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.

IM'ing Can Be A Crime, If You're A Criminal That Is

Old guys here forget all the time to turn off their computers when they make the 30th trip to the bathroom of the morning. Does coke shrink bladders or inflame prostates? Anyway, sneaking over and screen capturing deviant IM chats with their dominatrixes is like taking candy from a drunken baby. Like Mule?