On our pantheon of people we don’t like, hipsters fall somewhere between New Jersey drivers and Boston Red Sox fans. So we were tickled pink when we saw that a few of them in Francisville got strong-armed by the police a few days ago. After a search of their shelled out home, the cops quickly concluded that they were more than mere hipsters, they were possible terrorists. “They’re a hate group,” (Police Captain Dennis Wilson) asserted. “We’re trying to drum up charges against them, but, unfortunately, we’ll probably have to let them go.”
Of course they are a hate group. They’re hipsters. They hate everything. They hate fun, they hate sports, they hate people, they hate laughter. They are the walking definition of a hate group.
My suggestion for the “Francisville Four”? Go back to listening to the Puffy Doorknobs or whatever random band you’re going to love for the next 15 minutes before you suddenly decide that they’ve sold out for playing in a venue that has electricity and then hate on them over the Champagne of Beers at Johnny Brenda’s. And shave that damn beard off. It’s summertime, fool.
RELATED: Our prediction? Philebrity hosts some sort of Belle and Sebastian dance party fund raiser for these clowns.