Dads are the Original Hipsters

Happy Father’s day to all the original hipsters. Thank you for being more awesome than we can ever be. 

Your dad was in an indie band before you were and he’s written the whining ballads to prove it. He was the Picasso of lyrical metaphors who birthed life into six strings every time he seduced the music from his guitar. To call him a genius is like saying the Swiss Alps are just hills. He was so far ahead of his time that his melodic masterpieces went unappreciated, thus making him the most indie of indie bands because nobody has every heard of him. 

So hipsters, when you’re dry-raping the frets in hopes you can “find your sound” and make it so big that hundreds of people know who you are, remember this…

Your dad can give you lessons when you’re ready to finally swallow your pride and ask. 

Happy Halloween from Dads are the Original Hipsters.

If you’re ironically going as yourself this year because hipster is now costume, know this - your costume sucks today just as much as it does every other day of the year. 

Don’t forget to pick up your copy of Dads are the Original Hipsters too. 

http://www.amazon.com/Dads-Original-Hipsters-Brad-Getty/dp/1452108854

Yup, this pretty much sums up the entire blog in a single photo. 

Your dad was art as fuck before you were and he’s gone samurai on a canvas for a performance piece to prove it. His work was so fringe and shrouded in meaning that even Andy Warhol couldn’t wrap his pop-art brain around it. Looking at his work was like being fist-slapped upside the dome with Crayola Crayons on acid and then thrown into a M.C. Escher painting. He was a revolutionary in the post-industrial chaos scene in SOHO and his influence was so underground that nobody even realizes they’re plagiarizing his style today. His creative craftings help him woo Lisa Frank, who he then broke up with for becoming too mainstream. 

So hipsters, next time you’re doing performance art in an attempt to express the mid-class demons that you’ve carried with you your entire life, while wasting all your dad’s money on a degree that will ultimately result in you being a barista for the rest of your life, remember this…

Your art will always be as good as finger painting compared to the King Kong of Canvas, your dad.