FOX News will report this as: “Obama Supporter Attends Communist Rally”
I had plans for a big happy fun summer thing today, so last night I did all the things I normally do on Saturday. Laundry, cleaning the kitchen, cleaning the bathrooms, looking at my baseboards and saying to myself, “I should really dust those sometime.” Then before I went to bed, I looked at my calendar and realized the big happy fun summer thing is next Saturday. The upside is that I realized it beforehand rather than actually showing up at the big happy fun summer thing location only to find tumbleweeds and crickets and people saying, “you’re a week early” while looking at me sympathetically yet still wanting me to leave, a circumstance so potentially sad that I am a little teary-eyed just thinking about how it almost happened but fortunately did not because I am a retentive, double-checking motherfucker. The downside is that it’s Saturday and I don’t know what to do with myself, which is how I ended up at a Communist Rally. Well, you know, that’s how this kind of thing starts. Let this be a lesson to you. Don’t let this happen to your teen!
At about 10:30 this morning, I looked out one of my upstairs windows and saw that there were a bunch of booths set up in the park. There were tables with those tent-top umbrellas, about fifty folding chairs set up around the amphitheater, and a large tent, the opening of which faced away from me but which I was sure was there to sell lemonade and grilled hot dogs. Festival! Carnival! Alternate big happy fun summer Saturday!
Entering the park, I saw the usual idyllic scene: dozens of kids on the play equipment and in the water park area, making squealy kid noises, while their dogs frolicked in and out of the water, their moms gathered on the benches to talk about Fetzer wine and tennis lessons in that loud, nasal way they all seem to have, the dads making Woo-Hoo! noises when their kid did something outstanding like not spontaneously fall down. But also in the air was something dark and vaguely moronic, which I soon realized was an abundance of hipsters.
Well, okay, twelve hipsters. But that’s more than enough when it’s six women trying desperately to look like Zooey Deschanel and six guys trying just as hard to look like Johnny Depp. I always want to stop those people on the street and explain to them that it takes more than Buddy Holly glasses. Better genetics may also be needed. Anyway, there were a lot of them. Or so it seemed until I figured out what was going on.
Once in the park proper, I noticed that all the booths but one were empty. I walked up to the nearest empty one and there was a sign titled “Workshop C” and listing a bunch of times and events that all had something to do with “Occupy Oakland,” which is odd mostly because of the fact that Oakland is 800 miles and two states away. Then I walked over to another empty booth and saw an identical sign except it said, “Workshop D.” I went over to the one occupied booth, which also had the same sign but labeled “Workshop A.” Behind the table were Sort Of Zooey #3 and Not At All Depp #2, and sitting in the folding chairs were a few more Zooeys and Depps, three old women speaking to each other in Cantonese and fanning themselves with folded up newspaper, and a couple of kids who wandered over from the jungle gym, probably because, like me, they wrongly assumed that where there is a booth in a park on a summer Saturday, there are going to be Sno-Cones. This is what life is, kids! Never-ending disappointment!
Sort Of Zooey #3 was speaking: “Capitalism is not just going to go away. Capitalism is strong. Capitalism is not … not going away.” Well, so far this is riveting. “We must take this opportunity to fix the problem of capitalism. We are the first generation to have this opportunity.” Awww! That’s so cute! A young person who thinks her generation is the first generation to figure out what’s wrong with the world and how to fix it! Shhhh. She’s talking again. Don’t want to miss out on any innovative thinking. “Capitalism is … strong.” Wait, I saw this movie already. “Capitalism …” Then she tapped on the mic and said, “Can everyone hear me?”
At that point, I made the mistake of making eye contact with one of the dads who was standing a few feet away from his Sno-Cone deprived son. The kid was staring open-mouthed at Sort Of Zooey #3 because even at age 6, he couldn’t believe how dumb this whole thing was. When Dad’s eyes and mine met, we burst out laughing. Then the Chinese women started laughing because they like capitalism. In fact, that’s probably why they left China. Dad’s kid decided that if there were no Sno-Cones he was going to leave and I decided to leave also, for pretty much the same reason. While walking away I could hear Sort Of Zooey #3 saying, “We need to … overthrow capitalism. In a violent way.” Maybe she meant to say “non-violent,” but was flustered because all the Chinese women were still laughing and swatting at each other with newspapers.
That was several hours ago, but our economic system continues to be intact. I’ve been checking out the rally from my bedroom window throughout the day, and by the looks of things, I would guess that all the Zooeys and Depps are more upset that they set up 20 booths, a giant tent, and an elaborate sound system for a total of 17 people, including themselves, than they are about the growing divide between the rich and the poor. Not that they won’t get over it anyway, much as people of my generation pretty much never think about starving children in Africa anymore, even though they still exist. And we were really committed. We didn’t just buy the USA for Africa album; we bought the video too. Besides, I don’t think you can be both a hipster and opposed to capitalism. It’s not as if the clothes at Urban Outfitters are free.
I saw a picture of a bowl full of baby meerkats the other day, and I thought of you. (the meerkittens were being adorable, not delicious, just in case you were worried) http://cheezburger.com/6327643136 As for hipster communists in the park, that would make a great album title.
Ha! I saw that same picture and thought of you. Then I thought about how you never blog anymore and how almost no one else blogs anymore and then I felt sad. Or, in other words: tits.
Youth is wasted on the young. My parents saved all my letters from college and my Dad gave them back to me a few years ago. I read one that happened to describe the day a professor dropped dead in the hallway outside the classroom where a bunch of us freshman were taking a final exam. My “philosophizing” on death was very cringe-worthy.
Fortunately, I don’t have old letters that I’ve written, just the ones I received in return from friends who’d gone to college elsewhere. I came across them a while back, and while they were idiotic, I mainly have a lot of affection for the people they used to be. Still and all, I hope anyone who had my letters burned them years ago.
It’s funny, but when you mentioned the fair, I was kind of getting excited because I do have a really soft spot in my heart for fairs with silly, rigged games and rides that are tame enough even for me to brave them. Poor kid! I’ve had many disappointments in my life, but at least I never went to a booth hoping to win a stuffed dog and found an angry, ranting hipster instead.
I know I’m a bad person, but sometimes when a hipster lectures me about how I spend my money I find myself looking at his or her tattoos and wondering how much they cost and how many people they could feed if they sent the money somewhere instead of getting inked. I have nothing against tattoos, but if you’re going to lecture about ‘unnecessary consumption for vanity…’
I do the same thing as you regarding dates–I have a good memory, so I tend to rely upon it more than I should. Oh, and this is really random, but I saw on Pinterest that supposedly those ‘dryer sheets’ (like Bounce) can be used to clean baseboards, and if you use the sheets you don’t have to dust the wood as often. I don’t have a dryer but when I make an effort to clean my baseboards I might give it a try, which will probably be when I’m really bored. In December. After Christmas.
I have a spot spot for the fly-by-night carnival too. There’s something seedy and disreputable about them, and I find that appealing. When I was a kid, my friend Karen and I happened on one that was setting up and a bald man in a unitard yelled at us to get lost. We still refer to this as the time we were almost murdered by a crazed carny.
I only know two hipsters (I’m trying to get that number down to zero), but they’re both pretty materialistic. They complain about money, but they have nicer cars and phones than I do, as well as no retirement accounts, which makes them each the exact type of fool that I have no patience with.
My house is 99 years old. There’s no cure for dust here.
*hangs head in shame* I know I keep saying I’ll try to blog more, but all I seem to think about is the baby, and that must be getting old by now.
That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It would only be shameful if the opposite were true.
Sharon: Dad! I’m hungry! And my clothes have turned to rags!
Marius: Don’t bother Daddy when he’s blogging!
At some point being a communist appealed to me but then I discovered they are just as annoying as the people I already know. I don’t see any point in changing my whole way of thinking if people aren’t going to end up less bothersome as a result.
I don’t think I’ve ever been to a carnival, aside from some small-town home-made affair type of thing. I don’t remember anything about aside from a guy who was supposed to be a sultan/swami/snake charmer and wore a turban and slippers that curled up at the tip. I thought the slippers looked silly but I have been dying to try on a turban in the thirty-plus years since. If I did, Fox News and some of my dumber relatives would call me a terrorist.
I saw something recently that made me think of you. It said (more of less) that a smart hipster likes mainstream due to fact that the hatred of mainstream has become too mainstream. I don’t know . . . What I do know is that I am too old to drink crap beer and wear ugly clothes in an effort to be ironic, and I’m too young to do it without trying to be ironic.
The last time I went to a traveling carnival was ages ago. The person I was with wanted to go into the Fun House because he’d been to a carnival before where he’d gone into the Fun House and entered a room that had doors all the way around the room so that you had to search for the exit. He thought the logical place for them to put the exit door was right next to the entrance door, so he opened that door, was correct, and left. Later, he realized that he missed out on seeing what was behind all of the other doors; thus, he wanted to find that room again. (I just realized this story is a little like the movie Big, except way more boring and he didn’t age 20 years overnight.) Anyway, we tried to go into the Fun House but they wouldn’t let us because I was wearing sandals instead of closed shoes, so evidently what was behind some of the other doors involved a gross and most likely bacteria-laden floor.
It’s only 5:30 in the morning, so I’m having a little trouble parsing the theory on exactly what makes for a good hipster, but I think Starbucks Coffee might be a good example of it. Hipsters loved it until the company became successful. Once everybody loved it, hipsters decided to hate it. Then regular people realized that hating Starbucks was the thing to do, so they decided to hate it as well, while at the same time declaring that Dunkin Donuts coffee is far superior. The aspect of that that I enjoy the most is that Dunkin Donuts coffee is just Folgers coffee, in a smaller, much more expensive package. I should ask the two hipsters I know what they’re drinking these days. If it’s Starbucks, then I’ll know we’ve come full circle.