Today’s hipster beating.

Today, I saw Ethan the tweezer-physiqued, self-proclaimed ‘foodie’ typing up a freelance review of Bushwick’s own premiere forest-to-table restaurant called the Quirky Quail where heavily tattooed and bearded chef Mason Bedbuggio prepares the wild birds for the neighborhood’s newly arrived creative types. So I followed Ethan home and before he could blow his rape whistle I kicked him in the jaw and suffocated him with his Whole Foods messenger bag. End of story.

24 thoughts on “Today’s hipster beating.

  1. “The Quirky Quail”

    LOL :-)

  2. “It’s only because he can roll his eyes about how mainstream she is that he stays, it offers him a perch from which he is better than her, while simultaneously and no less ironically, this woman thinks she is better than him because she’s on the correct side of the counter and her husband works on Wall Street. In math terms, the difference between what he is actually worth and the amount he is paid is how much he values feeling superior to MILFs.”

  3. “Maon Bedbuggio”. Rape whistle. Gotta love it!

    • It’s small-i “art” because this actually took effort to put together. It’s ART ART ART ART if the artist was too busy talking about how important the concept was to get it finished, or even to get it started.

  4. I was in Associated supermarket in Greenpoint and saw hipster Wild Bill Hickock. He was about
    6 foot two, painfully thin, wearing yellow plaid pants, and the most elaborate twee, curled and styled facial hair I ever saw…so I enlisted the guys from the deli dept and we beat him with an assortment of kielbasas.

    • WTF is a New Rider of the Purple Fixie doing there? I’ve heard a gaggle of them whining that there are too many Polish people working in that Associated who pretend not to understand them. News Flash! They do; but, they know it pisses off you less than worthless coat hanger wire-framed scumbags when they pretend they don’t. Take the hint: stay out of Associated, out of Greenpoint and go back to Cul-de-Sactuckyvania.

      Mickey, are you familiar with Shay’s, on Franklin between Greenpoint and Milton? I meet up with some of the old mob there on occasion. It’s a pisser watching the Monty Nasaltons and Meghan O’Wheresmyantibiotics cringe when we start on a “Hipsters are fucked up” conversation loud enough to be heard over the music. We don’t fuck with the bartender, though. He buys back every three rounds.

    • Perfect time for a “Today’s hipster beating” featuring DH administering a quirky, yet edgy, haircut to Zacc, the extension cord physiqued kale breeding specialist, with the overhead fan on a vintage R-1 subway car.

      • YES!!! Immediately followed by:
        Unscrew light bulb
        Screw in newly-shorn Zacc
        Sit back and enjoy the light show.

  5. So I was on a professional wrestling website reading a recap of the WWE event in Brooklyn last night. The guy who owns that website hates hipsters too. During his recap of the PPV, he mentioned how annoying the hipsters were in the audience. I haven’t youtubed it to see for myself but I can almost guarantee that those goofy bastards were only there to show off their quirkiness.

  6. I actually went into a Whole Foods store for the first time last week. The quality of their stock was good, but after doing some calculations for a week’s worth of groceries i realized I was better off buying from Safeway or the numerous Asian groceries near my apartment (their “international” section was disappointing). I can see going there as a splurge or a special event, but I can’t fathom doing routine grocery runs there.

  7. Yesterday, on East 14th Street, I saw a stereotypical woolly-hatted, painted-on-jeans, filthy Comverse-wearing stick figure riding on his skate board while listening through his earpiece and texting, zipping along on the pavement. I was hoping he would go under the Westbound M14 bus, but it missed him by centimeters. Damn!

  8. Did anyone see The New York Times’ feature on homeless young people in Seattle?
    Now, I don’t want to belittle people who are homeless, and I know that the economy is tough for a lot of people, including those who are hard-working and have good qualifications. But what struck me was that a lot of the people the reporter interviewed are hipster transplants who got liberal arts degrees and moved to Seattle without a job lined up.

    Reading through the comments, I came across this one, from “Cory” in Seattle, in response to a comment that was questioning why some of those interviewed couldn’t just move in with their parents and pool their wages:

    “I can understand where Ms. Wiley [one of the people interviewed] is coming from. Sometimes you just really don’t get along with a parent, and the understanding is that a homeless shelter is only temporary, until you get a few paychecks under your belt. Plus, most of the young people in Seattle are transplants. We’ve left our parents’ homes in other states to come to a “cool” city and if things don’t exactly work out once we get here, it’s tough. But you’ve moved with all your stuff and it’s easier to just try and work it out than move all the way back.

    Needless to say, I had a really hard time sympathizing with this guy…

    • Oh, geez. Oh, yeah, I know how that story turns out, over and over. When I moved to Portland in the Nineties, it was because I had a job waiting for me, and the only way I could afford to go across the continent was with a move package of some sort. Everywhere I’ve ever lived, it’s been because I’ve had a position all ready to go, and I wasn’t about ready to risk everything on the vague promise of kewl employ. A few years earlier, the editor of a magazine for which I worked made a big deal about my moving to Los Angeles, and I specifically asked him “Are you making me a job offer?” He started stuttering about how he didn’t actually have a job for me, but “I can find someone you can stay with until you find a real job.” As desperate as I was for work at the time, there was no way in hell I was going to do this, and I discovered later that this guy got off on inviting freelancers to come out, hinting that he was offering a job, and then laughing in their faces after they’d sold off everything and given up real jobs to move out there. I knew two guys who’d fallen for his schtick, and they had to live in their car for two weeks until they could get enough money together to move back, because they didn’t even have the gas money to get out of California.

      That’s what shocked me about Portland, and it’s only gotten worse. You constantly see nimtwits showing up in town, having been given enough cash to get an apartment and pay their bills for a while, who honestly believe they can get a job at a weekly newspaper or at a bookstore. Better, they think they can pay their bills, cover their rent, make their student loan payments, and still have plenty of money for partying with the sort of wages those jobs pay. Oh, and God help you if you try to convince them, say, that they’ve got a better chance of getting hit by a bus in their bathrooms than they have of snagging a weekly newspaper spot. Sure, Portland has three of them, but positions pretty much only open up as someone dies, and even unpaid intern spots have forty to fifty unemployables who figure that their English Lit degree at Dogfelcher State should be enough. Before they know it, they’re out of cash, their parents won’t give them any more, all of their “friends” abandoned them for someone who can afford beer and coke, and they’re refusing to leave because they’re SURE that the elusive publishing job they crave is going to come through. Any day now. Yep. Just you wait. Tell you what: cover their phone bill so they can take that call, and they’ll blow you twice.

      • It’s so true… I only came to New York after college because I had A) a PAID internship lined up that later turned into my current job and B) a native NYer boyfriend who owned an apartment here. If I didn’t have both of those, I would never have thought of moving here.
        So many people just expect things to happen because they will, without bothering to consider that you actually have to work not just hard but intelligently if you want to succeed in this world.

  9. I have to come clean about something.

    1) I love indie rock and indie films. Not because other hipsters like them, but because I’m personally drawn to a certain aesthetic about them. I don’t know why.
    2) I am a vegetarian. Been one since middle school, I was a Lisa Simpson-ish kid, embarrassingly enough. I buy organic when I can afford it (which is rarely.)
    3) I am a musician (drummer) and fine arts major. I’m a freshman in college. I love Tumblr.
    4) I love art- especially modern artists, mostly storyboard artists, comic artists, and animators. If I gave you a list of my top ten favorite artists, you’ve probably only heard of one.
    5) I adore hummus, artisan foods, and handmade things. They’re expensive, but the best kind of gift to get or receive, or a great sweet treat.
    6) I find hipster beards to be attractive. A well-kempt, clean, soft beard + a healthily plump physique + a flannel shirt = the most huggable kind of guy to ever exist, a human teddy bear. I personally find huggableness to be attractive and appealing.
    7) I’m 18, but I collect records. (Had to sell my record player for college money, though. And I’m not a vinyl elitist, I like CDs and digital just fine.)
    8) Much of the music I listen to is punk rock or obscure, but not because of those reasons. I happen to enjoy music like this. And I love Kimya Dawson.
    9) I wear thick-framed glasses. I need them to see. My eyesight is terrible. My glasses used to be sunglasses, but I had prescription frames put in because I needed new glasses and couldn’t afford new frames.
    10) I shop at thrift stores and I bargain shop, but out of necessity. (C’mon, I need money for college.)

    I am a hipster.

    I am sorry that I’m a hipster. It’s gross and embarrassing, I know. But I’d rather be myself than pretend to like things I don’t actually like.

    I promise- if I ever move to New York City, it will be out of necessity, and to sustain a real, honest job. I will find a cheap-ass apartment and try not to bother anyone. I will patron local businesses frequently and be polite and amiable to the locals and my native neighbors. I would not bother you.

    • You already bother the piss out of me with your narcissistic little justifications. Go find a hipster site to talk about yourself. You’ll be welcomed with open arms.

    • And let me just say on behalf of everyone here: STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM NEW YORK OR ANY OTHER “COOL” CITY. We already have more than enough of you people here.

      The only place you’re going to find a “cheap-ass apartment” is where normal New Yorkers live. And the minute you move in, the rent prices will go up and the place will be gentrified because everyone will think the neighborhood is “up and coming” thanks to hipsters like you invading the place. Then the normal, working people and immigrants will be forced out because they won’t be able to afford it anymore, and all their rich and varied cultures will be replaced with your organic, hummus, indie, artisan bullshit.

    • Well aren’t you precious…

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