Oh newly employed Hipster Art Director Intern, how I revel in your perspectives on fashion, music, cuisine and social attitudes. Whereas once I naively considered myself of the cool ilk, you’ve exposed me for the delusional fool I am. I mean I don’t have a coveted liberal arts degree and rarely if ever use the term "post-modern" (or "PoMo" as you so cleverly abbreviate it). I don’t even own a shoulder-strap messenger bag and I wear contact lenses and not lensless, horn-rimmed glasses—so post modern! I don’t buy my clothing at Baby Gap, for I no longer possess the physique of a twelve-year old boy, and I cannot lie Hipster Art Director Intern, I wash my hair more than semi-annually. Until recently I still enjoyed listening to my classic rock CD collection; that is until you showed me what real music was. Quickly keystroking a selection of MP3s off your MacBook, you created an unparalleled mix track. A techno duet featuring DMX and Dolly Parton anyone? Perhaps one day I will find favor in your eyes and be embraced by both you and your “deck” colleagues. (Note: it is no longer recommended that one use the term "cool"; a Hipster would instead say "deck.") Until then Hipster Art Director Intern, go ahead and roll your eyes at the slightest feedback from those uppity creative directors. They may have years of experience, the respect and admiration of clients and shelves filled with awards, but unlike you, they don’t know deck.
