For the past while I’ve thrown myself headfirst into the now
common practice of crucifying hipsters. Figuratively at this point, but you
never know. But why? It’s twofold I suppose. From a purely selfish angle, I
loathe anything that’s done for image alone. Be it ironic t-shirts, record
collecting, taxidermy or vintage bikes. This, to me, devalues the honest
pursuit of these things by real, legitimate weirdos/geeks and pathetic nerds.
My people you could say.
These things have been stolen from us and are now unjustly
put into the hipster category. I now feel sheepish about my Colonel Sanders,
Galagher, and Telly Savalas records. My truck nuts have lost their sheen. And
I’m deeply saddened when I look into the eyes of my life size Vincent from
Beauty And The Beast poster. So much so that I gifted to someone so I could
walk away from the pain.
Women in prison movies. Howard the Duck. Awful art. Bad TV.
None of these things have a place in the home of a guy wearing skinny jeans
sporting a 1920s moustache. You see he and his kind do not appreciate the
underlying beauty of ridiculous things. The struggle involved in finding an unopened
package of Alf trading cards. The joy in putting on a Christian Ventriloquist
record. These things are precious. Not trends to further one’s image.
Now, when I see Galagher smash a watermelon, I no longer see
the fruit. Instead, I see my heart being smashed one zany
swing at a time. I'd tell you I was about to cry, but you might think I was being ironic.
