It’s late at night here in Holland and I wasn’t going to post anything today. I had two or three options all ready to go but I skipped out on all of them. I just wasn’t in the mood. I had some disappointing news and the more the day progressed, the less inclined I felt to wax lyrical on the internet.
You have those days. They pop up now and then. Ah, so what. What are you going to do about it? Just shrug your shoulders and wonder what it’s all about. It doesn’t get any easier, you know. The older you get. I may know a hell of a lot more than I did twenty five years ago but the bad days still run you down. Just so you know. Wisdom and all that. Sure, it helps. And yes, I get that there’s a bigger picture. But still, sometimes you just want to be Greek so you can have an excuse to hurl your dinner plate at the wall after the mopping up is done.
But like I said, I wasn’t going to post anything. And then I caught an Anthony Bourdain episode. He was in Georgia, of all places. The food looked pretty good, the women fairly hawt, at least up to a certain age. And then there was a scene where he was with a bunch of Georgian hipsters. Georgian hipsters, for fucks sake. And they were doing what hipsters do all around the world – they were being wankers. Complete douchebags.
Listen you hipsters fucks, nobody likes you. We pretended to while the real estate prices were going up, but even that is no recompense for having to put up with your epic level of fail. We hate your scraggy beards. We despise the collective uniform that you all wear. You have debased the check shirt to a point where it can no longer be redeemed. I have thrown away every beanie that I ever owned. I buy supermarket coffee and regular beer just so I don’t have to run the risk of being mistaken for one of your unkept ilk. Give me anything mainstream because I know that it won’t have been debased by your holier than thou attitudes.
And then there’s your women, or what passes for the supposed female form. I presume that you pick up these ugly, boring harlots while you browse for your latest independent film. Is there some sort of competition amongst you to see who can go the longest without breaking your visage with any form of facial expression?
But it’s okay. I’ve let all this go. Really, I have. And it took watching that Bourdain episode to really understand it. You see, there aren’t any hipsters in Holland. At least, there aren’t any where I live. Maybe there are some obscure outposts in the fleshpots of Rotterdam, but what do I care; they’re not around me. Holland is a hipster-free zone. I shouldn’t be saying this because now everyone will want to come here.
Especially the fucking hipsters.