Bye Bye Now!

Saddam Hussein Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti was a total fuckhead but killing is killing and you have wonder whose door the karma police will be knocking on next.

New Chemical Romance?

For the Holidays everyone who works in the VICE NYC office heads home to St. Augustine or Sag Harbor to frolick with old boyfriends out of sight of the curious Interns stuck here at the Central Office. But the Canadians, and in particular Québécois, rarely tread far from home, content to take pleasure from the familiar hands that feed. God Bless spooning!

Thobey Makes A Sale!

We hadn't seen him this happy since he found his ring at the Strip House.

Say It Ain't Show, Schouten

Pedophilia is a touchy subject. Zing! No, but really. Its one of those topics that’s way too sensitive to debate even for VICE. Try justifying or even rationalizing why pedophiles do the things they do and rest assured you’ll get awkward looks and a slurry of curse words hurled at you quicker than you can say 10 year old. Hangouts will be a thing of the past my friend.

In spite of this, it seems a couple of VICE staffers missed the memo on this social faux pas. Not 4 months ago marketing manager and Canadian publishing darling at large, Ryan Archibald commented on how he “understood why pedophiles love kids”. Naturally this drew WTF’s and an overall sense of uneasiness by fellow coworkers and passerbys. In a futile attempt to defend his statement, Archi reeled “…no…well everyone likes things fresh. You can understand that right?” Keep in mind this conversation took place in a Vegas pool at 11am with kids frolicking left and right.

More recently the pedophile syndrome seemed to regain its momentum in the Toronto office when newcomer Jon “Shit Show” Schouten was caught consorting with a 15year old. Yes, in the office. Professionalism aside, Shit Show maintains that her true age was unbeknownst and any clear indicators thatshe was not of age were nonexistent. Except for the profuse usage of “like”, the young boyish figure and her obsession with Pete Wentz we couldn’t agree with Shit Show any more.

The icing on the cake though, came in the form of a lengthy letter mailed in by Shit Show’s debutante. Hand written, bubbly cursive and sealed in a one-off envelope made out of her math textbook, a 3 page heart to heart details this young girls undying love for Canada’s very own My-Little-Pony Cassanova. Love that young stuff?

Why We Love Santa!

This Christmas gift is one I had been waiting for all year. And while many of you may have gotten to open your gifts early I was more than content to find Mr McInnes passed out under my tree this very pagan holiday morning. Like virgin births?

Santa's Little Urchins

The thing about elves is they come in all shapes and sizes while the thing about VICE is that all the worker bees look pretty much the same; therefore, we have to ID the drones with handy forehead tags to keep them from being mistaken for the Queens. Like divisions of labor?

ABC Television meet the Vice Broadcasting System

Check out VICE Magazine in this ABC news piece featuring the boys and their home movies. Of course, the commericial preceding is rightfully rigged to funnel revenue into the VICE coiffers, which in turn keeps the NYC office superstars swimming in well deserved free beer and hot soup dumplings. But hey, that's capitalism boys and girls and those dumplings are fucking scrumptious.

Look for VBS to blow your mind to smithereens very soon. Viva La VICE Squab.

What is It, You Ask?

Cripsin Glover meets with VICE correspondents Derrick Beckles and Trace Crutchfield in the streets of old New York to discuss how the fuck to get a movie made and how to stage a slide show. The answers are about what you would expect ~From Cripin Glover that is!

The Filthy Hands of David Choe

Dirty Hands begins chronicling David's life back when he was a starving artist in the year 2000. His skinnier, former self goes about spraying whales, non-sequitur statements, jokes, and random bible verses on the streets. From then until now, this is his journey. Illustrator Barron Storey likens David's journey to that of a "classic hero going through a series of life's passages." After his stint in jail, David gets a taste of fame and success. But as all the dreams of his former self comes true, David's newly born-again soul must grapple with the temptations that come with it. Everyday, David still struggles to maintain the verve of his art, keep his dedication with God, ignore his sinful impulse, and hold onto the love of his girlfriend without the medications.

Can We Please Put The Light Back On These Loafers

The VICE Guide To Travel finally steps out of the darkness with this mayhem.

On The Eve of 400 Blows National Tour

In this update from out west, Ryan Duffy's arch nemesis, the worst person in the world, and an all around bad guy, Will Heflin weighs in with some personel issues as his bandmate prepares to leave him at home!

Why did i think it would be a good idea to call in sick so i could stay home (ANOTHER 12 HOURS) emptying tiny little ziplock bags and drinking these retarded/supposed tequilla sunrises out of a clean (by bill p. standards) mason jar? Do i get a banjo with that or just relinquish i.q. points. I am the dead lettuce (that won't flush) floating in the toilet after a really strange shit. Or at least that's what i fell like. have fun storming the castle. And bring me some wet wipes, my hemroids are the size of cabbage patch kids.

Like pleas for help?

Save Yourself For Kinky

It is too bad poltics aren't this fun nationwide. Kinky Friedman's run for the Govenorship of Texas is a crazy drunken giggle brought to life. Despite almost all odds he got himself on the ballot and the political status quo is shitting themselves on the precipice of November elections. If you wanna help or just laugh along dial him in at Kinky for Gov. Mark Foley is a boring perv.

Emancipation Cohabitation

Following in the footsteps of Duffy and the Ambassador, Bleauxdog and Edgar, and other Viceroys too poor to have their own place, Bensonhurst Bill and itsSUE have decided to lay down powder and take up straw together in their own humble Bedford Avenue abode. Keep an eye out for the American flag that the Brooklyn Bopper plans to hang out his window.

Will their fridge be stuffed full of all manner of Pittsburgher and Bensonhurst goodies? Will the grandaughter of a Nazi and the 'This is America' Fred Perry model get along? Wagers on the amount of time until copulation? Until they get to know each other in the Biblical sense? And what happens, fair reader, when Chin comes to visit? Will Bill fly the coop? The clock is ticking. Lots of questions, no answers in sight. Stay tuned.

Survey Says...WHAT?

A British survey revealed that the average woman spends two years of her life studying herself in mirrors, store windows, and other reflective surfaces. Men, who take quicker peeks, only spend six months per lifetime checking out how they look. This survey obviously neglected to take into account the dusty glances male VICEers are apt to take of themselves with dollar bills delicately shoved in nostrils. Although those in the statistics world would like to call these 'outliers', we all know the truth and it is this: with the proliferation of VICE as a worldwide multi-tentacled media lifestyle brand and the hiring of many delicately powdered fragile egos, we have reached a point where we are not 'outliers' but these face down mirror gazers are the every night norm. Survey is invalid without VICE!

The Pinkster

The following interview by Johnny Ray Huston appeared in the San Francisco Bay Guardian about our pal.

A poodle-permed Rosie O'Donnell horrifying John Ritter? John Walsh in full effect? It's all in a day's tele-trawling for Derrick Beckles, aka Pinky, of TV Carnage. Beckles recently agreed to talk about the madness behind his method for this week's cover story on pixel piracy.

Guardian: Earlier this week I was showing the Rosie O’Donnell meets John Ritter part of Sore from Sighted Eyes to another writer at the Guardian and she was crying from laughter. How did you fall into making the TV Carnage videos, and how much time goes into crafting one? I’d imagine it takes more than a while to put one of your comps together.
DB: It’s a multi-leveled task of insanity. I moved recently, but I have mounds and mounds and shelves and shelves of tapes. Stuff I’ve been taping off of TV with a VCR. It’s not so much that I’m always in front of the TV set. I’d just say that I have this divining rod for shit. I just have these psychic premonitions when I turn my TV on.
I have years and years of footage, and some stuff that is more subtle. I pull all of it into my computer and have this mountain of footage there and say, “Now what?” Then I take a swig of whiskey and go, “You’ve got yourself into it again.” I’ll start randomly piecing things together. Sometimes I have a bit of theme already decided on, and other times it comes to me as I go. After that, it takes over my life, and I do its bidding as long as it takes. I have no idea how long each compilation is going to take. The process ends up being a good portion of a year at least.

Guardian: Do the themes reveal themselves over time? For example, A Sore for Sighted Eyes has a lengthy white rap section.
DB: I think that’s the most pronounced theme that I’ve had so far. The combination of making it a bit more obvious and figuring out the direction I wanted to go. The underlying theme for that one is mind control. All elements of it or most elements have to do with some form of mind control – that if you do something enough it becomes normal. The white rapping part is pronounced. I had so much footage of it because I was obsessed with it, and I decided, “OK, it’s time to unleash that beast.”

Guardian: Seeing that part, I was thinking about the way rap has worked its way into everyday vernacular in the media.
DB: There’s usually no good that comes from any of that, but there are some things that are so Exhibit A-ish that I just think, “Ah-ha, you’ve just written my entire thesis for me with this 30-second commercial!” That’s what I go for, and you string it together. I just picture a conveyer belt, and there are just so many lines or points at which someone could have pressed a big red STOP button. But it doesn’t happen. It blows my mind that people are paid for some of these ideas as well.

Guardian: Yeah – just one of the reasons the Rosie O’Donnell-with-Down syndrome footage from Riding the Bus with My Sister is amazing is that Angelica Huston is the director.
DB: That movie was just…I interviewed Crispin Glover yesterday for this new project I’m working on with Vice magazine – Vice and VBS are launching an online station, and he showed What Is It? He’s really excited about the film and the film is brilliantly bizarre. I asked him if he’d seen the Rosie O’Donnell movie and he said that the actors in What Is It? with Down syndrome were offended by it, or they felt uneasy.
It is uneasy to see Rosie O’Donnell do her Pee Wee Herman impersonation and think she’s embodying someone with Down syndrome. It’s the most offensive thing I’ve seen in my life. And John Ritter’s reaction to that is my reaction.

Guardian: That sequence is really well edited. With your stuff and Animal Charm’s at first you’re just laughing your ass off, and then you begin to notice all the work that’s gone into it in terms of editing. The Rosie O’Donnell footage is amazing on its own, but putting it on a TV screen and having John Ritter react to it is what really sends it over. Especially the ‘worst hits’ of clips from the movie you’ve put together.
DB: She’s out of control in that movie. It just blows my mind. There’s this hubris that exists when people become these unattainable spokespersons for others who probably want to say, “Don’t do that – please!”

Guardian: There’s no one saying no.
DB: There’s definitely not a boardroom full of people with Down syndrome saying, “I don’t think you should do that.”

Guardian: It’s interesting that you talked about that with Crispin Glover, though, because he knows a lot about bizarre appearances on TV. I was a fan of his early on, when he was just in things like Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter, so when he made that first infamous Letterman appearance (which I think was his second one), I saw it live and could not believe it. I was literally worried and shell-shocked. I was a teenager and didn’t have a keen sense of performance art pranks. Even if you were in on that, it was still sort of shocking that he turned the audience against him so thoroughly.
DB: Yeah – he did it, he actually went through the process. Everyone was so stupefied. And that’s what TV Carnage is to me – it’s my way of screaming!
I question people’s motives about so many things. There are so many ways that people misinterpret things and then assume that they’re interpreting it properly. Then hey put that forward as their ideal of what they want to represent and you think, “Jesus Christ, you’re so far off the fucking mark it’s not even funny!” It’s back to egos being so out of control.

Guardian: There's the old true cliche that TV is a drug and people want to be on it.
DB: It’s this drug and it’s also this tool that people use. People learn from TV. I see more and more kids that have TV as a parent. I’m just like, “Oh my god, you’re parent is so bankrupt it’s insane.” It’s become more and more of a carnival freak show.
I’m fascinated with the way things evolve, the way people act when they get in front of the camera. I’m serious about it, but I can’t be dogmatic, I have to use humor. People can take away what they will from it.
One of my favorite things is when people say, “Ah, it’s just a bunch of TV thrown together.” I laugh my ass off and go, “Yes, it is.” It’s not even worth trying to explain.

Guardian: Yep, it’s that simple.
DB: If only.

Guardian: What people were or are inspiring to you in terms of doing TV Carnage?
DB: I started doing this years and years ago in high school. Then I went to film school and worked for MGM for a good few years, so this has been my catharsis as well, because I was in the belly of the beast turning out shitty TV and laughing at it.
I’ve always actually been attracted to exorcising my own demons with television. I was always watching it when I was a kid. When I was making compilations with friends I didn’t know other people were doing it. Then I discovered more and more – I came to appreciate other people’s work afterward.
When I started doing it I was just really naïve.
I don’t want it to be overly analytical, or this discourse. To me it just becomes tedious and I start to feel like I’m in a lecture class I didn’t volunteer for, or in someone’s therapy that I didn’t volunteer to be in either.

Guardian: In Casual Fridays there’s a section devoted to children being adults and adults acting like children. That’s a great phemomenon to have singled out.
DB: There are always these precocious children on TV, the kind that I’ve never met, even as a kid. Or if I did, they didn’t last more than two or three days at school before being pummeled and forced to be kids again. Then there are adults that constantly have to know what’s going on with kids – and you know, teenagers don’t even know what’s going on with teenagers. From day to day, things change. One, you can’t keep up with it, and two, why do you want to? The reason kids are doing what they do is that they don’t want to be anything like an adult -- adults are their ultimate enemy. Adults are fucking idiots. Kids are like al-Qaeda – they’ll shift their plans every day to keep you wondering.
Then when you try to give it back to them, they’ll shift around even more. It’s a real cat and mouse game – good luck adults, you’ll never figure it out. You can slap on as much makeup as you want and squint your eyes and act like you’re not 35 but actually 18. I’m obsessed with teen shows where the hosts are, like, 30: “Hey, how’s it going!” I just fall on the ground whenever I see that.

Guardian: Some people on MTV are really working their hairpieces.
DB: You can just feel them trying to make their mortgage payments: “What are kids doing now? Slitting each other’s throats? Great! Let’s do a show about it!” They’ll jump on any fucking bandwagon – and way too late.
It’s that desperation that kids can sniff out so quickly.

Guardian: Can you give some background about the “swearing sandwich” in your When Television Attacks video?
DB: There’s this ad on TV for the American Cancer Society in which this guy opens up his fridge and this sandwich is telling him to drink a certain amount of orange juice per day. I just thought there are a lot of problems with that. A: if I opened up my fridge and my sandwich was talking to me, I’d check myself in or run out of the house screaming. B: if you take it in stride, now you’re taking advice from a sandwich. I thought, you know, if I was going to take it in stride, the kind of advice I’d want to hear from a sandwich – or the kind of advice a sandwich should be giving, because it’s in a refrigerator waiting to be eaten, so it shouldn’t be in the greatest mood – would be different. So I took audio from Winnebago Man, that tape where the guy is swearing: “Look, I’ve got something to say here, I’m not going to take any more bullshit. There’s going to be no more fucking around!” Then I kept cutting back to reaction shots of the guy nodding as he listens to the sandwich.
It kind of encapsulates my worldview. People who are into self-help – they might as well be taking advice from a sandwich.

Guardian: Can you tell me a bit about your next project?
DB: Yeah – the new one I’m doing is called Cop Movie. I’m taking 101 cop movies and making a full-length feature from them. It’ll be completely schizophrenic. I’m just completely obsessed with that genre. The same script has been used for hundreds and hundreds of cop movies – they just change the character’s names, using a name that sounds dangerous and slightly evocative of freedom or something.
There’s always a vigilante aspect to cop movies that people really celebrate. I don’t know if you want your law enforcement people to decide they’re going to do whatever is necessary to take the "bad guy" off the street – even if it means killing 80 innocent people. At the end, as long as the bad person is caught, everything is forgiven. I’m thinking, “You drove your car through countless homes looking for this drug dealer – are those people thankful?”
The reason I’m using 101 movies is this ridiculous mathematical thing that I’ve figured out. If I take a certain number of seconds from each movie it adds up to 66 minutes and 6 seconds, and the whole construct of 666 makes me laugh.
This is the most ambitious one I’ve done so far.

Guardian: You’re working within more rules – which is kind of great considering the theme that you’re working with.
DB: Yeah, and I wanted to step away from the randomness of TV Carnage. It’s not completely random but I didn’t want to put out something similar again. In the evolution of taking it way too seriously I decided to put out the cop movie project.
I’m going for the cop movies that take themselves seriously – it’s always a cop who just recently to get divorced or a cop who is about to retire and has a "last big case."

Guardian: I’d imagine it’s going to have big finale.
DB: I’ve already cut together a part where a guy gets hit by a car and there are five different people being hit by the car within four or five seconds. It goes from a blond guy getting hit to a black guy rolling over the car to a guy with red hair on the ground to a guy with a mullet being checked out by the cops, and it flows seamlessly. It’s a real acid trip. It’s kind of a psychological experiment.
So, after I finish it, I’ll probably just pick out a casket and go to sleep for a hundred years.

Guardian: You’re working with Vice as well?
DB: We started this TV thing, so I’m doing this on-air stuff. I’m going after stories that are semi-serious to me, such as environmental issues, and also adding my own approach to the more bizarre things that I see in the world. Basically, I’m lucky enough to find employment in being a jackass.

Guardian: Since you’ve worked in the entertainment industry, I’m wondering what kind of reaction TV Carnage has gotten from people within the industry, from stars to others.
DB: There’s a funny story. A friend of mine directs TV. He does a lot of stuff. He does videos fro bands that are half decent, but ultimately he’ll admittedly sell his soul and make horrible movies of the week. He’ll call me from sets – and I get this from other directors too who want to get in touch with me – saying, “I just made the worst movie in the world!” like it’s a badge of honor.
My friend Chris said on the set of one movie – it might have been the Showtime Queer as Folk – an actor did a scene and his delivery was particularly bad.

Guardian: Yeah. I believe it.
DB: Weird, huh? Anyway, the actor said, “I wanna redo that!” My friend Chris said, “I think we’re ok with that take,” and the guy snapped, “I don’t want this to be on TV Carnage! I want to redo this!”

Guardian: I had a bad experience in Toronto walking down Church Street – my boyfriend and I almost got corralled into a crowd scene for that show.
DB: You should have just gone to the craft services table and eaten tons of food and then split!
I also got this email from the US military once, I’m not shitting you. It was from the Entertainment Division of the US Military. I thought, “What’s more entertaining than the US military? They have an entertainment division on top of that? Wow!”

Guardian: It’s working overtime now.
DB: They were interested in getting TV Carnage to show to the troops. I was like, “Mm-hmm, I’m sure you are.” They sent me this document with all these questions like, “What is the motive behind your TV Carnage? Is there any underlying thesis or message you’re trying to get across?” It looked like someone had slapped together a bogus logo on some letterhead, but it was a real government division – I looked it up online.
The questions were so specific about TV Carnage, and so eerily “Feel free to narc on anyone!” that I didn’t respond. I never heard from them again. I showed it to a bunch of friends, and no one thought, “Oh, they probably want to show it.” They all thought it was creepy.

Guardian: What else are you working on?
DB: I recently did a documentary called Strip Club DJs, about the DJs that work as strip clubs, that will come out under the TV Carnage banner. And I want to go on tour with TV Carnage.

Opening Day

The VICE GUIDE TO TRAVEL is the for sale! It's a lot like VICE Magazine, except it moves. For this first one we dispatched correspondents all over the world to vist the planet's weirdest and most dangerous places. We went to such farflung locales as the Pygmy villages in the Congo, the radioactive ruins of Chernobyl, and the illegal arms markets of Pakistan. We looked for mythical beasts, met the PLO boy scouts (suicide bombers of tomorrow), chatted with a man who sold black market nuclear warheads and hung out with Osama bin Laden, and got shot at in the slums of Rio. This is travel at its most bizarre, equal parts LSD and adrenaline, and sometimes we can't believe we made it back.

World's Greatest Band

The Black Lips are playing tonight at the Bowery Ballroom in Manhattan. Pack a pipe, poncho and pogo stick and expect to get wasted, sprayed and tossed around. And if that doesn't sound like your of cup of pee check 'em out playing Cowboys and Indians for the big screen.

In Summation:
They’ve got three LPs and loads of singles on some of the coolest indie labels in America. They’ve toured Europe twice. They’ve been touring the States for the last six years. They’ve just become of legal age to hang out in the bars they play in. They’ve played five shows in the New York area in the last month, but call Atlanta home. They have songs called “Feeling Gay,” “Dirty Hands,” and “Everybody Loves a Cocksucker,” that alternate from Hank-drawled country, Soledad Brothers-esque blues and Stonsey rock with kerosene soaked vocals that go from yodels to screams.  They are the Black Lips, and the sooner you accept them into your life, the better off you’ll be.

Perry Caravello Day

Today is Scary Perry day. Windy City Heat the DVD has just been released and a million things are going on to celebrate it. They are:

ONE- the Perry Project’s website is going live which includes one of the stupidest blogs ever written.

TWO- we’re putting a teaser of an hour long prank call where they convince Perry to tell a prominent producer that he missed the audition because he was raped. (Perry even goes on to claim he “squoze” too tight and the bottle he was sodomized with broke in his ass.)

THREE- Hear The Big Three (Don, Mole, and Perry) on Adam Corolla’s radio show. Johnny Knoxville appears as the new Scary Perry and allows Knoxville to smash his penis in a mousetrap (click the picture to see the video) to show who is more deserving of the lead in Windy City Heat: Number 2.

FOUR- the guys at TV Carnage did a Perry thing where he substitutes Perry’s voice with The Thing from Fantastic Four because both Perry and The Thing think fedoras make you cool. Like movies?

FIVE- See The Big Three on Jimmy Kimmel Live here and here!  If that's still not enough Perry for one day you must be Randy Callahan.    

*Thanks to Dr. McInnes for this probing post!

YouTube.com: A New Musical Anthropology

Ten or more years ago, the best example I could give you of a subset of people who wasted large chunks of their time at work fiddling with personal publications was the hardcore music “fan ‘zine” set, many of whom worked at Kinko’s simply for access to the copiers, computers and paper so crucial to their output. In recent years, that subset has expanded exponentially to include enough of the contemporary workforce that employers often now utilize office monitoring software to keep their employees off of their blogs, their Friendster and Myspace pages, and so forth. No doubt that when Michel de Certeau wrote of la perruque (basically a French idiom for “stealing from the workplace”) in The Practice of Everyday Life he had no idea how fittingly it would describe 21st century Internet usage. The concept fits so perfectly for the vast amounts of time wasted everyday at an employer’s expense that one can imagine ads for the aforementioned software quoting de Certeau directly on the box: “LA PERRUQUE IS INFILTRATING ITSELF EVERYWHERE!” And now that the broadcast of web-based blogs has replaced the narrow niche of the photocopied ‘zine [and further, that what was once “subculture” has simply become “culture”], passively and/or aggressively, we’ve become de Certeau’s “very ordinary culture” of subversives engaged in “economic diversion”, stealing company time (and bandwidth) when we think no one is looking. The list of enabling vehicles for these “uses and tactics” grows with each new Internet phenomenon: my new favorite diversion is YouTube.com.

Even if you’ve wasted very little of your precious time on YouTube, you know what lurks there: fuzzy homemade videos of skinny emo boys punching each other in the crotch; infinite clips of half-naked 13-year old girls lip-synching to “My Humps” while rolling and shaking their own not-quite-developed humps to crappy off-camera boom boxes; shaky handheld footage of groups of guys beating the hell out of other groups of guys; stupid TV and movie parodies, re-edited with help from TiVo and iMovie; pixilated blooper reels of cows shitting on news reporters, monkeys attacking talk show hosts, and even a killer whale squashing a kayaker (fake, by the way). YouTube and its colleagues, like Putfile and Google Video, are the future (or at least the present) of a new democratic visual archive. If eBay is America’s yard sale, then YouTube is our A/V closet, and it looks a lot like an amalgamation of the Faces of Death series, America’s Funniest Home Videos, Jerry Springer, American Idol auditions, home made child porn, and the kind of footage previously only found at flea markets and thrift stores. It’s a mess, just like everything else.

But like so many closets, if you dig deeply enough you’re sure to find something interesting. Buried within the endless supplies of Numa song remakes and shitty “sponsor me” skateboard videos are some real gems: a friend of mine sent me this link (http://www.youtube.com/?v=F4wi_-oP-0E) to a clip of two Russian teens who can apparently run, jump or climb over anything, Jackie Chan-style. Or this Internet nugget (http://www.youtube.com/?v=L854AFW7GhU) mashing up a song from the Avenue Q musical with animation from a World of Warcraft video game. Or best of all, replacing the old ‘zine, with its poorly photocopied pictures of the Misfits or S.O.A. [to which my heart is still loyal, I might add] is an amazing, disorganized, and often equally amateurish archive of off-beat, early, or hard-to-find punk and hardcore music concert videos that people have culled from their private collections and posted to the site. If you’re willing to wade through the thousands of videos like “Alyssa and Patty Dancing Hardcore” or “Hardcore Kid on American Idol”, you’ll find a seemingly endless vein of videos by the Monks, Black Flag, the Misfits, Negative Approach, Bad Brains, Youth of Today, Naked City, Bikini Kill, Napalm Death, S.O.A., Void and so many more.

Due to the giant square pixels, overly compressed audio tracks, and various watermarks, these are certainly not archival quality pieces in online museum—but it’s all free. Like so many other inventions in the new economy, there’s no charge to host or to download the content. It is only a matter of time before some big institution steps in and messes with the site (like Napster or Myspace), but for now, it’s an interesting look into our collective psyche. Just whose psyche it is might up for grabs, though. I can’t speak for the volumes of weird homemade videos of kids dancing in their rooms or causing a scene at the mall, Jackass-style, but the music videos are obviously posted by fans—people who’ve spent a lot of time or money to collect rare videos of their favorite bands. Unlike on eBay, where collecting means hording away from everyone else, on YouTube, collecting means sharing. You can’t “keep” any of what is posted there; videos stream from the server, so you never download any actual content. And links often go bad, especially if the artist is well known (oh Prince, damnitall, please just let the world watch your 1985 American Music Awards clip whenever they need a lift!). But the specialist stuff is out there, if you’re willing to search for it. Judging by the number of hours so many have logged onto the site, apparently people are very much willing.

This Trailer Could Be Your Life

Funny how the times change. American Hardcore is now the height of fashion more than 25 years after it broke. Expect to see Negative Approach backing Nissan Altima commercials and Youth Brigade hustling Wendy's Frosty Dairy Desserts anyday now. But who can blame them? Hardcore broke long before MTV and Blogs, so the fact that most of America is just now catching on isn't really that surprising. But can it be merely hipster irony driving this rehash, when seeing fashionistas wearing a Black Flag shirts is about as poignant an Al Jolson blanket drapped across your dad or could it be that this shit rules?

Regardless, if you know the difference between slam dancing and moshing go see this move, skank around a bit in the auditorium then rent The Decline of Western Civilization Part 1, (and only Part 1 please) Another State of Mind and We Jam Econo. Like fist fighting to the oldies?

Bindi City Heat

Windy City Heat is finally being released on DVD. How great is that you ask? Look to Gavin's loving gospel in the most recent issue of VICE Magazine, if you are still out in the cold on this classic comedy. In the world of film, copycatting is a great way to get rich without doing any work, so Thobey thought we should do a remake right away. And because of VICE's ever encroaching international visibility, India was deemed the perfect place for this celulloid rehash tentatively titled Bindi City Heat Bollywood goes Bollockswood, if you will. Think the Peter Sellers classic The Party with a hint of Chi-Town Canadian dufus on top.

With the three red headed stars pictured, this is certain to generate a sub-world of south asian, if not world-wide, resentment. However, the abilities of this new Big 3 to sing and dance with daring aplomb has already proven untetherable time and again. And besides it's a dumb white guy story to begin with so please no complaints about make-up or bad accents. Whom exactly will draw the lead dumb role as GemStone Fury is anyone's guess. Care to vote for your choice?

Old Drug Buddies

Look we don't go all out for plays but when they're about drugs and Texans there is no way we can let that mayhem slide through the well worn boards of the stage unnoticed. So tonite you have to roll over to Fat Baby on Rivington and stretch out those flabby drama muscles at the Drug Buddy Launch Party where Butthole Surfer Gibby Haynes will be DJing and Spank Rock will be performing. Could you find an event more tailor made than this to rope in a date? Simply ask the attractive person of your choice to go see the play, ok? Follow the simple instructions below and, of course, if it sucks you remain blamless. haha

Drug Buddy written by David Folwell and directed by our old chum Alex Kilgore will be playing at The Cherry Lane Theater beginning Setember 27th. For more information go to the stageFARM

For friends of VICE there are special $10 tickets for sale - simply enter the code "BUDDY" at Smarttix.

9/11: A Day Beyond Belief

There is not much more that can be said about 9/11 that smarter people haven't already. If you happened to have witnessed the shit hitting the fan firsthand, your thinking is forever your own. If you smelled the death and trudged through the waste I've nothing for you. But if you were lucky enough to have been somewhere else, this incredible video will perhaps demonstrate how ungodly and surreal the whole thing was to eyes unaccustomed to the most evil of bullshit.

Be good whenever you have the chance and beat the fascists wherever you find them.

My extended remembrance of 9/11

Politrix At Large

Rap Music is a funny thing. It is at times both provacative and stupefying, which is also an apt
description for many a political campaign. So most of us at Intern Central thought it brilliant (and perhaps a fitting end) when one of the drunken big boys headed south to curry favor from a group of rapsters destined to happily bounce a beanpole wannabe Politician out of town on his ass with grevious bodily harm. If this syrupy saga is to be believed, it seems VICE's plan to raise the South again might just work. What political intrigue is behind this cockamamie duplicity is anyone's guess. Can we please find this guy a Political Party Machine?

Meeting of the Mindless

VICE staffers are under a lot of pressure to look snazzy and original. Successfully ducking Gavin's league of fashion police and DOs & DON'Ts paparazzi only works three days out of seven, so you gotta keep sharp to look sharp. John Martin is our maven, taking to the streets to sniff out the fashion beat. Homeless ensembles are his inspiration: clothes so awesome you live in them!

Behind the Scenes: VICE Records

Whereas once the older Interns cobbled together a creation myth worthy of the Magazine it seems the more media savvy of the front-rowers have put together a little behind the scenes movie about Suroosh Alvi, the point man of Vice Records. Dr. Alvi is a chameleon so masterful that you shan't be surprised if one day you recognize him and one day you don't. That is merely the magic of movin' pictures.

Class-Free Cafeteria Clowns

The shirtless gourmand chimes in again. This time on a VICE birthday lunch. Like Emily Posters?

Number Fucking One: Do not even touch your food until everyone has theirs. Especially when it's a birthday lunch and the birthdayee hasn't received his, even if they say it's ok to. It's a class thing. ADDENDUM: Some say that this rule is nullified if the restaurant has paper napkins instead of linen. A debatable point, but as a matter of class, don't touch the food until all have been served. It makes you look like you grew up in the South.

#2 Ordering an appetizer for your lunch. Last time I checked, Teddy's is not a fucking tapas bar like Avec in Chicago or Cobras & Matadors in LA!

#3 Salting your food before tasting it. Classic rookie move, most likely the product of a childhood culinary wasteland involving cube steak and Bok Choy. Blame the parents.

#4 Floridian table Jenga. Never rearrange the tables like a Rubic's cube. Scumbags who have never toiled in the service industry feel they have the right to do this.

#5 Same type of dickheads who write down their orders on the menu and hand it to the waitress.

#6 Bad orders. Crab cakes as a main? Only in Maryland or Alaska. Chicken? Only if it's Teddy's Fried Chicken. Vegetarian options? Please leave the table. You have no lust for life.

#7 No napkin in lap. More poor parenting. Also goes along with wearing a hatat the table. What is this, a little league picnic? Scumbags.

#8 Visible, multicolored tattoos. No explanation needed.

#9 Long hair. Come on now, brothers are not supposed to be sisters.

And in summation:
If you're looking for a classy lunch time experience avoid Teddy's and avoid VICE. You may be wondering what happened to the logical number #10 on this list. We'll it seems that after the aforementioned starch on starch fest, the shirtless one nodded out at the keyboard immediately after penning #9. The quite natural reaction of a body shutting down after having injested 2 pounds of fried potatoes, 8 tablespoons of salt and a pint fancy catsup in additon to a 3/4 pound beef burger.BlackedOuted Boysssss

JOHN MARTIN BITES BACK IN RESPONSE TO THE COMMENTS

Hey assholes, here is the fucking #10 I was dreaming up when the carbo coma spun me out.

#10 The ATM Rule aka the Melissa and Jake rule. If you are short on cash, it's ok. Just go to the ATM after you order, or before you go into the restaurant. Not when the bill comes. That's about as classy as Bill. What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Elbows on the table are acceptable. That rule is antiquated, and some say racist even.

I. Oedipal Ex

Canadian boys love their mothers, but when they started including them in the free porn perks, our minds were blown. It must be said, however, that LaWow's momma done trained her boy better than the rest of these Cannucks. Not only did he remember mumsy on a day not decreed a Hallmark Special Day of Remembrance, but he placed the thoughtful gift in a classy lavender Bergdorf Goodman bag (the subliminal messaging is right on: good son, Goodman). Multi-disc DVD blow job collections have no place in the classic American mom gift bag, but our sexy friends from north of the border apparently see nothing wrong with sharing the self-love with the family. Perhaps a pre-dinner bonding/bondage activity at LaWow's ancestral home is sitting around whacking off and discussing whether to have gravy on the poutine or not. Must be the French influence. I wonder why there isn't a gift bag for Pops? Unless LaWow heeded the age old Oedipal call and whacked off a family member in addition to his own...

Abandoned Apartment Complex & Other Mental Illin's

This past Saturday, select members of the VICE Magazine Adventure Field Trip team voyaged out to the Hamptons via the hospitality of our buddies at WE Clothing. The festivities were attended by downtown demagogues and Ludlow Street luminaries like Erik Lavoie and his buddies Ricky Powell, Kid Millionaire DJ Steve Aoki, Ben Dietztails, and of course, ex-Vicer gone bad: Mike Malbon.

Things got off to quite a start on the bus ride out, as we drank bubbly and danced to the sweet sounds of the Wu Tangs Clan. Luckily we brought our own Raprican American, Big Pinky to bridge the necessary cultural divides between us working stiffs and the Ludlow Street Luminaries in the back of the bus. Well hydrated by the 1-2 H20 punch of Poland Spring and Subway sandwiches, we really roared into the Hamptons. Upon arrival in the parking lot of the Pink Elephant, Blain VanDenBerg began slapping cans of Silver Bullet and Bud Ice out of people's hands like they were Aroostook County blackflies. You can take the babes out of Florida but... you get my drift.

Slapping stopped and clapping commenced when the ponytailed Brit event planner showed up blatantly test driving a Ferrari. (Side note: this guy could not and would not stop touching Trace Crutchfield's toes, he was Christened 'Toe Shaker') Anyway parking lot antics of the Downtown Crowd convinced 'Toe Shaker' to forego letting the VICE A-Team loose on his rented beachside mansion. So the the party moved to the inside grotto of the Pink Elephant - imagine an abandoned apartment complkex on the side of any highway in America with a kiddie pool in the middle and some sand and Viola! You have the hottest club in Southampton. WTF?

After settling into the our custom VICE VIP area, we had our first encounter with Toronto Mike (thankfully not pictured). Now, as most regular Rumor Mule readers know, most posts here are good natured and have their tongue firmly planted in cheek. Let's digress from that for a moment and make one thing perfectly clear: Toronto Mike is the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the Earth. It would be a better place if he did not exist. It started off bad, and got even worse. He starts pissing next to our table, which led to the comment 'Wow, Mike, it looks like a penis only smaller'. This sorry excuse for a turd then proceeds to bum out everyone at the party. Pissing, slapping, racist 'roid raging, boardshorts, creepy jock date rapist vibe, he really had it all. Luckily, our man Martin was able to go Tit-For-Slap with this Cannuck. The pinnacle was him getting kicked off the bus heading back to the city by Kid Millionaire for infractions too nefarious to note. The strange issue in all of this, is his familiarity with VICE's own Erik Lavoie and Liz Cowie. One could even say that they are friends perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised if our own Candians tried to distance themselves from this north of the border piece of shit.

When the toe shaking had ended and the dust had finally settled into the frilly confines of hipster moustaches, one thing was obvious: we had a great time with WE. Those who made their own fun had a blast. Those few Grumpy Guys who whined were obviously NOT part of the VICE domination of the festivities. A big thanks goes out to Eric, Eric, Greger, Jim and everyone else at WE!

Interns of a Feather

Bensonhurst Bill and Upper East Side Rya are VICE's two most audible interns of recent memory. Perhaps it's their shared upbringing in the metropolitan jungle, or maybe they both had parents that were hard of hearing. The dynamic duo finally met up at the VICE Photo Issue party last Monday. This photo would look best in a heart shaped frame, on a bedside table, somewhere in Weehawken. Also of note: Bill's two beers and Rya's 'I just met my internship spiritual predecessor' smile of joy.

Like Parties? Come see them in all their tongue wagging glory this Friday night.

The Secret Lives of Val Kilmer

Who is the mystery man bowling about town and then writing his name on the walls of hipster dives? Val Kilmer himself or a David Cross body double? A deranged fan or maybe Tony Barbieri even? Apparently the culprit is in the good graces of VICE's own Liz Cowie. Which begs the question, is the graffitist none other than Liz herself? Will the real Val Kilmer please stand up?

The Blackest Lips

This is Pete Doherty holding one of our Scandinavian editor's Sonics albums this weekend in Stockholm. If you live in the region you've probably already seen this picture to death, but for those of you outside the Swedish tabloids' sphere of influence here's what they've been gabbin' about. After playing at the Hultsfred Festival in Sweden last Friday and getting slightly busted for some coke he was carrying around in his bloodstream, Doherty and crew beat feet for Stockholm, met up with the Black Lips, and convinced them to let Babyshambles open at their gig the next night. Accounts are pretty sketchy across the board, but we can be reasonably sure at least a couple of the following things occurred:

-halfway through Pete's set, the club management cut power to the stage and told the house DJ to "get the disco going;"
-amid the din of a couple hundred angry Babyshambles fans and his own bassist tearing around the club in search of a mic input, Pete cruised over to the DJ booth, stuck his hand blindly into the crate, and came up with "Who's Got the Crack?"
-once the Black Lips went on, Pete stuck around to do a couple songs with them, then was pulled off stage by a security guard and the owner of, according to our Scandi editor, the best illegal bar in Sweden (see photo below);
-once the Black Lips went on, Pete stuck around to do a couple songs with them, then made off with a pair of girls from the sidestage and one of the Lips' guitars;
-after either being kicked out of the club or leaving of his own volition with a stolen guitar, Pete spent the evening terrorizing girls in Stockholm's Old Town like one of the drunken robots from the Pirates of the Caribbean at Disney World.

Only time will tell which bullets deserve smiley "truth" faces next to them and which warrant frownies, but, then again maybe it won't. Maybe the cover of tomorrow's Expressen will have Doherty and the Lips on its cover shaking hands with the mayor in Helsinki with all their guitars visible and a timestamp for Saturday night. It's sort of hard to keep any item from turning into fucking Rashoman when its central players include a guy who may have ripped out his own naltrexone implant, four guys whose signature stage move is pissing in each other's mouths and who have an axe to grind with stolen equipment in Scandinavia, and about 30 rabid paparazzos in one of the most press-starved regions of Europe. Then again, it's also pretty hard when you're kind of like, "Eh, whatever."

To see a moving picture of this co-mingling of fucked up minds, click here!

Construction Junction

Today I found myself for reasons too complicated to explain on a construction job site. And as usual there was radio playing some classic rock bullshit like, for example, the song "Rocky Mountain Way" by Joe Walsh. Just putrid shite. Well there were some Brooklyn hipsters there selling ads and there were some Canadian carpenters as well. At one point, "Hot Legs" by Rod Stewart came on and the ad reps started to giggle. They were sitting at their desking IM'ing god knows who and instantly the Canadians turned to them and said, "What's the matter? You guys don't like Rod Stewart?" And in turn, the hipster leader John Martin said, "Fuck no we don't like him. I heard they pumped a quart of cum out of his stomach one time!" Haha

Nice use of an old urban legend I thought to freak out the Canadian carpenters. Score one for ad selling hipsters. But I guess those guys had heard this all before and in response they told John Martin, "Yea, that's why we LIKE him. We were at that party!" That was just about the funniest moment of life today. God damn that was a good one. Canadian carpenters rule. And does anybody else notice the resemblance to LaWow?

Operation Condor

This is the text of a certified but fake letter concocted for giggles after a debaucherous visit to NYC by Mr Flakebower. It's certified date marked the beginning of the incessant lawyering associated with legal treachery. The names have been changed to protect the guilty.



Mr. Jameson Flakebower
**** Newtown
South Austin, TX

May 23, 2006

Dear Mr. Flakebower:

This letter serves to inform you that you have been identified in surveillance tapes as being in criminal possession of a suspected controlled substance.

In compliance with New York City’s “Operation Condor” narcotics enforcement drive, surveillance cameras have been installed at Blue Ribbon Sushi Restaurant as one of the known locations where public drug use occurs. On the evening of Sunday, April 2, 2006, you were captured on tape inhaling what appears to be a controlled substance. Our staff members identified you in conjunction with credit card records.

Blue Ribbon Sushi, as well as all of the Blue Ribbon restaurants in New York City, are proud to participate in narcotics enforcement. Bruce and Eric Bromberg, founders of the Blue Ribbon Group, were deeply saddened by the loss of their younger sister, Emily, to an overdose of heroin in 2004, and have since fully enlisted themselves in the fight against drugs, both at their restaurants, and in their daily lives.

As a resident of Austin, TX you are not a core target for the narcotics enforcement operation. Therefore, we have referred your case to the Travis County Drug Diversion Court in Texas.

It is your responsibility to contact the intake counselor assigned to your case, Geri Coyle, at (512)
854-9830, where you will be given “A Chance to Change” and enrolled in the S.H.O.R.T. program (System of Healthy Options for Release and Transition). The Travis County Drug Diversion is located at 205 West 9th St., Suite 500, Austin, TX.

The Drug Diversion Court is a year-long program that offers a broad array of treatment referrals and in-house alcohol and drug education classes. Any and all charges will be dropped with the successful completion of the S.H.O.R.T. Program.

It is imperative that you contact your intake counselor, Geri Coyle, lest criminal charges be levied against you. If you fail to comply with this mandate, Blue Ribbon Restaurant Group will proceed with legal action. This proceeding will also target your business, and any property you might own.

It is the belief of Bruce and Eric that their sister could have been saved by the right intervention, and they encourage all drug users to seek treatment and take self-responsibility for becoming and remaining drug free.

I hope you will seek help, Mr. Flakebower, before your career, your family and your life is ended by drugs.

Sincerely,

Chloe Hopkins
Community Relations
Blue Ribbon Sushi Group

When the Honeymoon Is Really Over

We all know breaking up is hard to do. And becauseVICE is harder on relationships than a South Beach swingers club many of our love lives are teetering perilously over the brink (private wagering is encouraged) I decided a few hints might make the heartache a bit easier to swallow. Like gulping? Unless you're a lucky participant of some intern romance turned happily-ever-after, breakups are an unavoidable part of our lives. And while it's up to you to decide your individual breakup style, if you want to avoid future bad relationship karma, and limit the tantrums, you'll adopt a few breakup basics--especially if your boyfriend has more X-chromosomes than you. Just keep your eye on the prize and remember that a clean split can be more rewarding than the relationship ever was. Just ask Heather Mills.

STEPS

1. Pick an appropriate place. The less public, the better. Remember, ending a relationship is a humbling experience. Don't do it in a place where the person on the receiving end is going to feel more vulnerable than necessary.
   
2. Choose the right time. Avoid holidays and special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries at all costs. Do you really want your ex remembering your insensitivity every time that day rolls around?
   
3. Do it in person. If the relationship is relatively new, maybe you can get away breaking up over the phone. But come on, if you've been out on more than a handful of dates, isn't that kind of harsh?
   
4. Be honest but sensitive. No one likes to get dumped. But we at least appreciate the truth when it's over. Unless, of course, the truth is you've stopped finding us attractive, you've met someone better, or that you're just plain bored with us.
   
5. Keep your emotions in check. Don't seem too happy about the breakup. But then again, don't come off as mean-spirited either. Just be kind, caring, and considerate. You can high five your friends later.
   
6. Don't react. Some people don't handle rejection well. Some people yell, scream, cry. Yes, that sucks. But it doesn't mean you should react to their meltdown. Remember, rejection is tough. You've already got the upper hand by being the dumper. Let the dumpee behave ridiculously if they choose to. And if their tantrum escalates, get the heck out of there.
   

TIPS

• If you handle yourself well during the breakup, chances are you'll avoid any hard feelings with your ex. And while that may not seem so important at the time, it's vital to your future relationship karma!
  
• The term "break-up" implies a hard stop. But, often, a break-up is really a change in the nature of a relationship, where friendship remains, but a closer physical connection, and a desire to build a life together, is taken away. Try to look at breaking up in a more positive way, and see how it can transform your relationship.
  
• Think about why you want to break up with them (i.e. you may suspect/hear rumors that they are cheating on you). Ask them FIRST. Everybody hates when you break up with them for a reason that isn't even true.
  
• Think about how maybe if you want out, they might too. Ask them where they think it's going. If something is making being together painful tell them that being together is hurting you. (i.e long distances)
  

WARNINGS

• Weigh in carefully on your decision to break up, without analyzing it to death. Is this really what your heart wants? You may not be able to reverse your decision once it's made, and may burn bridges in the process. Could you forgive yourself if you broke up with the man/woman of your dreams?

• Avoid Cliches. If the person has heard it before it may come off as insensitive.

VICE Sneakeasy

This morning the shoe fairy, disguised in UPS browns, delivered four large boxes to our office. Inside were probably the most personality-appropriate shoes we’ve ever seen. Classic adidas shoes made of white denim and goat leather, and inspired by the Old Blue Last, our pub in London. They have a pink pinstripe lining which corresponds to a fabric from our Spring 2006 shirt line with Seize Sur VICE. Plus, you can choose either pink laces for tennis dates or white laces for cultured catered affairs. Like fancy pants?

Goat leather and white denim aside, our favorite part of the shoes is the custom powder and straw set! The laces have tiny silver straws emblazoned with the VICE logo and a matching, functional VICE razorblade. We wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few bloody septums on Monday-—especially the interns’. Watch the drips!

Our snow white shoes were designed by Mr. Gavin McInnes - and curious viewers can see his explanation of the design (as well as footage from the day last August when the photoshoot had everyone in pink panties!) here. Jealous much? The VICE adicolor Old Blue Last edition will be available at adidas Originals stores and selected other outlets on May 20th.

Fat Bottom Girls Get on Your Bikes and Ride

You say coke I say caine
You say John I say Wayne
Hot dog I say cool it man
I don't wanna be the President of America
You say smile I say cheese
Cartier I say please
Income tax I say Jesus
I don't wanna be a candidate
For Vietnam or Watergate
Cos all I want to do is
Bicycle bicycle bicycle

Yacht Out With Your Cock Out

Our US Navy boys are coming home from Iraq drapped in bathing beauties just like the old time heroes did after V-E Day. The only difference is the men look a little softer and pinker than in they did back in the 40's. But then again not much call for sailors in Iraq so maybe it is a pretty cush deployment. The dames, however--Ou la la! Like friggin in the riggin?

Blind Leading The Blind

If your pay checks are signed by S. Alvi and R. Bisson then you are family. Whether you are employed by VICE Magazine, VICE Recordings, or Addvice, you are still a representative of the VICE family name. However, as with every family there is always sibling rivalry. Although unspoken, everyone knows that an unbridled pissing match between VICE Magazine’s ad sales team and Addvice’s staff has raised bars but also caused riffs. The tension is palpable.

But when the shit hits the fan, the old adage “blood is thicker than water” has never rung so true at VICE. The most recent display of filial camaraderie comes in the wake of the Toronto Adicolor party where a very austere and very sauced Sarah Wyse of Addvice was forced to throw out a couple of party goers. Literally. The ensuing action resulted in Sarah grabbing a blind girl by the scruff and hurling her down a flight of stairs. Apparently the blind girl is crying discrimination and abuse but we think she’s really crying sour grapes from getting her ass handled. The general public may frown upon such actions but here at VICE we applaud Sarah’s decision to trounce the disabled and will support her through thick and thin. Go Sarah.

Yanked Cranks

When I spotted this article about Tom Cruise in the paper, what caught my eye was the diabolical character in the bottom right photo. The so-called #1 Fan is wearing a shirt emblazoned with the caption "Yes Suri" above depiction of the Cruise - Holmes hybrid -- WHICH IS INSANE. Reportedly, he was also walking around with a sign proclaiming "Yahtzee!" The thing I don't understand is that with Jake Byrd on Kimmel all the time, how could the Post have been duped into running this picture and the hilarious caption? And the answer: The people at the New York Post are idiots. But for a paper that is a $.25 litter box liner what can you expect!? Hah!


But I can't get over the feeling that Jake B and I have met someplace before. You know the feeling when you see someone you can't quite place -- like someone you once bought pot from, or the madman in the bar with the wig and painted moustache? Plus his voice reminds me of a sock puppet over a speaker phone.

Crank Yankers Niles Standish sounds just like Windy City Heat's John Quincy Adams and Tony Barbieri looks surprisingly like Mole if Jake Byrd was up on the weed. Like putting on?

A Day That Will Live In Infancy

Friday, September 5th 2003

Probably one of the more auspicious dates in VICE lore. Many staff members and hangers-on had convened in downtown San Diego for the VICE ASR party. As the photographic evidence shows, there's a slightly less cholesterolic Erik Lavoie beginning the courtship of Favourite Sons' Matt Werth.


It was the night that our leader drank a disputed 99 beers, proclaimed Your Enemies Friends the best band ever and promised them a record deal on VICE Records. Whoops, sorry!

The night was also notable for being the hiring of Ambassador Thrash by a trashed Lavoie! Note a very LA-ish Thrash in the background behind the lovely Berrin, and who is that next to him? Perhaps the genesis of Blackoutman, and a subsequent Smithian threatened employment termination.


Perhaps the cherry on top, was the deal closing by our Canadian friend of a very great client.

Like Cookies?

Stay Outta MySpace

The very fabric of the VICE brand is predicated on the young, the social and the attractive. It's no surprise, then, that the said VICE brand employs the crème de la crème of hipster socialites with good genes. Minus a couple that slipped through the cracks (presumably hired for their ad sales prowess rather than their diminutive looks), the majority of VICE staffers are easy on the eyes. Even one of the Big Three was rumored to have doled out pink slips to employees that weren't attractive enough. It was maintained that your physical appearance falls directly in line with brand integrity.

And who knows brand integrity and attractiveness better than VICE's very own Canadian Marketing Manager Ryan Archibald? The strapping young Archie, already known for being "smoother than a gravy sandwich", has taken "networking" and "romance" to a whole new level. With a MySpace profile that boasts a Top 8 consisting of all-female Vice/Addvice employees, it's safe to assume that Mr. Archibald is on the prowl. And not for the next Dov Charney.

The most recent exchange was a steamy-make-you-blush chain of messages to a very amorous and very New York-stationed addvice staffer professing his love for all things VICE, but more importantly, all things female. One can only wonder where this will lead. More secret trips to the Rotten Apple? Dedicated online radio playlists? Romantic walks in the park? Who knows? But it does beg this question: how do the other Top 7 VICE females feel about this? From his west coast cutie right down to addvice's head honcho, it’s safe to say this recent succession of events will leave a sour taste in many mouths...amongst other things. Like jealousy?

Dusted Emotions

Associate publisher-cum-daily nosediver Erik Lavoie has recently gained notoriety and derision for his conversation skills, or lack thereof. His vacant response to seemingly innocent questions often comes out as a prolonged, starry-eyed 'maaaaayyyyyybeee'. Far from a canned response, this is legitimately the essence of Lavoie: he is perpetually on the fence; half in the closet, half out-- always powdered, though.

Our intrepid whizkid Encyclopedia Brown came up with this great graphic to illustrate how 'maaaybeee' is less an expression of indecisiveness, and more a statement about Lavoie's life. As you can see, he's well past the peak which was the Erik Lavoie issue, and is well into his golden years of decline. Maaaaaaayyyyyybeeeeee........

Mmmm.....Baby! or Would You Like A Side of VICE With That, Mr. Cruise?

Looks like the trend-setters here at VICE have done it again! Tom Cruise is licking his buck-toothed chops over the prospect of eating his baby's placenta. If only Mr. Cruise had swapped recipes with VICE's Mr. Crutchfield earlier, the height-challenged actor might have gained some precious inches from the placenta protein infusion. Mr. Crutchfield stands at a towering 6' 4", thanks in no small part to digesting the nutrient-rich bloody baby bags. Once acquiring a taste for them, I'm sure the vampirish actor will have no problem procuring more: scion skins will surely be the sacrifice of choice among the Scientology mummies!

We Run With A Rough Crowd

Ivar, our Scandinavian distribution guy, went on a skiing trip to Åre in the north of Sweden. People are pretty harsh up there, but there are a lot of tourists too. So he’s hanging out at an outdoors pub, and this old guy, dead drunk, stumbles up to him and starts talking. The pub owners are cool, so they let the drunk hang out as long as he doesn’t bother anyone too much. Swedes love to get potted, so this is not really a shocking tale yet. Ivar, of course, is drawn to this sort, and I suppose the same must be said of the drunk to Ivar. Anyway, they pal around a bit and end up getting their picture taken together between drinks and the singing of innumerable nationalistic songs.

So after he’s gone, a rumour starts at the pub about how the drunk guy has travelled to Åre specifically to kill the man who raped his sister. Ivar doesn't buy it, and chalks it all up to just another Viking fairy tale so prevelant in the northern latitudes, or perhaps another strange delusion resulting from the pub's seven year continuous screening of For A Few Dollars More. Like icy desolation? (Traveler's tip: leave your gold pocketwatch at home unless you're fond of nordic bar brawls) But people continue to talk about it, until word comes later in the evening that the guy has been arrested at another bar carrying a gun. Guns are a real no no in Sweden, and it turns out the old guy had just been released from prison when he immediately procured a gun and a bottle of booze before heading straight to Åre to murder the man who raped his sister. Whoa! Anyways, here’s Ivar and the killer with that crazy cigarette poking through his scarf and what I can only assume is an innocent man in a choke hold.

addVice Causes Toronto Office Uproar

Interns came to the rescue late Monday afternoon after a close call at the Queen and Dunn space. A mailout of EMI recording artists The Vines had rendered the VICE office virtually paperless and pure chaos ensued. Montreal was notified, resulting in an exchange of pointed fingers and brazen jaws. Tallies of total paper consumption were taken, and after a consultation of pie charts, bar graphs, and e=mc2's, intern Jon Shouten took the metaphorical bull by the horns and accepted in-house re-stocking responsibility. But in the future, all work related complaints should be generated in this direction. Personal lives have no bearing in this regard.

This Just In From Texas

From the pages of Vanity Fair

Specifically, it's off to Vice magazine's parties. Vice started out as an ill-mannered skateboard-culture rag in 1994 and has since expanded into an ill-mannered juggernaut, with its own record label, publishing imprint, and Manhattan boutique. It has booked bands for two full days at three spaces, all on the same block. At one venue, AfriRampo, a pair of Japanese women in face paint and exotic red dresses, is making a holy racket on drums and guitar.

Minutes later, we happen upon the Young Knives at the Longbranch. When they're through, we agree to head over to the Victory Grill—except that we've got these free bourbon drinks to finish. Then it dawns on us that something exciting is about to happen. The bar is filling up, a line is forming outside. We decide to stay. The rule of thumb for trend spotters, as for politicians: look for the longest line and get in front of it.

Our reward is Islands, a freak-folk collective from Montreal whose singer is rocking that most uncompromising of hairdos: the Prince Valiant. There's also a black bass player wearing a white do-rag, a Caucasian dude on bass clarinet, two nerdy-looking Asian guys on violin, and someone somewhere playing a steel drum. "This song is called 'I Fucking Feel Evil,'" the singer announces as green smoke starts oozing from the headstock of his guitar. No wonder the scene-sters are lined up outside.

Islands, I will later learn, rose from the ashes of the Unicorns, a once promising group that may well have collapsed under the weight of its own precociousness. These days, all the bands from Canada appear to be morphing into collectives. As if to prove the point, a pair of M.C.'s—Subtitle and Busdriver—squeeze onto the "stage."

Vice keeps its bands on a tight schedule, but Islands decides to play one last song even though they don't have time. "I don't care," proclaims Prince Valiant, who goes by Nick Diamonds but whose real name is Nicholas Thorburn. "What are they gonna do? We've fucked up everything else we've ever done." Highly regimented and utterly wonderful anarchy erupts. Then the music ends, and the rock lemmings depart, off to some other in-crowd gem we've never heard of.

For more tales of VICE Killing Texas see the Vanity Fair Roundtable.

The Art of the Barfight

Barfights are a thing of the past for most -- unless perhaps you are a Canadian grifter working in the US illegally or the Bensonhurst Beltless Wonder. But whatever the occassion for your particular slugfest, you have to either be willing to grin and bear it in silence, or laugh at loud at the absurdity of testosterone-driven three-ring circuses. Luckily, we have a stable of buddies orbiting past this House of Lunacy whose speciality is making life's little hijinxes a bit easier to swallow. Like barfights? You'll love this one.

Blackoutman Rides Again

On Saturday, VICE was invited to the home opener and unveiling of the New York Red Bulls soccer club. In addition to free limos from the Tribeca Grand, Red Bull threw a huge party outside of Giants' Stadium in the Meadowlands with unlimited booze, delectable canapes, ubiquitious live music and even a rain lounge -- complete with couches and foosball tables. The occassion was marred a bit by youthful indescretions, an influx of bad weather, and the aborted shirtless group photo shoot. But much of that was to be expected, as that's just the way VICE roars! That said, we had a ball, and the good people at Red Bull deserve a thank you. The Red Bulls' side, however, couldn't put their foot on the ball, and were unable to score in the match against the New England Revolution, and the game ended in a tie. And a tie, as everyone knows, is like kissing your sister. Like making out?

Fountains of Youth

When you are the leaders of a youth culture revolution it’s important for you to be able to relate to your core constituents. Simple enough, you say — kids know everything about kids. But people age in the fetid air of New York City at a rate equivalent to dog years, and when a VICE-based lifestyle is added to the equation, you had better adjust. This Dorian Gray-be-gone picture of Gavin and Suroosh taken last weekend shows how incredibly they have turned back a clock that once seemed a runaway train. Sadly, Shane’s photo is not quite so peachy, but soon he too will be the picture of dazzling vigor, thanks to the newly launched VICE Fountain of Youth. The discovery of a Guru named Jason while on retreat in Costa Rica led the Big Three to consider reversing their holistic fortunes.

Accordingly, a new health regimen is being implemented in the NYC office. Daily colonics are now mandatory, and in an unusual nod to privacy, a shower curtain has been hung. A full time wheatgrass extraction technician has been hired to administer that particular lawn clipping-based restorative, massage therapists are rubbing and cajoling everyone from addVice to VICE Records back to their youthful days of yore— kneading hangovers from livers and negative thoughts from psyches. Dietician-mandated Fresh Direct orders stream in as cases of smoked tempeh, firm tofu, arugula, walnuts and legumes of every shape and stripe are stacked from floor to ceiling around the office, forming a Burning Man-ish village of eco-cubicles. An ear candling station has been set up, bathtubs overflowing with enzyme-rich cedar mulch have been rolled into position near Blackoutman, and even one of those archaic weight-loss machines with the shaky belt made popular by the Three Stooges is currently being installed in the Executive Boredroom. In an effort to head future problems off at the pass, an electron microscope has been set up at the Mary Tyler Poppins of VICE’s desk (Melissa “Spoonful of Raw Cane Juice” Burgos), to screen hair strands for toxins. Loose-flowing batik office caftans and Roman sandals are even worn by the Execs to facilitate a proper oxygen-to-exposed-skin surface ratio. The big loser in all of this is Peter Luger’s. The long preferred VICE haunt for red meat is now on the “no visit list,” along with Bungalow 8 and Central Park. We have said it before, but indeed VICE is a revolution. Like cults?


PS: Our health insurance provider is very interested in testing results.