Neil Hilborn, performing for Minneapolis at the 2013 Rustbelt Regional Poetry Slam Invitational. This poem took the only perfect score of the tournament.
TEXT OF POEM:
Today, on The Wild Kingdom, we will observe The Mating Habits of the North American Hipster. Look there. Just through those bushes. We can see the hipsters dancing. Watch as they do something called “freaking” to something called “dubstep.” No, that is not other animals mating, it is dubstep. Observe how they keep their faces as relaxed as possible so as to not seem too invested in the activity at hand. The male even produces a pocketwatch from inside of his neon yellow vest. He then goes on Craigslist to search for more pocketwatches. Notice the his smartphone case that weighs as much as and resembles a pocketwatch. Remember always the hipster creed: “Why be efficient when you could be inefficient?”
The preliminary mating ritual is now over. Let us follow them back to the filthy hovel in which they will attempt to produce awful, mustachioed babies. Hipster dens are often decorated in trash, and this one is no different: bent bicycle rims and brown paper bags are nailed to every wall. But what is this? The male is continuing his disinterested facade? He is…he is sitting down to his typewriter! Extraordinary! Now he is taking an Instagram photograph of himself, at his typewriter, blatantly ignoring the half-naked female in the background! In retaliation the female is using his straight razor to shave her pubic hair into what she is calling her pusstache. Or perhaps her muffin chops. Now she is taking her Macbook, and his Macbook, and her other Macbook, and her book on Macbooks, and arranging them in a circle. The male deems this an acceptable mating habitat, and amidst the Apple products, he mounts her—indifferently—but not before setting his Deguerrotype camera to take a silver nitrate photograph of them humping. Slooooooowly. Remember always the hipster ideal: if you base your life around your possessions, make sure they are bizarre, inconvenient, and obsolete, for then no one can accuse you of being shallow.
Dear viewer, you may laugh at the noble hipster, but consider this: he has a fixed-gear bicycle, you have a Lexus. You drink top shelf liquor, he drinks PBR at bars where it costs ten dollars. You have a diamond ring, she has a tattoo of a diamond ring. Next to her vagina. Indeed, the hipster may be an asshole materialist, but at least he warns you with his uncomfortable shoes made of vegan alligator skin and good intentions. No, dear viewer, I would posit to you that the North American Hipster is just like us, only…sillier.
