VANCOUVER

Thursday, September 21, 2017

° ยป 5 day

Because we have been waiting for you for a decade

Who Are You?

Illustration by Alan Hindle

Location Location Location

You are a cliché. You don’t think so? That is so cliché. Following the Vancouver Sun’s lead last Friday, Only hired a shadowy firm that reduces human beings to bar codes to screech around Vancouver in an unmarked van dissecting random pedestrians, chopping them up and boiling them down to statistical dust for laboratory inspection and corporate…use. Here then are your respective psychographics. Read, suffer, then go out and buy stuff. Please. Only is on commission from various Business Improvement committees and the “firm” is demanding payment for services rendering. You never bail on red-eyed axe-lovers in blood-soaked vans.

The New Main Street Yuppie: For want of a better word, you are hip; you know your way around the “scene.” You play several musical instruments all bought under the guise of expressing/buying an artistic spirit. You’ve managed to open at least two flailing and currently deceased retail “experiments” but have decided to forego business for your newly formed music career. Money’s not an issue these days because you moonlight in well-constructed hair art.

The Commercial Drive Midwife: Head and shoulders the most progressive demographic in the pie-chart, you pull in roughly a hundred thousand per annum but still have time to sing your own songs about that ubiquitous performer who slept in your bed, ate all your food and then slept with your best friend who is also a singer-songwriter. To heal your wounded heart you eat organic food, take aromatheraputic baths and paint paintings of women with hairs of flame and legs that are roots reaching deep down into the earth. You are all actually media moguls revolutionising the way we ignore television, commercial radio, crappy American films and free weekly newspapers.

The Strathcona Beardo: The future of Vancouver, you form artsy/craftsy communes crammed into beautiful crumbling houses and live like fully dysfunctional pseudo-families in ornate power structures. You hang around the Union Market carving your last girlfriend’s name into your chest while your current amethyst position in the pyramid scheme earns you just over three grand a year.

The Downtown East Side Meth Head: The single most important slice of Vancouver’s pie, you earn well over a million dollars a year and spend it all on two-dollar pitchers at Funky Winkerbeans. Living where you do you know you are the only person seriously grounded in “reality” while everybody else is rolling around in rose-coloured protective bubbles. Your need to keep it real has helped double rents in the neighbourhood and forced welfare alcoholics out on the street. Therefore you are perfectly entitled, due to your inevitable and well-earned inuring, to roll along with your chatty punk friends complaining about casual gentrification.

The Kitsilano Guerillatté: The only hope this city has, you combine “Yuppie” and “Hippie” making “Yuh”. You are appalled by the thoughtless excesses of the rich and console yourself with the fact that you only make $189,000 a year, well below the stuffy, stuck-up DTES people, and pride yourself on ordering double soy caramel tall lattés without any actual coffee in them, making you subversive and conceptual. You think Zulu is “raw” and masturbate to thoughts of fucking the life out of the spoiled brat staff posing as failed artists.

The Transplant: (assorted locations, usually in nicer flats than the rest of us could find if we fucked the devil and ironed his shorts in the morning) Dropping in from England or New York, you’ve been lulled by the “Voted six times Best Place to Live by Swedes Who’ve never Been Here Before” and wander in a state of self-sustained wonder repeating your mantra, “A view of the mountains equals quality of living.” You rave to your friends back home about the cheap pot, yet constantly complain about the shitty dollar slices posing as pizza. Confused, you actually think Only is respectable, and will eventually apply to us for an internship and wind up running the place two weeks later.

  1. Sean Orr

    What about the Cambie Kid? Reads the Nerve, has a PA, plays Grand Theft Auto every morning, probably from the suburbs, snowboards and where’s Canada Kicks Ass T-Shirts, still reads comics. - May 13, 05:22 AM

  2. some hate filled wretch

    You forgot the 1st generations from the properties, cruising robson/davie/denman in poppy’s clk, Lives at home, but hangs out in the west end. Gets off on this week’s sunglasses, polo and 17 year old ESL cookie. Officially you earn nothing but will one day be worth millions in hillside real estate.

    This week: ONLY takes prejudice to lofty new heights - Jun 25, 08:19 AM

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