Tagged: pbr

A Resignation Letter from a Former Hipster

This article was also featured on Points In Case

The following is a resignation letter from the most respected man in a society as secretive as Skull and Bones and as influential as The Illuminati. It was found in a place where one would expect to find such a letter—in a very secretive place few people have access to (write your own fucking joke). I’ve wanted to put it in a place where nobody would ever look, so I’m posting it here:

If you’re reading this letter it means I’ve left this wretched society. Sure I loved the exclusive perks and god-like adoration, but enough is enough.

Perhaps I’ve gotten ahead of myself; “What society is this you speak of?” Oh, didn’t you know? There’s this thing called the Hipster Aristocacy, and it’s kind of a big deal. At least, it used to be…

I’ve been a part of the Aristocracy for about ten years. We always operate in secret, seeking out the coolest things before they’re even on the buzz radar of teenage girls in LA or angsty New York Jewish boys. I’ll never forget my first assignment: scoping out Justin Bieber’s baptism. Back then, we had an eye for talent, and I would serve loyally to the pursuit of “alt.” I was behind the rise, fall, plateau, plummet, and eventually skyrocketing success of Amy Winehouse’s career (I didn’t kill her, but we knew it was coming). But after all these years of trying to be on the cusp of edginess, I woke up this morning and realized, I’m mainstream. So today, I hang up my studded Vibrams and pursue another path.

We used to be able to keep a secret to ourselves. Sure we would tell the “peons” about the next big pop act, but we had our own indulgences. Do you know what I heard in the mall when I was getting my antique watch repaired? Mumford & Sons. IN THE MALL. How did we let that one spill, guys? How did the general public get a taste of our alt-juice? You “peons” may not know this, but we were actually on Twitter in 2001, before it even existed. It was a great way for us to communicate, but now every bro can, and has, leeched off our buzz by spying on our twittersations. And that’s just the music! I can’t even count how many times I walked into a bar last month and saw people drinking PBR unironically!

I’m not the only one choosing to leave, but I am the only one willing to admit we’ve gone “lamestream.” The others have their own subtle ways; just last week I saw Alabaster sneaking an iPod onto the castle grounds when he knows that we only allow the iRiver. Speaking of the castle, it doesn’t even look buzzworthy. When we first set it up in that gentrified ghetto it was just our kind, but years after kicking the poor people out we’re now faced with a stampede of SUVs and chain restaurants. Not only that, but the pastel wallpaper looks so January 2011 and the shag carpeting on the inside is trampled to bits. I blame Tiffany for putting mountain bike tires on her 10-speed so that she could get more traction. Everyone is secretly looking for work too. Rumour has it that Geophf even applied to Urban Outfitters and spelled his name “Jeff” on the resume.

Maybe it’s time to stop being so “alt” and take a step back. The gentrification was great while it lasted, and maybe being mainstream isn’t so bad; the Olive Garden they opened up down the block has great bread. No, it’s not kosher or gluten-free, but I don’t care anymore if my chest piece tattoo starts to sag with my man-boobs. I’ll just wear a shirt and tie every day; I have a closet full of knitted ties anyway and now that Justin fucking Timberlake wore one in that movie they’re mainstream, so I guess it all works out.

It’s kind of freeing, this feeling of being stale. I hope all my brothers and sisters follow me out of their ivory towers (literally) and wade into the lame, er…mainstream.

Forever yours,

Gabriael Coqurnilius

Too Hipster to Hate

This article was also featured on Points In Case

If you take a look back through the ages, every decade has had their own style: the 70’s had bell-bottoms and acid, the 80’s had leg warmers and Prince, and the 90’s had baggy jeans and white kids acting like black men. My fear is that when future civilizations look back to the 10’s, or as I like to call them, The One Oh’s, they will ridicule the stupid facial hair, bright neon colors, and wang-hugging jeans associated with hipsters.
Hipsters are without a doubt the bane of my existence. They have taken all the little things that make a person interesting and unique, and cluster-fucked them into a giant, ironic package. Normally these things can be handled in moderation, but once a hipster starts using/doing them, it causes you to lose all faith in humanity.
Let’s examine a few hipster trends.


I remember a few years ago, when the whole vegan fad started, people were actually turning down eggs and getting grass in a bowl instead. They weren’t even eating fish, and fish aren’t even real animals! Since then, being a vegan has turned into something that women who do yoga take part in and everybody else just avoids like the plague.
But, thanks to hipsters, being a vegan is now synonymous with being a pussy, and the same goes for eating organically grown food. A lot of people will probably get upset by this. They’ll say, “Hey Yaro, that’s not funny, I’ve been eating only organic vegetables my whole life so I can’t be grouped into the same category,” to which I say, “That sucks, you should go down to your local ‘coffee pub’ and thank a hipster for turning your lifestyle choice into a running joke.”

Stupid Facial Hair

Before hipsters, I could walk down the street and see a guy with a handlebar moustache and give him a mental high-five for having the stones to pull it off. But now, having some sort of ironic facial hair is like a badge that these hipsters need before they can enter their special club (said club may or may not be a warehouse rave), and that discourages normal men from growing such classics as “the mutton chops” or “the Dali.”
Growing facial hair is a rite of passage for all men, and there are only a slim few years when a man can grow whatever his face desires before heading out into the corporate world. These are known as “the college years.” This raises a huge problem if your specific school has a large hipster population because you run the risk of being mistaken for one of them if you do something creative with your “face-canvas.”

Drinking PBR

I have no idea why someone would willingly drink Pabst Blue Ribbon. In fact, nobody used to drink PBR before the early 2000’s, unless it was as a joke, because why else would you want to consume the same liquid that people in southern Alabama drink daily? But now, thanks to hipsters, everybody drinks PBR for the simple reason that nobody else drinks it and that somehow makes them better than the majority of people. This makes about as much sense as people sending a fax because everybody else is sending emails. Think about that.


Back in the day you rode a bicycle for one of two reasons: either you wanted to cross some bumpy terrain, or you couldn’t afford a car. Thanks to hipsters, riding a bike has become a way of showing that you don’t bow to “the man”; that you blaze your own trail without relying on “public” transportation. It also means that you can ride through the city with your tweed blazer and knit scarf blowing in the wind.