Check out these pictures of Colby with his early Christmas present sent in from Mommy in Culdesacia, Wisconsin. These clueless gentrifiers really do think they are back home in their rustic little towns where the smell of Mom’s Rice Krispy treats waft through the constantly opened front door of their McMansion. Notice how this jockey whip-armed gentrifier is so pre-occupied with his music, i-Phone and some advertisement (probably one of those “Work from Home and earn $500/day!” ads) that he’s vapidly gawking at. I’m really surprised that in that last picture you don’t see someone walking off with his precious Mac that he will use to mix his totally awesome indie rawk music on and post Craigslist Missed Connection ads with.
Today, I saw 38 year old Mason the gentrification coffee shop latte foam operations manager sailing his paper boat – which is one of his self-absorbed resumes with a list of made-up hipster job titles – along a Bedford Ave curb. So I hid in the sewer dressed like Pennywise the Clown from ‘IT'; I dragged him in by his Bob Barker microphone arm; snapped his neck and sent him on an underground raft tour of Brooklyn as a pack of rats chewed on his meat-less Olive Oyl physique and sang Row Row Row Your Boat. End of story.
Watch as this prick transforms himself into the Pringles Man. LOOOOOOK ATTTTT MEEEEEEEE! Remember to buy your old-timey moustache wax for Christmas!
Today, I saw Colby, 28 and Tanner, 30 having a gentrification play-date sleepover on the rooftop of their $2500 studio they scored in Bed-Stuy. So I pissed on their virtual campfire i-Phone app; zipped them up in their free-trade biodegradable sleeping bags and beat them unconscious with a Direct TV satellite dish. End of story.
It’s been brought to my attention that one of the 198,244 unique, local, sustainable artists of Bushpointburg has a must-have item up for sale on Craigslist – a true piece of carefully hand-crafted art/furniture for your overpriced “kewel zip-code” apartment. It’s a ladder with two board. Like, yah.
Did I mention it’s “upcycled”?? What the fuck is upcycled? It’s just another catch-phrase made by the hipster crowd of transient kale eating fucks to make their meaningless art and hobbies sound better. Upcycled is simply another word for “made”. God I hate these people. I think I’m going to respond to this parentally funded artisté and tell him I need this delivered to me at the Coney Island projects tonight at 1 am.
As I was scrolling through this list of “Only Famous in New York” people, I was praying that Matthew Silver the fraudulent, wanna-be loony person would not show up – and he didn’t. Why? Because like I said he’s a fucking fraud – a transient hipster piece of attention-starved shit. Sorry Matthew, I guess you’ll have to keep screaming in Union Square in your soiled green Speedo waving a rubber chicken around for another decade before you get “noticed”. Get a job. Oh, and I know you are reading this and very upset you didn’t make the list. I know this would have been a milestone in your amazing career. You are nothing but another try-hard hipster in a long line of try-hard hipsters who are taking up precious space in Brooklyn.
Recently I posted about a woman who literally dropped everything and moved to France on a kale crusade. I really don’t have the energy to rant about this one – so just read this N.Y. Times piece about hipsters ruining Paris. What can’t these bastards ruin? When will it end?
Today, as I was pissing on an urban, sustainable, hipster radish garden in Nieuw Bozwik, I saw Baker typing up a raving Yelp review of a tofurkey panini he had at Sawyer’s “Real NY” Deli that still has the ‘Hector’s Auto Repair Shop’ sign in front. So I dragged him by his windshield wiper arms to an A & S Pork Store in actual Brooklyn and ran his bearded Spin Doctor face through the cold cut slicer. End of story.
Zany Zane, a previous winner of the “LOOOOOK AT MEEEE” award is back for more attention. I wonder what it’s like to go through life being nothing more than a punchable hipster fuck who poses for beard pictures? Check out the nasty video of him at the bottom eating French fries out of his disgusting pigeon shit nest. I can just picture this attention-starved jerkoff putting on a show in the Bedford Ave L train station, surrounded by a bunch of kazoo-voiced, bearded, recent arrivals from Flyoverlandia who aspire to be like him one day thinking “Brooklyn is so kewel” as they head to their assistant creative skate board repairman jobs in a gritty, abandoned and converted poultry slaughter house in Bushwick. Hey Zane…keep growing that beard so I can hunt you down and asphyxiate you with it.