Ah, "hipsters." Don'tcha jus' hate 'um? Bashing "hipsters" (a term once analogous to "hepcat," now misapplied to shabby, coke-sniffing retro-'80s tokenists) was old news by 2003, and yet, as long as most of us are suspicious that someone out there is having more fun than we are, it'll be open season, at least until the next ridiculous youth subculture comes along. Many East Side bars have served their time as the hipster clubhouse of choice (Cha Cha, Short Stop, Gold Room…). And now, HYPErion seems to be taking the mantle. Once an S&M dive (the bathroom door still has a large, mysterious hole in it) and still possessed of a sinister speakeasy vibe, Hyperion has rapidly become the it party spot, without so much as a liquor selection. (Even the beer menu is no great shakes; overpriced Corona, anybody?) The upshot: If you can stomach the namedropping and pretension, some of the programming is quite interesting. At this stage, the Hyperion is still experimenting. Garage Comedy, exiled from El Cid, now runs Monday nights here. One recent Sunday night was "sad night," and I had no idea what a mindfuck it would be to hear non-stop Slowdive and Galaxie 500 all night, in a bar.