One Score and Five Years Ago...

Shortly after my recent emergence as a 25-Year-Old, a few things immediately pop into my head: "When the hell did I go from 20 to 25?" and "How am I not filthy rich by now?" and "I'm Hungry." and "What do I do now?" I find myself lost in a million questions and I don't know if I have any answers. But, I do have a lot of guestimates on the first 25 years of questions. If any of these answers help you First Quartile people, Your Welcome.

Despite your best efforts to subdue your urges, one Capri Sun is never enough. This demand-side dilemna will emerge again as an adult, but take a much more intoxicating form. Luckily, you won't need to figure out how to get that flimsy straw into that damn titanium plating that guards the pouch hole anymore.

Love is amazing... when you are a kid... and you love Pokemon. Otherwise, Love is mostly fun but usually annoying and the cause of many headaches. Like Pokemon. But not nearly as cute.

School is a trap. They lure you in with recess, fingerpainting, and midday naps. Then, they start throwing you numbers and letters and ideas that learning them will make you smart enough to be an astronaut. Then they slowly make it harder until you become smart enough to realize you're not going to the moon. Fucking Bastards.

Regardless of what you learned from Full House, Family Matters, and Boy Meets World, no problem is fixed with a 3-minute converstation and a hug. Jesse would get arrested for shooting Joey during one of his constant Popeye impressions, Urkel would have a restraining order, and [as you may have read from earlier posts] Feeney doesn't exist.

There is a point in middle school that you will condemn everything that makes you seems like a kid. You'll throw away your toys and stuffed animals, be mean to your parents, wear clothes that make you look as cool as Pop Culture thinks you should, and try really hard to grow up as fast as you can. Then there is a point in College where you realize all the things that you tried so hard to forget are awesome. If I had a pack of Pogs and Slammers right now, I would be in fucking heaven.

For a big portion of the first 25, you will spend a bunch of time preparing for adulthood. Learning harder subjects, working longer hours, and trying as hard as you can to get everything in order to pave the way for the rest of you life. It will be difficult and require a lot of effort. But the thing that ends up being the most important --- not the degrees or accolades, nor the internships or summer jobs --- is the memories you make in between. Good times with good friends, spontaneous adventures, living out on a limb: those are the experiences that make you into who you become as an adult. So the only advice I have for you young kids out there is that you should take advantage of every situation that you can. Love and hate and laugh and cry and scream and play and do as much as you can in the short amount of time you get before you become an adult. Trust me, you'll look back on those times and realize how important they are to hold on to. And if you're lucky, you'll remember to never let it go.

The Hipster VS. The Frat Guy

Either way, they both have great hair.

Do me a favor. Turn on your TV. Now, if you flip to anything that was made in the last few years, you'll notice something crazy. Asymetric hair. Tight, form-fitting jeans. Western shirts. Fedoras. That's right, ladies and gentleman. There is a new sheriff in town. And this cowpoke ain't wearing boots without Chuck Taylor's name printed on it. He's replaced the six-shooter with a pack of smokes and replaced his trusty steed with a fixed-gear road bike. It's the Hipster, and he's in charge now.

He's not in charge, you say? It's still the archetype male who's stealing your girlfriend? And now she's dating Chad, who's dad totally owns the biggest Mercedes Dealership in East Miami. When he's not on his boat [and sporting Guy Harvey, bro], Chad's hittin' up the bars in his best polo, scooping up girls like the counter clerk at Ben & Jerry's. He doesn't give a fuck about these Hipster kids invading his terf, 'cause he's met Jen, Jennifer, and Jenny and they are all DTF, bro.

So is it the Hipster or the Frat Guy who's laying down the law? Is it the dominant Alpha Male or the sensitive Beta Male? Let's analyze the situation:

In the Work Place

When it comes to making the big bucks, the Frat Guy has got it covered. If there is one thing the Frat Guy learned in College, it's networking. The whole idea of Fraternal Life is developing connnections between seemingly unrelated folks and unifying them into one entitity. Synergy is a word often used in business practice, and that's exactly what makes the Frat Guy excel. It's not a lone pair of boat shoes that rolls into a situation and beats the opposition. It's Sir Isaac Newton's Bro Swarm Theory, hypothesizing that the Brotherhood is much stronger than each individual Bro. Bro-nergy. In the business world, this is probably the key factor in getting ahead: adaptation to the culture and surroundings, infiltration into the inner workings of the institution, and then exhaust all your resources in order to garner enough popularity to get to the top. This is why the most powerful people in the country are all Masons or Skull & Bones people. Love it or hate it, Frat Guys rule the world.

On the contrary, the Hipster takes a seperate approach. Success is often attained through unorthodox methods for the Hipster. In fact, his whole being is unorthodox. While this doesn't translate well into most workplaces, developing a completely unique way of doing things has the potential to turn the outcasted into the outstanding. This is most often found in unconventional careers that rely on a touch of flair for success, like photography, art, and [in most cases] music. While this doesn't normally end in heavy pockets for most people who attempt it, this it the bread and butter of the Hipster Ideology. But in accordance to Albert Einstein's Hipster Paradox, if you have a million people turning towards the unconventional, then you create a seperate majority of conventional Hispters, which is exactly what is happening today. Thus, being different does not hold as much weight as it used to, creating an entry barrier for all who try to become one of the Hipster Elite, or as I call them, "Super-Douches". Any douchebag with a Macbook can record his new indy acoustic folk project, but you have to harness something completely new in order to impress the new mainstream un-mainstream. And the biggest problem with that? They will betrray you once you are listened to by enough "lame" people. But, like, whatevs. Life's a cunt. And unfortunately for the Hipster, your career is a cunt too.

Love and Sex

*Sigh* To be young in love. This post-sexual revolution ideology that love is the purpose of inter-gender relations is probably the main contributor to the Hispter's success. The beta male, for the most part, was not meant for procreation in early times. With Darwinism in full affect, only the biggest, baddest chimp saw any type of success. And the lone chimp making banana sculptures in his windowless tree canopy didn't see much action. But the addition of modern birth control methods and the relative lack of morality towards promiscuity has turned sex into something more than a means of creating little half-clones of yourself, but rather into a hobby. And thus, when you eliminate the instinctual need to have a family and pursue the best genes, you create something else to validate sexual urges: love. Sex isn't for marriage, or for kids, but a bond created because you are "in love", or some crazy notion like that. Enter the beta male Hipster, the soft, sensitive type who will watch old 80's Rom-Coms with you while you're in your PJs. He knows how to cook, he writes poetry, he plays guitar --- he's so romantic! But he's edgy, because his issues are left out in the open like his floppy bangs. It's just like the movies! And in the E! News, MTV generation that we live in, romance like the movies is exactly what gets the laaaaadies. So grow out your hair, pick up a guitar, and start brooding fellas, because it's time for the banana sculptor to have his day.

The one disadvantage of the Hipster is that he has to work harder to find romance. It's about the emotional and intellectual connection. Thus, the advantage of the Frat Guy is that he doesn't need any of that. In fact, he strives to stay away from it. As opposed to the Hipster, the Frat Guy doesn't need to connect Sex with Love. Sure, it may happen, but is it a neccessity for success? No. Going to a bar and finding the drunkest, easiest thing is the main perogative, and as each shot courses through some lucky girl, the Frat Guy gains momentum. He's clean, outgoing, and ready to buy her drinks and tell her how Fuckin' Hot she looks in her new pumps. While the Hispter sits idly at the bar talking to the bartender about how much auto-tune has ruined "real" music, the Frat Guy is buying pitchers of cheap beer with his Bros and getting all the girls to play Quarters with him. All the hours in the Gym trying to look like "The Situation" have paid off, and before you know it, those Vegas Bombs are going to hit some hot new Freshman and Chad will be there to make sure she gets home safe.

The Bottom Line

When you look at the big picture, the differences between the Hipster and the Frat Guy are pretty broad. This has probably gone on since the dawn of society. The Bard VS. the Knight. The Philosopher VS. the General. The Beatles VS. The Broncos. Still today, the two groups have some deep-seeded, instinctual hatred for one another. I've seen it over and over in my days. Having been on both sides of the spectrum throughout my life, I have witnessed the rivalry unbiasedly and it's astounding how much animosity there is between the two cultures. Frat Guys yelling at Hipster's for being different. Hipsters yelling at Frat Guys for being all the same. The battle continues on.

The truth is, in the end we are all looking for the same thing. Everyone is living life to the fullest, trying to figure out where the hell they are and where the hell they are going. We all are looking for fun, success, and love in some shape or form. Some smoke American Spirits and hit up dive bars to watch their closest friends try to make it in music. Some people find a group of likeminded friends they can get along with and go through the fun parts of life surrounded by the ones they really do consider Brothers. There's no reason to hate each other.

I propose a new movement towards becoming the "Fratster". There is no reason why a person can't be intellectually stimulating AND be outgoing. There is no reason why a guy can't pick up girls at a bar AND find room for romance. There is no reason that someone can't pursue their talents AND try to succeed in the work world. It's all about balance. So next time you see me, I'll be smoking Cigs and drinking pitchers of cheap beer, playing quarters at the bar right after my friend's band gets off stage. I'll turn to the Hipsters and the Frat Guys and accept both of them. When it comes down to it, it's hard to figure out the world today. It would be much more fun if we try to do it together.

BTL Archive: Five Finger Death Punch

This guy don't fuck around.

I've always had a fascination with old, wise hermits. I remember seeing the Karate Kid when I was little and imagining what it would be like to have a little Mr. Miagi of my own. I wanted a little guy to teach me the ways of life through impractical painting methods. Sometime after that, I found out about kung fu movies and the Shaolin Monks. I couldn't figure out how the steady consumption of rice with splashes of other flavors could build a body that could glide through air and break stones. I'm eight years old, wishing I was bald, malnurished, and celibate. In retrospect, I feel like that says a lot about me.

Lucky for me, I'm asian. I grew up around a bunch of tiny, bald men with funny accents and I can honestly say that I have yet to meet my Miagi. Most of the time, my encounters with these would-be senseis were dull. I was never enlightened on how to do anything extraordinary. There were no two-finger push-ups or magical healing palms. Nobody spoke like fortune cookies. For the most part, my uncles were drinking Heinekens and singing karaoke while my aunts bombarded me with pinchers for my chubby, adolescent cheeks. (There is nothing like a Vietnamese party, except maybe Hell. That is, if they served good food in Hell.)

So, I grew into my teens with an unsatisfied need for my own personal Confucius. Yet, I still had hope. With years of sitcoms and T.G.I.F. under my belt, I could recall one of the most influential persons in the history of fiction: George Feeney. The Feenster. Feeneroni. Mr. Feeney Weeney Bo-Beeney. Fuck Miagi --- Feeney didn't need crazy eastern magic or fancy moves. He accurately quoted any historical figure without hesitation, taught grade levels 6-12 as well as college, ran John Adams Senior High School pretty much by himself, and he still had time to keep an immaculate garden in his backyard. Plus, I'm pretty sure he's fucking Batman. Regardless, I had Feeney on my mind as I walked into high school. I was going to find that one teacher that would change my life.

The reality of High School is much different than sitcoms suggest. It's not like movies where people fall into their niches and life plays out like a screenplay. For the most part, high school just sort of happens. You make a good amount of friends, you meet a good amount of people, and you do a lot of stupid shit, but when it comes down to it, it's sort of uneventful. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of events, but most of the effects of said events wear off by your junior year of college. (If they haven't, then you are living a sad life of reminiscing about "the glory days" of high school. Wikipedia Al Bundy for references.) Worse off, most of the really good teachers have been teaching for a while. They have 6 periods to teach every day, and each class has over 30 kids in it. Multiply that by however many years they have taught and the number you get = NOT FEENEY. No teacher really cares about their students like no doctor really cares about their patients. For the time being, they are doing their job and hopefully doing it well. But they can't form too close of a bond because once you leave it's a bunch of new faces. My version of Feeney, I am sad to say, was a bust.

After so much disappointment, would college turn out to be the meeting grounds for my Wise Man? I thought of possibilities. "Think of college movies. Hm. Animal House? Beer, boobs, evil deans. Van Wilder? Beer, boobs, evil deans. Old School? Beer, boobs, evil deans." I couldn't think of one movie where someone of substance was anywhere near campus. But fuck it, my search could wait while the next 4 years were spent drinking beer, looking at boobs, and hating evil deans.

So I'm at the end. I've finished college and now I'm a grown ass man. I did not find out my path to becoming a better human being from anybody. Instead, I learned from my own mistakes and figured out some of life's shit for myself. I wrote all my own fortune cookies, if you will. I've come to realize that no one is going to figure things out for me --- I'm going to have to figure most of it out on my own. And then, when I'm old and bald, I'll stroke my extra long beard and tell everyone everything I know. And hopefully by then, I'll at least have something good to say.