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Oh No! Elitists on the Horizon!
I was recently in Oakland, California, spending the afternoon watching some hipster bands play a house show in a sort of art-school punk-rock party compound, complete with barbed wire fencing all around the perimeter of the backyard (this is the sort of exotic jet-setting one does when one is an art blogger). I was having a good time, but after an hour or so, all the skinny kids thrashing away on their instruments were becoming less and less distinguishable, so I decided to wander elsewhere in the house to see what things I could find there.
Get the #Q)*?!#$ Off My Lawn
On the well-manicured lawn that is the Democratic primary, there resides a two large groups of little old men shouting epithets at one another, screaming for "these kids" to get the fuck off their lawn.