Wise Road and Hartford Road

"Chaucer is dead, Spencer is dead, so is Milton and so is Shakespear...and I'm not feeling so well myself."  Mark Twain would open with this quote at the beginning of every speech, he was a cool guy, but still not cool enough to wear a leather jacket.
Turns out, wearing a leather jacket is not so easy to pull off.  In fact, wearing a leather jacket is a privilege NOT a right.  Allow me to explain....

Qualifications for leather jackets:
1. Five o'clock shadow (or a groomed facial hair equivalent)
2. Must be over the age of 20
3. Dark colored dress shoes
4. Solid color sweater (preferably cashmir)
5. Dark blue jeans (tight or straight fit)

Conditions in which you forfeit your privilege to a leather jacket:
1. Your six-year-old neighbor has more facial hair than you
2. You're under the age of 20
3. Gym shoes
4. Graphic T-shirts
5. Acid-washed (ill-fitting) jeans

Yeah, I saw that guy...

16th/17th and Wisconsin

On Friday I saw this guy who was a raging hipster.  It's come to my attention that a large majority of Marquette University (as well as the rest of the U.S) has no clue what a hipster actually is; so I'll take this time to explain.  Hipster (n.) <H i P - S t i r >; A rare yet growing breed of individuals who go to the polar extremes to ensure that their actions, words, and (most importantly) style is COMPLETELY unique and pure of contemporary-mainstream standards.  In other words, awkward clothing, loafers, and any cigarette that doesn't read Marlboro or Camel. 

However, this Friday's "winner" sent an eerie mainstream chill down the spines of those who would like to refer to themselves as real hipsters. Let's just call him "Tom".  He admits to not owning a computer (Tom 1 : Hispters 0).  He admits to only listening to Jazz and jazz fusion (Tom 2 : Hispters 0).  He draws comics to sell in local Milwaukee stores and is completely unconcerned about financial stability (Tom 3 : Hipsters 0).  And the verdict is....Hipster! Yeah, I saw that guy.

16th/17th and Wells

Around 2 a.m. on Saturday I saw this guy that I judged way too quickly.  Yes, I admit it.  Sometimes our empirical prototypes and our instinctive need to make hasty generalizations can be a bad thing (sometimes...). The physical appearance of this indivdual (clothes and all) lead me to believe that he was a man of the street; raised in the struggle and lovin' it.  However, our conversation lead me to believe otherwise.  Who would have ever thought that I would have ended up talking about my childhood (Poke'mon and all the other Japanese creations that were produced with minimal costs and sold to the American youth at inflated, otherwise ridiculous prices) with some guy who worked at Papa John's at 2 a.m? The pizza was good too....

16th and Wells

Over the weekend I saw this guy who obviously lacked the ability to understand how other percieved him.  At this time I'll introduce our characters.  On one hand we have (for the sake of having a name to a face) Susie, and on the other hand (for the sake of having a name to a face) we have Billy.  Billy must have left his dorm room Friday night thinking, "I refuse to come back to my room tonight without any female numbers." Incase you havn't already figured it out, this means trouble for Susie.  "So do you go to school here?" Billy asks.  "Umm yeah," says Susie.  "Well I go to school here too," Billy said.  "That's cool," said Susie.  "So maybe we can hang out sometime, can I get your number?" Billy asks.  "Umm I'm like really busy with school and stuff I don;t have alot of time to hang out (disregarding the request for her phone number)," Susie replied.  "Oh well maybe I could help you study and stuff for your tests so you have more freetime; what's your phone number?" Billy asks (again). "I don't do well studying with other people, I always study by myself (disregarding the second request for her phone number)," Susie replied.  Now, at this time, Susie's friend had already abandoned her previous attempts to curtail her awkward smiles and dicreet giggles and put plan B into motion.  Plan B, in this case was to reach for her phone and read a faux text message from her friend indicating that her and Susie's presence was needed elsewhere and that they should leave...immediately.  Susie wasted no time asking who, what, where, or why but completely advocated the idea of rushing to another location to assist this unnamed friend. Billy followed....