Elliot Smith: slow and sad.
I haven’t heard a good hipster joke in a dog’s age. Make me laugh, or perhaps groan as the case may be.
I don’t know about all-out laughs, but if you want some groans, I have groaners the likes of which this world has never before been forced to hear. Never let it be said I didn’t wait until somebody affirmatively asked me to force these majestically terrible hipster jokes on all of you. On the bright side, with a large, turkey-themed holiday coming up, you can all take these jokes with you to amuse various drunk uncles and tipsy aunts.
Q: Why did the sweet little old lady need to push the button on her LifeAlert system during a tearful performance of “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” at the Death Cab for Cutie concert?
A: Because she fell and broke her hipster.
Q: What do you call a hipster who drinks too much complimentary box wine at a gallery opening and starts telling guests the featured artist is like “a poor man’s Banksy, but, you know, after he sold out”?
A: An Uber.
Q: What do you call a gymnast who thinks glitter is too mainstream, and who only performs slow, sad routines to Elliot Smith songs?
A: A flipster.
Q: What do you call an exotic dancer who thinks glitter is too mainstream, and who only performs slow, sad routines to Elliot Smith songs?
A: A stripster.
Q: How do you get a hipster’s head out of the clouds?
A: Take away his vape.
A hipster walks into a bar. He orders whatever nobody’s having.
Obscure, Milwaukee-based alternative hip-hop artist.
Obscure, Milwaukee-based alternative hip-hop artist who?
A young woman brought her hipster boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner so he could meet her parents for the first time. The woman’s mother knew her daughter and the boyfriend had been living in a trendy, urban area, and the boyfriend worked at a restaurant where everything was made in-house, and where the servers were in the habit of sitting down at guests’ tables to take orders. The mother hoped to impress her daughter and the new boyfriend, so she went all out creating a hipster Thanksgiving feast. She brined the turkey in fair trade spices, local sea salt, and organic maple syrup. She made red eye gravy using coffee from a local, small-batch roaster. Rather than buying a premade pumpkin pie, she bought and processed fresh pumpkins for the filling. She handmade pie crusts using organic lard instead of shortening, and she made mince pie from an 18th-century recipe she discovered on a trendy blog. When everybody sat down to eat, the hipster boyfriend touched nothing but mashed potatoes and gravy. The mother was absolutely distraught, because she had spent hours rolling out pie crusts, marinating the handmade mince in brandy, pureeing pumpkin for the filling, and monitoring the turkey as it swam in its brine. After the meal, while the boyfriend was busy telling his girlfriend’s father about why he didn’t follow American football, but he thought rugby was pretty cool, the mother pulled her daughter aside and asked her if the boyfriend had hated her cooking, because he barely ate anything. “Oh, I’m sure he would have liked it,” the daughter replied, “but he won’t eat anything baked in a conventional oven.”