Cheers to the Assholes

We get the point–you are fabulous. You live in NY, you do cocaine until 6 a.m. when you get on the subway to go to work at Virgin corporate. You party every night at bars where a 12 oz. can of PBR (or piss water) costs $10 and you hang out with semi-famous or soon to be famous drug addicts who claim to be musicians. The one time you had Chlamydia you wore it like a badge of honor because you are hard-core. You hang out with drunk chicks who wear ankle boots and t-shirt skirts like its 1992–the type of girls who flash their tits at the site of a zoom lens, because being a fowl-mouthed whore is so ironic. You listened to Wolf Mother for a month before moving on to something more indie, because you are always ahead of the curve. You make black jokes and fag jokes because Vice told you it was okay. It would be such a waste if your life went undocumented–lucky for you, there's no way that could ever happen. Because of photographers like Björn Fagerholm, who to his credit is from Finland, your self-indulgent existence has a purpose–showing the world how obnoxiously hip you are. Fortunately, Fegerholm knows what he is doing with a camera and your whore girlfriends are kind of cute. So keep being the coolest guy alive.