Just thought I would post a few recent e-mails.
You sir, have made my day…and its barely 10am PST. I am a 52 year old long time Mission district San Francisco resident who is thoroughly appalled at the ongoing gentrifying influx in my historically poor/working class neighborhood. (starting circa 1995 with the post grunge junkie chic-ster’s and continuing to the present batch of skinny-jeaned, pastel-colored fixie bike-riding, bearded hipsters)
The next time I push my way through a sea of scratchy Pendleton shirts to get to the bar of my favorite (and now crowded) local dive, I will be thinking of your phrase “estrogen lumberjacks” (I grew up in Oregon too..they remind of my uncles at childhood christmasses past….except it’s 80 degrees and sweaty in this bar) It won’t explain why my Guinness tap has been replaced by PBR (who knew it came in anything but a can?) but it will soften the cruel blow.
I was in fear that I was becoming “crotchety” in my old age. (not to be confused with crocheted) but you (and your loyal comment posting readers) have alleviated that fear.
Now I must go stand in line at my favorite greasy spoon. Gone are the days when one could simply walk in, grab a stool and read the paper while enjoying a second cup of coffee. Now i must stand around outside in a fog of blue American Spirit smoke while waiting to be rushed. I must get there before the brunch crowd shows up.
keep the beatings coming
First of all I love your diehipster page. but these fucking hipsters are now coming all the way across the atlantic to Ireland, I recently witnessed a Tweed fucking bike ride in my city, and found their page on Facebook, full of pictures of fucking moustached hipster scum. a good friend of mine has been consumed into their group, used to be a normal guy, but now wears jeans so tight i can see his balls
keep up the good work, i shall fight the hipsters on this side of the sea
I grew up in Wappingers Falls, NY, where I NEVER would have expected those dirtbag, try-hard midwestern organic losers to spread their lameness. Now I see that nothing is safe.
Goddammit. I will mail you a crate of Louisville Sluggers if you promise to use them on popsicle-stick limbed freekin veegans before they spread beyond Brooklyn.
Thanks for the great blog. It keeps me laughing at hipsters when I want to be igniting them, but I have a family and don’t wanna wind up in the can. Plus I don’t imagine they’d burn for long. Waste of gas.