Just what the world needs: another snarky/tired/redundant article about Williamsburg and hipsters:

Hipsters are the friends who sneer when you cop to liking Coldplay. They’re the people who wear T-shirts silk-screened with quotes from movies you’ve never heard of and the only ones in America who still think Pabst Blue Ribbon is a good beer. They sport cowboy hats and berets and think Kanye West stole their sunglasses. Everything about them is exactingly constructed to give off the vibe that they just don’t care.
Annoying, yes, but harmless, right? Not to hear their critics tell it. Hipsters manage to attract a loathing unique in its intensity. Critics have described the loosely defined group as smug, full of contradictions and, ultimately, the dead end of Western civilization.
Though the subculture is met with derision in wider society, hipsters have been able to eke out enclaves across the country, chief among them the Brooklyn, N.Y., neighborhood of Williamsburg. But now even that is threatened. The hip have been hit with a double whammy of economic reality (more are struggling to pay rent as parental support dries up) and population changes (the carefully gentrified neighborhood is gradually being infiltrated by squatters inhabiting Williamsburg’s stalled building projects). Hipsterdom’s largest natural habitat, it seems, is under threat.

At least they gave me a small mention:

Such cultural mishmash is ripe for parodying. In 2003, author Robert Lanham wrote The Hipster Handbook, trying to codify the rules to hipsterdom, like “You graduated from a liberal arts school whose football team hasn’t won a game since the Reagan administration” and “You have one Republican friend who you always describe as being your ‘one Republican friend.’ “

Another hipster story, this time from the Globe…. and I thought I was done with this topic:

Hipster culture involves a certain degree of smugness, along with required material goods including a wardrobe of Kanye West sunglasses, American Apparel leggings, and fertility-challenging skinny jeans. So it’s with a particular amount of glee that the anti-hipster movement has blossomed. The idea of mocking hipsters started six years ago when Robert Lanham penned “The Hipster Handbook,’’ in which he offered insightful clues to help readers determine if they were hipsters, such as: “Your hair looks best unwashed, and you position your head on the pillow at night in a way that will really maximize your cowlicks’’; “You have one Republican friend whom you always describe as being your ‘one Republican friend’ ’’; and “You carry a shoulder strap messenger bag and have at one time or another worn horn-rimmed or Elvis Costello-style glasses.’’
“I think if you asked me in 2003 if hipster subculture would still be around in 2009, I would have said no,’’ says Lanham from his home in New York, otherwise known as hipster ground zero. “But now I think the hipster is an enduring new archetype. Kind of like the hippie was. They go in and out of fashion, but I think we’re stuck with the hipster.’’ […]
“Think of it as hipster fatigue,’’ Lanham says in a genial yet defeated tone. “A lot of people thought it would have its heyday and go away. But now it seems we’ll need to learn to live with the hipsters.’’

Misty Harris has a great story on slow food over at Camwest:

According to Michael Levenston of City Farmer, which styles itself as Canada’s “office of urban agriculture,” the canning comeback is tied to a do- it-yourself food movement that has seen vegetable gardens sprout up everywhere from “the White House to Buckingham Palace to the (Vancouver) mayor’s front lawn.”
Among those growing their own greens is Robert Lanham, the bestselling author of three books on popular culture.
“I’m not sure if I’m saving any money – probably not – but the ritual itself seems cleansing and somehow more honest than obsessing over the latest foodie trends in Bon Appetit or Gourmet,” says Lanham. “Now that the economy has gone kaput, stuffing your face with overpriced pork belly delicately prepared by a celebrity chef seems ridiculously ostentatious, even if you can afford it.”

Heirloom tomatoes from my garden