We hate your blog.

We hate Generation Bubble, and we hate the post Detroit Nosh City

1. WE HATE that you’re us, only smarter. It’s a classic example of kids from the northeast and kids from the midwest. We’d like it a lot if we could start a Dandy Warhols/Brian Jonestown Massacre-style rivalry (but only if we get to be BJM). We have WAY more Facebook fans than you. Take that.

2. WE HATE that your blog reads like 1. A desperate job application for NPR newswriter; or 2. A distillation of various aspects of your Master’s thesis. You even have an annotated bibliography, for cryin’ out loud. “Yeah, we read Baudrillard and Walter Benjamin for fun!” Pshaw, we say, GenBub. P. Shaw. Besides, everyone knows that the only Benjamin worth reading is “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.” (By the way, your citations are neither APA, nor MLA. Lame.)

It's one of those weird-ass bubbles from The Prisoner! Look out Number Six! Aaaaaiiiiiiiiiii!

3. WE HATE the sorry, lazy tactic of posting a rerun blog from those halcyon days of GenBub yore (April), rather than posting actual content on Thanksgiving. Tracking back to an early post that you might have liked, but didn’t get much run because your only readers were yourselves (we have no idea what that is like…), is just pathetic. We would never do that. In fact, on Thanksgiving we sucked it up, ran off to our room, (leaving behind the four soused, belligerent cousins and the grandmother who never understands that “intellectuals” like us don’t “work” for corporations) to shoot off.

Oh. What?

To shoot off a sterling hatepost about vegans (which we assume your ultra-liberal, east-coast biased asses are. We ate meat. In fact, we road-killed a turkey, threw it in the back of the Jeep, plucked it ourselves, and cooked it up. That turkey would have busted your Prius in half).

4. WE HATE your patronizing treatment of Coon Man. “Armed with a .22 rifle and some faithful hounds, he reaps the Motor City’s brownfield bounty.” Yeah, that’s how he would’ve said it. Way to denigrate a man just trying to get by in the world.

"What, don't I look like the sort who 'reaps Motor City's brownfield bounty'?"

5. WE HATE your pretension. You start off your post by saying “April is the cruelest month…for varmints.” Kakow! Throw in a slammer sometimes, just for fun. Okay, so an obvious Eliot reference in an article about Detroit might not be that pretentious. Let’s read on. “Apparently unfazed by this unfortunate sobriquet, “Coon Man” Beasley observes a credo as simple as his diet.” What’s unfortunate about his sobriquet? He hunts, traps, and sells raccoons. His sobriquet makes perfect sense to us. Only here in Real America, we just call it his nickname. Maybe it’s just this “Anton” character who is pretentious. We have other authors, too, and they are plenty pretentious sometimes. Let’s check out the next post. Good, good. Uh oh. “[...]like the kind of appurtenances they had in Borders before its governing powers discovered they’d inadvertently made their stores into flophouses and therefore decided to snatch them away.” We understand “flophouse” (where we grew up), and “snatch” (um…). But not much else. Write for America, GenBub. Not East America.