excerpted from Christian Lorentzen's "Why The Hipster Must Die."
"Yes, the assassins of cool still walk our streets: Any night of the week finds the East Village, the Lower East Side, and Williamsburg teeming with youth—a pageant of the bohemian undead."
if i must say one thing, it will be this. though i'm not going to place the blame squarely on 9/11, the paradigm shift that the event forced down our throats has left the sheep completely clueless as to their status as sheep. just sayin.
can't you hear them now?
"oh i'm just soooo cool. way cooler than you. i rebel by fitting in with a 'different' crowd."
my first true experience with this harrowing devolution occurred last month. perusing the hauntingly sycophantic (and epicly filthy) Williamsburg sector of Brooklyn after chilling at Shooting Gallery Studios (). just the Outrageous Hologram, TimeMachine, Muscle Matt, Killa Kos, and Dangerous Dave, fighting for our survival. while trying to decide on which bar to resume blowing yay in, we aimlessly stood outside a crowded establishment whose name goes unremembered at the moment.
enter the hipster and his cunt. dressed like fucken doo-woppers or greasers or some other reference to a long-retired subculture (also referenced in Lorentzen's article).
this homo, intrigued by our streetbound indecision, felt it necessary to contribute his two cents.
push comes to shove, and this hipster-cocksucker is more or less insinuating that we enjoy golden showers. but not in the way that would make you want to fuck him up right then and there. i've been in plenty of situations where people have stepped less lightly and gotten "the Hands." but it seems that when they come at me with this passive aggressive, snide shit, my sensibilities aren't as thoroughly disturbed and thus, i don't want to grind a broken bottle into their eye sockets. no coming back from that.
now surely i'm not some meatlion who gets all roidrage when someone implies i'm gay, but every now and then you just gotta break one of these self-assured fucks' noses. got it?
the end? well we took it in stride, ruminating on the shittiness of the inhabitants of this section of town (or is it the entire town?) as we casually strolled down the block on our way to nowhere.
so although Lorentzen's article focuses on the "death of New York cool" (something TimeMachine hipped me to some months ago, but that i didn't understand until arriving at the Bedford Ave. subway stop upon deployment to Williamsburg), i think there's a lesson in this for the entire continent.
we've got cats dressed like DayGlo train robbers (call it an ill-guided perversion of 1990s hyper-fluorescence). we've got cats wearing shirts eight sizes too big. we've got motherfuckers dressed like pirates and shit. all in all, a generation of misguided young souls subscribing to the most ridiculous shit (stylistically or otherwise) that you can imagine. all in the name of being cool.
but kinda like keef said, if you gotta wonder whether you're cool, or even think about it for a second, then you ain't.
the death of cool? sure, why not? but the situation's hardly irrevocable. just gotta get our heads out of our asses. i aim to help. how, you might ask? surely you can't hope to take on an entire city, much less the most dynamic and revered in the land? well, why the fuck not?
but let's say i'm feeling less than idealistic. in that case, i'd simply make it my mission to indict the perpertrators of this tragedy one by one, as i encounter them in the streets and bars and clubs and galleries of those hallowed built-up areas. and i suggest you do the same kid. because everyone knows that the worst thing you can do to a leather-jacket-wearing, mp3-blogging, chain-smoking, Brooklyn Vegan faggotron who paid 300 bucks for his haircut is to say "hey fuck you you fucking leather-jacket-wearing, mp3-blogging, chain-smoking, Brooklyn Vegan faggotron who paid 300 bucks for his haircut! you ain't shit and your mama ain't neither! bitch!"
Read Lorentzen's article HERE.
and in case it wasn't obvious, i'm expecting that those that even loosely fit into the aforementioned category described by yours truly fire back. the more hateful and disrespectful, the betterman.
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