Hipster boys with heavy beards,
appear like 19th Century pioneers.
You'll never see them cut a tree.
You'll never see them sail the sea.
You'll never see them hitch a plow.
They're hipster boys: They don't know how.
They aren't sea captains, or lumberjacks,
Amish farmers, or Yiddish hacks.
Not terrorists or biker dudes.
Just hipster boys with attitudes.
For what real men can do without,
Hipster boys will scream and shout.
Video games and new smartphones,
comic books and getting pwned,
college debt for vain degrees,
in gender studies and poetry's.
The irony on them laid bare,
that having balls to declare,
their need for chins concealed in hair,
yet demanding girls go bald down there.
Lord, grant me wisdom that I may see,
these foolish ‘tards surrounding me.
I pray, do not entwine my fate,
with bearded tools who whine and grate.
Align me instead with boundless joys,
exceeding the ken of Hipster Boys.
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“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”
I’m pretty sure I don’t live up to Heinlein’s quote either. I’ve never changed a baby’s diaper, but someday I might have to change my own.