So there’s an art opening at Cafe Royale this Thursday called “Hipster Apocalypse,” and reading about it I’m just like….ughhhhhhh. I mean, read the description:

Ironically, although hipsters have existed in one form or another for decades, the hipster movement has become more main stream, influencing the American status quo by supporting alternative art, music, and fashion. Like an epidemic of entitlement, the hipster condition has spread across America and over the seas to Japan and other countries susceptible to American culture. We see hipsters every day riding their fixed-gear bicycles on their way to studying film at local art schools. They drink the most expensive coffee and the cheapest beer. Imagine a world where alternative culture is pop culture; a world where Vampire Weekend plays the half time show at the Super Bowl instead of Bruce Springsteen; a world where stores selling used records and clothing are as large and as common as Walmart. The purpose of this show is to create awareness of the hipster way and the rise in demand for outrageous moustaches, vacuum sealed jeans, high-school sports tee shirts, and the over-consumption of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Now, (TAKING ALL OF MY STRENGTH TO OVERLOOK THEIR USE OF THE WORD IRONIC) I don’t generally drink Pabst because I have taste buds, but I do a lot of hipstery things like not eating meat and loving boys with ironic facial hair. And I’m just tired of the term “hipster”.  It feels like 20-somethings are divided into “hipsters” and “bros and beezies,” and they’re supposed to hate each other and be condescending towards each other and blah blah blah.  And at this point I'm like WHO CARES. We all grew up with a sense of entitlement because most of us were born to upper middle class white people who coddled us and told us we were “special” while rearing us in suburbia and sending us to SAT prep classes because we were “destined to succeed.” Some of us embraced this upbringing, moved to the Marina, and continued to live off of the emotional and financial support of our parents. Others were like, “wait, but I’m different and I want people to know I’m different and SO not like my parents,” so they moved to the Mission and liked the same things everyone else liked, like second-hand flannel and oversized glasses, while continuing to live off of the emotional and financial support of our parents. So I guess my whole point is…don’t point the finger at hipsters for this culture of entitlement sweeping over the helpless nation “like an epidemic.” It’s my whole goddamned generation, and you created us.

That said, I'm sure it's all very lovely art (UNICORNS! RAAAAAINBOWS!!), and the reception goes from 8pm-midnight. make up your own minds, you goddamned conformists.

Apparently there is this thing called Carnaval in the Mission.  Neat!  Unfortunately it starts at 9:30 in the morning (7:30 if you live anywhere near the hippie drum circle warm-up lounge).   Anyways, because I assume most of you had better things to do with your morning, like have sex and eat Lucky Charms, I took my 7-year-old point-and-shoot that has survived two drops in the toilet (I like taking pictures of myself peeing) and my 5-month-old iPhone.  Which do you think took better photos?  Enjoy:

My Carnaval started out just right: two smug white people complaining about “idiots” using disposable coffee cups.  For a hot second, I mumbled “fucking tourists.”  Then I remembered I was in San Francisco.

Carnaval 2010 Press Pool

Carnaval is the only time of the year when you can be coked out swinging a machete down 24th and not get shot by police.

The world's most embarrassing gang initiation ceremony.

The street closures presented the perfect opportunity for hipster divas to take “epic profile pics.”

I initially photographed this girl because I thought she looked like Cousin Itt.

After Zorro here tried to whip my camera out of my hand, he discovered his cape wasn't bullet-proof.

It was truly a hallmark year for fashion.  For example, this bro managed to incorporate every one of the hipster primary colors into his outfit.

Here is my proof that I witnessed a celebrity sighting.

I kept waiting for Peter Parker to change into his Spideysuit, but it never happened.

Anyways, what was my favorite scene of Carnaval 2010?

Want.

This past Saturday, amidst sunny skies and blistering winds, Pop's Bar on 24th and York St. held its first annual Slam Dunk Contest, and it was awesome. The contestants gathered at the local dive around 4 p.m. or so to properly lubricate themselves before taking part in bar game history. There were costumes, there was a shirtless man, there was a girl, there was an ecstatic crowd, there were embarrassing falls and flops, and there were plenty of authoritative slam-fucking-dunks. Below is a set of choice photos from the proceedings.

Michaelangelo had some issues.

Why is that guy dressed like a pizza?!

There's that girl I was talking about.

Sometimes less clothing means more air.

Friends were helping friends.

One-Eyed Ron fucking owned the game.

Free Pete looking like a basketball card.

Does this kid got style or what?!

Nicknamed “GQ” by the crowd, this dunker rose above his name to deliver some serious dunks.

Seriously! Why is that guy wearing a pizza costume?!

Damn! Pizza got hops.

Get it in there, Ron!

GQ from the free-throw line!

Pizza wins 1st, GQ wins 2nd, and One-Eyed Ron gets 3rd!

What do we think people?  BADASS or no?

Be sure to check out their show:

(All images from the always rad Gaia photostream)