Not content with having ruined Journey, lumberjack shirts, and Williamsburg; 2008 was the year that hipsters bent their black frame eyeglassed-gaze on bacon, the heretofore innocent treat of our Sunday breakfasts.
Hipster doofuses have added bacon to everything from chocolate to vodka this year. Part of my rage stems from the fact that I suspect it’s probably all delicious (I like bacon, and chocolate, and vodka; why wouldn’t I enjoy all of them together?), but now carries the rancid taint of hipsterdom.
Why do they do it? Part of it is some kind of dick-measuring oneupmanship about how DECADENT and UNHEALTHY they are, like teenagers bragging about how many kegstands they can do, or smoking unfiltered cigarettes. LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG, LEAVE A DIABEETUS-RIDDLED CORPSE!
And another part of it is just the fine hipster tradition of mocking poor and/or rural people, something they, swaddled against reality with trust funds and hedge fund management jobs, know jack shit about.
Wake me up when the inevitable “tuna-noodle casserole” trend rolls around, because I make a damn fine one.