Today marks the publication of SOTC local-music/lousy-music enthusiast Christopher Weingarten’s Hipster Puppies, the blog-gone-book that pairs adorable photos of dogs with withering critiques of American youth culture circa, well, now. (Here are some online merchants selling it, or you can just head to your local bookstore and pick up a copy.) Chris was inspired by his daily life as a freelance writer/rabblerouser to write more than a few of the book’s captions, and here he shares with us five of the captions spurred by his time in New York City.
I wrote a huge chunk of the book just walking up and down Bedford Avenue, taking notes on everything and everyone I saw. One of the health food stores south of The Bagel Store posted a flyer advertising “nitrate free bacon.” I honestly have no idea what nitrate free bacon is or what its supposed health benefits are, but I was definitely tickled by brooklyn’s complicated relationship with bacon. It’s one of the fattiest and unhealthiest things you can put in your body, but we demand ways to make it somehow “healthier” as opposed to the exponentially better for you “not eating bacon.”
When I lived in Park Slope, I remember the Village Voice was raving about this new Slovakian restaurant that opened in my neighborhood called Eurotrip. I avoided it for like a solid year just because it was called “Eurotrip.” I finally went there, begrudgingly, and it was pretty good! They have thankfully changed their name to Korzo.
One day, I was browsing the Brooklyn Animal Resource Coalition website looking for a pup to adopt. I got really depressed that a lot of the dogs had weird, inscrutable, hipstery names like “Neutral Dog Hotel.” It kind of drove home this point that as “enlightened” as we think we are in Brooklyn, we’re just as irresponsible with pets as the rest of America. Browsing the BARC site now, you can adopt tons of pets sadly cursed with hipster names by presumably hipster owners… including cats named Lil Wayne and Diamanda.
I was chatting with Gavin at while he was bartending at Death By Audio, watching everyone order PBR after PBR. I don’t drink alcohol since it effectively dulls my rage, but it was kind of fascinating and hilarious to watch lots of my employed (!) friends drink a beer they all agreed tasted terrible to save a dollar.
Sorry about this, Laurie. I enjoyed the month you curated The Stone.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on July 5, 2011