Saturday, February 19, 2005

Introducing the Blandsters

This blog will be presenting a four-part series examining the domination of the lit-world by elitists and their sheep-like demi-puppet followers. I can't call this crowd hipsters-- they're really not (though they pretend to be)-- so I'm calling them instead the Blandsters. This includes the lot of them; all the fakes-- from Jon Franzen to Vanity Fair's Elissa Schappell and plutocrat Rick Moody to Moody-wannabes Eggers and Bissell to Maud, Lizzie the Poet and the other yuppy-scum lit-bloggers.

I've given these zero-charisma people their own theme song.

"The Blandsters"

Yuppy kids so hip and cool,
The Blandsters, The Blandsters,
Play the game, get A's in school,
The Blandsters, The Blandsters!
School for them will never end
Always being the teacher's friend,
Call them just The Blandsters.

Faces eager, noses brown
polishing apples, going down
sucking-up without a frown,
Don't ya know that they conform
Because they're The Blandsters!

Certain they can get ahead
parked beneath the publisher's desk
New thoughts from them are never found
Traveling soon from town to town
Our literature's geeky world of clowns!
The Blandsters!

la la la la la la la here they come,
The Blandsters.

5 comments:

nic chiarella said...

reminds me of another song i heard. forgive the term "hipsters."

"The Art Ofs"

On through the grayness of paved urban streets
walk mop-headed hipsters, all fashion and heat.
Riding on iceburgs of subtext and barstools,
the too-cool kids sip Guiness, talk rock songs
and grad schools. They’re brilliant writers
and bleeding-art lads; they’ll take any title
to piss off their dads, who pay for their college,
Volkswagons, and flats with jobs in tall buildings
that let them grow fat. The hipsters play statue
when the bands finally start, crooning post-rhythms
about post-postmodern art. They’ve so much to die for,
so little to dance for, even their fucking’s
just stoic romance. But beneath the egos,
black hair dye, and jeans, young men and women
are all scared that the scene must surely soon
crumble like broken wet dreams, so the art ofs
all mumble as they slouch down the streets.

Anonymous said...

That's a good quote, Nicholas, who wrote the song?

Tim

PS: Karl: In the last stanza I'd rhyme "ahead" with "bed" instead of "desk." Otherwise, perfect.

PPS: The link to Tony's MR is currently going to last week's MR. Fyi...

King said...

I agree; the "Art of's" is very good. Who wrote it?

nic chiarella said...
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nic chiarella said...

tim and king, words were mine. ohio love. nj.