Hipsters don't exist. They are meta-meta-figments of the cultural imagination. Seriously, they are so ironic that even blogs devoted to hating hipsters talk like hipsters. To wit:
We talked about fashion and shit on Lemondrop. Revel in our on-camera awkwardness. How to Dress Like a Hipster (and Ditch a One-Night Stand Like One)
This article is totes irrelevant seeing as how the day I submit to producing progeny will also be the day I put on sweatpants and go for a jog in Central Park with my super supportive contingent of workout buddies (read: never to the 10th fucking power).
If you guessed by the combination of awkward self-consciousness and unconscious narcissism the above was written by women, you guessed right. Slavoj Zizek is something of a hipster too, but he says something relevant between two-thirds gobbeldegook:
. . . the most sceptical attitude, that of deconstruction, relies on the figure of an Other who 'really believes'; the postmodern need for the permanent use of the devices of ironic distantiation (quotation marks, etc.) betrays the underlying fear that, without these devices, believe would be direct and immediate as if, if I were to say "I love you" instead of the ironic "As the poets would have put it, I love you" . . .
Obama begets Tea Party, Weimar begets Nazi party, because people hate this "post-" (racial, national, sexual, cultural, modern) shit. Fortunately hipsters don't actually exist, or else there'd be a real backlash.
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