The same people who are bothered by the plethora of modern hipsters will brag to their friends about the new “whole carcass” butcher shop they found down the street where they buy heritage pork, or the craft whiskey bar around the corner that makes a darned good Old Fashioned. You all schlep into these establishments and fawn over mustachioed baristas wearing antique frames and blacksmith aprons and you beg them for more info on bourbon mash bills and single estate coffee. All these hip spots with lines out the door—they’re probably owned and operated by someone you’d fancy a hipster. And you love it.
I’ve been called a hipster since I moved to San Francisco in 2002, but I’ve never really been sure why. I’m the asshole here? Because I wear clothes that fit and I comb my hair? Better I slum it with you fuckheads who wear cargo shorts and baggy t-shirts with dirt biking slogans on them. I’m the asshole? You guys with your scuffed up skate shoes look like Adam Sandler on his way to rehab.
Dinty Moore, maker of the barely-edible, dog food-like canned beef stew often mistaken for palatable retro-cuisine, launched an ad campaign that takes aim at dapper bearded gentlemen who don’t know how to properly work a vintage crosscut saw. The latest derogatory term for hipster is “lumbersexual,” meaning a man who has a beard and wears jeans and boots. Another term for this look is “men who dress like grown-ups.”
This 7-11 junkie food company has ventured into the business of coaching up insufficiently manly men, and they fail miserably in their attempt at clever irony. And this has been the problem the entire time with the people who rag on hipsters… It’s all people who should be doing nothing other than keeping their fucking yaps shut while they’re shuffling down to their boring office jobs in their business casual pleated pants, listening to Drake songs in their Beats By Dre headphones, chuckling about guys in fitted tweed blazers under their breath. Fucking hipsters, right? If you make homeless people food for a living, you should probably not be opining on the sartorial authenticity of men otherwise minding their own fucking business.
Goddamned busybodies everywhere worrying about what I’m wearing. I wear a silver bracelet on my wrist that I constantly trap people with. They always have to make a smug comment: “Nice bracelet you got there.” To which I reply, “Oh, thanks. It’s actually one of those magnetic bracelets that pro athletes wear—you know for balance.” Invariably they do a 180 and get excited: “Oh that’s cool! Does it work?” To which I reply, “No, you retard, this isn’t a magic balance bracelet. It’s just a piece of silver.”
We are a country full of dudes who weigh 160 proudly claiming their t-shirt size: “I wear an XL.” In what way should anyone consider you not only a large person, but an extra large person? Men of such dainty stature should not be considered large, and should thus not wear clothing designed for men who are.
You’re wearing an oversized Steph Curry jersey and shoes that were designed for playing basketball to go grocery shopping. How’s your jump shot, guy? Nobody’s calling out these phonies, but we’re the asshole hipsters because we have beards? Proudly wearing another man’s name on the back of your shirt, like he’s your idol, is the same as telling everyone who your favorite Ninja Turtle is: a) I don’t give a shit, and b) grow up. The real reason you’re bothered by us is because you notice us.
Dinty Moore’s little trick here is textbook lazy cop-out social commentary, where they pick on imaginary white men in an imaginary context. Next time you see one of these bearded guys in jeans walking down the street, ask him what he does—it’ll probably be something fairly lucrative and interesting. People thought of as hipsters tend to have their shit together, or are at least interesting.
This sort of fuckery by Dinty Moor should not be tolerated, as what they’re really doing is appropriating working class culture, condescending towards a socioeconomic group, and thus violating all the PC rules that apply to everyone else. People who use offensive gender terms like lumbersexual are the ones imparting their own social constructs onto others, which has gotta be racist or at least some other kind of “ist.” Lumberjacks don’t even dress like lumberjacks, so you’re taking a cartoon image of a blue collar worker, applying a fictional stereotypical skill that real lumberjacks don’t give a shit about like axe throwing or vintage sawyering, and are using this visage to criticize nobody in particular—just generally the safe, lowest common denominator class of wimpy beta males.
Anti-hipsterdom is the ultimate insecure cuckold movement— why do you give a shit what I wear? It’s because you notice dudes who aren’t slobs and you’re envious, but you’re too much of a pussy to wear anything other than bitch-tit-masking pastel polo shirts endorsed by Phil Mickelson. Or worse yet, you wear clothes your girlfriend buys for you and garnish yourself with Axe Bodyspray.
And this Dainty Moore insecurity is really what underlies hatred and “hate speech,” whatever that means. ISIS hates us because they’re envious of strippers and monster truck rallies. I don’t hate anything because I don’t have deeply rooted desires that I can’t come to terms with. (The oft-misused term homophobic actually describes a man so insecure about his man cravings that he develops a hatred of his fellow gays.) If you’ve found yourself sharing these videos with clever comments like “DIE HIPSTER SCUM,” you’re worse than ISIS, and you’ve got some soul searching to do. Or at least some shopping. Go ahead and buy some snug jeans and a pair of leather boots. Grow a beard. You know you want to.