Chapter the Eleventh: In Which Things Get Hipper.
I rarely express such frustrations as this, but it's begun to get to me.
Hipsters. Want. To Shoot. Hipsters.
Such people look down upon me because my favorite music is mainstream as all hell and is played on conventional radio stations. Sadly, we happen to have a good percentage of them at Smith, and many of them (not all--my housemate L is pretty cool) run the radio station. Now, yours truly tried for a radio show last year and didn't get one (though I was offered a general music show) because of scheduling issues and because I was a first year. I tried again this year and didn't get one offered at all, not even the indie stuff the station usually plays. My suspicion as to why is that, as L told me, the Hipsters are back in charge at WOZQ. And I'd bet my plebian tastes for Fleetwood Mac and popcockrock from the 70s are Not Cool Enough.
Sigh.
I probably have more to say about this, but it's nearly time for this member of the hoi polloi to go watch Queer Eye. Go me.
