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The Daily Cardinal Est. 1892
Wednesday, April 24, 2024

Reading into token stereotypes

I often wish people had flashing signs over their heads to warn their peers: \Liar,"" ""Klepto,"" ""Best friend's ex,"" etc.  




Instead, we must rely on our intuition. Unfortunately, some desperate kids will always try to weasel their way into our lives by tricking us into believing they embody a certain form of cool. 




Because I can read people faster than the cardinals can elect a new pope, I've compiled an essential list of those kids you should always see right through. Here's how to read for tricksters, the college years: 




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Perhaps it's that the indie movement has run its course and now I've got The Shins splints, but I swear the number of kids inebriated with Iron and Wine is directly related to the number of tricksters looking for a niche. 




The token indie wants you to know he's indie, but doesn't want to divulge information about what he listens to. When he tells you he ""likes their old stuff,"" inquire. Turns out, the only ""old stuff"" he knows are Jock Jams and Coolio.  




The most harmless of the lot, the Token Indie just wants to bond with other philosophizing, square-glasses wearing hipsters. He just hasn't done his indie homework and is thus quite the poser-trickster. But he does look appealing in those tight, plaid shirts. 




This ""guy's girl"" should not be trusted. Insightful enough to recognize that high maintenance is unattractive but unwilling to actually adopt a truly relaxed lifestyle, the Sweatpants Sweetheart spends countless hours perfecting a persona of ""I don't care."" 




She wears pajamas but maintains miniskirt posture. Her sweatpants often (but not always) proclaim ""1892"" or something Greek. 




The Sweatpants Sweetheart takes advantage of a collective desire to dismiss traditional beauty standards by modifying the norm in a sneaky way. Her personality isn't as soft as her precious hoodies will lead you to believe, and you'll eventually learn the truth. Hey, at least she feels like an innocent teddy bear. 




Anyone with the ability to make a Tuesday night at the library interesting by replacing the entire Shakespeare section with comic books deserves props. But you can distinguish a Spaz-trickster because the only thing not spontaneous about her is her predictable spontaneity. 




She who declares her interests (?? l?? thefacebook or otherwise) ""catching snowflakes on my tongue,"" ""finger painting,"" and ""running through open fields"" is guilty. 




The Spontaneous Spaz only seeks to please. She wants you to remember her fondly as the girl who delivered the most unorthodoxly fun night of your life. For her, though, upholding her spontaneous image is more important than you are.  




The Pseudo-Intellectual who sneers at all trivial conversation, yet cops the entirety of his political analysis from The Daily Show. Mr. Worldly who's been everywhere except your bedroom and will rattle off stories from afar to get there.  




For better or worse, this list and common sense is all we've got until government mandates newborns to have devices with medical and personal history implanted in their forearms.  




I give 'em five years.  

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