Take a walk through Vancouver and there is no doubt that you will be treated to some of the most diverse culture and style worldwide. I frequent downtown almost everyday so I have become familiar with the plethora of different people that call Vancouver: home. Through my exposure to all these different individuals, I have acquired a high level of tolerance. Now when I refer to "tolerance" I am not talking about racial equality, or racial togetherness. I'm over that shit, I get it, the first ten years of the 2000's are over; I'm not some sort of racial bigot who can't tell the difference between an Oreo, and you know, like, Tiger Woods or somebody...one of them blacks. No, this tolerance I speak of refers to my ability to be accepting of people's apparel, mannerisms, and lifestyle. As I have many different social groups influencing how I both dress and act, what kind of music I listen to, and how I speak, I am not one to single out certain sub-cultures. I figure I'm a decent person; I tend not to stereotype or label large groups of people, and never have I outwardly expressed hate towards people that are different than me. I can be a bit of a dick, but really, when has being a dick had anything to do with decency?
Unfortunately, my level of tolerance only goes so far. Certain crowds are slowly making their way to the mainstream, and in retrospect, they've been creeping around for a while now. Now before I tear apart these worthless motherfuckers who dare consider themselves humans, I'll start with a lighter note: a meager circle of people that doesn't actually piss me off as much as confuse the hell out of me: Urban Indiana Jones types.
For the record: I, Hawkins, am a devout supporter of anything Indiana Jones preceding 2008; I believe that Indy, informally referred to as Harrison Ford, is a hero amongst men, and a tribute to anything badder than bad ass. I would also like to include a official statement from the internet: "Any attempt to argue against his greatness is proof of Nazi sympathy, and the perpetrator is to be labeled a kraut and/or Hun." Yes, you heard it people, that quote comes straight off the official doctrine of Urbandictionary.com, therefore, it must be legit.
Anyways, recently it has come to my attention that these apparent modern day, urbanized Indiana Jones characters have been popping up. When I say popping up, I don't just mean here and there, as if it were something to completely disregard like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. No, I have been seeing a significant number of these inner-city archeologists, even as much as once a week. Seriously, I was walking through Gastown, minding my own business, and out of no where, I hear the sound of a bull whip crack, and this bearded fellow comes running out of a local antique shop, screaming something about belonging in a museum. I don't know what he was on about, but I do know one thing: WE DO NOT HAVE ROOM FOR THIS RECKLESS BEHAVIOR. Look at yourself, man, you've got be in your late twenties at least, your covered in mud and soot, and your running full speed into the street carrying some sort of imitation Sphinx head. Not to mention your seemingly paying homage to the greatest hero/archeologist/teacher/womanizer/Han Solo of all time, and your wearing almost all leather. What the fuck is the matter with you? Your fucking fedora is made of leather, and your pants to? Grow the fuck up you weirdo, you weirdo-beardo, before I call the god damn SPCA. I'm sorry for that outburst, but I feel under these circumstances it was completely appropriate, and if anything: too tame.
Like I said earlier, I am completely tolerant. I listen to weird music, I choose to wear certain distinguishing things, I've hung around with people who dress up in all black, spikes on their shoulders, machetes through their ears, and syringes through their lips, and I have no problem with these people. Even I will admit to dressing a little unusual now and again, but guess what. I save those certain times for October 31st. Or I don't know, sometimes Easter gets a little fucked up and I decide to wear some heinous shit; don't bother asking, it's a family thing. But if you decide your going to reveal yourself to the public, and showcase your tracking abilities or whatever you want to call it, please, I beg of you, track your way into an open sewer pipe, or off of the Shang-ri-la, or even better, into that big pit where their building the Ritz Carlton. No lie, I've heard on numerous occasion that there's an enchanted aquatic Indian burial ground down there; I'm sure you'll be able to find some bullshit to preserve.
Unfortunately, my level of tolerance only goes so far. Certain crowds are slowly making their way to the mainstream, and in retrospect, they've been creeping around for a while now. Now before I tear apart these worthless motherfuckers who dare consider themselves humans, I'll start with a lighter note: a meager circle of people that doesn't actually piss me off as much as confuse the hell out of me: Urban Indiana Jones types.
For the record: I, Hawkins, am a devout supporter of anything Indiana Jones preceding 2008; I believe that Indy, informally referred to as Harrison Ford, is a hero amongst men, and a tribute to anything badder than bad ass. I would also like to include a official statement from the internet: "Any attempt to argue against his greatness is proof of Nazi sympathy, and the perpetrator is to be labeled a kraut and/or Hun." Yes, you heard it people, that quote comes straight off the official doctrine of Urbandictionary.com, therefore, it must be legit.
Anyways, recently it has come to my attention that these apparent modern day, urbanized Indiana Jones characters have been popping up. When I say popping up, I don't just mean here and there, as if it were something to completely disregard like Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. No, I have been seeing a significant number of these inner-city archeologists, even as much as once a week. Seriously, I was walking through Gastown, minding my own business, and out of no where, I hear the sound of a bull whip crack, and this bearded fellow comes running out of a local antique shop, screaming something about belonging in a museum. I don't know what he was on about, but I do know one thing: WE DO NOT HAVE ROOM FOR THIS RECKLESS BEHAVIOR. Look at yourself, man, you've got be in your late twenties at least, your covered in mud and soot, and your running full speed into the street carrying some sort of imitation Sphinx head. Not to mention your seemingly paying homage to the greatest hero/archeologist/teacher/womanizer/Han Solo of all time, and your wearing almost all leather. What the fuck is the matter with you? Your fucking fedora is made of leather, and your pants to? Grow the fuck up you weirdo, you weirdo-beardo, before I call the god damn SPCA. I'm sorry for that outburst, but I feel under these circumstances it was completely appropriate, and if anything: too tame.
Like I said earlier, I am completely tolerant. I listen to weird music, I choose to wear certain distinguishing things, I've hung around with people who dress up in all black, spikes on their shoulders, machetes through their ears, and syringes through their lips, and I have no problem with these people. Even I will admit to dressing a little unusual now and again, but guess what. I save those certain times for October 31st. Or I don't know, sometimes Easter gets a little fucked up and I decide to wear some heinous shit; don't bother asking, it's a family thing. But if you decide your going to reveal yourself to the public, and showcase your tracking abilities or whatever you want to call it, please, I beg of you, track your way into an open sewer pipe, or off of the Shang-ri-la, or even better, into that big pit where their building the Ritz Carlton. No lie, I've heard on numerous occasion that there's an enchanted aquatic Indian burial ground down there; I'm sure you'll be able to find some bullshit to preserve.
Looking back over this post I realize that my feelings towards these people may be a bit stronger than I had originally predicted. If I were to summarize, which I won't, it even seems that I hold negative connotations towards them. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to add them to my list.
But, I must trek forward, on to the very reason I began this post.
Recently, a television show has been brought to my attention, and apparently it has created quite the buzz. Basically, the characters on this show, whether their real or fictionalized , have been asked to act like fucking tanned babies, who most-definitely were dropped after birth, and not just once. I'm talking like the doctor dropped the child during delivery, the mother dropped the already unconscious baby on her first attempts to hold it, and then on the car ride home the father dangled the baby out the car M.J. style and dropped it under the car's tires. If you hadn't already guessed, the babbling idiots I speak of spend most of their time on their time slot called Jersey Shore. These beefed up, sun-burnt, Italian-American assholes are creating their own little anti-culture originating in New Jersey, but its quickly going global. I can't imagine why anyone would want to follow suite with these morons, but that is the thing, people are. I guess it all started with Ed Hardy a few years back, but now this fad is more mainstream than ever.
Fuck, to tell you the truth, I'm pretty ranted out. I got all worked up over Indiana Jones I'm pretty tired of being pissed off. I'll say one more thing:
I was taking a stroll down the street a few days ago, and I guess school was just getting out because all these little kids started walking towards me. Anyways, when I got closer I could make them out a bit better, and leading the pack was this stupid fucking 10 or something year old decked out in Jersey Shore fashion. This white kid's hair is gelled directly up, he's wearing a beater and has several silver bracelets. I brush by this kid, and as I'm walking past I hear: "Watch it, nigga." I stop, I can't believe what I'm hearing; he can't be talking to me, can he? I turn, and what do I see? This little mother fucker staring me right in the face. Right then and there I didn't give a fuck that he was 11; I walked over to him, gave him the ol' death eye, and then shoved him over. Yeah, that shut him up. Then I leaned in real close to teach him a lesson, I whispered "You have to figure out who you are. Can't you see that you look like a fucking idiot? A young, white kid dressed up in douche bag clothing, speaking like you aren't supposed to be speaking, I mean come on, your from Vancouver, not New Jersey, you fool. Show a little self-respect." He was silent, his eyes were a bit glazed, tearing over from a lesson learned. I decided to finish him off: "Figure your shit out."
Then I flashed him with my solid gold teeth, and spat a little diamond out on him.
Bitch.
Fuck, to tell you the truth, I'm pretty ranted out. I got all worked up over Indiana Jones I'm pretty tired of being pissed off. I'll say one more thing:
I was taking a stroll down the street a few days ago, and I guess school was just getting out because all these little kids started walking towards me. Anyways, when I got closer I could make them out a bit better, and leading the pack was this stupid fucking 10 or something year old decked out in Jersey Shore fashion. This white kid's hair is gelled directly up, he's wearing a beater and has several silver bracelets. I brush by this kid, and as I'm walking past I hear: "Watch it, nigga." I stop, I can't believe what I'm hearing; he can't be talking to me, can he? I turn, and what do I see? This little mother fucker staring me right in the face. Right then and there I didn't give a fuck that he was 11; I walked over to him, gave him the ol' death eye, and then shoved him over. Yeah, that shut him up. Then I leaned in real close to teach him a lesson, I whispered "You have to figure out who you are. Can't you see that you look like a fucking idiot? A young, white kid dressed up in douche bag clothing, speaking like you aren't supposed to be speaking, I mean come on, your from Vancouver, not New Jersey, you fool. Show a little self-respect." He was silent, his eyes were a bit glazed, tearing over from a lesson learned. I decided to finish him off: "Figure your shit out."
Then I flashed him with my solid gold teeth, and spat a little diamond out on him.
Bitch.
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