This is it… this is your life. These grooves dictate your very being… embrace them… love them. You see those grooves? Would you fuck those grooves? Or would you make sweet love to those grooves?…

[This is a picture of record groove under a 1000x microscope.]

We’ve all seen a viral video before. Whether it’s Kittens Inspired by Kittens or Hipsters in Space, any You Tube masterpiece that’s going to incite a laugh is worth watching. But what if this video happens to be of your friends? Even funnier, right? What if this video happens to be of your friends who faked a story about killing a cat, got flown out to LA and were on Judge Judy? What if said video started buzzing on the internet and ended up on Hipster Runoff under the title ‘Alt Guy Goes to Jail for Throwing TV at Cat‘? Well, that’s just fucking hilarious.

So, last week I get a call from my best friend who used to live with a couple of the Wham City Kids down in Baltimore, and now lives next door to Dan Deacon (Yeah, I don’t even have to try and make this stuff up). He asks me if I’ve read Hipster Runoff that day. Now that website is like the New York Times for ironic assholes, so of course I am a religious reader, but it was a school day, so no, I hadn’t looked at it yet. Turns out the Alt Report was featuring a video of some hipsters who were on Judge Judy. Turns out those hipsters were Kate and Jonathon, two of my best friend’s old roommates. The issue was that Jonathon, the long haired greasy defendant threw three TVs across a room during a party and one of them landed on the very fidgety accuser’s cat. To make it even more viral-worthy, the greasy dude is wearing a leather jacket and is there with his ’boyfriend’, also donning a biker look. The girl Kate tells Judge Judy that she is a musician so all the days blend together, and the defendant says he was so drunk that he doesn’t remember any of it. After the verdict, the participants are interviewed. The defendant’s ’boyfriend’ tells the camera that they only like to smash stuff outside and poor Kate holds up pictures of a dead bird that Jonathon supposedly lit on fire, reiterating how much he hates animals.

After my first viewing I was in hysterics. I have no effing clue how they managed to get this onto television, and you can see them laughing all the way through. Jonathon is not gay, and the cat, Tripps, is not dead. And one of those TVs was mine so they better not have smashed them. I think, however, that my favorite part is when Brian retorts to Judge Judy ’alright, mama’ when she doesn’t want to hear his side of the story.

Now, my grandma watches Judge Judy everyday, and I keep meaning to ask her if she saw this episode, but I suppose I could never really tell her that I know these kids. She already thinks all my friends are losers.

You can watch the video here, and be sure to read the comments, which are just as funny: http://altreport.hipsterrunoff.com/2010/02/alt-guy-goes-to-jail-for-throwing-tv-at-cat.html

It’s somewhat rare that we here anything from The Onion that people deem noteworthy; Often times, their satire is less tongue-in-cheek and more tongue-stuck-out-pointing-right-at-you. Still, every once in a while, we get a glimmer of genius from them. And none is the case right now more than this fictional rendition of what would happen if Denmark allowed their ‘national treasure’ Lars Von Trier to write and direct an advert for national tourism in their country. [For the record, if you haven't seen a Lars Von Trier film, then.. get the fuck off of this blog!!! ]

Denmark Introduces Harrowing New Tourism Ads Directed By Lars Von Trier

Memory Tapes and Neon Indian played at Making Time this past weekend, and of course I went. Making Time is a hipster staple in this city, more than any night at the Barbary. It’s been taking place at Voyeur, a gay bar downtown, and is always crowded and sweaty. While this is usually an equation for fun, the mood of last Friday was just a little too different. Voyeur used to be Pure, and was recently sold and renovated. The obvious changes were made downstairs, where the plush velvet walls were replaced by mirrors. The change in management was also reflected in the horrendous bathroom maintenance. I’ve waited in plenty of lines to break the seal before. Camera in one head, Sparks in the other, surrounded by your over-sequined girl friends, it’s not a terrible time. However, when the end of that line leads you to an overflowed toilet with fecal matter on the linoleum, party over.

Aside from that, the bands weren’t that great, or should I say, not that danceable. I spent most of the night chasing friends up and down the stairs and drinking water from an old beer cup. With almost ten years under it’s belt, Making Time is getting played out. A lot of it has to do with a change in music taste, electro is dead and seeing a chillwave band at a gay discotech is just a strange way to spend your night.

So my question is: What the fuck is next? With Live Forever gone, and no one ever wanting to PAY to get into a dance party, the options are limited. The Ox is a new venue in Fishtown, but considering it is completely illegal, and things are already being stolen from there, it probably won’t last very long. And since they can never manage to turn the god damn lights on, you spend have the night groping around for your friends. No thanks.

I’ve noticed something though. The weeknights are the new weekend. Two new weekday scenes have been taking off quite nicely: Tigerbeats at the Barb and Night Train at KFN. Tigerbeats specializes in the Indie dance jams, which may sounds confusing, but it’s really just a lot of shit I used to listen to in high school. But that’s a good thing! That place gets packed for a Monday night, and after too many beers, when At the Drive In comes on, you are PSYCHED. Now Night Train is a Thursday night jawn, and while I’ve never been a huge fan of Robotique or even KFN, I’m pleasantly pleased with the consistent turnout to this event. And why? Because for all the hot guys there AREN’T in this city, all the good looking ones manage to make it out for this. I haven’t seen more than one or two good looking guys at a bar in what feels like months. But Night Train is like a treasure trove of them.

So really all it boils down to is this: Gay bars equal bad, old school music and cute boys equal good. Now that’s some math I can get down with.

Alright, alright, after watching that you might be strangely turned on by her, in that hot crack head sort of way. And the more I think about it, if you consider fashion photography to be an art form, perhaps this crucified Lindsay isn’t as far a stretch from Serrano or Maplethorpe as I originally thought? I watched a video of Lindsay working with Terry Richardson for this Purple editorial, wearing an outfit consisting of designs by the late Alexander McQueen. Throw a golden shower scene in there and you’ve got the holy grail of fashion controversy. Like it or not, LiLo plans on doing whatever it takes to stay in the limelight. Even if it means looking like a bearded dude from a biblical times.

After recovering from the buffalo wing coma which is normally associated with Super Bowl Sunday, one must gear up for our next great national celebration, Valentine’s Day. A festival of love, presents, and people wearing red and pink, I’d have to say Valentine’s is my favorite of all the holiday gimmicks. It has the ability to make perfectly normal people feel like shit, and sappy assholes in relationships feel even cheesier.

Since no one in Philadelphia dates, it is safe to assume we are all going to be alone on Valentine’s Day. But should we be embittered? Should we sulk, sing melancholy songs and long for the days of relationships past? I say no! We should embrace our singleness, make the most of it. The holiday falls on a Sunday this year, and thank god, for I’m rarely one to leave the house on the Sabbath as it is. In a hangover haze consisting of homework and greasy food, it would be an unusual occurrence for me to cross the threshold of my front door. Even if the result would be a free meal in a trendy Center City restaurant, the pressure to put out is far too great on VD.

In fact, this year, I’ve already made plans. I am going out- to see the movie which bears the holiday’s namesake, Valentine’s Day, of course! Now this film is sort of like an Ocean’s Eleven juggernaut, as in it fits the lets-see-how-many-celebrities-we-can-cram-into-this-movies-in-hopes-of-getting-people-to-come-out-and-see-it genre. The advertisement for this thing is basically a photo-shopped heart filled with about 86 Hollywood big shots. From the old and irrelevant Julia Roberts, to the tween wet dream machine Taylor Swift (who I believe plays an obnoxious high-schooler, a far cry from her current role as Grammy winning country singer). The trailer informs me that the film will take me across the lives of ten people residing in LA over the course of one Valentine’s Day. We can only hope there will be laughter, tears, and the shocking conclusion that not all can successfully traverse the pathways of the heart on February 14^th- although the good looking and rich have a much better chance of it.

If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to round up a handful of my girlfriends to bring with me. There, we can laugh and cry, relating completely to this cinematic masterpiece. We will know exactly what the single girl is going through, and sigh with precious hope when she meets a handsome guy three-quarters of the way through the movie. We will feel angry when the antagonist breaks up with his innocent and boring girlfriend of two years for the younger, more attractive minx. We will feel excited to see who will appear on screen next, hoping it is someone totally hot. We will feel elated when it somehow all works out in the end for all three hundred and twelve main characters. And if we are resourceful enough, we’ll be able to sneak in our bonbons and a sixer of Smirnoff Ice.

So fear not this great holiday, Philadelphia! I’m not worried at all. If nothing else, just remember we are all going through it together. And it’s always dark in the movies, so no one can see just how pathetic you look with that bonbon all over your face.

There’s no question that Lady Gaga has a firm grip over the music industry. Whether you like her music or not, her staggering record sales and performances at every awards show make it obvious just how much this chick matters. Now, personally, I love Lady Gaga. Well, I love her stylist Nicola Formichetti and the team who make many of her costumes, Haus of Gaga. But the music’s not bad, either. Just catchy, pop tunes, right?

So in a world where there can only be one Gaga, what is the industry going to do? Make more of her, of course. I was reading an article not too long ago that the music big shots will certainly be in search of new ‘edgy’ talent to help make bank from the niche The Ga has carved out. A name which was thrown onto the table in speculation was Ke$ha. But is she relatable to the Lady herself? Ke$ha’s first single bore a striking resemble to ‘Just Dance’ as in they were both somewhat angst-y songs about getting fucked up. This is where the consistencies end. While Lady Gaga prides herself in wearing outrageous couture, Ke$ha kind of just looks like a stripper. Wait, let me rephrase that, she DOES look like a stripper- the outfit she wore to the Grammy’s this past week only solidified that fact. Not to mention the makeup that could have been mistaken for two black eyes. The sequined flapper dress just made her look like a bird who did too much bar brawling in the era of Prohibition.

And therefore we see patterns emerging in the pop vehicle. As was the case in the late 90’s/ early 2000’s, the crowning of queen Britney was follow by the ChristinaMandyJessica’s-in-waiting who never really managed to dethrone her. (Although she quite fantastically managed to dethrone herself only a few years later- and she was still looking a HOT mess at the Grammy’s this year.) So shall we see the same fate for any of the girlies who come into fruition during the reign of Gaga? Will they all be deemed intimidators who can’t come up with their own gimmicks? Is it necessary to have crazy gimmicks in the first place? If Lady Gaga didn’t wear outrageous costumes or Ke$ha didn’t look quite so slutty, would we have forgotten about them already?

I suppose the trouble with Pop these days is how destructive it is. We want more, more, more, whether it be sex, couture dance outfits, or mock stabbings onstage. The music has so little to do with it that I suppose artists could exist without making a sound at all. Just throw some auto-tune on that shit, bare your midriff, and like magic you’ll be winning Grammy’s!

Will Ke$ha manage to maintain her edgy rock slut master status and keep audiences enthralled for a few more months, dare I say years? Will people ‘stumble’ upon Uffie’s music, or even The Millionaires, and wonder why it all sounds exactly the same? Will they assume that Ke$ha came first, because she is ‘more popular’?

I suppose only time will tell kiddies, and judging by the nature of the beast, it will be sooner then later that we discover if Ke$ha shall be remembered as queen of the kingdom of skank, or just a joker in the court of one hit wonders.

Like trends in fashion, music has a strange way of slowly changing over time. You might not notice it in your normal everyday life, but when you go to as many dance parties as I do, it’s strikingly obvious. Now, any good hipster knows about Live Forever. It’s a dance party that takes place once a month at the Barbary, an establishment otherwise known as Hipster Mecca. Now, I’ve been going to Live Forever since the beginning. Since before I moved to this city, before I even knew who JHN RDN or Club Lyfestile were.

But electro is dead. I’ve said it, Hipster Runoff has said it. The heyday of Justice, Mstrkrft, and Steve Aoki has come and while it hasn’t gone completely, it has moved on to more mainstream things. As Carles of HRO put it most eloquently, electro is now for bros who confuse it with techno. As creatures of capitalism, we can’t be too disappointed. We’ve moved on to better things. We’ve fallen in love with the new Vampire Weekend, we’ve been climbing Yeasayer’s Ambling Alps. We got tired of all the damn remixes, we were confused by who was making the music and who was just using the records to blow lines off of. We didn’t want to pay twenty dollars to see Mstrkrft at the TLA, when just months before the set only cost five at Snacks. Electro blew up in our faces, and resulted in the reduction of egos and BPMs. As consumers, we’ve demanded more from musicians. The scene is becoming more chill. Maybe we’re just getting older, or maybe we were just sick of Steve Aoki dumping all that Grey Goose on our heads.

So what does this have to do with Live Forever? For the last two years it has been the quintessential electro night. I’ve heard ‘Kids’ played more times than I’d like to admit. The themes always appealed to a hipster’s need to craft, and Club Lyfestile helped to keep lame fabrics on the market. Their metallic fabrics combined with the lights on stage is rumored to have blinded several entry-levels with fake ids last year.

This Saturday is the last Live Forever. I’m surprised, to be honest. Now, there may be other reasons that I don’t know about, but I’m going to assume it was because all their electro records sailed off to the Island of Misfit Toys. But even so, is that a reason to stop doing the night? What else will the hipsters do every last Saturday of the month? I have been noticing something strange at the Barbary lately, a serious influx of bros. One can assume it is because the cast of the Jersey Shore have been deemed the new Joneses, and Carles must have been right, bros DO think electro is the same as techno!

Perhaps we should be thankful then, that the proprietors of the Barbary are protecting us from utter bro infiltration. Or maybe if enough of us trade places, we’ll start going to the Roxy on the weekends? Either way, I’ll be in attendance this weekend, dumping out some of my PBR to all the dancing homies of days past. Miss you already, Live Forever.