Dreams of Being Hip: Elitism

Elitism is the name of the game when searching for hipster fame.  And also music is important too, or whatever.  So why not combine them?  That's exactly what happened to me this last week.I went to a general open mic where people can do poetry, music, etc.  It's usually just a bunch of singer songwriters and poets whose friends come and support them.  So throughout the night, random clusters of people from different locations in the store will cheer really loudly but then not pay attention to the rest. It's a super unwelcoming environment, and you know that people are looking at you then turning to their friends to talk about you.So I went to do stand up comedy there because no one expects that.  It's a good place to practice because if a joke does well there, you know it'll do amazing in a bar or other venue where people don't go there expecting to hate you.  They also did not expect me to do the jokes I'd do in bars, but that's another thing.  One such joke was music related, so I can share it: 

I wish Chris Brown would beat up people I don't like, instead of people I don't care about. 

I did stand up, shocked the audience, got some laughs and ultimately pissed off the old dudes (early 30s) sitting at the table behind me who were saying things like, "we've been coming here since before these kids were born" - Dude, I'm twenty, and I have a full beard.  I'm not really a kid and besides, grow up.  Can't you afford a nicer place to complain about?While I was there though, I saw a fellow jerk who decided to come to the open mic to shake things up.  He went on right after me and completely stole the show.  He gets up and does some stand up, and he's pretty edgy.  One joke I remember off the top of my head was: 

I played dead on campus a few weeks ago, hoping that a necrophiliac would take advantage of me.

 Then, he pulled out the guitar, introduced himself as Jim Shellard and started playing like a mad man.  He started screaming, and just shredding the guitar.  I think he and Johnny Hobo would have gotten along pretty well.  While playing, he even started bleeding on the guitar.  When he was done he said to the audience some explicit things telling them to go and--well you can guess what themselves.  Then gave them the finger and said it was his last show.

I caught a picture of him before he started really destroying everything.  His guitar was covered by a CD (no idea why) and he wore a "world's greatest grandpa" t-shirt with a picture of kids who are most likely not his.

After the show, everyone was trying to talk to him and tell him how great he was and he was just like looking away or sighing loudly then walking away.  I went up to him and told him I liked his jokes.  He told me he liked my stuff, too.  We talked about how the dudes sitting at the table behind me are jerks for complaining about everyone.

After everyone tried to talk to him, he only talked to me.  Then we went and ate at Chipotle.  While we were at Chipotle, I said, "So Jim..." and he cut me off and said, "Please, call me Patches" and turned around to show me a denim patch on his back held on by bobby pins.  It had a cross and a few words written in red (I hope it was blood).

I like to think he recognized the hipster in me and decided: "This will be my window to the world.  This loud mouth will tell everyone my story. The Jim Shellard story."

And that's why this weeks dream of being hip is to befriend the crazy guy named Patches who came and bled all over the stage of an open mic while everyone else desperately tried to talk to him afterwards.