Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
This burnt ochre-colored craving
Pumpkin spice pioneer, for I believe your day is coming
Yippee latte, pumpkin spice
Dear Hipster:
I think we have all heard someone call Sriracha “the hipster ketchup” before, but is there a hipster version of everything? Like, is there a Hipster Elvis? A Hipster Citizen Kane? A Hipster Michelangelo?
— Lance
Because once you become “the” anything, you’re sort of losing hipster credibility by operation of first principles. Nothing springs to mind, although it reminds me of a game some friends and I invented one night at a dive bar in Hillcrest over about half a keg of Pacifico and half a bowl of soggy pretzels. The rules are pretty simple, you have to either add the word “Hipster” to a movie, book, or song title; or you can change one word in an existing movie, book, or song title to the word “Hipster.”
If you think the fun ends there, you’d be super wrong, because you also must include a blurb or caption to go with your augmented hipster title, which blurb or caption must convey the approximate substance of the putative hipster-themed media. Thus, you end up with concepts such as:
“Hipster Die Hard: off-duty Williamsburg barista, John McClane, heads to Los Angeles in search of his ex-girlfriend, Holly, a singer-songwriter who left him after she achieved moderate YouTube fame for her solo banjo covers of mediocre pop songs. Before he can reunite with Holly, McClane gets caught up in the takeover of a local coffee shop by Silicon Valley tech-bro wannabes. He survives by staying low-key authentic in a world full of posers.”
Or, if you do the change-a-word variation:
“The Only Living Hipster in New York: very sad song about poor hipster with useless art history degree and crushing student loan debt who feels like nobody gets him.”
This whole game also works great in group-text form. For any of you out there who would really like to play, but don’t have friends or family who think this sounds like a good game, email your blurbs to [email protected]. I’ll be your friend who plays clever word games.
Dear Hipster:
It’s getting to be that time of year again. I feel a secret yearning for pumpkin spice growing in my heart, yet I don’t want to broadcast this burnt ochre-colored craving to the world on account of the inevitable (not to mention harsh) judgment of my peers. Is it cool to like pumpkin spice stuff ironically yet?
— Shaun
Not yet, but have patience, you brave, pumpkin spice pioneer, for I believe your day is coming. For the time being, I still consider pumpkin spice jokes pretty darn funny. Time was, they were straight up hilarious, but the novelty of mocking pumpkin spice in all its pumpkiny spicy forms has indeed faded some, and now pumpkin spice jokes are merely amusing, or perhaps droll would be the right word. Soon, it will no longer be cool to make fun of pumpkin spice, because everybody else will be doing it, at which point you can safely consume your pumpkin spice whatever with only a self-deprecating “I know, right?” as a shield. In fact, this very autumn season may well push pumpkin space hating into the mainstream; and by the time the Thanksgiving stuff starts appearing on the shelves at the local grocery store, you might be in the clear.
Here's something you might be interested in.
This burnt ochre-colored craving
Pumpkin spice pioneer, for I believe your day is coming
This burnt ochre-colored craving
Pumpkin spice pioneer, for I believe your day is coming
Yippee latte, pumpkin spice
Dear Hipster:
I think we have all heard someone call Sriracha “the hipster ketchup” before, but is there a hipster version of everything? Like, is there a Hipster Elvis? A Hipster Citizen Kane? A Hipster Michelangelo?
— Lance
Because once you become “the” anything, you’re sort of losing hipster credibility by operation of first principles. Nothing springs to mind, although it reminds me of a game some friends and I invented one night at a dive bar in Hillcrest over about half a keg of Pacifico and half a bowl of soggy pretzels. The rules are pretty simple, you have to either add the word “Hipster” to a movie, book, or song title; or you can change one word in an existing movie, book, or song title to the word “Hipster.”
If you think the fun ends there, you’d be super wrong, because you also must include a blurb or caption to go with your augmented hipster title, which blurb or caption must convey the approximate substance of the putative hipster-themed media. Thus, you end up with concepts such as:
“Hipster Die Hard: off-duty Williamsburg barista, John McClane, heads to Los Angeles in search of his ex-girlfriend, Holly, a singer-songwriter who left him after she achieved moderate YouTube fame for her solo banjo covers of mediocre pop songs. Before he can reunite with Holly, McClane gets caught up in the takeover of a local coffee shop by Silicon Valley tech-bro wannabes. He survives by staying low-key authentic in a world full of posers.”
Or, if you do the change-a-word variation:
“The Only Living Hipster in New York: very sad song about poor hipster with useless art history degree and crushing student loan debt who feels like nobody gets him.”
This whole game also works great in group-text form. For any of you out there who would really like to play, but don’t have friends or family who think this sounds like a good game, email your blurbs to [email protected]. I’ll be your friend who plays clever word games.
Dear Hipster:
It’s getting to be that time of year again. I feel a secret yearning for pumpkin spice growing in my heart, yet I don’t want to broadcast this burnt ochre-colored craving to the world on account of the inevitable (not to mention harsh) judgment of my peers. Is it cool to like pumpkin spice stuff ironically yet?
— Shaun
Not yet, but have patience, you brave, pumpkin spice pioneer, for I believe your day is coming. For the time being, I still consider pumpkin spice jokes pretty darn funny. Time was, they were straight up hilarious, but the novelty of mocking pumpkin spice in all its pumpkiny spicy forms has indeed faded some, and now pumpkin spice jokes are merely amusing, or perhaps droll would be the right word. Soon, it will no longer be cool to make fun of pumpkin spice, because everybody else will be doing it, at which point you can safely consume your pumpkin spice whatever with only a self-deprecating “I know, right?” as a shield. In fact, this very autumn season may well push pumpkin space hating into the mainstream; and by the time the Thanksgiving stuff starts appearing on the shelves at the local grocery store, you might be in the clear.
Comments