I’ve failed as a hipster.

I was hustled a dream and now I’m staring death in the eyes while knocking on heaven’s door.

As 2017 draws to a close, the most important story in the world is that of the American government getting the upper hand in a battle against “the cyber,” and in doing so also likely cutting the head and heart out of the hipster-friendly, digitized, and astoundingly ascendant “creative” (read as “middle”) class. If you haven’t found a VC or sustainable footing for your brilliantly progressive idea, New Year’s Eve is only 60 days away. There’s a cold black cloud coming down on the hipster age, and pretty soon, we’re all going to be knock, knock knocking on heaven’s door for salvation. However, unlike the Bible, there’s a very good chance that most of us aren’t going to get past St. Peter and the pearly gates.

I’ll admit that I’m a hipster. I’m just like so many other book-smart, yet conservative American life-weary folks. I got consumed by the globalized and seemingly unlimited growth potential of the then wild and largely unrefined digital socio-economic communal structure of the late 2000s. I foolhardily descended into the depths of this web-first life. It all started when Napster addicted me to high speed internet in 1999. I quickly set up a Myspace page in 2003, a Facebook page in 2006, a Twitter page in 2007. By 2008…