So, I’ve been a little mystified about the striking success of an unpicturesque and literate band who took their name from a political event that took place in 1825. I was wasting brain cells. Obviously, what we have to thank is the ungodly proliferation of the urban hipster. I’d like to think Colin Meloy is putting The Decemberists out to pasture because he’s ashamed to be a hero for these people, but in all likelihood he’s one of them too. You know who I’m talking about. I’m talking about the kids who look like Buddy Holly (regardless of anatomical gender). Ok, I realize it’s not Colin Meloy’s fault and I’m still thrilled to death The Decemberists are selling records, because they so obviously deserve to. I’ve just really rreeaalllyyy had it with the pretentious hipster douchebags who comprise the dating pool in this town. It was only yesterday that I was completely alone with my interests. Now it seems everyone and their dog is reading Kurt Vonnegut, listening to obscure bands from the seventies, eating exotic cheeses and wearing big dorky glasses. But they’re only doing those things because it’s ‘hip’ and everyone else is doing them too. They look so appealing on the surface, but underneath the converse, the fancy headphones and the big dorky glasses there’s a howling void of someone who has absolutely no idea who they are. What a bunch of goddamn phonies! Poseurs! Newsflash: having an enormous playlist doesn’t make you an interesting person. And uh, I’m getting carried away. This isn’t supposed to be about me or my misadventures in dating. Um. The Decemberists. They’re a good band. You should buy one of their albums. All the cool kids are doing so.
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