Archive for the ‘Hipster Scumbag’ Category

Hipster Douche

Thursday, May 19th, 2011

Whenever The Mayor sees a creature like the idjit above, he always asks himself, “I wonder what government department hired him?”

You see what The Mayor did there?

Hipster Douche Week

Saturday, April 2nd, 2011

It’s like driving by a car accident, you don’t want to look, but you always do. That’s the thing with seeing hipster douchebags. You see them coming, you want to look away but yet you don’t. You stare. In disgust.

Like this picture, it’s hard not to stare at the little Chinese guy and his effeminate boyfriend, but the picture just slaps you upside the head like a 7 lb mackerel. I suppose we stare because we wonder how something could go so wrong, why God created such bastardizations, why some folk would purposely perpetuate the stereotype. And then we finally come to the realization that some people are just plain ole hipster douchebags.

Sad. So very sad.

And so this ends Hipster Douche Week.

Now now The Mayor is going to go scrub his eyes with steel wool and Ajax. Perhaps a memory swipe might also do the trick.

Hipster Douche Week

Thursday, March 31st, 2011

The Mayor had his hipster douche picture all ready to go tonight, and then he saw the link that Mare left yesterday – a link to the picture you see above these words - and he had to put his chosen picture on the back-burner because Mare’s picture is the hipsterish douchebag gold medal winner of all time.

Just wow.

Hipster Douche Week

Wednesday, March 30th, 2011

It sure would be nice to have three clubs to beat that two of a kind with, wouldn’t you say?

The Mayor isn’t sure why he harbours such a great hatred for the hipster crowd, but truth be told The Mayor doesn’t self-analyse a whole lot because he’s not good at inward reflection and finds controled violence and outward hatred rather refreshing.

Hey, SG left a comment yesterday for The Mayor for a recipe that involves percodan and milk. Imagine. The Mayor tried it and liked it, but he has to say, a tumbler of Lagavulin and a mitt full of percs really do the trick, too.


Hipster Douche Week

Tuesday, March 29th, 2011

Yes, The Mayor is well aware of the lack of posting today on Mitchieville. You see, The Mayor was involved in an auto accident this morning and isn’t at his best right now.

To make a short story long, a non-hipster douche t-boned The Mayor’s giant SUV with their own giant SUV, writing off both trucks and sending The Mayor away in an ambulance. Relax, I’ll live.

The Mayor got concussed (if that’s the word), so his head is aching and he’s a little sick right now. The Mayor also messed up his back pretty good, so he’s chillin’ like a villain on penicillin as he’s typing this post.

Tomorrow is a new day and he’ll be back, stoned out of his gorb and ready to do this that and a smidgen of the other.

Insert random sympathies here_____________________________________________________.

Hipster Douche Week

Monday, March 28th, 2011

The Mayor would like to tell you that this go-around of Hipster Douche Week is going to be just as good as the last Hipster Douche Week we had last year, but truth be told, there was nothing good about last year’s Hipster Douche Week. Not one bloody thing.

In a way, The Mayor looks forward to the upcoming revolution. There’s a revolution coming, don’t kid yourself. And when the revolution comes, the hipster douche will be targeted by every and all peoples who desperately want to see this world cleaned up of the vermin that infest it.

Nice dog.


How To Piss Off A Hipster

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

Why run though? What in the world in a hipster going to do? Fight ya? I think not. A verbal lashing? That sounds about right.

This is a solid idea, but I would add a #5 to the mix – after putting lock into tunnel plugs, tell hipster the reason you did that was because his daddy asked you to. Hipsters are rife with daddy problems, that may send him/her over the edge.

Hipster Scumbag Week

Saturday, July 25th, 2009


At the beginning of the week I wasn’t really sure how to define a hipster. I knew nothing about them and that’s the way I liked it. Today, although I’m still not positive what a hipster is, I’m closer to defining some of the traits they have, so that’s a start.

Hipsters are basically Beatles looking rejects. Throw in some goofy glasses, some plaid, and a whole lot of homo, and you have your modern day hipster. Oh, and toss is a man-purse, too. Really though, the man-purse just reinforces the whole lot of homo part.

Hipster Week is over, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m tired looking at them, as I’m sure you are, also.

**Many of the pictures I used this week came from this site

Hipster Scumbag Week

Thursday, July 23rd, 2009


Just to show that I’m an equal opportunity hater, here’s a hipster the black community should be ashamed of. He looks like a mix between James Brown, Superfly, and complete jerkoff. All rolled up into one fruity little ball.

Great sweater, guy, does it come in mens?

Hipster Scumbag Week

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2009


Woody said that if I keep going with Hipster Scumbag Week I’ll eventually have to get to the guy in the Apple Store. I know EXACTLY what Woody is talking about. And I’m pretty sure this is the guy.

On second glance, these are actually two different *guys*. Sure, they probably weigh as much as one small guy, but they are indeed two different guys.

Hipster Scumbag Week

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009


Who would have guessed that Corky is a hipster scumbag? Who would have guessed that out of all the hipster scumbags, Corky is actually the coolest? Congrats, Corky, you’re the leader of the pack.

Hipster Scumbag Week

Monday, July 20th, 2009


I’m not entirely sure what a hipster is, but I’m certain I don’t like them. If the creature in the picture is a hipster, and the next few generations of men are going to resemble him, then I actually wish radical Islam prevails. Or a giant meteor crashes into North America. Or H1N1 mutates and kills all white people. Either way, I want off this planet and wish nothing but ill.

I know, I’m preaching to the choir, aren’t I?