Hipster Cunt Manifesto (Part 1)

We all know what's up, fellow hip pervs, don't we? The special plight of being a horny hipster. Of being addicted to a particular brand of societally-determined public pornography. Our secret passion: hip girls in confoundingly obscene situations, feigning oblivion. Vice Do's, Cobrasnake hoes, vulnerable, mildly delinquent, semi-drunk, neatly disheveled, long-limbed, sprawled on second-hand ottomans, chronically exhausted, emerging from fits of drug-addled silliness, laughters still cackling away, cock-teasers of the teenage variety, immodestly dressed, a half-thigh gleaming under cheap spotlights, surprisingly full breasts rolling under ironic tee-shirts, etc.

So what is the plight, you might ask? Were we addicted to, say, Bolivian big-titted beekeepers, how harsh would life be, right? There are entire sites dedicated to Them, to hipster cunts. Plus myspace. Plus... The problem is: TOO MUCH NOISE, NOT ENOUGH MUSIC. You don't want to go through hundreds of myspace profiles and filter out tons of pictures of cold pizzas and
colder hobos before finding the ones you want. So, from now on, we'll do it so you don't have to. Welcome to Hipster Cunt.