right.

I agree totally with Mr Russell although I have never been accused of being anything like a hipster but I have on occasional wanted to hit them on the forehead with an open palm and shout at them. Captain Angry Ranty Pants

 More by Ben Russell can be found here

1 comment:

Andrew said...

You left out the part where, on top of everything else in this cesspit of human swill, hipsters are now becoming foodies. Overhearing a black-jeaned whore-man with a slut's moustache meandering about sauteing beef cheek was a new low.

Becasue I can't give up eating nice food. I'm weak.