Guest Series: Hipsters

Let's be honest... We all know an open bar is a key feature of any organized gathering. In fact, the dynamic of the party is completely dependent on the open bar. Sometimes a certain brand of beer will sponsor an event, and whether it’s a good brand or not is irrelevant; it's free booze. However, a party thrown by a hipster guarantees that only one bartender will be on staff, resulting in over-crowding and impending sobriety. But the hipster attendees will actually be ok with this. Forgive the impatience, but while you wait in a 45-minute line for your warm Red Stripe, I’m going to go next store and spend $2.50 for a pint.

Submitted by: AM

Guest Series: Hipsters

Let's be honest... the real reason you pretend to enjoy blue-collar swill like Schlitz and Pabst Blue Ribbon isn't because you empathize with the working class, nickel-and-dimed Americans who also imbibe the beverage, it's because you're a cheap bastard.

Look, I know things are pretty bad -- even the trust funders are being priced out of Brooklyn and forced to move to Bushwick, or worse -- get jobs! But come on, you really can't knock back cans and bottles of that crap and say it tastes great. That shit-eating grin on your face -- from the looks of what you've been imbibing -- isn't ironic. There isn't a problem with being a tad economical in this climate. I mean, you already frequent the Salvation Army, so just admit that you're also a fan of "thrift beer."

Happy hours notwithstanding, and unless you're lucky enough to live in Portland, the microbrew (and unemployment) capital of the US [Ed. note: no wonder there's so many hipsters there], you're going to be hard-pressed to find a drink that tastes great for the price. Why do you think you frequent so many gallery openings? Is it to support your fellow bohemians, or enjoy the free booze? The correct answer is most likely the latter. Why? BECAUSE REAL PATRONS ACTUALLY BUY THE ART.

But listen, I know John Deere shirts and trucker hats have long gone the way of the pleated pant. I'm not calling you posers for popularizing lo-fi ales, all I am saying is that if you opt to drink shitty beer, don't go thinking to yourself that sympathizing with the working poor will make it go down any better. It's ok to cut corners here and there: coke is an expensive habit to maintain.

Submitted by:JDL

Fathers Day

Let's be honest... A wise man once told me, "Any sonuvabitch can have a kid but it takes a real man to be a father." So use today to give a nod to the father or fathers in your life; if he happens to be your biological half then you should be so lucky. Make those twenty-four hours meaningful to show gratitude for a year-round job that is always on-call, never on vacation, and is typically under-compensated with ugly macaroni art and shitty ties. Just what would we be without them?

Happy Fathers Day.

Friends of Haynes

Let's be honest... Automobiles are moving symbols of machismo. They indulge man's desire of independence and adventure. They're boisterous, dirty, smoky, hot-headed centers of attention. They'll fearlessly go as fast and hard as they please without regard to the safety of others. Yet, for as much as they are driven to serve as exaggerated reminders of fleeting mortality there are still owners who treat them as air-conditioned boxes, nothing more than four-wheeled stereos, without the slightest worry in discerning the difference between an air filter and air freshener.

Checking the oil, adding antifreeze, jump-starting the battery... The most basic of routines and still some men would rather camp out overnight for pit tickets to the next Lilith Fair than attempt to solve the veritable Rubik's cube waiting underneath the hood. At what point did they stop caring? At what point did cars become so reliable and automated that they became excuses for ineptitude? Do not look to the sculpture of metal, glass, and plastic for clues; in the century of its existence not much has changed as the basic necessities of breaks, gas, tires, and a steering wheel are all still there. No, look to their resigned owners whom are content for even the smallest maintenances with leaving their vehicles to strangers with tools much the way a parent would trust a random individual off the street with watching their newborn for a few hours and changing his diaper.

It is not to say that our Y chromosome comes equipped with the proper information with which to overhaul a transmission, rather, common sense dictates that specialized repairs involve specialized tools and training. Common sense also grants us the permission to seek help when conflicts of schedule and urgency disable our hand in the matter. However, as men when caught drowning we should not instinctively reach for the lifesaver but kick our legs and flail our arms as an exercise in self-sustainability and survival. Perhaps in picking up that wrench we might learn a little more about ourselves and the machines of which we've grown fond. So put down the AAA card and your cell phone, pull out the jack from the trunk, and fix that flat tire your-fucking-self instead of waiting around for a half hour just to have Jeff the tow-truck driver laugh in your face about being such a blatant pussy for not knowing how to remove a couple of lug nuts.

Guest Series: Hipsters

Let's be honest... Some topics are simply too large to handle oneself; I am, of course, writing of the topic of hipsters. Luckily, a few friends have felt up to the task of tackling one of society's greatest social dilemmas by submitting their remarks on a variety of subtopics. I present to you, "Electronics":

Among your myriad collection of $3 old man trousers and Sunset Junction sunglass purchases, what's perplexing is where exactly you got the money to afford that $2700 Mac Book Pro. Its not like you’re running Final Cut, so what is it you’re actually doing that requires the performance of the highest end model? From what I understand, all you need is iPhoto and an internet connection to blog about the photo you took of the stray cat rummaging through discarded Taco Zone wrappers.

Submitted by:AM

When Joe Becomes Jolene

Let's be honest... For the past twelve centuries, billions of people have partaken in the consumption of the product from the ritual of adding roasted, grounded beans to hot water, a deceptively-simple brew that has become a genuine staple for nearly every culture on earth. It wasn't until the 17th century, however, that experimentation began through the addition of sweeteners and milk. Sadly, it would not be too long before other societies and, more significantly, businesses would prove unsatisfied and bored with the restrained beverage; thus, the ice-blended abortion was dropped from its diseased womb.

The uncomplicated nature of the cup of coffee shares little with the characteristics of the ice-blended drink whose options can include the terms "one scoop," "soy," "no whip," and "light" among others. Yes, the eyes of the reader do not betray them for as mid-1990s fashionable it may be to for a young man to be seen handling what is essentially a milkshake in coffee's clothing, they are afforded the option of doing so while "actively" demonstrating concern for their waistline with the request of making it "light." Not all are gripped with this fear, however, and press forward undaunted on the Diabetes Express seeking fanciful flavors such as Mocha, Mintopia, Oreo Crumble, and Turtle, among others, to satiate their sweet tooth. How much more masculine can one get than hurriedly cramming their favorite candy snacks into a blender with ice, milk, flavored sugar powder, and, of course, a shot of coffee as one would not want others to confuse this with an item from their childhood malt shop instead of the adult drink that it is, all topped off with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles?

And yet there are alternatives for even the hottest days this side of the solstice: the iced coffee and, for those seeking a dagger rather than a butter knife, the iced espresso. Ice was a non-existent commodity during the hundreds of years that coffee was consumed throughout the scorching Middle East; perhaps, then, it should be viewed as the luxury, and not the necessity, that is is. But hey, since people sometimes need their coffee milkshake might I point out that Coldstone's is next door, so can you please get the fuck out of my line so I can order my cup of coffee, "Irish it up" in the parking lot, and get on with my fucking life?

Look, Ma...

Let's be honest... Every day men are pushed further and further towards the complete relegation of their meathooks: hands-free this, voice-recognizing that, and motion-sensing the other. And when we are finally allowed to curl and gesticulate our bony digits they remain fruitlessly bound to plastic-pebbled tablets and rubber-riddled joysticks. While our forefathers used brick and stone to construct town halls and churches, today our "monuments" are built virtually of transient ones and zeroes.

Our changing lexicon reflects our evolution towards inactivity. When was the last time someone said they had just returned from the "tool shed" to mean a site for storing hardware instead of describing some ultra-lounge along the Sunset Strip? "Screwdriver" is a form of unwinding after a long weekday and "Saw" is another deplorable installment of Hollywood's latest profit-seeking bowel movement. Their spellings have remained identical while their souls have been replaced to what a marketing company's most recent focus group has deemed relevant and hip.

Even the best of us can become complacent if we are not vigilant. Thankfully, under the luckiest of circumstances, there can be hope in a swift ass-kicking from our friends; my compadre at Secret Service was kind enough to offer his boot by way of a Pinewood Derby. Quickly, I got to work:

So use those appendages God gave you. Build, blister, bleed. Just fucking create.

Blog News

I wanted to thank you for the kind words and general response the past few days. It would appear that even people I don't know in other countries have unfortunately chosen to waste their time reading my inebriated keystroke-lashings, and to that I thank them.

The plan for now is to update the blog on Wednesdays and Sundays so please stay tuned. Or don't, you're probably tanned enough from the computer monitor as it is.

-Albert (U. N. Owen)

Field Trips

Let's be honest... Some guys define "commitment" as "the surgical reimplantation of the umbilical cord to a new maternal host."

We should celebrate the occasion of a person finding their equal in another but there should be clearly defined boundaries for both involved. How many of us have friends that use their significant other as a social home-monitoring bracelet? Children are a completely understandable factor in this circumstance; hell, that DVD player isn't going to turn on and play "SpongeBob" by itself. For the rest, however, their partner becomes the automatic excuse to preempt any attempt at fun by having to seek out prior permission.

Overheard when planning a recent outing to a weekend sporting event: " I'd like to go but I think my fiancee doesn't have plans which means I have plans."

And yet we remain friends with these people... Why? The reasons are simple: committed friends need single friends to remind them of places and times free from responsibilities and full of while single friends need committed friends to remind them why they're single in the first place. They co-exist as examples for each other.

The debate shouldn't be focused on whether a guy is trained into this position, openly sought out to be in this situation, or a combination of the two; instead, the discussion should be how to provide him with positive reinforcement and opportunities to act like the drunk lunatic originally befriended.

Heaven knows not all of us have not been able to grasp the concept of commitment for we drink half & half and live with the television permanently set on picture-in-picture; still, odds are we'll be naturally inclined to head down that path at some point and when that day comes we should all pray that those we call our friends have contingency plans for such an event. So come on, come out and have a beer with us and stop being such a pussywhipped little bitch.