Generally speaking, I don't think he has that sort of reputation. Some of the people who fetishize quotes ripped from his work certainly do, but that's confusing the follower with the author. In his own words, he bade his readers to "learn to read me well!" The people you're thinking of largely never bothered to read him, let alone read him well:

> Nowadays it is not only my habit, it is also to my taste—a malicious taste, perhaps?—no longer to write anything which does not reduce to despair every sort of man who is “in a hurry.” For philology is that venerable art which demands of its votaries one thing above all: to go aside, to take time, to become still, to become slow—it is a goldsmith’s art and connoisseurship of the word which has nothing but delicate, cautious work to do and achieves nothing if it does not achieve it lento. But for precisely this reason it is more necessary than ever today, by precisely this means does it entice and enchant us the most, in the midst of an age of “work,” that is to say, of hurry, of indecent and perspiring haste, which wants to “get everything done” at once, including every old or new book: this art does not so easily get anything done, it teaches to read well, that is to say, to read slowly, deeply, looking cautiously before and aft, with reservations, with doors left open, with delicate eyes and fingers . . . My patient friends, this book desires for itself only perfect readers and philologists: learn to read me well!

But his reputation was battered for years after his death through no fault of his own. That's nothing new. More than anyone, his proto-Nazi horror of a sister can be blamed for that: she ripped through his writings like a whirlwind, editing and rewriting them to support her own anti-semitism and political beliefs. His work was twisted for a purpose that he abhorred, and railed against in his later life. But that's what Nazis ideologues did: by manipulating the works of others, they were able to use them to give themselves a degree of falsified credibility they never would have had otherwise. With Nietzsche dead, it wasn't like he was going to challenge them on it.

Had he survived longer, there is no doubt that he would have used his every breath to fight against the sickening ideology that arose in Germany and its deliberate manipulations of his work to lend their beliefs credibility. Given the regime that was to come, that would have meant a bullet in the head. But for Nietzsche, that wouldn't have been stopped him from standing the "anti-Semitic canaille." In The Gay Science, he posits a demon who declares "[t]his life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more." A paralyzing, heavy burden, his idea of the eternal return would require no less for him. In Ecce Homo, he states that his "formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it—all idealism is mendacity in the face of what is necessary—but love it." Amor fati.

In any case, it took decades to repair his reputation. There's a certain popularity to Nietzsche quotes online--what you call the hipster readings--but I think that's largely because Nietzsche's work is life-affirming. There's something incredibly appealing in the challenge that's implicit to his eternal return: to live a good life, one that you would be content to re-live throughout eternity.

Most of the people who blindly quote Nietzsche haven't really engaged his work, but even from that disability, I think it can be argued that they glimpse something appealing to them. Thus the popularity of those tiny quotations. Not to mention that much of his writing style lends itself well to that, even though he'd be apoplectic at the idea of it. One of my favorite professors was Patrick Miller, whose work on Nietzsche really opened a door that I'd left closed for many of the same reasons that most ignore or reject Nietzsche.