For certain hip twenty-somethings, and perhaps their hip teenage siblings, Hipster Runoff and its founder/writer/personality Carles were integral to a daily Internet routine. (It’s also responsible for launching the modeling career of Bebe Zeva, whom you see above.) We/they were addicted to his web brand: “Who will Carles all-cap next? Which words will he put ‘scare quotes’ around?” Anyway, Carles and HRO were a thing of an era, and now that Carles has sold that thing and the era is over, I guess Carles — who had been anonymous — no longer needs to hide. This article over at Vice is essentially a long history of HRO framed around a day-long Gchat session between the author and Carles, who reveals himself to be Carlos Perez.
The article, by nature of Carles’ deconstruction of his “self,” veers into some pretty OK post-Internet identity examination. The Internet got a whiff of that same kind of examination, but in the form of projected self-flagellation, from Wes Borland, the on-again, off-again guitarist for Limp Bizkit. Borland and his makeup and odd side projects were always my favorite part of the “Nookie” crew, but he recently posted a screed against his fan base, and I’ve gotta say: I’m pretty offended, man. He wrote this, in reference to his upcoming participation in one of those music cruises:
Getting all packed up this week for Broatchella 2015. It’s the same as Brochella but it’s off land. Can’t wait to see me some roided out tribal tattooed spray tanned Jell-O shot filled bohunks do their best drunk MMA impressions in the top deck mosh pit. Whenever we aren’t on stage, I’ll be curled up fetal position in my cabin, palms up, while I desperately cling to the last week of my thirties as it slips through my hooked fingers.
I don’t blame you if you didn’t read all of that, though. It’s tough to sympathize with someone who continues to do the thing that tortures him, like some kind of addict. Imagine being addicted to being in Limp Bizkit? Is there an out-patient program for that?
But, whatever. Most of what we start in life goes unfinished. Most of you won’t finish reading this post, even, because most of us don’t finish reading what we start. And that’s fine, because the second half of The Goldfinch was kind of a joke, anyway. The author of the linked piece, Lincoln Michael, goes on to explain something logical that should’ve been commonsensical:
“But bestselling books are exactly the books that are purchased on an impulse, or picked up by casual readers who only finish a book or two a year. A good book that only sells to its niche should be expected to have a higher completion rate than one given out as Christmas presents to aunts and uncles.”
But, well, let’s not start to expect commonsensical behavior from the Internet, especially when we can’t even expect it from our apps. Snapchat, especially, seems resistant to common sense, as is pointed out in this Slate piece titled, “Is Snapchat Really Confusing, or Am I Just Old?” And the answer is, in my opinion: Snapchat is really confusing. I have no idea what a “Snapchat story” is, and I have no idea how to put emojis over my photos. And that’s all I want in life. But Snapchat is just so confusing.
Not as confusing is this Super Bowl of Music, which pits band from Seattle against bands from New England. Click through to vote or, at the very least, to see Amanda Palmer in a football jersey. And, just to top that off, more Super Bowl-related absurdity: Starbucks is going to have a Seahawks-themed Frappuccino. It’ll have blueberries in it, which is exactly what football fans are looking for in their game day snacks. It’ll pair well with buffalo wings, hot dogs, and beer.