A town is not a culture, not precisely. Drive ten blocks in any direction in Laramie, and perhaps the most you could say that is definitively shared by the lives you move past is that they happen under the same quixotic weather, surrounded by the same light-struck, wind-cut plain. Cultures—in the sense of shared beliefs, attitudes, stories, identities—only come clear at levels much smaller or much larger than towns, in the furtive subcultures beloved by cultural anthropologists or, alternately, in the nation imagined, inflated, and set afloat by media conglomerates. A town is not a culture, especially a town marked by the ebb-and-flow vagrancies of college life, a town in a state with a stalled economy and a net population loss every year.
That's not to say that nothing can be said of Laramie; instead it's simply to say that to call Laramie “hateful” makes little sense,