It's no longer a secret that I hold a deep disdain for most of the hipster music that runs across my desk. I try to give it a fair shot, but I just can't get into it. And a ton of it has come across my desk as of late, further igniting that fire of dislike while leaving me to wonder just what my problem is with that junk.
So this is the second part to that illustrious blog you read yesterday about how I tortured my good friends into trying to drink away my hipster-music pain. Yep, I'm a certifiable asshole, in case you hadn't come to that conclusion on your own.