At 10:53 a.m. on Thursday, Feb. 8, hipster Sam Templeton lamented to his hipster friend, Arthur Albee, that the O.P. was now “totally over-run with hipsters.” The comment, which is now the 1000th of its kind made in the past year, was said as the two hipsters waited outside the little bar in a line. “It sucks that our great little dive bar has become a hipster heaven – it’s just so un-Po-Mo,” Templeton said as he adjusted his corduroy blazer with elbow patch-es and then attempted to put his thin fingers into his excessively tight black pants. “I know man,” Albee replied while he fixed one of his unwashed cowlicks in the bar window, cleaned off his horn-rimmed glasses and felt a little more gaunt. “This place is so scene now,” he said. Templeton then stubbed out his unfiltered Lucky Strike ciga-rette on his black boots. “We used to be the ones in there,” he said as he pointed to the bar in his tat-tered smoking gloves, “Doing ev-erything that they’re doing now: drinking PBR and acting disgusted – man, those were the days.”