Baseball

Up until recently, I've been somewhat of a pessimist. If you look over any of my previous blogs or Tweets, you'll see that I can always find something to complain about. Call it a talent, a curse, whatever you want, but from HERE ON OUT, I'm going to start liking people. It's too easy to hate stupid people. It's like trying to hunt down every terrorist in the world. Impossible, right? So, I'm going to take the road less traveled and try to understand and embrace people of every personality and behavior.

Excpet for these people:

Hipsters.

Gangsters stand for power and infamy; Nerds stand for intelligence; Athletes stand for fitness and strength.

Hipsters stand for nothing.

You see them everyday. The pale, skinny-armed, mocha-colored-Aviator-sunglasses-wearing pseudo-hippies that trapse around smelling like marijuana and looking like roadkill. To me, the Hipster is the antithesis of what people should aspire to be. I understand that some women are strangely attracted to them, but that's because women are very vain. See, if they could, women would just clone themselves and make out with their clone all day. But, Hipsters offer an almost identical alternative (since they're sensitive, emotional, chic, and penis-less); women can make out with Hipsters all they want without declaring themselves as lesbians. Handy, no?

Hipsters attempt to establish themselves as "Mysteriously Awesome". By wearing t-shirts emblazened with the logo of a little-known Indie band, they can achieve a fundamental level of mystere. Coupled with a pair of jeans purchased at the local Babies 'R Us and a ill-fitting wool cap, the Hipster is ready to mosey out into the world. Of course, there's the optional wisp of facial hair, or haircut (one of which that entails the asking of the barber to "just f&#k it up"), but if the Hipster wishes to transcend to the ultimate level of Slackerism, the one crucial element required is simply this: do not use hard consonant sounds This is the coup de grace when it comes to the Hipster ideology. Don't understand? Let me explain with some examples.

"What's up, bro?" becomes "Wha's uh, prah?".

"No freaking way, dude!" becomes "Nah free'in way, dooh!"

"Let me help you down from that forklift, sir." becomes "Lemme ghet you dun fruh tha for'lift, suh."

See? It's that easy. With this lexicon, the Hipsters can quickly and effectively move throughout society as well as assimilate new members in their quest for, uh, nothing.

The only way to snap out of the spiraling depression that I am occasionally afflicted with when I hear Hipsters speak, see them move, smell them, or taste them, is to think about two things. 1) Where they work and 2) what they do during family vacations.

1) Most Hipsters either don't work or are garbage emptiers/floor moppers at the local movie theater, fast food joint, or Blockbuster. This is because Hipsters are what you'd call "Unskilled Laborers". You see, in the 1870's, during America's burgeoning Industrial Age, workers were pigeonholed into two categories: Skilled and Unskilled. This is basically the same thing. When a middle-aged man walks into BurgerKing and orders a burger, he doesn't want to look into the reflective surface of a lip ring or see the sweat glistening on the swollen pores of a freshly shaven chin, since the manager said that "soul patches were unacceptable in the workplace". Therefore, Hipsters are banished to the back of the building and made to clean up the excess waste made by those of worth. And to me, that is amusing.

2) During the actual trip to the family get-together, the Hipster assumes the position in the back seat of the van or SUV. Earbuds placed firmly in the cochlea, iPod turned up to maximum volume so as to avoid any irritating conversation by other family members, and cell phone keyboard clicking away with the words of unfounded disdain about how much he hates his family floating across the ether to the Hipster's friend. When he arrives at the destination, he crawls into his hotel room and turns on MTV. If there are relatives present, he sulks in a remote corner and only fields questions about his life when he has to. "Oh, well, what are you studying in college?". "Digital design, but it sucks. I wanna transfer to Full Sail.". After all the relatives have had their sufficient fill of awkward chitchat, the relatives get the message and back off. So it goes. And so I laugh.

This is the life of Hipsters. The represent nothing, save for their own feeble attempts at individualism. "But Jordan, how are you able to offer such insight on the lives of hipsters? This seems a little bit ill-advised.". Well, I'll tell you how I know so much.

Because I've been there.

Maybe the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason.

Anyway, I'm going to start liking people. Except for people like me.

-J