‘Twas the Saturday night after Obama’s big three-state and a luxury-island sweep, and I was feeling burnt out on politics. Even Keith Olbermann had taken the night off, so I figured it would either drag myself to the bar and develop some sort of social life for myself, or surf away from MSNBC for a few hours and explore some of the offerings of the other, non-news cable channels.

Hmmm, I thought. My fate hung in the balance of this age-old, epic predicament. Beer, girls, live music? Or Law & Order and CSI reruns?

So I nuked myself a breakfast croissant sandwich, cracked open a Dr. Pepper, and settled into the couch. I channel-clicked my way up the band, towards the 40s where the cable providers have exiled all the really good stations like Sci Fi and Cartoon Network.

Finally, I landed on Comedy Central, just as a Leonardo DiCaprio look-a-like in tight jeans strutted up to the mic and lifted an acoustic guitar to his chest.

“The other day, I walked in on my roommate masturbating,” he said, strumming a light folk melody (I paraphrase, of course). “Oh, wait, no. I walked into my roommate while I was masturbating.”

Then something about borrowing a sock. Suddenly, my Jimmy Dean sausage-sandwich wasn’t so scrumptious. But there I was, hooked by Nick Thune, Seattle-born soon-to-be superstar.

If Obama represents the new generation of politicians, then Nick Thune, along with Demetri Martin, represent the new class of hipster comics.

Martin lucked out with a correspondent gig on The Daily Show, peddling in Wes Anderson-style cutesy-slapstick: crude drawings, hand-made puppets and a contrived naivety that couldn’t help but win over hearts and funny bones. Then Microsoft Vista sponsored Martin’s high-budget special, a hipster tour de farce that climaxed with a finale obviously inspired by the final scene of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

Thune, on the other hand, well, that kid’s got a future and it drives me sick with jealousy. According to his Web site bio, he moved to Hollywood only recently, and has since vacillated between bombing at coffeehouse gigs and scoring small roles in feature films. Somewhere along the line, Comedy Central scouts glimpsed his performance and, boom, handed him a special.

And he rocked it with a confidence that few young comedians command. OK, so even though most of his bits were plays on digital-age pop culture — from Craiglist.org to instant messenger etiquette — I saw that as less of a gimmick and more as a comedian exploiting all that he knows. In this case… well, he’s still just a boy. And, as obvious as some of the jokes may have been, the intensity of Thune’s delivery and the dexterity of his wordplay foreshadow a career that can only zip-zoom. Here’s a kid who can simultaneously keep a solid folk melody on his guitar while flawlessly delivering mini-monologues loaded with irony, emotion and deft wit. And he’s got a face to launch a thousand ships.

It’ll be interesting to watch how the two develop. With Martin, I seriously wonder how long he can pull it off. He’s one of the most original comedy upstarts around, but, as his hair grays and his cheeks wrinkle, I foresee he’ll either lapse into obscurity as just another gimmick-exploiter with a cult following — as an indie-rock Gallagher, perhaps — or he’ll evolve out of stand-up and take up, I don’t know, directing. It all depends, I suppose, on how bitter he gets.

Thune, though, is only starting out, and although his comedy’s a bit more conventional it’s also more adaptable. Let’s see where he takes it next and how long it takes for him to start dating Paris Hilton and forfeit his hipster cred.