Imagine shopping downtown at Macy’s and seeing this:

As you can see, Pittsburgh Santarchy ’08 was some good times.

Something random:  Seventeen years ago I was flipping through a friend’s photos when this caught my eye…

Is that a vintage hipster or what?  It got me thinkin…what happens to hipsters when they start to prune?  At what point does the hipster flame cease to flicker?  My friend explained that the floating-head-dude was in fact her grandfather.  With much urgency, I dragged her across town for an interview with the oldtimer.  Several minutes into the muted conversation, Grandpa looked weak, so I let the matter rest.  Four days later I found myself attending his funeral.  The hipster question remains unanswered.