So I've been getting some very positive email from people, thanks for that shit man. I know I've been getting off the strictly anti-hipster-tip lately but goddamn, there's so much fucked up shit around right now, hipsters really seem too ridiculous to address solely. I want some challenges though, so all you stinky hipsters out there in your plush little Williamsburg lofts, try putting down the Complete Sam Beckett (you don't get it anyway) and defend yourselves!

Also take note of my handsome new design.

Here's the thing:
Getting back to my reaction to this terror 'hoax' story out of Florida (the beginning of which you can read in my post from 9/14) the administration said this was a GOOD example of how the new beefed-up American security works. A good example? How could this be a good example? Do I sound like Bill O'Reilly yet? Am I intimidating you? I think this is a good example of just how BAD everybody involved could possibly handle a supposed threat. As I said before, Shame on Eunice Stone for mindlessly calling the authorities before either confronting the Arab men who were allegedly discussing plans for an attack, or thinking about the situation for five minutes before she deemed it appropriate to call the cops (remember that she wasn't in a dark alley here, she was in a diner). And Shame on those Arab dudes for making whatever jokes they were making. But to their growing credit, the latest reports coming out are calling into question the 'fact' that they were even making jokes after all. According to some sources they were coordinating car travel plans, and when they allegedly mentioned 'having ENOUGH to bring IT down' they were referring to MONEY and a CAR not DYNAMITE and a BUILDING. Incidentally, another piece of information that seems to be shifting the circumstances of this story is the allegation that these men ran a tollbooth, which presumably is why they were pulled over in the first place. According to an NPR report, they actually paid for the fucking toll after all. So I may have to correct my standing Shame On Them.

Anyway, now I'll address the authorities: They are stupid fuckers too. They are stupid because they didn't scrutinize this call a little more, and I won't recap what obvious considerations they should have gone through before they shut down the goddamned highway for an entire day because I already did that (see 9/14). Well, that part was easy, and I don't suppose I have to do much convincing to make everybody who reads this believe me when I say that the authorities are stupid. Now we can dovetail into the media situation. When the police started giving their little roadside press conferences they kept repeating the same stuff: The men had run a tollbooth, they were Arabs, and they had 'attitude' and were initially uncooperative, refusing a search of their car by police. I got the feeling the cops were throwing all this character sketch information out to cover their asses and make it seem as though these Arab men were 'up to something,' because deep in their powdered-sugar brains they had a suspicion that this was COMPLETE BULLSHIT. What do either of these pieces of information have to do with a terror threat? And it seems like the media received this bullshit story with the same open arms as everybody else as it filtered through the annals of idiocy, from the Miss Stone, to the cops, to the networks, and nobody stopped for even a second to think about the feasibility of it all. In the beginning at least, it looked like there might have actually been something ominous going on. But then the details started leaking out.

The press soon dubbed the story a terror 'hoax,' which seems to be how this episode will go down in history. But if this was a hoax, my question is this: Who was the hoaxer and who was the hoaxed? The implication seems to be that these shifty, beady-eyed Arab men were the evil hoaxers, making their sinister jokes and scaring the shit out of this poor God-fearing stupid white woman who had her emergency speed-dial ready. And by extension, the Arab men had played a joke on the cops, the media, and finally, on us, the public, who had to endure this story for several days' worth of headlines. But I'll tell you what: I don't fucking laugh at jokes that aren't funny and I certainly don't fucking blame the comedian because I laughed at a stupid joke, you catch my drift here? The only one's who were hoaxed in this situation were the Arab guys (American citizens I might add) who were detained for 17 hours, and arguably, the American public who had to pay for the incompetence of the goddamned authorities. And the hoaxers were most definitely Miss Stone, the police, and the media: the people who are supposed to be in charge of filtering what jokes are worthy of laughing and what jokes are not. AND THEN, after the cat is out of the bag what do they do? They pat themselves on the back for a job well done. They spin it to look like this is the way things are supposed to go. Good job you fucking imbeciles! You just wasted a shitload of my money, demonized some innocent people, blew up their luggage, caused countless people to be late and stranded, and for what?

Here's the first of what will be my New York City Hipster snapshot of the week:

Making Music More Complicated Than It Is — A Rooftop Somewhere In Greenpoint, Sept. 15, 2002

John, 25, is a classical musician. Billy, whom John and I just met, is a hipster and a self-described 'musicologist.' John, a violinist, was educated at Juliard. I rarely ever get a chance to see him, but he happened to be free this night, and we happened to find ourselves at this house party, which was relatively hipster-free until we got to the roof. John's smart and handsome, but he's definitely not a hipster, and he doesn't like to tell people he's a violinist because he thinks it makes him seem dorky. Billy turns to us, his feeble little mop-head swinging languidly on his pale Midwestern neck, and slurps from his beercan. "You guys listen to music?" The tone is one of classic hipster faux-nonchalance, think James Dean thumbing his sideburns (gag), burping, smiling about something we don't know about, shaking his head. And this is chit-chat, this is back and forth, at least one would think so. But it's not, and I can already tell this isn't a question. This is a monologue; this is Billy's monologue, dressed up like a question. But John isn't a hipster. He doesn't have the pop culture burden that I have inexplicably gathered, one that allows me — that forces me — to differentiate between these 'types' of people. John's not cynical like me. Whereas I would have answered "No, I don't listen to music at all," John answers, enthused, "Yeah man, definitely!"
Billy's head swings again toward us, "Good, music's cool."
Billy's wearing a black T-shirt with a tear near the bottom, on the front it says "Dragons '86" in crumbling white silkscreen. He's wearing blue jeans and expensive diesel sneakers. He's got a 'tribal' tattoo on his right arm, which he's holding himself up with.
"Yeah, definitely," John says.
"So, what kinda music do you guys like?" Billy asks.
"Oh, I dunno," John says. "Rock I guess."
Billy sneers. He's getting warmed up.
"Cool man. Very cool," he says smiling. "So, ah, what kinda rock do you guys listen to?"
"Well, it's not just rock," John says. "I mean, I listen to all kinds of stuff. You know, a little of this, a little of that."
Billy switches arms. He's closing in on us, he's smiling.
"That's totally cool man, totally cool," Billy says.
"I guess so." John says, and looks at me, questioning. I shrug.
"So, like, what bands do you guys like?" Billy asks.
"Oh, uh, I like… well, hmm. I've been listening to all kinds of stuff lately. I like Radiohead."
Billy tries to look respectfully at John, but he can't. He's like dog taking a shit, once he's started, he can't stop. "Yeah, Kid A was alright," Billy says, his eyebrows raised in simulated empathy. "I mean, it was kind of a rip-off of Aphex Twin, but whatever."
"Um-hm," John says. But he's never heard of Aphex Twin, he's never heard of Kid A either, but he gathers it's some Radiohead song. "I dunno, I mostly hear them on the radio, so I don't really know any song names or anything. I like the guy's voice though."
"Oh yeah?" Billy asks. "Tom York, what a pud. I didn't know they put out any singles for that, since it was kind of avant. Fuck, I don’t listen to the radio, so I wouldn't know. I don't even have a TV."
"Oh yeah?" John asks.
"Yeah man," Billy says. "I'm kind of a musicologist."
"Oh, great!" John says. "So, uh, what kind of music do YOU listen to?"
"Shit man, I listen to everything. You guys listen to Emocore?"
"I dunno," John says. "What is that?"
"You ever hear of the Get Up Kids?"
"I don't know" John says.
"Oh, how about Death Cab For Cutie?"
"Nope." John says.
"Oh," Billy says. "Well, Emo is like, it's like Emotional, you know?"
"Like how do you mean?"
"Like, have you guys ever heard of Sunny Day Real Estate?"
"Don't think so," John says.
"Oh. Well Emo is like pretty hard stuff, with emotional lyrics."
"Oh." John says.
"Yeah, it's cool. You guys ever heard Jimmy Eat World?"
"I don't think so." John says.
"Shit man, what about At The Drive-In?"
"Nope" John says.
"Minor Threat?"
"Umm, I've heard of them."
"Embrace?"
"Nope."
"Hot Water Music?"
"No"
"Weezer?"
"Oh yeah!" John says. "Didn't they have that one video with the Happy Days thing?"
"I dunno." Billy says. "I don't watch TV."
"Oh yeah."
"Well, Emo is like pretty dynamic and shit. It's kinda like Indy rock, but it's more like Post-Punk, like Progressive and stuff."
"Hmm." John says.
"What about Rites of Spring?"
"Nope." John says.
"Yeah," Billy says. "Weezer's like the most commercial of the Emo bands, they're new album kinda sucks."
"Oh yeah?"
"Totally."
"They got that dude from that one group, you know that 80s band, The Cars?"
"Yeah," John says. "The Cars."
"Well they got that singer to produce this album and it totally sucks."
"Oh, too bad." John says.
"Yeah, but they sold out anyhow."
"Oh." John says.
There's a break in the conversation now; the three of us stare up at the sky. Billy's looking contented and ready to continue educating us about music.
"So shit man, you should check out some Emo dude," Billy says. "I guess you don't listen to music much huh?"
"Yeah. Maybe." John says.
"So like, what do you do anyway?"
"Oh," says John. "I'm a professional musician."

In my post from a week ago about how Hipsters are humorless sonsofbitches because their parents made them listen to too much NPR when they were little, I made an off color reference to Oliver Stone as an example of a humorless Old Liberal. Well, this weekend I watched the DVD of Platoon because I had this nagging feeling that perhaps I unfairly pegged Ollie. And after watching not only the movie, but also every bit of special feature on the goddamned DVD including the 'Making of Platoon,' the original trailer, the production notes, the photo gallery, interviews with all the actors, and the credits in full, I've decided to extend this correction: Oliver Stone did gallantly serve his country in the Vietnam War. He dropped out of art school and volunteered to go to the war. He was a fresh-faced high-falutin' suburban kid, but he came out a murderin,' pot-smokin,' mud-covered, blood-covered stony-gazin' American man. Goddamn, Oliver. So, though I was not in error to label Mr. Stone a humorless Liberal, his case seems unique because he's such a fucking badass. Mostly I just regret lumping him in with those whiny fucking alarmist pussies over at the Village Voice. Sorry Ollie.