Oh breaking buddha on a babbling baboon. That goddamn phrase is among several makes me briefly consider that the mandatory sentences for 'murder by blunt force trauma' are tolerable.
It's not just that it's the needless blathering of a word-hipsters trying to fit in. It's not just that it precludes any sort of actual, real personality of the writer and steamrolls it with a snarky asstit blunderbutt who's first opinion about anything is mockery and sarcasm.
It's that it creates a sort of verbal short-hand. A personality stand-in. It's a phrase most often used by the sort of people whose desire to point out their lack of a television is only eclipsed by an urgent impulse to proclaim their simultaneous love for a multinational grocery chain (their Raw Rosemary & Kosher Salt Kissed Brazil Nuts are AMAZING) as well as an even larger multinational which manages to charge 40% more for electronics by making them 100% more ostentatious.
It's the 'just saying..' and the 'natch' and the 'What is that, I don't even' mental shortcuts, verbal junk of minds and personalities too worried about what someone might think of them; if they don't conjure up the correct bon mot, the slyest opinion, the blinking beacon that they are, indeed, One of Them, the smart set, the group that was into whatever band you are into but ten years ago, they'll be reviled and marched down the aisles of aforementioned grocery chain, being pelted at with off-brand dried fruit candies and magazines with not enough bokeh.
It's a waving the white flag while you say your peace. The verbal camouflage, the meagerest offering to the strongest, tightest skinny jean-wearing beard-growing oversized-aviator wearing uber hipster, that hypothetical god of all that's in the know and cool and with it. It has a powerful whiff of servility to it, the submitting to the uber hoard, the sacrificing of your voice, the exposing your tastiest nether regions to horde in hopes they won't pounce.
It reeks of automata, of the Given, of fear.
And that, that's all I'm saying.