This is a heavy topic to start in on, and will likely take me several drafts (and maybe days) to complete.
But, dear hipster, YOU SUCK!
Oh my God, you ruin everything! All right, that may be a slight exaggeration, but you make a mockery out of so many things that I hold near and dear to my heart!
Your “stylish” clothes, your stupid swagger, that pack of cigarettes fashionably poking out of the breast pocket of anything you wear–I hate them all. I hate your boots, and your intentionally messy, asymmetrical hair, and the way you try to look so fancy, or completely unkempt, or both at the same time.
I hate your money.
More than anything, I hate that you take a million things that are actually cool, and make them “cool.” You’re ruining so many good beers for me, and no I don’t want to rent a film–a movie is just fine. I hate that you “like” the music that I so passionately love.
And I really hate your faux-intellectualism. Fuck off–you are not smart, you are just repeating some clever opinion you heard from someone else, and not giving them credit. And the way you keep trying to use “big” words like you know what they mean, but you don’t. Just because when you say them aloud they sound like they mean what you want to say, doesn’t mean that they do, and it’s even worse when you’re just making them up entirely. Please don’t call yourself a writer, don’t call yourself an artist, until you do something truly original and even vaguely creative. And get a dictionary, please.
To you, hipster, nothing is real, nothing sincere, nothing genuine. You are a prototype of what you think you should be. You are a fad. In six months, or two years, or however long it takes, you’ll catch on to a new trend and leave my pleasant little lifestyle alone, leave the real people to it.
Did I take that too far? I think I might be bitter.