Apparently filling out the Census isn’t ironic enough to hold hipsters’ attention. From NPR:
Many New York City residents aren’t returning their census forms. The return rate is only around 50 percent, but the lowest rate of return (around 30 percent) is the hipster enclave of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. These young, recent graduates with ironic mustaches and plaid shirts are apparently too busy tweeting to fill out a simple census form.
Good. I don’t want those wastes of space being counted anyways. They’re not even real people. Just a bunch of horribly dressed succubi that leech the joy out of everything anything they touch. They’re the cultural equivalent of the aliens from Independence Day.
(What kind of valuable demographic information would the U.S. gain from Williamsburg anyway? Probably a couple thousand pasty white kids who list “Animal Collective” as their religion.)
Do you know how many things I genuinely enjoy that hipsters have tainted with their plague-touch? Pabst Blue Ribbon. Mustaches. Synthesizers. Vinyl records. And I just heard from a friend that bacon is really trendy with hipsters in Portland these days. It’s not just me, either. Check out this article: “Hipsters: The Dead End of Western Civilization.” Or hey, how about this one: “Why the Hipster Must Die.”