Curmudgeon mild

I have nothing against the hipsters or whatever the current batch of up-and-coming young challengers to the daily status quo are, really. And maybe I am just becoming an older guy less interested in innovation, increasingly simply wanting things to stay the same. But I gotta admit I don't typically get whatever happens to be new at any given time.

As my neighborhood gentrificates (is that a word?) new shops are opening. I won't name names because I really don't want to hurt their business intiatives. I don't really mean to pass harsh judgments either. But as I look at what passes for their attraction I don't always get their point.

One such store offers what we would have once called eclectic or eccentric items. Ok, so be it. But it strikes me as nothing more than a second hand store more bizarrely stocked. Odd paintings and statuettes and, for my taste, simply strange furnishings and the like. I wouldn't call it wrong, to be fair. I wouldn't even call its wares pigs with lipstick. But they are, well, weird.

Then there's the pizza parlor (I'm sure the owners would bristle at what that implies) which has all sorts of unusual toppings. I've tried several types, and they're honestly good. But at the end of the day it's overpriced hipster fare. Give me a Little Caesar's Hot and Ready first if I have any say, though I would go along and not rain on the parade if the majority of whom I was with wanted Pricey Hipster Pizza.

I want to stress I'm not calling anything wrong here. But I do wonder if my elders looked on me the same way when the roles were reversed although, quite honestly, I don't recall ever deviating significantly from the standards of the times at any time. So call this rant Marty: curmudgeon mild. It kind of fits.