Once some hipsters going to a men-only barber's from an anti-café where they had been coached co-working in creative start-ups saw a real master. He was sitting on a log near a garage and was drinking his beer after a day of labour, looking at the world with a gentle smile of an enlightened one.
The hipsters had a look at this, took out their iphones, uploaded selfies to Instagram, checked in Foursquare, twittered in Twitter and decided to tease the master.
'Tell us, o master', they started, having had a sip of their smoothies, 'why is your overall so dirty? Why isn't your beard cut? Why aren't you drinking a craft beer? Look at us, hipsters! At our skinnies, loafers, homburgs, converses and cardigans! Look at our refined imperials, finely manicured nails! How ironic the prints on our T-shirts are! One of us is a DJ, the other is a fashion blogger, the third is a photographer and the fourth is a social columnist. We are all vegan, metrosexual, organic eating and art-house connoisseurs. Each of us has an iphone, a clutch, a moleskine and a Facebook account. None has stained his hands with banal manual work! Probably you aren’t a master, but a common looser, are you?’
So they were jeering at him, but the master was silent, he was just drinking beer and smiling.
‘Why don’t you answer us, master?’ the hipsters finally asked.
‘I’m waiting.’ the master answered with a gentle voice.
‘What are you waiting for?’ the surprised hipsters asked.
“I’m waiting for the chavs up there to come here and give you bashing, take the iphones away from you and squeeze the moleskins into your metrosexual arses.”
‘What about you then, master?’
‘As for me, I have a tire iron.’
‘What should we do?’ the frightened hipsters said in a trembling voice.
‘Create a look!’