In six months, no one's going to remember anything about this and we'll all be going "What was that about, again?"

I was working on this whole other post about going to the gym and self-improvement and not drinking and all that bullshit, but SCREEEECH RECORD SCRATCH SOUND The Great Hipster Comment War of Aught-Ten has commanded my attention. 25 years from now I will be telling my - what, kids? court-ordered lecturees? Hugh Hefner-like bevy of child brides? - this story as a cautionary tale of what the Internetz were like in Ye Olde 2010.

It seems that Intrepid Local Blogger Kevin of Mission Mission visited Debaser at Knockout recently and maybe didn't think it was all that great:

I always thought The Knockout was a place where people who still think Nirvana is indie went to score blow. Turns out people dance there too! I had been seeing these pictures pop up on flickr a lot and kept thinking “what brand of douchebag goes to a club that, presumably, hires some jackass to take photos of their trashed customers, watermarks/brands/copyrights the photo, and upload them to flickr?”

So I decided to do a little recon/spectating with the ultimate authority of Mission douchebags last night. Dunno about it. Felt like a more over-hyped promoted/less fun version of emo night at Pops (which is free and they serve $1 high life). The whole time I was there nothing really notable or exciting happened. Some drunk chicks hit the photobooth but the whole thing was mostly shouting at your friends over the DJ. Rolled out at midnight, went to Farolito, savaged a burrito, and went to bed.

Hey, whatever. Last time I went to Debaser, an extremely sweaty guy with a beard and a neck tattoo spilled half a beer on me. Did I totally get pissed off and go "WHAT!? WHAT!?" No, of course not, you silly twat. IT ALL BEATS LIVING IN RWANDA.

(I should interject here that the "some jackass" who takes the photos is my friend Chris, who I personally know not to be a jackass. Anyway.)

(I should also interject that Kevin and I probably have different ideas about what constitutes fun, because it seems like I spend a lot of my time shouting at my friends over the DJ/band/illegal cockfight crowd/whatever.)

SHIT HIT THE FAN. By now, if you're reading this, you read all the other SF blogs and you know the whole story - Debaser's response, the brazilian comments on Mission Mission, and the what-does-it-all-mean article on SF Appeal, followed by another raft of fist-shaking and chin-rubbing comments. OUR NAVELS ARE THE MOST GAZE-WORTHY OF ALL NAVELS WORLDWIDE.

Why am I writing about this? I don't know. Aren't I perpetuating this silly fight? Yes. Yes I am.

Here's your takeaways: Not everyone likes the same things; Debaser will continue apace, without noticeable wounds; people say all kinds of things on the Internet, some of them mean; it's awesome we have the free time to worry about this. Me included, times ten.


UPDATE: As suggested by commenter Rocco, we should print up shirts! Or how about baseball jerseys and hoodies. Like so: