Blue States Lose is the best thing to hit New York since Elizabeth Wurtzel's scorching case of vanity chlamydia [or you could insert a Nick Cage vehicle / career joke here if you're sassy!]. The premise is simple - it's kinda like tossing a twinkie in the lunch room in kindergarten and tripping the fat kid as he runs to grab it off the floor: flip through the infinite stacks of solipsistic, self-satisfied hipsters from a few select photo sites and clown dumb chicks in leotards and shit emo homo dudes with their mom's eye shadow and undescended testicles. This is pretty much what i do whenever I got out east of Highland, but the shit is actually infuriating, so maybe it's like hug therapy - like seeing that other people hating on that fucking chick in Footsies rocking the Parisian / hamburgler striped top underneath the shawl she's crocheting (needles dangling) as she bounces from table to table, offering to play Radiohead or Fiery Furnaces jams on her mini-accordian (or, ugh, a fucking Melodica!) in exchange for napkin poetry that she's going to eventually publish in her memoirs. So anyway, Blue States Lose is like the best part of my week. It's like a warm cup of cocoa for the disillusioned [me].
The Cobrasnake. Hand Van Cable TV photo #5739: We've said it before and we'll say it again: We love consistency in our hipster youth. Take this fellow, for example. Not only does he clearly agree with the right to bare arms, but he also clearly agrees with the right to bare his arms. There's so much arm baring going on in this motherfucker that the drummer from Def Leppard is waiting outside hoping to collect the runoff. Poor, shattered man.