Millennial Hipsters are the ones demanding to know why the liquor store a block from their foreclosed-crack-house-turned-condominium doesn’t carry single-barrel rye whiskey, the ones wearing second-hand flannel shirts and skinny jeans while dining out on artisanal chitlins and grits, and the ones complaining that SXSW Interactive jumped the shark in 2007. Their greatest fear is that someone else will figure out how to monetize REM sleep imagery before they do.
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