Hipster Boxing

I get a text about 8:30 on Friday night from my boy telling me were going to a Friday Night Fight Throwdown event at 88 East Broadway. I don't follow boxing or MMA, so I figured it was some big fight that I had skipped over reading in the sports section this past week. I agreed and Googled the address for directions. I was confused, as the address given turned up a Fung-Wa bus depot, Chinese restaurant, a Chinese employment agency, and a variety of other small businesses with Chinese names. I realized the address was the Chinatown mall, which was built in the early nineties to replace a bunch of shacks under the Manhattan Bridge. I assumed the address he sent me was a typo and said I was down. Plus, it was BYOB, so I could bring a couple six packs and a flask and avoid the regular Friday night of $14 drinks.

As we leave my apartment my buddies tell me we are going to a party that rotates locations every few months and hosts actual boxing matches. The address was right; we were on our way to an underground boxing match/party at the Chinatown Mall. I had walked past this place hundreds of times over the past 20 years, never venturing inside past the phone card stalls and chain smoking, snot-rocketing, fresh off the boat Chinese immigrants and the Snakehead Chinese gangsters who had smuggled them into the country in return for a decade of indentured servitude. I knew what was up as soon as we got close and I see Sherlock Holmes waiting to enter the mall, fresh off the plane from Idahoklahoma .

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"

I turn to my boy and laugh saying "you are fucking kidding me right?" Luckily I was about 8 drinks in at that point and ready to see what trouble awaited us inside. Of course, the first thing I saw as I walked in the door was a sign informing patrons that by entering the premises, you were aware that a "documentary" was being filmed. Of course it was. Just like the 8th grade graduation video shot by my parents was a "documentary". The "bouncer", who was about 5'7" and 140 lbs of flannel asked us if we were cops. Brooding about how authentically underground they were, I guess they didnt notice the actual plainclothes detectives standing about 10 feet away, who I'm sure were there only to ensure none of vacationing hipsters got hurt or misbehaved in this actual immigrant and very low income neighborhood, not to bust this "secret" event.  

After getting in, I humor myself by striking up a conversation with Tyler, "from" Brooklyn. Asking him what the deal is with this event, he said its his first one, and as an engineer he was stoked to see the equipment the producers and band were working with. Drunk and confused, I had no idea what being an engineer had to do with this. I asked him what sort of engineer he was, mechanical, architectural, computer, or something else. He looks at me with great shock, as if I have just told him his father respects him, and nasally snorts "I'm like, a sound engineeer". I laugh in his face and walk away, taking this shot as I mock him from three feet away:

Brooklyn Sound Engineer Tyler proves that Hipsters dont have to be svelte

The fights start up and I'm hanging out about 30 feet away with a decent view. There are four bouts scheduled, plus a few shitty bands (of course). All the fighters are obvious amateurs, and while they have enough technique to beat me in the ring, I wouldn't be afraid of any of them or their entourage in a street fight. To increase authenticity, three of the eight boxers seem to be hispanic, while one is black. All are matched up with white boy hipsters with tattoos and non threatening patterns of facial hair. The little black dude is overmatched and quickly loses to some doofus who acts like he just won the Superbowl. Two of the three hispanics win, matched up with equally douchey flyoverstate transplants that I would bet my ass call Brooklyn home.

Proof I was actually there and didnt just Google Image "douchey Hipster" for the first two pics.

I honestly had a fucking great time. Where else could you be in a smoky room with 500 people that you are obviously superior to in every facet of life (except the abilities to tap dat trust fund and make papier mache), while openly mocking them and getting drunk with a few good friends? I can't wait for the next match! I also apologize for the quality of all my pictures, as I dont have an authentically deck iphone so I was forced to use my shitty Blackberry.

My search for Natalee Holloway

I be back from Aruba bitches! My search for Natalee Holloway in Aruba was unsuccessful, although I uncovered a few new leads and I did find some shells on the beach. I also found this rope (see below) which may or may not have been used in her disappearance:

Evidence? Probably.

When I first arrived, I headed to the place where Ms. Holloway was last seen; the bar. After four martinis, I was ready to start the search. She was not at the pool bar nor the beach bar. I scoured various other beach bars, only to find the locals and vacationing Brooklyn Jews very hesitant to help. What were they hiding?

I found myself in a deepening mystery similar to the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys crossover caper titled Tropic of Fear. The local police were of no help. What were they hiding?

As in the tale, my wife suspected greed and corruption were behind the disappearance, while all my evidence pointed to a gang of art thieves. Ms. Holloway must have uncovered their crimes, and she was murdered to silence her!

In order to find her body, I chartered a ship to scour known dumping grounds. Here I am diving into the investigation via a super kewl and effective rope swing:

As the week ended, our leads began to dry up. The gang of art thieves seemed to vanish without a trace. I could only promise that I would return year after year to continue the search. The leaders of one of the many local Vacation Clubs agreed this was the best idea, although I suspect they may be behind the disappearance as well.

Literal Versions of Things

Something a little less sociopoliticasim . .

Jews for Jesus

Super Kewl Jews for Jesus Clubhouse

I have known this group was stupid for as long as I can remember. Supporters of Jesus already have an official name and a place to gather. Called "Christians", for over 2,000 years they have gathered not in cool clubhouses like the one pitured above, but in actual churches. Jews for Jesus is like a group called Catholics for Allah. Or Hindus for Hamburgers. Or Black People for Keeping Their Voices Down at the Movies. Or Chinese People for Decent Hygeine and Letting People Off the Subway First Before Pushing Their Way On.

This has got to be one of the dumbest ploys to get Jews to convert. They don't call us "model minorities" for nothing. We know better than to accept spiritual advice from a flier some Habitat for Humanity reject hands us in front of Yankee Stadium. If you want us to convert, the Spanish methods during the Inquisition worked pretty well. Convert or Die is much more effective than tri-fold pamphlets.

If you want to boost your #'s, you got to highlight whats cool about Christianity. There's not much after bacon and Santa, but I'm sure you could figure out something. Like every Jew that converts gets double Christmas presents for the first five years. Or refer a friend and you get to cut the line at Communion. And finally a welcome basket including t-shirts and pins highlighting Crusade victories, a free ham or two, some Jesus/crucifix jewelery and some pictures of Jesus or a giant Jesus on the cross to put up in your living room.

P.S. Im in Aruba right now continuing the search for Natalee Holloway. I'm making progress. I started at the pool with a few drinks in order to go over search patterns. Then I continued my search on the beach. I will keep you posted.

Hippies Vs. Hipsters

For too long, us peaceful hippies have stood on sidelines – allowing the true and beautiful nature of hip culture to be fouled by the pungent nature of the hipster. Many in mainstream culture simply group us together and wish to throw us all into the East River, but there are several notable distinctions that establish hippies a few steps above hipsters on the social ladder. This post will discuss these distinctions.

1. Daily Life:
While most hipsters come from wealthy families who can afford to subsidize their Williamsburg apartments and expensive American Apparel/fixed-gear bike purchases, hippies literally come from every walk of life. Unlike hipsters, however, who are only capable of working at tea houses and waiting tables at non-corporate restaurants – hippies can be artists, doctors, lawyers, teachers, members of our nation’s armed services, street pharmacists, or even nitrous-filled balloon salesmen/women.

2. Fashion
Hipsters: tight jeans, ironic t-shirts with popular childhood images that were lame as a kid and are still lame now, keffiyahs (only if they are not actually members of the Islamic faith).
Hippies: tie-dye, dreads, strange odors, comfortable shoes, sandals, or no shoes at all, beat up boots in the winter.

3. Politics:
Hipsters: liberal but in a brain-damaged way, have set back the progressive movement in this country by thirty years simply by dumbing themselves.
Hippies: “We live no particular way but our own.”

4. Drugs
Hipsters: marijuana, cocaine, 4loco.
Hippies: literally anything and everything, often at once.

5. Important Cultural Icons
Hipsters: Bret Michaels, Barack Obama (until he actually took office), Sarah Palin (ironically), Stephen Malkmus, Wu-Tang Clan.
Hippies: Jerry Garcia, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Trey Anastasio, Hunter S. Thompson, Ken Kesey, (insert name of shitty jam band musician here)

6. Concert Etiquette:
The average hipster at a concert is no more advanced than a 6^th grader at his first dance, standing in one spot, clad in black, arms folded over his chest. In contrast, the hippie will sway, dance, jump, sing, smoke, twist, and melt – all while sharing bowls of the kind with his fellow man, woman, or child. Another key difference between hippies and hipsters at concerts can be noticed on the level of how much they are enjoying the show. Ask a hipster if it is having a good time, and they will either respond sarcastically or simply move away from you – as to enjoy anything runs counter to the hipster personality profile – to enjoy is to be unhip. Ask a hippie, however, and they will respond with several “wooos”, high fives, and possibly even bowls of the kind.

7.Jobs:
Ok… well… neither of us have those.

Why Hipsters (and you) Suck

Hipsters are hated not because of the color of their skin, place of origin or religious beliefs, but because of their ridiculous "look at me" behavior and smug sense of superiority. We can all thank the Baby Boomers, the first "look at MEEEE" generation, for instilling their misplaced sense of liberal entitlement into the next generation of useless douchebags. Congratufuckinglations Baby Boomers. If you are reading this and you have a Hipster child, you are solely to blame. Your shitty self absorbed generation has created one that is far shittier and more self absorbed than you could ever be. Fuck you. Fuck you all to hell.

These authentically deck cta's speak for themselves

P.S. Still in Aruba. No sign of Natalee Holloway. I am scheduled to return tomorrow, but I might postpone my flight to keep searching.

The Hipster: Natural Victims

Although Hipsters call 911 to report any perceived infraction such as non-organic food sales, buying mainstream music or using non-Apple products, this post regards actual crimes committed against Hipsters such as severe beatings or robberies. Crimes against Hipsters are at an all time high although thousands go unreported each year due to the reluctance of the Hipster to admit failure. Crimes against Hipsters mainly occur when an unsuspecting Performance Artist/Production Assistant/Barista from Florituckyconsin moves into a neighborhood such as North North East Williamsburg or South West South South Park Slope. They read on a blog somewhere that Tyler and Meghan just moved there and its super deck and safe! Like Yah! Salivating brokers grow their beards out, get some fake glasses and tell Hipsters how authentic the neighborhood is in order to obtain the parentally funded sales commission. Not until it is too late does the unsuspecting Hipster realize they are living in a neighborhood far more dangerous than the most dangerous cul de sac of the upper middle class suburban community they grew up in.

Hipsters move into outlying neighborhoods in droves and become immediate victims. From leaving their $2,500 custom made unicycle chained up on the street overnight to strolling home from the J train at 2:30AM watching an indie movie on their ipad, Hipsters remain perpetual crime fodder. They think they are street savvy because they saw Chris Rock live in college and have twice seen the episode of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air where Will must stop Carlton from going to McArthur park. To the poverty stricken residents of the neighborhood in which the Hipster is attempting to gentrify, the newly arrived Hipster is a natural victim, comparable to a hand fed and nurtured Kobe cow wandering blindly into a den of starving lions.

These bruises and busted mouth are so ironic. Click on the pic for more beaten Hipster goodness

The gentrifying Hipster is like an endless piggy bank to the welcoming criminal class residents of the "next up and coming" neighborhood. Every time they are robbed of their custom fixie, ipad, iphone or other expensive Hipster toy, funds magically appear in the bank account they share with their parents, allowing them to replace the stolen gear, which allows them to get robbed again, buy more, get robbed again, buy more.... This symbiotic relationship allows the Hipster to gain valuable street cred authenticity while criminals gain valuable cash money in order to purchase highly desired liquor, drugs and Jordans. The Hipster, once a strange feared intrusion into the hood, has become a valued member of the community. No longer are the migrant Hispanic day laborers or Chinese food delivery men robbed for their meager earnings, as there is a new, far more attractive and lucrative victim in town; the Hipster.