Gasoline and Hipsters – A Feel-Good Story

February 2009 –

 So Sinn [Jon] is in town visiting for a week.  It’s Sunday, and we finally have a day to relax.  Swinggcat [Josh] suggests we get together.  Sinn and Swinggcat haven’t really ever had a chance to meet.  They haven’t really had the opportunity to  “Quality Time” together cso we figured it’d be good to meet somewhere, and have a few beers. Swinggcat’s buddy has a place in mind that may be somewhat happening on a Sunday night.

 We got the plan down: We are to arrive at this place in Hollywood enjoy some ice cold brews, have some conversation, bullshit around and hey, socialize with the locals a bit too.  Upon entering the joint, it immediately becomes apparent that this particular joint is the habitat for malfunctioning members of society, the highest order of douchebaggery possible: The one and only group that is known as Hipsters!

 The night starts out fun with us chatting about different things, joking around, and discussing the whacky community for a bit too.  A bit later, the crowd starts pouring in, the music gets louder, the noise level becomes too much to carry a normal conversation.

 As I walk around, I quickly start to realize that I am dealing with one of the cesspools of society, this Hipster crowd.  New York City sewer rats wouldn’t be caught in this place.  They’d find it’s beneath them.

 Hipsters are a weird breed of people.  The Frat-boy party-forever crowd of the South Bay is just as shallow, if not more.  Only difference is that they don’t pretend to be any better than what they are.  They know their priorities: Cocktails and Parties, drugs and pussy.

 They make no bones about it and there is no effort to mask what they are.  They are what they are.  They’re shallow and superficial, but they don’t use that as a crutch to feel superior to others.  Plus, you can still have fun with the “Frat boy” crowd.  (or at least I can.) You can drink with them, tell dirty jokes, hear their stories about some girl they banged while being wasted last weekend in Vegas, and discuss other irrelevant crap.

 Hipsters are different.  As a group, they have that “Holier than thou” attitude, except that they have nothing to be proud of.  Their only accomplishment in life is choosing to a listen to an alternative band that no one else has heard of, with the record they bought from their allowance from their parents.  Whether they actually like the music is really irrelevant. What’s important is that few others like that band.

 If you live in a different country, you may be unfamiliar with these creatures.  Take the “Goth” crowd and take it one step further.  Imagine a group of people dressed in weird outfits because they want to be different than the rest of society, and yet they go to a social venues to be with 500 other people with the exact same limited mindset.  They don’t really work, or do much else.  They think they’re artistic and the proof of that is that they listen to musical groups no one has ever heard of.  However, because they listen to musical groups that no one has really heard of, they are better than you.  That’s the Hipster mindset.  Surly, arrogant, underachievers.   Hope that paints a picture of Hipster for ya. 

 As I walk around the club, I start to wonder if Hipsters are the most pretentious, phony, useless wannabes the planet has ever seen.  They contribute nothing to society.  At least, the frat boys keep the alcohol industry on its feet by over consumption of distilled Spirits.  Hipsters do nothing.  Some of them are under the illusion that they are artists but then they don’t produce any art.  They’re just really good at putting down anything that appeals to a mass audience.

 They do nothing.  Yet, when you walk up to one to say hello, you become quickly annoyed by their high level of obnoxiousness.  They’re like the asshole waiter from Office Space who wore 37 pieces of Flare.  That guy would be a hipster.  No wait, he couldn’t be a hipster.  He had a job!!

 I am disgusted by the venue, but in reality, more disgusted with myself for being in such a place.  It’d be good to chat with the guys, but they’re getting wasted on Alcohol.  I am sober. Stallone is once again yelling at me inside my head with his famous, “You’re better than that” speech. 

 Sinn has taken the honorable route of getting really wasted.  I can’t blame the guy.  Being drunk may be the only thing that makes this place tolerable.   He is working his way up to having 6 shots of Patron tequllia, part of his journey that night on the way to consuming about 14 cocktails.  The man’s ability to handle his alcohol without getting sick and throwing up is legendary.

 I am the sober guy.  Swinggcat has started having a few cocktails too.  He likes having a smoke after hitting a few cocktails.  He approaches two hipsters to chat with them, and he makes a joke to appease the hipsters.  Momentarily, the Hipsters appear pleased.  Then he bums a cigarette off of them.  The two hipsters have the body language of robots, very stiff, and mechanical.  I have no desire to talk the guys or the women of this place, and yet I can’t quite leave yet. 

 I realize that if I am not going to talk to any of these pretentious, surly misfits , then I might as well make the best of it.  I might as well entertain myself somehow!   I have my camera on me!  I should document the Hipsters, and so I start taking photos of them.  I am feeling Philanthropic.  I realize that if I Blog about these scumbags, then their existence may serve a purpose. It will have been fodder for entertainment. 

 I take some general shots of the crowd.  Then, I spot Two Hipsters standing on the side, doing what hipsters are good at doing: absolutely nothing.  The two friends are so mismatched in their outfits that it looks like they met on match.com from hell. 

Photo of first Hipster is here:

 

 As you can see, his outfit has a quaint feel of “Pee-Wee Herman in Neverland Ranch” feel to it. Sporting a 70s feel, he comes across as a pedophile who hasn’t quiet decided as to whom his next victim shall be.  He is studying them carefully.  He is just glad this is not the age of the Internet where people could look him up.

The 2^nd jerkoff is elusive. I am trying to take a photo but there are people in the way. 

-First picture, no good.  His back is turned to me!
  .
-2^nd  photo attempts. Nope. His face is blocked and by now, he can see I am taking photos of him.   By my third photo attempt, he probably thinks I am some creepy stalker.  He may think I am gay, or some sort of a maniac.  I don’t care.  I am relentless.  I want my Blog photo!  My Blog audience deserves that much.  The world deserves to see the hipster in all its glory.  This isn’t just for my blog anymore.  This photo has taken on a greater cause of global importance! 
   .
-3^rd attempt.  I see the Hipster.  He sees me for a split second and looks away.  It’s like an old Mexican standoff.  I point my camera, turn up the ISO as it’s dark in the alley, clear shot, FIRE!  Full blast, flash, photo, YES!! I capture the hipster for the world.  Here he is below:
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  I can’t begin to explain what he was thinking.  Looking like something Sasha Baron Cohen character Bruno threw up, he holds on to his hipster standards.  Long stockings- that even Santa Clause wouldn’t wear-up to his knee,  Addidas exercise shorts in case a Soccer game broke out,  not to mention a scarf wrapped around his neck just in case he ended up in Chicago by accident instead of Southern Cal.  And the beauty is that nothing matches. 

 You’d have to use a super computer to generate random patterns for hours to come up with something this poorly conceived.

 In retrospect, I kinda feel bad for this particular guy.  He is a victim of the Hipster scene. Somehow he was bullshitted into thinking that dressing this way would somehow make up for having been the awkward kid in school.   Nevertheless, this pretentious subcategory of scumbags has to be exposed.  The frat-party boys are scumbags are in their own right but we slay one beast at a time here.

 I start thinking of designing a T-shirt to wear at Hipster events, should I ever come back to such a scene again.  Jon seems to be more familiar with the nuances of these idiots more so than I.  I run the ideas by him while he is still coherent.  The following important conversation takes places between us regarding my T-Shirt Idea that leads to the genesis of a very important slogan :

Me
Man, these fucking hipsters are sooo annoying.

Sinn
Yep, they’re douchebags.

Me
Is there a bigger group of douchebag than hipsters? 

Sinn
Can’t think of one. 

Me
You know what’d be awesome?  To walk back into those bars wearing an anti-hipster shirt.  That’d be entertaining to see their reactions. 

Sinn
That’d be fun.  But they would not react.  That’s part of their surly attitude.

Me
But it has to be something offensive to Hipsters.  Something like, “I hate hipsters”

Sinn
They’d just ignore that.  They wouldn’t care.  They already know they’re scumbags.

Me
Hmm, how about something like, “Hipsters = The ultimate douchebags.” 

Sinn
Nope, that wouldn’t work.  They’d think it’s ironic.  They’d enjoy the attention.  You have to understand their culture and the hipster mindset.  A shirt like that is just giving them attention and they’d enjoy that.  Right now, you still haven’t gotten the hipster mindset.

Me
Damn it!  Trying to piss off Hipsters is harder than originally thought.
Well, this isn’t as easy as I thought. How about something like, “I break indie records in the name of hipsters??”

 Sinn
Wouldn’t work! 

Me
Why??

Sinn
You gotta understand the hipster mindset.  They like to act surly and arrogant and pretend they’re better than everyone.  A shirt like that would just give them a reason to act more surly and arrogant.  It just gives them more of an excuse to be a douchebag.  

[I take a few moments to think, considering the hipster culture, mindset and disposition.  This is not easy.]

Me
Hmm……….  I got it! I got it!! The perfect T-Shirt!

Sinn
What?

Me
Ready for it?  I Enjoy Pouring Gasoline on Hipsters!

Sinn
Fuck, I think you got it!  That’d work!  That’s actually pretty good.

Me
Well, they can’t ignore that!

Sinn
Nope they can’t!    They could pretend it doesn’t bother them, but it would. It’s just so violent and graphic.  They’d be horrified, and they couldn’t do anything about it, because they’re such pussies.

Me
That’s the beauty of it.  It’s horrific and violent.  It’s so vile, and disturbing.   Very Joe Pesci-esque.  It’s not ironic and it cannot be ignored, and yet they can’t do anything about it.  You in on this?

Sinn
It’s awesome.  They’d see it, and pretend it doesn’t bother them, but it’d get on their nerves, and being the biggest pussies in the world, they’d just do nothing about it. I’d wear one too.

Me
If you went to an Italian club, and wore a shirt that said I pour gas on Italians, for example, you’re probably not walking out in one piece.   Hipsters, for all their arrogance would just watch in horror. That’s what makes this great.

Sinn
If you make them, I’d wear one too.  We should do it. 

And that conversation was the genesis of my new T-Shirt idea! 

 “I enjoy Pouring Gasoline On Hipsters!”  

 
It’s perfect for cities like LA, NY, and specially San Francisco.  All three have large populations of arrogant, surly, rude, hipsters who do nothing in their lives except brag to each other about what no-name band they listen to.  I think this T-shirt would work well with a graphic.  If you’re a graphic artist, we could use your skills in producing an image, something like a hipster running at full speed towards a window while being set ablaze……. (And don’t worry, it’s a joke. We are not REALLY pouring gasoline on Hipsters.)

All in all, it wasn’t that bad.  I was able to entertain myself in a place I did not want to be in, and even got a great idea for a T-shirt.  Potentially huge money maker…  Just goes to show: You never know where a great business idea may come from, and hipsters can be inspirational.