Yep, still here.
I was walking back from the L train yesterday, up Bedford Avenue towards Greenpoint, and I passed a couple people talking about some album. The jewel that pattered my eardrums went something like this:
"I mean, it was so bad, you couldn't even listen to it ironically. Not even one song!"Oh, to have a transcript of the entire conversation. Or at least the title of the album.
That's the 'burg. What a pity that something as beautiful, powerful, and human as irony has been co-opted by Billyburgers as a style of the times, the trucker hat of literary devices.
And the notion of "ironic listening" is simply nauseating:
"Oh my god, I can't believe how BAD this is!"Not so far away from:
"Yeah, no kidding. I LOVE it."
"Turn it up!"
"Ok, can you get me a PBR?"
"Oh my god, I can't believe I'm actually cutting off my own finger!"Please, everyone, do your part to save irony before it ends up in a ditch, beaten and bloody, along with the rest of last year's fashions. That, along with using long-life light bulbs and driving hybrid cars, will go quite a way towards making the world a better place for us and our children and our children's children, but not their children, 'cause by then, they gotta learn how to take matters into their own hands.
"No kidding. It's so AWESOME!"
"Yeah, like, it really hurts. But it's just so IRONIC! You know, me being a hand model and all."
"Dude, yeah, deep. Want a PBR?"