Dress up like an extra from Seinfeld and head in to Applebee’s

Before we get ahead of ourselves, I’ll remind everyone that we posed a riddle to the general public a few weeks back. We got some inspired guesses, and a few snide remarks, but a handful of astute readers discerned the answer: the word “and.” Neat, huh? Props to Erik who got there first, and who also spells his name like a Viking. Now, on to this week’s queries

Dear Hipster:

You had a recent column about how it’s possible to lose one’s hipster edge over time, often not realizing that the magic, so to speak, has faded until it’s too late to do anything about it. Rather than lose one’s credibility gradually, is it also possible to immediately disqualify oneself from hipsterness? If so, what would one have to do such that whoever or whatever acts as referee on these kinds of matters would have grounds to “pull your hipster card”?

— Kelcie

The long, slow slide from hipster to total square is like the heat death of the universe: an inevitable, irreversible process that leads to a state of perpetual ‘meh,’ and which comes to all in their time. A sudden, cataclysmic failure of hipsterness would be more akin to an individual supernova, or something on that level of magnificent destructiveness. However, while supernovae have been observed in nature, an instantaneous loss of all coolness has never been scientifically observed in the hipster population.

Picture in your head the ultimate hipster faux pas. Make it really bad. Say, dressing up in a 1990s business casual outfit so you look like an extra from Seinfeld, heading to Applebee’s for a plate of riblets and three of those giant sugary cocktails that come in ice cream cups, then catching a Dane Cook comedy show.

Now you’re picturing that, and it looks pretty bad, right? But it’s still only one thing. Sure, it was an ill-advised, supremely uncool thing, and you did it even though you shouldn’t have. But it’s a thing you did, and it’s not who you are. All you need to do is laugh at yourself a little and turn it into a funny story: “You guys remember that time I puked up the riblets at the Dane Cook show? That was a riot!” So long as you still have enough shame to know you’ve done wrong, you can always make it right.

Dear Hipster:

I just got a cat and I’m torn between giving him a normal human name (maybe Ralph or Dennis, or something else not catlike) or naming him with a random word like Chicken or Advil. Both options are weird and cool, but which is best?

— Tyler

This is a tough question, possibly even a trick question, because your suggested categories are actually tied for the second-best category of pet names. The best category of pet names is descriptive nonsense words. For example, I once knew a girl with a Shar Pei named “Chumley Lumpkins,” and I’ve also heard tales of a friend of a friend naming a cat “Chowser,” both of which are hilariously hipster pet names. Nonsense words triumph over boring human names and random nouns because, while the latter display great irreverence for pet naming conventions, the former perfectly combine irreverence with creativity. However, if you can’t come up with a delightful nonsense word, either of your options is a safe bet.