Well, a couple weeks ago Stingray and I were prancing up S. Congress Ave after having anointed ourselves with hipster fumes at Jo’s, when this wacked out hipster kid comes careening toward us, chanting nonsense. His bearing was somewhat aggressive, so we said “nyah!” back at him. He gave us the once-over with a stinkeye that seemed to suggest that he wouldn’t be at all surprised if we turned out to be the cause of the economic downturn. Then he actually jeered.
“You’re just too stupid,” went the jeer, “to know what I’m talking about!”
Stingray and I exhanged a chuckle as we passed, going, “yeah right, we’re too stupid, that’ll be the day.” We were confident in our lack of stupidity because we have never in our lives been the intellectual inferiors of some rude stoner gibberish-babbling kid who by this time had alighted on the stoop of the Hotel San Jose and assumed a recumbent, yet somehow hostile, pose. The mysterious words were oozing out of him like blood.
“What did that shit even mean?” I said, dodging a pair of American Apparel models.
“Yeah,” said Stingray, “what a load.”
What was the stoner kid chanting?
“Occupy Wall Street!”
Photo: Scene of the burst of solo stoner activism. Hotel San Jose, Austin TX, February 2006.