Mix it Up: Condiment Blending

cuke-n-eggs
So much about this ad-hoc desk snack with a basic hot sauce blend is so right!

Postmodernism is woven deep throughout the trendster ethos, and this certainly holds true for squeezable food adornments! The hawtness of this up-and-comer is currently exemplified by a seismically ironic and disquieting resonance in countless social media posts (mostly the result of insidious paid social amplification) about the dawning of the age of Mayochup. Yes, not satisfied to have separate containers for both their creamy egg white-based spread and the venerable tomato-based staple; American consumers are excited to have them unified in a single dispensing apparatus!

Is this further evidence of the epidemic laziness and sloth of our culture? We say NAY! This is may very well be the height of squeezable science. Falling eerily in line with the Gilderman Hypothesis, anything having to do with condiments themselves is undeniably and exceedingly trend worthy. Short of re-creating the tasty Roman condiment made of smashed up fish guts and salt called Garum, blending whatever is at hand is a quick and satisfyingly colorful way of becoming a hyper-trendy foodinista.

There is so much about this to relish. Not only is Mayochup an exciting new branded product for trendsters to trumpet to each other, it also makes the huge problem of “condi-crowding” a thing of the past. As table sizes diminish and the plethora of crowd-funded artisan sauces, spreads, and chutneys become a dizzying blur of potentially sticky situations, the available space at the dining surface becomes premium.

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PB & J – The only REAL way!

No discussion of blended condiments is worth its pink Himalayan salt (pre-mixed with course ground white pepper of course) without recognizing the unquestioned leader in the mixed-spread space, J.W. Smucker’s Goober! The wise food sages behind this not only realized that kids are the ultimate exploitable consumers and that breakfast-making parents are attracted to anything which can save any speck of valuable prep-time. They also realized that at the heart of many profit driving trends (and also at the heart of Zen Buddhist philosophy), is anything inherently based on engaging with the dichotomy of opposites, such as selling peanut butter and jelly in the same jar.  Yin-yang YUM!

HOW2HAWT:

Step one is to completely erase the word mayonnaise or mayo from your vocabulary. Simple, single purpose, spreads are now dead to you. So do a mental “find and replace” and paste in “aioli sauce” in any instances of the word “mayonnaise.”  Most of your hipster friends will already be well aware of what aioli sauce is (basically mayonnaise with a splash or two of something else), but chances are nobody at work will, the bunch of losers.

Another basic … never reach for “Frenches” mustard again.  You want giant, loud and proud mustard seeds suspended throughout a brownish-hued viscous reclaimed canning jar (never use a plastic squeeze bottle, you monster).  Hopefully, you still have a horseradish root in the back of your freezer from last year’s organic edible landscape.  Grind some of that into the jar and make sure everyone sees you as your eyes begin swelling shut from the fumes.  Now THAT’s mustard!  Badass.

Hot sauces.  We could probably write an entire treatise on the subject and likely eventually will so stay tuned.  For today, some foundational heuristics … Mitch in the mailroom likes to brag about how he can down an entire 8 oz bottle of 9-million Scoville unit extract sauce along with his Taco Bell Gordita.  Mitch in the mailroom is an asshole.  Get hot sauces that are “hot” but actually have good flavor.  Here’s a good example.  If you think you’re going to impress Thora the quirky and loveable barista by gnawing on a Carolina Reaper while waiting for your pistachio-rose latte you are dead wrong, like your taste buds.

Enough with the basics. Now, it is the time once again to channel your inner Bob Ross. Remember back when the local plein air painter needed to make some cash, and you immediately signed up for his “Paint like Bob Ross” classes. You’re about to put your skills to good, and tasty, results.

Grab your (as of yet unused) Bob Ross brand palette.  Replace the dabs of phthalo blue or burnt umber with any of the plethora of hot sauces, pickled relishes and verdant salsas which dominate the fridge you share with your flatmates. Be liberal with your choices, too many blobs of condiments here is not enough! Now, with a fist full utensils and the same plein air easel that you used to paint miniature canvases at the ice caves, stride into the food co-op during the free-range paleo-vegan chili cook-off benefit that you lost last year. They’ll remember you from the frozen chili you made because you proudly called it “chilly.”

As you set up the easel begin with the Ross quotes.  Claim “talent is a pursued interest” while laying down a brisk whisking of scotch bonnet marmalade as a base. As those around get splattered with specks of burning flavor, continue with “there’s nothing wrong with having a tree as a friend!” If you paid attention while at the painting class, you’ll soon have a vague and impressionist seascape built out of yummy sauces. Make sure to paint some happy little ducks using actual duck sauce and blend out the school of pollock, swimming underwater, with fish-n-chips vinegar. The ironic poignancy of these details will not be lost on the security guards when they attempt to shut you down. As you are being dragged off the premises, gleefully licking your canvas, stare at the chili team from the local food shelf and assert, “We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”

Stepping Up: Far Parking

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The view from a prime far-parked vehicle, now get sauntering!

For your whole life, you have been programmed to “find a good parking spot.”  There’s one right there!  That guy is leaving!  You can fit in there! Counterfeit a handicap plate! You spend extra time (and gas) trolling through endless “open spot deserts” slowly crawling behind other shoppers, following them creepily in the hopes of their departure. You attempt to balance the contradictory feelings of the guilt of not exercising and the determination that you deserve to be at the front of the line. Well don’t fret, you can have it all!  Strap on your exercise tracker and get ready for the brave new world of FAR-PARKING! Imagine the peeling clamor of joy that will erupt from your passengers the next time you effortlessly glide past perfectly good “rock star” spots right in front of the door to the mega mart du jour and claim the perfect spot, as far away in the parking lot as possible. There is sooo much meta-irony here that you are probably going to explode in a hipster conflagration. Relish in the knowledge that you are, in one simple act, skewering both the petrochemical industrial complex AND the health-ista anti-carbonists. This is gold.

HOW2HAWT:
Allow me to paint a little picture of this hawt gem of an idea … Theo, Matilda, and Miles are all loaded up in your green Subaru wagon.  You are jamming to Theo’s Spotify channel (mostly death country, with the occasional Alanis tune just to be ironic), and you are on your way to the LARP/ pinball arcade in Matilda’s friend Archie’s basement.  When a grinding and sullen low key death country ballad by Goth Brooks comes on it will be the perfect time to wax about the dire obesity epidemic in America.  After munching on some freshly sprouted chickpeas from your dashboard chia (another article, another time), you proclaim “I just think that we need to help ourselves more by walking more.” They’ll attempt to point out the fact that you own a car. Just turn and glare at them, they deserve it. They asked YOU to drive THEM … 5 blocks. Their guilt and self-doubt is now complete and they are at your far-parking mercy. This is the perfect time to #trendblend this with another trend we advocate, “only-lefting.” Remember you aren’t trying to make a right by only turning left, you are trying to park as far away from your destination as possible, so add a block with each left turn.  Maintain their stunned silence and complicity by going into a diatribe about the Fibonacci sequence. You may even pique their interest in math enough to get them chanting “1 , 1 , 2 , 3 , 5 , 8 , 13 , 21 , 34 , 55 , 89 , 144 , …” along with you before they realize you have taken them in a graceful and ever-increasing spiral of distance away from where they actually want to be. Now it’s time to walk. Ideally, you’ve actually parked FURTHER away from your destination than you originally started. If they complain, glare at them and reference Thoreau’s thoughts on hiking versus “sauntering.” No self-respecting hipster can question ANY REFERENCE TO THOREAU!  But, to show your benevolence, you can always SUPERHAWT this by grabbing a bus or some ride-away-free-bikes to get to your friend’s house knowing full well that you’ve far-parked this one real good, and that’s HAWT.

OVER: Turning Everything into a “Journey”

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Don’t take the kid along, she’s on her own journey, to fill her diaper.

In the face of an overwhelming dystopia of normality, soul crushing conformity, and bleak banal sameness, we all fear becoming lost in the grand narrative of history. One way to battle, however fultiley, against this eventuality is to try and frame every little daily effort or tiny life challenge as some form of epic journey. The “journey” analogy has been with human-kind for generations, so it has some merit. After Lao Tzu wrote “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” in The Tao Te Ching, it should have stopped right there! Such an awesome truth, so deep and meaningful, that even a gazillion meme gifs showing a mountain in the distance with the quote overlaid in fuzzy papyrus font can’t kill it.

Life tends to be an accumulation of a lot of mundane decisions, which often gets ignored.
-David Byrne

So no, Terri from HR, your latest quilting efforts aren’t a “Textile Journey.”  Hauling silk and peppercorns overland from Beijing to Belgrade by dromedary in the middle-ages was an F’ing “textile journey!” No, no, no! This self-aggrandisement and wonton importance seeking has to stop. We’re going to puke the next time someone talks about learning to make decorated cupcakes as their “Baking Journey.” Our lives are not supposed to be some Jason-and-the-Argonauts level sojourn to be dramatically re-told in an amphitheater, our daily existence is JUST THAT, existing … every day!

HOWTOHAWT: You’re going to have to #TROPEBUST this hard! Everyone and their uncle are on some form of feckless “journey.” So we suggest that you go deep into the heart of darkness, community education classes.

If you aren’t already, get qualified to teach community education classes. Once you’ve done that, create a class called “Life Journeys: Getting from there to here.” You’ll get two lonely old guys, a wiccan coffee roaster and several retired librarians. Perfect, these are the “life journey” thought leaders. Remember, cut the head off and the body will die. Start with journaling, another trend that’s better left to the dust heap of hipsterism as well. A “Journey Journal” is just stupid enough to work as a focus for their questions. Do about 4 sessions where you do a lot of sharing, interpretive dance, and rock stacking. Pepper a bunch of lyrics from the band Journey in the lectures, ending each night with “…don’t stop believing.” Then it’s time for the “capstone,” an unannounced and grueling 25 “klick” hike through the swamp outside town. Ideally, the weather is super inclement and they’re not dressed for a hike. Have the IT Guy from your work, the one who wears a kilt, set up at “klick” 22 on a hillock in the middle of the dankest part of the bog.  He should be shirtless and painted blue with his hair all sticking on end with lye. He’s going to be super thankful you invited him here to do this btw, so he’ll owe you. As you all trudge up, the wiccan coffee roaster probably carrying one of the old guys, he begins to sing the song “Where My Heart Will Take Me” (originally performed by Russell Watson).

It’s been a long road

Gettin’ from there to here
It’s been a long time
But my time is finally here

And I will see my dreams come alive at night
I will touch the sky
And they’re not gonna hold me down no more
No they’re not gonna change my mind

(Chorus — MAKE THEM SING THE CHORUS OR THEY’LL FAIL THE COURSE!)
‘Cause I’ve got faith of the heart
I’m going where my heart will take me
I’ve got faith to believe
I can do anything
I’ve got strength of the soul
No one’s going to bend nor break me
I can reach any star
I’ve got faith
I’ve got faith
Faith of the heart

Soon, leeches, dehydration, hypothermia and insipid pop music lyrics will cure them of needing to take any more asinine “journeys.” You can be assured that the ripple effects of your work will be felt for many grateful generations, and that’s HAWT!

Next Level HAWT: Making your own EVERYTHING

paper jacket
Hone your origami skills and you to can make your own sharp suit from paper you’ve made yourself.

It’s not hard to pinpoint the allure of making your own stuff.  You feel a sense of accomplishment and pride as you admire/eat/drink/wear/ride/use whatever it is you just made.  But far more importantly, literally the most important thing in the world, is other people knowing that you made something.  Social media has made this possible in spades and every mid-tier hipster has made something to show off on facebook, instagram, reddit, etc…  Hell, even Kevin down at the artisan tea shop made that crummy messenger bag from re-purposed retro flour bags.  And Andy in accounting makes a kickass IPA, even though I would never tell him that to his face.  Andy, in accounting.  Ugh. Anyway, the point is that even normals are getting in on our turf so we need to do something huge to set ourselves a cut above.  Make your own EVERYTHING.

“The aim to make everything” has, of course, gotten digital and academic with the MIT “FABLAB” specification. A network of distributed micro-manufacturing centers propped out with a dizzying array of extruders, embroiders and plasma torches mostly located at Makerspaces will allow anyone to fabricate anything on-demand. Need some new hangers? Open up your handy 3D CAD application and copy, paste, click … no more wrinkled tweed blazers for you!

Don’t run off just yet, I know this sounds daunting and perhaps even a bit completely absurd, but when you really think about it, that’s what being an elite hipster is all about.  It’s that “notice-me” flair that landed you your present gig running a Neapolitan-kimchi keto pizza truck.  You’re going to need to commit to this hard, like you’ve done everything else to position yourself as hipster royalty in the region.

HOWTOHAWT: When you commence making, I’d advise that you start with the big three: food, water, and shelter.  Those three alone should keep you pretty busy for the first couple of months considering it’s winter and you will likely die once you move out of your studio apartment.  (Side note, don’t forget to “pack it in, pack it out” by building your own coffin.) Next, smugly declare to your roommate Theo: “another set of hands built these walls, my hands will build my own.”  After you have clothed yourself with crude garments that you fashioned from the “borrowed” hair of the neighbor’s Afghan hound, hit the trail!  The first night will likely be rough, so get an early start. I suggest finding a build site near a fresh water source that is somewhat secluded as you will need to poach a considerable amount of wild game to feed yourself until spring when your first foragable leeks emerge from the frosty sod.  For a temporary shelter, construct a quinzhee hut, and begin felling spruce trees.  This will prove difficult without a cutting implement, so first you will need to forge an axe blade.  Before you do that you will need a forge, etc.  If you’re already feeling overwhelmed, GOOD! Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Just ask the DIY deity in the video below, Richard Proenneke, who would rightfully ashamed of you for your shamefully weak “browsing the internet” and fully reading this stupid article to its end. Go whittle a cabin, looser! Then, maybe, you’ll be HAWT.

P.S. To save time, here’s an article I wrote back in 1970 on the subject.

Downward Goat: Co-dePETdency

downward goat
I mean just look at that goat! Your emotional dependence has turned him into a depressed backpotato. He’s dying inside.

Well, it’s finally happened. We’ve created such a homo-sapien centric stress-ball of a world that we are forced to rely on our domesticated animals for comfort, relaxation, and emotional support. You can’t walk through an airport without seeing a long line of fragile needy humans lined up for some petting time with therapy dogs. It’s the ultimate in psychic subjugation and cross-species emotional slavery. If you can’t handle the twisted mess that is your life, DON’T FOIST IT ON YOUR DOG, and definitely DON’T DO YOGA WITH YOUR GOAT! Thankfully, there are some sane actors in the midst of this madness. A major airline drew the line on some hipster performance artist’s comfort peacock. Unfortunately, the bizarre cruelty had already emotionally scared the beautiful bird because the crybaby milk-toast human had named him “Dexter.” We’ve even anthropomorphized actual llamas to the extend that they have developed “berserk llama syndrome.”  We can’t make this stuff up, folks.  Look, just because your goldfish “Francis” doesn’t literally commit seppuku every time you come home from work sobbing over a mediocre performance review, it doesn’t mean she isn’t crying. Remember, you’ve entrapped her in a watery prison as your unpaid therapy-fish, and you can’t see her tears.

The 2018 Grammy for Best Picture is literally about a loner human falling in love with a fish person.

HOWTOHAWT:  So, the next time your flatmate, Selene, flops down on the couch mournfully sobbing and begins to unload on “Fonzie” the house Chi-Poo about her traumatic shift at the Juicery, you must act quickly. Go get Theo’s tweed blazer (the one with elbow patches) and field notes. Purposely stride into the living room, grab the moist-eyed pup and sit him firmly on the ottoman. Sit in the armchair, and, opening the notepad, posit “soooo, Herr Fonzie,  let’s begin with some word association.”

You’ve already trained him in advance to bark annoyingly with vegan dog treats when he hears the words “mother” and “pain.” You’ve also trained him to whimper when you dip your fountain pen in some ink, and to lay down and cover his head with his totally cute paws when you pull off your tiny circle specs while stroking your goatee and saying “I see.” Selene will be so stunned and humiliated that she’ll flee to her room and curl up in her hammock in embarrassed silence where she belongs. You can confidently know that you’ve saved the dog, this time.

Sigmund Freud was onto something when he said “time spent with cats is never wasted.” Not because it’s good for the wimpy humans, he was looking out for the cats! Cats are clearly immune to human attempts to use them as an emo-soak. They just don’t care. Cats have been ignoring our problems and still getting fed since the pharaohs. So human-up and either get a grip, or get a cat.

 

We should make money off of hipsters!!!

PicoBrew’s newest product, Pico, makes brewing beer at home so easy that anyone—even someone who has never brewed before—can create and enjoy amazing craft beer at home.

Well.  Shit.  Over two years ago we alerted you that micro-brewing was way too big and way too mainstream and literally told you to get into picobrewing.  Well one of you bastards did it and now you’re rich and we’re still not rich.  $1.5 million dollars on kickstarter!!!1  *stab*  Just look at that stupid thing. Propped up neatly on a granite countertop next to a spice-rack and an array of vinaigrette and e.v.o.o.  Well, isn’t that adorable?!  *more stabbing*picocrap

For just $2000ish it could be yours!  No need to buy a 6.5 gallon bucket and brew like a normal person.

*heavy sigh*

The only way to regroup here is think about what the legions of hipsters crave and actually make money off it next time.  Beewax beard wax?  Dammit.  Already a thing!

Frozen HOT: Ice Cave Exploration

Look. we usually don’t get excited about a lot of things because acting unimpressed and bored by everything anyone else does is standard hipster protocol. But this … THIS … is a must-do. Get in your Suberu wagon; gather up Ike, Matilda and Theo, and drive down the south shore of Lake Superior to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore!!!

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Just to give you an idea of the scale here and just how immersed you will be in hip, here’s a shot from the parking lot that you will walk 2 miles to get to. Just 2 miles across a frozen lake in -40 windchill to go! YES! Note the red rectangle above is zoomed in below. So. Much. Hip.

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The group below is just a small sample of the legions of hip you will encounter. Note the strong fashion choices of skinny jeans and 1980’s bold color choices.

Oops, looks like leather skinny jeans guy from the shot above forgot his scarf. We know from Lenny Kravitz to never forget your scarf. Always adept at improvisation, he is using his wool coat at a wearable habitat. Nice move.

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Be sure to pull your iPhone from the depths of your free-cycled hemp handbag and get some close up shots of all the pretty icicles and caves!

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BEHOLD … THE KING HIPSTER OF THE MIDWEST REGION. Bow to your sensei! Yes, this guy is actually out in the freezing cold and he … he … he’s oil painting!! I don’t know if this can be topped as far as hip goes. At least we all have something to aspire to. What is he painting, I wonder?

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This is what he’s painting, and yeah, it’s amazing.

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Just one more look at our majesty. Note that he has some sort of vintage gloves that look like they were fashioned for sled dog racing on a sling. Damn, he’s amazing. What kind of boots are those. Nobody knows. Wow.

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As always, don’t forget your rescue dog and make sure he’s got his coat. Check out the two normals on the right. Snowmobile jackets? Seriously? Ugh. Unless they are wearing them to be ironic? *shrugs*

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These two were running on the way out. Maybe they literally had to, to survive. Considering yoga pants are the only defense from the frozen elements, I suppose this is expected. Adhoc survival runs will always be hip, so they are okay in my book.

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Well, that about does it for our tour. I hope you enjoyed it. In the event that you somehow can’t make it out to the caves this winter you can always kayak or better yet paddle board out to them in the spring if the lake ever thaws.

TRENDFLASH! Deck the beard!

No time for words on this, NOW!

YES!

hipster me

http://www.boredpanda.com/beard-baubles-christmas-decoration/

Food Flash: Monovore Diet

We’ve covered a lot of fad diets here at NHT, but it’s been awhile since we made the switch to paleo, and lots of people have heard of it and/or are doing it so it’s probably time to do something extremely different. After much thought we recommend becoming a monovore. What’s a monovore you ask? Never heard of it? Well that’s because we literally just made it up. Perfect.

It’s a simple concept really, you just pick a single food item and eat only that. Ever. It’s a great diet for NOW because people really admire strict diets that don’t allow for any incongruity. Now before you pick your one food … no cheating. You can’t say pizza or burritos because they are an amalgam of ingredients. It’s important that it is just one thing, even spice additions like the mainstays salt and pepper are off limits (unless you choose one of them as your only food source, but that will probably kill you in within a couple of days). I’m not going to limit your imagination by narrowing down just one suggestion (mine would be local, organic, grass fed, certified angus top-sirloin, medium rare, grilled), I invite you to be creative. A word of caution though, if you go with something with a lot of tannins you may physically take on the color of your food. I’m not a scientist, but I can say with relative certainty that in addition to being extremely gassy and generally unapproachable you will undoubtedly turn green if you only eat broccoli. If you dare select onions or any member of the allium family like the uber-hot leek you are either a complete fool or a hipster beyond even my soothsaying.

Just imagine the looks on your friend’s faces at the farmers market when they see you load two reclaimed pallets full of avocados into your Subaru. “What are you doing with all of those avocados?” Look at them quizzingly, and a bit disappointed. “I’m going to eat them.” Pause for effect. “Only them.” Their jaws will be on the floor. Within seconds the questions will come firing in from all sides (which you’ll love) … “Won’t you get sick?” “Can you do that?” “Don’t you miss ice cream?” “Will you actually die?” Awesome. Now you get to drone on for about 37 minutes about “the dangers of combining too many food resources into variety” and “your need to re-connect with the avocado.” As always, if you follow our tried and true suggestions you’ll be on the fast track to elite hipsterdom. A word of caution though, avoid any lame processed foods as your monochoice, as that is completely impossible, even if you don’t know why.

Pumping Up: Returning Fossil Fuels

Take it back from them!
Take it back from them!

They just won’t listen. Your cobbler Milo, your barber Henry, random normals in line at the co-op … none of them REALLY care about the environment like you do. They take the easy way out. They use cars, electricity, and indoor plumbing. Sell outs. You’ve tried convincing them that they are destroying “our spaceship Earth” until blue in the face. You’ve tried leading by example and demonstrating your devotion to “your Earth mother” with projects like pedal-powered RVs, rescuing ditch trees, and even scything your lawn. But alas, they still hop in their gas guzzling Prius’s and claim to be hypermiling their way to and from the local organic fair trade farmer’s market. It’s time to take matters into our own hands. Let’s put fossil fuels back where they came from!

As with most extreme eco-warrioring, it’s best to work at night, when the normals are all in deep sleep with visions of oil wells dancing in their stupid polluting heads. Sneak into a parking lot with several free-cycled pickle buckets from Burger King and an up-cyled garden hose. Move fast and start siphoning! You will probably get a headache from the fumes around car 37, so have some organic healing herbs at ready in your messenger bag. A ritually blessed (preferably Wiccan) amalgam of white willow bark, bay laurel, and calamus root should do the trick. Any fume-induced hallucinations are a bonus as they will aid in your spiritual journey, just don’t listen to the voices if they tell you to stab anything/one. You will need to make several trips on your fixed gear bike so you’re in for a long night. Make sure your dump location isn’t too close to any major aquifers and have a deep hole ready. Smile smugly as you pour the reclaimed gasoline back where it belongs, in the earth. Pour slowly so the the soil fully absorbs its native nutrients, listen for the satisfied sigh as the earth drinks deep. The only problem with this being a clandestine operation is people can’t (and shouldn’t) see you doing it. How can you talk about it if nobody notices you? The way to work around that little glitch is to look really tired and smell like gas so people ask you about it. Neither of these should require much effort because you just literally stayed up all night siphoning and transporting gasoline. Drag yourself into the artisan coffee shop in the morning. “Oh, the gas smell? Why do I look so tired? Yeah, I’ve been doing what we all should be doing, putting gasoline back where it should be. After all, what’s better than being carbon neutral? How about being carbon negative?” Flora, the barista you have a crush on, will swoon.

Don’t stop here. Oil isn’t the only thing we disgusting “smart apes” rape from “our maiden Earth sprite.” What about that huge coal pile by the docks? They plan to burn it up in their giant power plants to do things like power their idiot boxes and electric toothbrushes. Oh nooo, they can’t be bothered to miss a single effing episode of “Dancing with the Stars!” And as if smearing baking soda all over their teeth with their fingers like you do isn’t “clean” enough. They’d rather line the pockets of Mr. and Mrs. Colgate whilst poisoning themselves with fluoride! Covetous self-indulgent boobs! Ahem. But I digress. The coal re-insertion is a bit trickier than gas as ideally you would return it to its origin in random Montana mines. That’s a lot of pedaling so you can probably get away with just stuffing the coal under roadway culverts. That’s underground right? Pretty much the same thing as a mine. Good enough. The important thing is you’ll be keeping the coal out of the grubby little hands of industrialist profiteers who want to burn it only to waste it by providing heat and electricity to countless people at the expense of “Mother Goddess Terra.”

A few other quick ideas include un-fracking. I’m not sure what fracking is, but I do know that the opposite of it is hella hip right now. Do some of your own research (always hot) and find out just what the hell fracking is and try to undo it. You could also sneak into the backyards and patios of the normal legions and free the propane tanks from the prison of their meat scorching grills. This is a one-two punch because people eat way too much meat, especially mass-produced non-free-range hormone-laden cruelty-full meat. Find a swamp somewhere and shove the nozzle deep into the muck, open the valve and send that propane home. Natural gas lines are easy, just locate them and sever them with a borrowed backhoe.

Alright, some of you are more hardcore than others and I don’t want to stifle any enthusiasm. I have no idea how to pull this one off, but if you can figure out a way to reverse the flow of all of the major oil pipelines in the world please do! Another extreme idea would be to initialize a worldwide grassroots uprising, using mostly peaceful demonstrations and sit-ins (always hot). In the meantime us longer brimmed hipsters will be doing what we can in the smaller ways I’ve outlined, even if we don’t know why.