Every night all across America, something terrifying happens. Young hipsters, hopped up on Pabst Blue Ribbon and hand rolled cigarettes leave bars together. They then entice each other back to crappy apartments with promises of showing their Jesus action figures and D.A.R.E. T-Shirts. They then proceed to have awkward hipster sex on Star Wars sheets and disgusting futons using condoms from the 80's that glow in the dark and were kept for the kitsch value. The horrifying result may or may not be a young future hipster.

I do not advocate the extermination of the hipster, merely the control of their population within their natural habitat. Their joyless, cynical and overly ironic existence has to be controlled.

So next time you pass by a thrift shop and see a hipster, slip them a Twinky laced with Ambien and take them to a local vet. When the surgery is completed, drop them off at the crappiest bar you can find before they wake up.