The other day I posted about a very common type of hipster; the kind that photographs other people’s graffiti and then tries to exhibit it as his own ‘re-purposed’ art. As plagiaristic as that sounds, it’s a very common and accepted thing to do among the fauxhemian, nasally, gentrification crowd. These graffiti blogtographers have never actually touched a can of spray paint but feel their photos give them “urban street cred“. There’s nothing like hanging with a few other bearded $2500 a month rent paying, 122lb, bearded pussies in zany North Brooklyn while cracking open some PBR’s and munching on quail meat and rooftop arugula tacos and telling your buddies how you dangerously took those graffiti shots from the safety of your loft window using the camera and 200mm lens your parents bought you for your 29th birthday.

Then you have the hipsters who actually get their eagle claw hands slightly dirty and try to do some graffiti. This was sent in to me to show the difference and contrast in actual old school graffiti and post-2000 hipster graffiti:

 

How embarrassing. Dick Chicken? Clap your hands and say like yah, like yah, like yah? You see, these hipsters that wrote this “art” have no idea how horrible it is. These are the same people that as children back in fly-over state land would come home with a stick figure or some macaroni glued to a piece of paper and have an elaborate Rice Krispy treat party thrown for them including a clown, magician and rent-a-pony with all the other 23rd place trophy receiving Zacherys and Emmas from the neighborhood invited as well. Even until this day, the parents of these hipster fucks can’t admit to their own kidults that they are fucking failures and keep on spoiling them by paying the inflated Brooklyn rents that were caused by the hipsters in the first place. Tell me, what can’t these rent-raising interlopers ruin?