There is a piece in this month’s Philly Mag that features a few lines from me talking about the Phils. (Of course, the topless shot of the woman who tried to sell her body for tickets is causing a bit more buzz than Philly’s favorite quizmaster. Topless crazy women always steal my thunder!) Nonetheless, I do want to thank Philly Mag for running this piece, and more importantly, for airbrushing me so I look like I have muscles. But something kind of funny to note in the piece: I am described as a hipster. I’ve always thought of hipsters as people who wear tight jeans, never laugh, and listen to crappy indie rock like Belle and Sebastian. Am I wrong? Do hipsters wear ugly sportcoats and host trivia at bars? I’m so confused. Vote below and let me know: am I a hipster?
Even more than the sportcoats, that kind of retro hat is a big mark of hipsterdom.
Being a true tool is not easy. Anyone with a thrift shop within a 50 mile radius can be a hipster, which these days is a term synonymous with poser in my book. JGT is certainly no poser because he is a genuine phenomenon. He owns his tooldom, revels in it, and happily lets it spatter liberally on those who put themselves in range.
There are lots of kinds of tools. JGT is to tool as Mezcal is to liquid; useful, a little dangerous, and something everybody needs to imbibe more regularly, though many may be too timid to gulp, gargle, and send hurling into their gullets.