Hipster Loses Non-prescription Glasses–World Observes Moment of Silence

Arthur Oscar Ramone IX lost his glasses yesterday.  And a choir of baby angels wept over his surprisingly strong plaid shoulders, whimpering and cooing like doves in the unseen background.  They cried for him.  They cried for beauty.  They cried in harmony.

The night started out like any other.  He rode his one-speed Redline down to Viva La Vegan to grab a pack of PBR, and caught up with some homies along the way.

“Sup brah!”

“Waaasup brahski!”

“You read the Communist Manifesto last night?”

“Twice.”

“In Russian?”

“Da.”

“Spot me a Spirit?”

“Nah, roll my own now.  Homegrown.”

“Sweet.  Recycled paper?”

“Twice.”

“Sick.  Wanna watch some Bujalski with us tonight?”

“Mumblecore!”

And as he drank in the warm night–with all its starlit conversation–he thought of how epic it all was, how pure and natural and not mainstream it all was.  It was then that he reached up to adjust his specs (as he was prone to do) and realized…

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