HIPSTER NATION

My biggest problem has always been trying to make money off the ideas in my head. I was driving around today and was reminded of another million-dollar idea that's never left my brain. It's a website called hipsterdoofus.com. The premise is this: Take pictures of the stupidest, most irritating hipsters and post them for all to see. People could comment on each shot and try to one-up other contributors with photos of young white people who try way too hard. In theory, I should be all about hipsters. But I'm not. I've been called one many times by many people, and while I understand how some make that connection, I think they're wrong. The hipsters I speak of, the kind I saw milling around on their bicycles eating ice cream in front of Rite-Aid today, are nothing like me. There were four of them -- three guys and a girl. Every guy had a shaggy haircut, tight pants and a striped shirt (actually, one was wearing a striped sweatshirt). When they look at each other, do they think they're peering into a mirror? I'll never understand why anyone would want to categorize themselves so easily, so comfortable with putting everything they are into a box, never to escape. That's a boring life. People see my hair and peg me as a rockabilly dude. Wrong. I dig Elvis a bunch (and Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash), but that's about the end of my rockabilly infatuation. I might look like the sorta dude who jerks off to the Horrorpops or (god forbid) Social Distortion, but I'm not. I'm a vegan. I love my cats. I read books. I play golf. I listen to jazz and the blues. I drive a Corolla, not some flame-painted oldie but goodie. These hipsters, what a crock of shit, thinking they know something the rest of us don't. And what's with the thin-framed bikes? You know, if you aren't using the gear shifters on those, there's no point in riding one. But practicality has nothing to do with anything these fools are into. Then the girl turned around and it started to make sense. In my younger days, I would have dressed like a buffoon too if it meant having this black-haired beauty in my company. Guys sure do some stupid things for female attention. That explains why I never got much: I was too dumb to play the game. Hair over my eyes? I can do that. New Balance tennis shoes? Sure thing. Eat ice cream because it's intentionally childish and for some reason that's the in thing to do? I'll take cookies and cream. No, my dumb ass was wearing Dickies and punk rock t-shirts. Not exactly the most eye-grabbing look. Hopefully one of these guys is seeing her naked on a regular basis. If so, good for him. What about the other three? What's the reason for looking like schmucks? Where are their way-out-of-their-league girls? If only I had my camera, I could have taken a picture of these clowns and posted it to my website that doesn't exist. Yet.