[Edit] I make no money from this website.  If you are here to deride me for not liking what this podcaster is about please try to keep your comments civil, and they will be posted.

My heart jumps as I write this — for know that I have crested the hill and come upon the cynical equivalent of Shambhala.

I have not thought of myself in this light for some time.  But I think, far from being hateful, the cynic must emerge to lay down some lines of lambast where it is strongly deserved.

I assure you I strive, especially these days as I have taken to investigating Buddhism, to be nice.  But thankfully Buddhism allows for ass-kicking where it is needed, both verbal and physical.  I don’t know if this is one of those ass-kickings — I don’t want to be so confrontational as this man’s fans.  But it is certainly designed to shed light on this dark corner of the internet wherein lurks something most disturbing.

Preface

At the risk of sounding self-aggrandizing I consider myself to be apart from a social group.  I certainly do not look it, though, I admit.  Left and right it is assumed I am a stoner or a hipster.  I don’t take offense to either because, normally, I get along fine with either group.  Most stoners are agreeable, open-minded folk.  And, uh, hipsters have introduced me to a lot of good music.

One thing I have never been confused for, is a politically active young person.  I have never to my knowledge been mistaken for a film student.  I am, in the fashion of some portion of videogame enthusiasts, just some guy who loves videogames.  I try my best to ascribe to nothing, take nothing for granted, hear both sides of a conversation.  The man who acts like a college student is not a man I’d like to talk to.  He plays pretend to contribute intellectually while he seeks some self-confirmation.  I have always done my best not to belong to that group, or any other.

Because belonging scares me.  It scares the shit out of me, it does.  Nationalism scares me, unquestioning faith in religion scares me, pride — even deserved –scares me.  The empty-headed defense of what is associated with the ego — what has been allowed to help define a personality and identity — terrifies me.  It promotes a narrow-minded and defensive point of view.

The Business

This morning Penny Arcade delivered a comic about a man whom I know nothing about.  Knew nothing about.  This man is Jesse Thorn.  He tells me that he is “America’s Radio Sweetheart” I have read his blog, watched his videos, and listened to his podcasts in the hopes of drawing a profile.

This guy is a big fucking deal.  This guy has his own convention.  This guy runs a radio show/podcast which is, I guess, just for people in their twenties who enjoy film and MAXIMUM FUN.  It is, I suppose, for those who would ascribe to the cultural maxim he pushes — “New Sincerity”.  I am at this point highly skeptical.

The Penny Arcade comic that led me into this rabbit hole seems to be confirmed.  This Jesse Thorn has, after some bot picked up mention of his name on Twitter, retweeted my comment “Hey Jesse Thorn — you are the embodiment of all that I hate and loathe in this world. Thanks.”

What followed was a short stream of tweets from people that I hate and loathe, ranging from the polite but creepy “think you’ve got the wrong idea about @youngamerican. He’s really a great interviewer, an awesome podcaster, and a rad guy.” to the scary and creepy “why the hate? Is it because Jesse is likable and funny? Is it because he works so hard? Or are you just a mean-spirited asshole?”

Wait — What?

This is apparently a joke.  It is still weird.

Yeah.  So.  I simply said, into the empty void of the internet which I throw my thoughts regularly, that this guy is nobody.  Let me explain.

What I loathe is a happy man.  A happy man who, when I shoot spitballs at him, turns and smiles.  He waves and calls me friend.  I have met people like Jesse Thorn, and he is apparently a figurehead for these sort of people in “Young America”.  I am stereotyping, of course — how else does one voice his opinion other than truthfully with his own bias.

I have a problem with this sort of man.  I do not have a problem with Jesse Thorn.  I don’t know — and don’t care — who this guy really is.  But I despise his persona, which is not new to me.  He prescribes — as some sort of authority — a cultural perspective to American twenty-somethings that promotes the sincere, unabated love of all things for what they are.  When this man wears a flannel jacket he does so not because of the irony associated with wearing a lumberjack pattern as a lanky young white hipster, he does so because he fucking loves flannel.  With the intellectual equivalent of a cheesy shit-eating grin he asks that his followers have no taste, that they consume without judging and appreciate for the sake that appreciation is nice.

I hate what this man represents in order simply to represent the stance that his ideas are stupid, and should not be followed.  Because they are stupid.  I am trying to be a bit absurdist and entertaining here, so excuse my use of the word stupid — replace it if you like with “nothing new and profoundly un-profound”.  I would proudly stand amongst the individuals who look at this confident “radio personality” with a knack for writing in uncomfortable and straight highschool-english, and I would proudly shout him down — especially because so many daft young people think he’s the cat’s asshole.

His podcast itself seems normal enough.  He speaks in a careful radio voice with a professor’s vocabulary and proceeds to ask his guests how awesome their stuff is.  Fine.  Whatever.  Keep doing that.

The Cult

In this video Jesse un-ironically investigates the exciting world of designer-fucking-denim-jeans.

I guess the real question is, at what point does some niche NPR-like young hipster cult of personality surrounding a balding public radio host who steeps his image with a method for absorbing media become not just oddball and totally fucking batshit wacky?  I suppose it was the moment that Penny Arcade found this guy, and others, upon learning more about it, are equally creeped out.

This is either me being a jerk or these are the very pangs of sanity.

Excuse me now, for the wild plaid-coated masses that are Jesse Thorn’s entourage slam their fists up against my Twitter feed.  I go now to fend off madness, and mad hipsters.