The Hipster Must Die?

I really have no response to this essay. Seriously, it's dead on.

And I'm not just saying that because I'm one of the Sweet hipsters.

I can picture it now, though:
When the war starts, I'm nominating Michael Chabon as General of the Sweet forces. His second in command would be John Hodgman, with Haruki Murakami in charge of strategy. I assume he knows a lot about WWII military tactics. The Sweet Army would take forever to get anywhere, because everyone would be walking one-foot-in-front-of-the-other on curbs or holding hands with their girlfriends, and their rallying cry would probably be something cute, like old Of Montreal lyrics. I'm guessing something from Cherry Peel. "When you come around, everything else disappears!"

Perez Hilton would have to lead the Vicious crew, seconded by the dude from the Superficial. To everyone's surprise, Lindsay Lohan will reveal she is actually a military genius, and will lead her former tormentors in cruel battle. The Vicious Army will be held up, primarily, by fashion. It takes a long time to cut the sleeves off a denim jacket and get it to fray just right. Jarvis Cocker will appoint himself Song and Dance Man, backed by a marching band all wearing masks of his face.

It will be a terrible era, punctuated by Snark and Clever finally destroying one another for good. For some reason, only Thomas Pynchon will be left standing, having been drunk on a floating brothel for days, and everyone on both sides will still lie and say they read Gravity's Rainbow. On these grounds, a shaky peace will be forged.

What side are you on?