In Support Of The Hipster

I’m sick to death of hearing about how hipsters, kids from Ohio, bearded bicyclists or any young person that’s not a mindless banker from Jersey is ruining their neighborhood.

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Is there no room for new people in New York City? WTF?  Stop blaming your problems on a demographic that can’t even be defined.  Just like when you generalize who “hipsters” are as being destructive to your old school digs, so can the generalizations of “hard-working families” as anyone that isn’t young, cool or not fans of Dancing With The Stars just fits into that more appreciated demographic. Well, let me tell you, the “hard-working families” of North Brooklyn can also mean racist, homophobic, destructive, belligerant thugs and bitches that don’t blame themselves for anything and live a life not unlike those super-sized disasters that we see at Wal-Mart in Nebraska on the Internet.

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If for every new hipster that moves to Greenpoint, a non-hipster that believes they somehow deserve 11222 residence more has to leave, then so be it. If it means for every new hipster, it’s one less non-working dirt bag that’s sleeping, barfing, shitting and screaming in my park; one less fat-faced kid littering trash on my block without shame or parents with any care, ten feet from a trash can; one less idiot putting half-eaten pizza and potato chips in tree pits thinking that they are doing a service for local wildlife; one less woman beating the shit out of their kids on the bus; one less closeted homosexual NRA nut who likes to burn out his tires while listening to raging house music from his red and white eagle stickered pickup truck; one less hard-working family man who only shops at chain stores that put small businesses out and cause unprecedented environmental consequences so they can save pennies on their unneeded mass-produced, foreign plastic products; one less angry dependent who thinks Brooklyn owes them something for being here longer than me; one less middle-aged woman barely dressed, scratching lotto tickets on her stoop all day every day with my state taxes; one less clueless neighbor who doesn’t understand what is actually recyclable; one less careless parent who looks the other way while their child destroys tree branches, defaces statues with swastikas and beats up old drunks in McGolrick Park; one less glass bottle collector that wakes up every light sleeper in the neighborhood collecting at 3am; one less religious store keeper that provides all the liquor, beer, porn and tobacco for the neighborhood; one less fast-food eating, non-local food enjoying, non-local agriculture supporting meat head; and finally, one less Manhattan Avenue junkie screaming at invisible demons while the ole ninety fourth takes a nice long break; then so be it.

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People have been asking me why I have loved New York for over a decade and my response has always included some line about the “diverse cultures” that inhabit NYC, but you know what? Maybe I should forget that. I appreciate citizens that came from other parts of this country that couldn’t deal with the intolerant hilljacks of Madison County, and came to this urban bubble to collectively take over and turn it into a nature appreciating,  food exploring, non-violent, generally tolerant band of new-wave hippies that don’t cause pool riots or look the other way when the fucking Exxon Valdez is under their homes.  Ideally we all get along and truly enjoy each other’s company, or all find the importance of having such different views.  I wrote this piece for any mainstream journalist or New Yorker on the street that has some generalized complaint about hipsters.  

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You’re no better, so stop hipster-hating.

1965 or 1986 or 2012

I was walking down Bedford Avenue on Saturday and having a conversation with myself like, “Look at all the hip hipsters spilling out over the sidewalks, looking young and busy, I wonder if I blend in? Who hates these people, c’mon, fuck olde school Brooklyn people living in the fucking past.”  Or something like that.  I was talking to myself and taking pictures of people.

Williamsburg Gawks

Here’s some shots from yesterday’s Williamsburg Walks. Bedford Avenue is shut down for 10 blocks and rolls of sod are brought in. I like it because of my urban anti-car fantasies and I’ve always loved the collective celebration of not doing much, almost like the beach. Even though it may appear as a temporary Midwestern refugee camp for hipsters, it’s also relaxed and fun. There’s one more next weekend.

Also, you don’t still really think that hipsters are causing the decline of the middle class are you? Come on.

Pump It

This is Pumps.

A local rock n roll strip bar whatever that is. It’s only about a dozen blocks from my house, but I’ve never been. Anyone want to join me for a drink here?

From their website: PUMPS is your local topless bar keeping those Williamsburg hipsters in check with strong drinks, vintage motorcycles, and sexy strippers. Bad day at work? Bored? Come by for some quality boobs and booze!