Downtown’s March of Hipsterism as Inevitable as Five-Year Plan

comradgrumpyWhen they came for the old Fremont Street motels, I said, “Well, they were old and kind of ratty, anyway.” When they began opening up bars that served Strip-priced cocktails, I said, “I guess it’s nice to have options.” When they replaced the old motels with shipping containers topped with Burning Man art, I said, “Um, OK.” But when everybody started using the same buzzwords, wearing the same clothes and stressing the need for “radical inclusion,” I began to feel uneasy. By then, dessert was removed from the Gold Spike menu (“He doesn’t believe in dessert,” a waiter told me), and we were asked to write our hopes and aspirations on cards which would then be set afire inside a giant, cube-shaped effigy. Briefly, I considered rallying against the idea of large metal icons anchoring our public spaces and of cleansing our dreams with fire … but then I thought, gee, I’d rather catch up with my accumulation of TED talks via my Google Glass, and maybe have an artisanal doughnut. Do we believe in doughnuts?



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