Hipster-Cylon Dichotomy

Most people hate cylons.
Most people hate hipsters.

Some cylons don’t know they’re cylons.
Some hipsters don’t know they’re hipsters.

Cylons that don’t know they’re cylons fraking hate cylons.
Hipsters that don’t know they’re hipsters fucking hate hipsters.

Some cylons know they’re cylons and love it. But most secretly wish they weren’t cylons; that they were real people.
Some hipsters know they’re hipsters and love it. But most secretly wish they weren’t hipsters; that they were real people.

If you ask a cylon if he or she is a cylon, they will say, “Frak no, man, I hate cylons!”
If you ask a hipster if he or she is a hipster, they will say, “Fuck no, man, I hate hipsters!”

Many cylons look and dress exactly the same.
Many hipsters look and dress exactly the same.

Cylons hate hipsters (as an extension of their hatred of mankind).
Hipsters hate cylons (as an extension of their hatred of dorky pop culture).

Many people who aren’t cylons accuse lots of innocent people of being cylons. Real cylons are the best at telling their own kind (even if the first cylon doesn’t know they’re a cylon!).
Many people who aren’t hipsters accuse lots of innocent people of being hipsters. Real hipsters are the best at telling their own kind (even if the first hipster doesn’t know they’re a hipster!).

But, to be fair, a lot of innocent people turn out to be cylons.
And a lot of innocent people turn out to be hipsters.

If you’re questioning whether or not you are a cylon, well buddy, you’re a cylon.
And if you’re questioning whether or not you are a hipster, well, you’re definitely a hipster.

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