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In the summer of his forty-third year Algorar killed a lady with his mouth and he understood it to be a human lady by the smell of the warm blood which tickled his nose, lifting his nighttime dream – baby Algorar swimming the rim of a whirlpool – and made him say "ugh" then "yum yum" and then feel sorrow for all of life and this lady in particular.

When she was lifeless and dead he found to his surprise he wasn't hungry in the slightest, but managed to put down a few mouthfuls for form's sake, traditional old boy that he was. The rest he left to sink. Nourishment for the lower levels. Badly needed, too, I shouldn't wonder. Dawn was coming on now. Algorar dived down to where it was cooler and started back towards the caves.

I'm not an unreasonable person, thought Algorar.

Three mouthfuls amounted to a considerable portion with his big bites, didn't it? Enough to feed a family. Too much, really; she'd hardly gone to waste. And he didn't want to develop a taste for excess, did he? Because don't gluttons go to hell, same as murderers? Of course of course of course. It was more than acceptable, what he had done.

It was how things were. And how they always had been. Not only for the weaklings and crabs; his needs must be satisfied too. They must. And they had been, by God. Under the conditions of his natural right, and in the manner of his mothers and fathers and all of his grandparents before him. Eating his fill before making charity of the remainder. Kindly Algorar. Algorar who had been happy in a dream, let's remember. Enjoying his lonely evening. Keeping himself to himself. So who knew what tricks she'd employed to lure him to her? What spells she'd cast. 'She may have appeared to me as a seal,' he thought. Such wicked magic as that!

Hmm. Perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding, this business between the two of them. 'I'm sure I didn't mean to hurt her,' he thought. 'Just casually grip her a bit, helping her stay afloat, when she'd gravely misread the situation.' He'd been giving her a swimming lesson, for crying out loud! Inside himself he laughed sarcastically.

Kill her? I barely touched her! She tore her flesh against my teeth!

Algorar pushed harder through the water.

If only she'd trusted him, that crazy lady, not flailed about and struggled, he would probably have released her unharmed. Delivered her ashore even. A rescuing! Then the human men would say of him that he was a hero! And the human ladies would weep and throw their cloaks down on the dock and scold their missing sister for swimming so far from land. Marvelling at the great good fortune that Algorar had been there to save her. Of all the places he could have been. Taking turns to reach their hands into water they'd pat his snout and coo at him. "Please stay the night, Algorar." "Tonight will be a feast in your honour." "We have attached lamps to the pier."

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

"Long term solutions. Is what we're in the market for."

Several days had passed since the death of the human lady, and in that time Algorar had let his dreams fall heavy. Trailing an endless loop around a seamount, while in his mind he danced in rainbow channels and hunted swimming snakes with his grandmother's ghost, who sung to him, as she stripped a snake for his dinner, a song he half remembered from childhood which echoed off the ocean floor in glorious five-part harmony. In another dream he'd mortally wounded a silver octopus. Though he wondered if this may have actually happened in real life.

"Algorar? Some ideas from in your heavy head?"

Algorar squinted in the gloom. It was one of the younger guys. Leon. A horrible little fellow who Algorar could kill for fun if he wanted to but he didn't want to because he was a nice enough person and didn't go around killing people for no good reason.

"Are you there, Algorar?" said Leon.

"I'm here."

Leon set his tongue against his teeth and laughed. Other voices joined in. "Doesn't appear as such."

"Well, I don't know how best to convince you," said Algorar.

More laughter. Algorar looked about the group. He'd known these people all his life. They'd know him, too. So they must also know that he could kill them in an instant. In the softest of heartbeats. He could make their families weep. So what was all the laughing about?

"What's all the laughing about?" asked Algorar.

"Please settle down, Algorar. We were laughing with you, not towards you," said Leon.

"But I wasn't laughing," said Algorar.

"I know you weren't. And you'd be right not to. Because this situation we're facing. Well. It's intensely serious. What you see here, you ugly idiots, is a serious person. Congratulations, Algorar. Congratulations indeed."

Some bristling took place amongst the more senior council members. Then a debate about whether ugliness was noble, and therefore sought after. Algorar decided to stop paying attention again.

He found these meetings increasingly pointless. The same arguments met with the same counter-arguments every fortnight and often word for word. Granted, once in a blue moon a giant squid would have been sighted or else a dolphin might have tricked somebody into attacking a childhood friend, and then they'd share well-worn rumours about giant squids or reiterate the dolphin policy (in essence: don't ever ever ever talk to dolphins), but this was all a nonsense and well they knew it. For the real problem was one they had no solution for, long-term or otherwise.

For even now in greater and greater numbers the humans came out. With their spears and their trapping nets and their monstrous black boats with whirling blades at one end.

'Eating one of them,' thought Algorar, 'was not my finest hour.'

But should it not be war? They started it! Maybe I should eat all of them? No no no. It would be too difficult to organise. And anyway, I'm not that kind of person. I'm a peaceful kind of person. So then. What?

"How about diplomacy?" he said out loud.

"Are you ill, Algorar?" Asked old Kal.

"No no no. I mean what if one of us went out to them. Made a case with them. Put it towards them that maybe they could be more reasonable. After all, we're reasonable enough ourselves, aren't we?"

"Please be quiet," said Kal. "If your mother could hear you now she'd turn belly-up."

'I could swallow you whole, Kal,' thought Algorar.

None of that! Poise, Algorar! Poise and sophistication! "It was but an idea," he muttered demurely.

"But a very bad idea," said Kal. "Who would agree to such a quick and certain death?"

Algorar felt a familiar shame blossom inside him. Was he the worst person in the world? The lowest and most appallingly stupid? Had he wasted his life? Was he a disgrace to his lineage? Perhaps. Although perhaps not.

"I will go," said Algorar. "I will speak with the humans."

Kal cracked up laughing and everybody else followed suit.

"I will!" Algorar insisted. "You don't believe me, I realise that. But listen, I'm Algorar, in case you'd all forgotten somehow, of the family Rasanda. And not afraid of anything. I'm capable of crunching through a submarine after a good enough breakfast. So stop laughing at me all the time, guys," he said, as sternly as he could, for he felt on the verge of sobbing.

"Is that what you plan to do?" asked Leon. "Crunch them?"

"No, not that. Not that at all. It is precisely that I won't do that. Though I can. I can! Some of you would do well to remember that! But I won't. They'll see my size, my strength. And I won't do anything with it. And they'll know. I'll do you all proud, I promise you that a hundred times over. They'll sing songs about me, guys!"

The assembly erupted once more, and then began making cruel jokes at his expense. Jokes with punchlines that he had human legs and breathed with diving apparatus. Algorar hated them and hated himself and hated the whole world.

He left, hot with rage and embarrassment. Left them to scoff and cackle and call out his name in sing-song voices. Vowing he'd never go back to the caves. And why the hell should he?

'He steeled himself. When my name is emblazoned on the underside of the surface of the water,' he thought. 'When the sea turns turquoise with goodness and health. When we are queens and kings once more, and of everything. Who will laugh then? Tell me, who?'

The things they'd said had made little sense anyway. Because to be fair to him, he didn't have human legs. Surely they saw that. And he breathed the same exact way as everyone else. Algorar resented Kal especially. Of course his mother couldn't hear him – that went without question. Why oh why are people so unpleasant all the time?

So then. It was settled. Although was it? Was he doing this? Yes, he was. He'd said he was, and now he had to. But honestly, could he? What alternative was there? To go back? Say he'd been temporarily struck by madness? And that they shouldn't laugh at him, but feel sorry for him, due to his obvious sickness? He couldn't countenance that. They'd only laugh harder and louder and insert his name into lurid rhymes.

'This is my destiny,' thought Algorar. 'But what to do now?'

He racked his brains, such as they were.

Should I go up top and make myself known to a boat?

No, that would be suicide. If even his fin were to breach within a hundred yards of a boat he was liable to get a spear stuck in it. Probably more than one. How was that fair, by the way? Here's him trying to make peace with these barbarians, and all they can think about is shooting spears into him.

Maybe he shouldn't bother. What great debt did he owe that it should be him to put his life on the line? And for people who mocked and derided him.

'This isn't about them, though. Forget them. You're doing this for yourself.'

'Though, for their sakes, they should probably hear about it. Yes yes. They'll hear all about it, alright.'

Appearing before a boat, he conceded, was far too risky. He'd be murdered before he opened his mouth. So what was his move to be?

It came to him: the shallows! – the crystal shallows! Hunters don't bother the shallows, there's nothing to catch there. Just human children splashing about! And the little ones may have never seen a person before, and therefore would have no fear of him. If he were to make his case to them, in simplified terms, they could convey it to their elders. And appropriate arrangements would come about. And one evening in the far future those very same children would tell their grandchildren of the day they met with Algorar in the clear waters. And how he had solved everything for everybody. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. Clever Algorar.

Next morning he set off for the beach, making a game of scaring shoals of bluefish along the way. Torpedoing into them and blurring his eyes so the fish zig-zagged away from him like fat little sparks. He was happy enough.

'This is it, old son. This is the making of you,' thought Algorar. 'No more squandered potential. No more wasted time. If this goes off like it's supposed to, you'll be a legend. Lord Algorar. The one who helped.'

And was he scared? Not a bit of it. What fear had he of human children? The council had not considered this tactic. Probably because they lacked his intellect. Algorar let his dreams fall for a while as he pootled inland.

He dreamed of a cave, like the council cave but much much bigger and bright from luminous coral. His mother hung in the centre; spectral, rippling. Greater than Algorar. Greater than a thousand Algorars.

"Mum?"

"Where are you going to, Allie?" his mother spoke in overlapping whispers.

"I'm going to save everyone, mum."

"Why?" asked the apparition.

"To be a brave person, mum. And as so to be remembered."

"What serves it you, to be remembered?"

"You are remembered, mum," said Algorar.

"Ah. Yes. Yes. Have you done your computations today, Allie?"

"It's very warm in here, mum. How must you stand to be here? Come back to the deep, mum."

"How many feet in a fathom, Allie?"

"Five? No — "

" — sixxxxxxxxxxxx"

The word stretched to an intolerable hiss. Algorar's tiny ears rang and his stomach turned over as the cave began to shake. A low rumble rose to a dreadful splintering, cracking, and all about him vines thick as tree trunks burst through the cave-floor, corkscrewing upwards as if trained around unseen pillars. "Oh wow," said Algorar, the cave growing hotter and hotter and hotter, so hot poor Algorar thought he would surely boil, and he shouted out "Help me!" but couldn't see his mother for the bubbles and the kicked-up sediment. Blindly he hurled himself forwards, becoming entangled in vines, and he bit and tore at them in a frenzied panic and to his surprise they were soft and delicate and filled with a nectar so so sweet that he said "yum yum". His dream lifted all at once and Algorar saw what he did.

The little human boy was wrecked and bloodied. Algorar had ripped his right leg clean off. And the shallows were all a chaos of humans screaming and running for the beach.

'Oh no no no no no no no,' thought Algorar.

But the smell of child's blood started his eyes rolling back and, tormented, he let them. For his shame he did more violence to the boy. Then abated and swam back to the darker waters. Weeping and cursing himself and regretting every day of his pitiful life.

'Nice one, Algorar. Very sophisticated and kingly. You complete idiot. You bad and evil person. Could you see that, mum? I hope that you couldn't.'

'Maybe the human boy had parents too,' thought Algorar. 'Had had parents, I mean.' Maybe he'd had a mother, as Algorar once had.

But now Algorar knew the boy was lifeless and dead. And he the monster responsible.

'I didn't know what I was doing, though!' thought Algorar. 'I was dreaming. A person can't help from dreaming, can they? I didn't know I was killing him. Not at first. Perhaps we were playing together. Initially. The child and me. Playing a chasing game in the surf. Only due to unforeseen circumstances it went wrong and one of us died as a consequence.'

It was no use.

'Oh do shut up, Algorar. Just shut right the way up. What did you do? When you saw what was happening. What did you do? Call for help? Say, "I'm terribly sorry"? Did you swaddle his wounds in seaweed? No. Nothing of the sort. I'll tell you what you did. You closed your eyes and gnashed your jaws and spilled his blood which now covers your teeth. You revolting animal. So don't start with all that nonsense. You killed him the same way you killed the human lady and for the same reason: because you meant to. You aren't a reasonable person, Algorar. Get that into your thick head. You're a villain and a coward. A wretched brute no better than a dolphin.'

Algorar spied another school of fish and swam at them, this time with an open mouth.
"If I am to be a beast, give me room to be one!" he cried, as they scattered.

Soon enough the hunting boats came out. And how they came. Many more than he'd ever seen. Circling atop like angry whales. Rotten mackerel-heads spilling out from them in bloody clouds. Hooks dangling down like decorations. 'Oh please,' thought Algorar. 'Leave me alone everybody.'

'My whole life. My entire time in the world. It has been one extended disaster. A miserable, laughable failure. Let me see it out alone and without interference.' Algorar let his dreams fall and in them dredged the ocean floor to find shells and pennies for nobody's benefit and to no personal satisfaction whatsoever.

Next morning Old Kal found Algorar cowering in the hull of a sunken tug. "This is your doing, I take it?" he said.

Algorar told him that he hadn't a single clue what he was talking about.

Kal laughed. "Algorar. Come on now, old fellow. I know of the human boy. We all know of that."

"About which human boy?" asked Algorar.

"The one who has his blood in your belly," said Kal.

Algorar burst into tears. "I didn't mean to, Kal."

"Stop crying," said Kal. "You have no one to cry to. I don't care for human boys. They all might die and I wouldn't feel much one way or the other. But I wanted you to know. They got Leon."

"Oh no no no no no no no," said Algorar.

"Oh yes," said Kal. "He was hungry. And tried to be too tricksy with the bait. You know how he was."

Algorar said nothing.

"Algorar, I don't mean to give you a hard time. I never mean that. I used to teach you your fish? Remember? Me and you? Your mother sent you to me because she was worried for you. Said you weren't paying enough attention in the classes. You were a nice child, Algorar. Really you were an angel. But you didn't listen. Even when it was just me and you. Remember? You never listened properly. Well, listen now. I'm telling you this for your own good, so take the air out your ears. Leave, Algorar. Go as far as you can manage. And never come back. OK?"

"I will avenge Leon," said Algorar.

"Fucking hell, Algorar," said Kal.

And so the wise warrior Algorar went to seek revenge for Leon. A person he'd barely known in life and hadn't much cared for either. For justice and for honour he launched himself up like a rocket to the moon and smashed his head as hard as he could into a rickety fishing boat which crumpled and flooded. Terrified men yelled commands back and forth as the ship capsized. Scrambling over each other and sticking him with spears.

Let them harpoon me. I'm strong. I'm Algorar the strong.

He wept and said sorry to the men as he did unspeakable things to them. Biting into a human head he burst an eyeball. 'Look what you've made me do. Look what a horrible person I am. This one's for you, Leon.' This is the price you pay. He wretched from the gore. 'This is absolutely awful,' he thought.

Algorar let his dreams fall.

Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.

Guided by tinkling laughter he followed a girl from his Distances class down the blue hole and into the nursery grounds where she stopped to nuzzle him, whispering: "You are murdering another human in the shallows now."

"Am I? Oh dear. Is that wrong?"

"I couldn't tell you if it was."

"Is Leon avenged at least?"

"How many feet in a fathom, Allie?"

"I know this one. My mother told me: six."

"Sorry Allie, there's seven now."

The girl's eyes glazed white. Algorar said "hey hey" but she didn't answer.

"Hey. Stop messing about now."

The girl started to sink.

"Hey. Wake up!" said Algorar. "If you're tired, here, you can rest on my back."

He tried to swim underneath her but couldn't place himself. Again and again she fell past him. Down toward the unknown depths.

"Please don't leave me," Algorar begged her, shivering. "I'll say seven. If that's the answer, I'll say seven. I just didn't know that the answer had changed, that's all. Because I don't listen, you see. I never do. And so I don't keep up to date with the latest answers. I thought it was six, you see. But only because that's what I was told. I'll say whatever answer you like. Whatever is the right answer. Be it six, seven, anything. Please just don't leave. I didn't particularly get on in life, I know that now. But maybe it's not too late. If only I can start saying the right answers, which is where you come in, petal. If you'd only stay and tell me the latest answers, I'll memorise them and then, if Leon is avenged, I can change and lead a better life. A life to be proud of. And now. Now I come to really think about it, I had a feeling the answer was seven. I just said six to make a joke for you. Just a bit of fun as we were chatting. Please my love. Don't go down there. Stay here in this icy chasm and we'll keep each other warm. Wouldn't that be nice? Don't you think?" His dream lifted and he was alone in the black night. Far away from anywhere he knew.

'This is a fine thing,' thought Algorar. It's too late now. Too late for Algorar.

How much had he done?

He shuddered, remembering the fishing boat. His close personal friend Leon avenged several times over. Oh! How he hated himself!

And he'd made his people proud, no? Blue-eyed Algorar, showing the enemy no mercy. The spirit-world staring down approvingly. Leon up there, shrieking: "Yes, Algorar! Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!" Avenging Algorar. The one who does good for others.

'Algorar the terrible, more like. Algorar who creates big problems. Killer of infants. Algorar the bone-crusher. That's who I am. The horror of the ocean.'

His thick skin was punctured from spears. 'Little more than I deserve! Monsters should bleed!' And anyway, it didn't hurt, though he wished it would.

In the distance he heard a whale's song.

'I killed Leon, in a way. Oh well,' thought Algorar. And started up singing himself:

"The ocean's long, the ocean's wide / and blue and red and blue and white Let me know, when you're in need / we're part of a com-mu-ni-ty / When I grow up, I –"

Wait, what was that? Algorar stopped singing. There it was again! What in this life makes a sound like that? A demon whale? He strained to listen. Ah, it's nothing. Maybe he was officially going insane.

But no! There again it was! An awful hollering. Such a noise as he'd never heard.

Cautiously he went towards it, swimming as quietly as he could. Creeping closer.

A boat. Larger than the one he'd totalled on behalf of brother Leon, but still small enough that he could probably destroy it if needs be. Algorar could perceive three humans in the light of the cabin. And they looked jolly as anything. Drinking and, apparently, singing.

Did humans sing, though? First he knew about it. Why would they want to?

'Why would anyone want to, I suppose.' He chided himself for being narrow-minded. Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait.

Did they sing... with him?

Were they... joining in?

'No, that's the last thing they'd do. You great lug, Algorar. They want to cut you open most likely. Not sing your nursery songs. They wouldn't even know the right words. Heaven and hell, Algorar. Try thinking for five minutes. Try using your mind.'

But but but but but but but, why did they sing when he sung then? Pretty large coincidence, wouldn't you say?

He gulped, scarcely daring to consider it. Did this. Did this signal a truce?

Was this the moment? Perhaps this was the moment! Would they ride back to shore together and shoulder to shoulder, as brothers and sisters? Would they establish new mutually beneficial laws, punishable by grisly death? And would everybody cheer? Surely they would cheer! They'd cheer till they fainted! And when the world awoke next morning, sick from wine and aching all over, would the message be sent out from coast to coast, that thanks in total to the valiance and restraint of Algorar, of the family Rasanda, the human ladies and human men had sworn an oath in the light of the sun to be bound by in perpetuity, that the boats would not go out that day, or ever again? And would the bells and would the bells and would the bells not ring themselves?

He rammed the boat as the men inside still sang, crying out in ecstasy: "I've arrived! I'm here, guys! Here to make an historic accord! I was coddled as a child and I've made some bad decisions and I'm terrifically sorry about the boy and the lady, I killed them I killed them I killed them and I'm sorry, believe me I'm so so sorry! But the past is the past! Let's sing together and rule these waves as a team! It's such a relief to realise we're on the same page, guys, you have no idea."

The men screamed and ran about, hurling abuse and harpooning him.

Algorar limped away, for he was badly injured and bleeding profusely. And let his dreams fall.

On the last day of his life, Algorar shook away his dream and went back to the boat.

'The human men may want to see me again,' he thought.

The first man was no trouble at all. Algorar sniggered as he bent the bars of the diving cage and mauled the man. 'What do the cages mean, I wonder?' thought Algorar. No matter.

Then with tremendous effort he launched himself out of the water and onto the boat. Bringing it down down down. 'Let your boat be a fish,' thought Algorar.

As he basked on deck Algorar said "hello hello hello" and then "sorry" as the second man simply fell into his mouth. 'Very careless,' thought Algorar. He bit the man in half, and took the two halves back under the water, where he spat them out.

'I'm not hungry today,' thought Algorar.

The boat was now almost completely submerged, and the third and final man was desperately climbing the mast as it tipped into the sea. Algorar snapped at his ankles and the man speared him enthusiastically. "Ow," said Algorar, and backed away to get his breath.

Algorar swam out to sea a little before making for the boat a last time.

One more pass he made, saying to himself: I can swim so fast!

'There's the man,' thought Algorar. 'I can see him. Does he know me? When I get to him will he teach me something? He's inches from the water now, will he dive with me? Ah, Algorar, you do have such silly ideas. Don't worry, though. There's the man. Look Algorar, there he is. Can you see him? Has my dream fallen now? Has it fallen? There's the man. Almost there now. Almost there. Here I come!'

Top image via Hermanus Backpackers

In the spring of 2007, when I took the test to become an American citizen, I acted like the 19-year-old teenager I was: I was smug and annoyed at the whole affair. At this point, I'd already lived in California with a green card for seven years; I already knew all of the answers to the long list of potential questions about American history and politics, thanks to my high school coursework. When the officer at the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services asked me to demonstrate basic understanding of the English language, I almost rolled my eyes, as if to remind him, hello, I go to UC Berkeley. At the group swear-in ceremony, where I was given my certificate along with a little plastic American flag to wave, I looked around at the crowd of excited immigrants and their families and thought: Whatever. America isn't all that great.

I didn't begin to feel proud to be an American until 2008, when I cast my ballot for Obama and celebrated his victory with what seemed like my entire college campus. It felt like proof this was indeed the land of opportunity—that the American Dream was real—and for the first time, I started to feel closer to my new home than my motherland of Taiwan.

The recent presidential election left me feeling differently. Even as a naturalized citizen, the anti-immigrant rhetoric from Donald Trump's campaign stings, and the sudden increase of xenophobia and racist hate crimes following the election is very real. Even in liberal cities, people of color—perceived to be immigrants—have been told, "Go back to your country."

But I don't regret becoming an American, and the other naturalized immigrants I spoke to unanimously agree.

"Native-born Americans were joking about 'Oh I'm leaving the country' [post-election] and I don't even want to joke about that," said Binly Phounsiri, a Laotian American artist and engineer in his late 20s. "I have this village mentality: This is my village, and I'm not going to walk away from it."

In psychology, the theory of effort heuristic states the level of value a person assigns to something is directionally proportional to the amount of effort required to acquire or create it. When you have to work hard for your American citizenship, you don't take it for granted. And becoming a citizen isn't typically easy:In most cases, a permanent resident can apply for citizenship after living here for five years, but the average application takes seven years. On top of the citizenship application fees (currently $595 per person), many immigrant families pay out of pocket to hire attorneys to help with their cases. You also have to sort through heaps of documents, schedule the requisite appointments, memorize the answers to questions about history and politics in the United States. For me, the process felt like just another annoying part of being a teenager, but for many others, it's a huge investment in a better future.

So when I heard how many Americans wanted to move to Canada post-election in 2016, I was incredulous. When you have already uprooted everything—and given up so much—to be in a country like the US, you don't just up and leave when things go awry. I hold dual citizenships, so I could've moved back to Taipei with relative ease. But to be apathetic about my American citizenship would be a personal betrayal to all the struggles I overcame in assimilation. As immigrants, we can't afford to have defeatist attitudes. And given the conscious choices we took to adopt the United States as our new home, we may have an easier time accepting America's flaws and staying hopeful in times of confusion.

Duran Rose, a software engineer who came to the States from Jamaica with his family at the age of ten, shared similar sentiments. "Even when some things are bad, you chose to be here, and it's on you to make it better," Rose told me.

That's why this year, for me and many others, is about getting more involved in making this the country I chose to live in. America isn't perfect—but neither is any country. Part of being a citizen means taking the reigns to make it better, and the responsibility to continue progress here is on every single one of us who has the privilege to call the United States home.

Follow Chin Lu on Twitter.

When Donald Trump becomes the president later in January, some worry the days when women had to take dealing with unwanted pregnancies into their own hands will return. Throughout his campaign, Trump made several inflammatory comments about abortion, including the mischaracterization of abortion as a violent and brutal procedure that could be performed up until the "ninth month" and "last day" of pregnancy. In March, he said that if abortion were to become illegal in the US, anyone seeking the procedure should face "some form of punishment."

Trump later recanted those remarks, which were seen as too extreme even for anti-abortion conservatives. But women in the US are already being punished for ending unwanted pregnancies when they are unable to access safe, legal abortion. Experts warn that with further attacks on abortion access and contraceptive coverage likely to come, rates of self-induced abortion—and the criminalization of those who perform or facilitate it—will rise.

"We know of at least 17 people who have been arrested for self-inducing abortion [since Roe v. Wade], and some who have been convicted, but we suspect there are many more," said Jill E. Adams, Executive Director of the Center on Reproductive Rights and Justice at Berkeley Law. "Only a tiny handful of states have statutes that explicitly prohibit self abortion. In all the other cases, these brazen prosecutors are just picking and choosing and misapplying all manner of laws." Adams and her colleagues have identified 40 different kinds of laws that could be applied to criminalize self-induce abortion, as well as implicate the people who help the women who carry them out.

Women seek abortions at nearly the same rate whether it's illegal or not. According to a 2016 study published in The Lancet, the incidence of abortion in countries where it is completely illegal or permitted only to save a woman's life is about 37 per 1,000 women aged 15 to 44. In countries where abortion is generally legal, the incidence is 34 per 1,000 women—almost exactly the same rate. The difference is that virtually all of the abortions in countries where the procedure is illegal happen under circumstances defined as "unsafe" by the World Health Organization. The procedures are performed by people without proper training, or are performed in an inappropriate setting, or are self-induced by the woman herself.

In the United States, what we know about the effects of extreme abortion restrictions largely comes from Texas. A Texas law known as HB2, introduced in 2013, caused more than half of the state's abortion clinics to close. Researchers from the Texas Policy Evaluation Project (TxPEP) estimated that between 100,000 and 240,000 women in Texas tried to end pregnancies on their own after HB2 put a clinic procedure financially or logistically out of reach for them.

The most common method of self-induced abortion among those women was taking misoprostol, a drug used in legal medication abortions. Other methods included ineffective remedies like herbs, teas, and hormone pills, and occasionally violent means like being punched in the stomach. Dr. Daniel Grossman, a co-investigator in the TxPEP project and professor of Obstetrics, Gynecology, and Reproductive Sciences at the University of California San Francisco, told me the Texas study did not find incidences of women using invasive means, like trying to insert an object into the vagina or uterus. But those cases do sometimes still happen in the US. Most notable in recent years was the case of Tennessee woman, Anna Yocca, who was charged with three felonies for attempting to self-induce using a coat hanger.

"We have heard stories of women ordering [abortion drugs] online that don't turn out to be what they were supposed to be." — Daniel Grossman

The availability of misoprostol, sometimes known simply as "miso" and also sold under the brand name Cytotec, has transformed the process of self-induced abortion around the globe. It was originally brought to market in the 1970s as a drug to prevent stomach ulcers, but it was not long before doctors and people facing unwanted pregnancy discovered its off-label use. Misoprostol use is particularly widespread in Latin America, where few countries permit abortion. In legal medication abortions, misoprostol is usually used in conjunction with another drug, mifepristone, which is the most effective method. Misoprostol on its own, however, is still 75 to 85 percent effective in ending pregnancy in the first trimester. It can also be effective later in pregnancy, but more medical follow-up care is required.

"From a medical perspective, misoprostol used by itself is very safe and effective to induce early abortion," Grossman told me. "However, it's important that women know how far along in the pregnancy they are, and know the correct dosages for the medication. Another concern is whether medications they get are high quality medications. We have heard stories of women ordering things online that don't turn out to be what they were supposed to be."

Texas prohibits anyone other than a licensed physician from performing an abortion, and requires that the doctor be in the room for the procedure. That means doctors cannot provide medication via telemedicine, even though that approach is considered to be safe and effective. They're also prohibited from providing patients with harm reduction information, even if they know the patient is going to try and self-induce abortion.

"We saw a rise in women attempting their own abortions long before HB2, connected to a bill called HB15 that passed in 2011," said Amy Hagstrom Miller, founder and CEO of Whole Woman's Health, the lead plaintiff in the Supreme Court case that ultimately overturned HB2. "It requires a minimum of two visits in order to get an abortion and a waiting period of at least 24 hours between them. That became too big a barrier for many of our patients to deal with travel, childcare, or lost wages." Miller told me that people in Texas have historically crossed the border into Mexico to get cheaper medications and health care. Now, women cross the border to buy miso in pharmacies, where it is generally available without a prescription.

Related: What It's Like to Have an Illegal Abortion

In Texas' Rio Grande Valley, which includes the state's poorest counties and where the population is over 86 percent Latinx, there is just one abortion clinic left: Whole Woman's Health in McAllen. That clinic closed briefly after the passage of HB2, but reopened during the ensuing court battle.

"Before the McAllen clinic reopened, there was effectively an abortion ban for the Rio Grande Valley. Even once the clinic reopened and we were better able to connect women with the care they needed, there were longer wait times because there were no other clinics to shoulder the burden," Jessica González-Rojas, Executive Director of the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health, told me. Without access to a clinic, some women are forced to take matters into their own hands.

A miso-induced abortion is virtually indistinguishable from a spontaneous miscarriage, which may lead to the belief that women who seek follow-up care at a hospital or other medical practice would be safe from criminalization. But Adams said that of the 17 known cases of women being arrested for self-inducing abortion, several were reported to the authorities by medical staff. Most extreme is the case of Purvi Patel, who was sentenced to 20 years in prison for self-inducing abortion until an appellate court vacated her conviction. The doctor who reported her to the police was part of an association of anti-abortion physicians and even accompanied detectives to the scene where Patel admitted she disposed of fetal remains.

"We are perpetuating a culture of surveillance and repression of pregnant people," Adams told me. "People always want to know about the physical safety of self-induced abortion, but what about the safety of being arrested, of going to prison, of being deported? If people are truly concerned about safety as related to abortion, they ought to be considering how dangerous it can be for people's physical and emotional health to be ensnared in the legal system."

Follow Garnet Henderson on Twitter.

Editor's Pick: Ellis Jones, Editor-in-Chief

The Epic Saga of Royals That Shaped Indian Identity
By Vasantha Yogananthan
The Borders Issue, June 2016

Vasantha Yogananthan's photos calm me. I look at them and just feel relaxed. Considering the aftermath of the recent election and the uncertainty of what this coming year holds, I find this kind of unexpected tranquility especially gratifying right now. This is probably why I was drawn back to this portfolio six months later when my staff and I were leafing through our 2016 issues trying to pick our favorite stories of the year.

The myth of the Ramayana inspired Yogananthan, and he's been documenting the mythic landscapes it describes along with theatrical portraits of its key moments in his ongoing series "A Myth of Two Souls." The series is an ambitious undertaking, to say the least: a seven-book project made up of images taken (and that remain to be taken) in India between 2013 and 2019, with each book—or rather, each chapter—being published individually between 2016 and 2019.

Yogananthan has an impressive background for someone who only began as a freelance photographer in 2014. He co-founded his own publishing house Chose Commune, was nominated for a MACK First Book Award, and was named by renowned agency Magnum Photos as one of the top 30 photographers under 30 all in the same year.

Picking one favorite story from all of 2016 is a terrible thing to ask an editor to do, so a few honorable mentions below, as well:

A Q&A with Cecile Richards, the president of Planned Parenthood

A colorful portfolio by the duo behind Toilet Paper magazine

A feature about the brutal consequences of Uganda's infamous anti-gay law

A photo portfolio from New York veteran Jill Freedman

And all of the profiles from our October Music Issue: D.R.A.M., How to Dress Well, Cass McCombs, Kamaiyah, and Kim Gordon

Editor's Pick: Erika Allen, Senior Editor

How Honest Are We When Talking About Money with a Partner?
By Ana Cecilia Alvarez
The Borders Issue, June 2016

"The Talk" is one of my favorite columns introduced into the magazine in 2016. We know that VICE fans love to read about sex (who doesn't love sex), but this column gets at the less... well, sexy aspects of our sex lives. Its aim is to deal with the remaining taboos in modern interpersonal situations, and this was my favorite one, because as open as most people are to discussing the most intimate details of their relationships (with their partners or friends or strangers, even), money is the one thing many still feel uncomfortable talking about.

So much so, that the initial conversation for this column involved a lot of beating around the bush, platitudes, and generalizations about the way each participant relates to money personally. But Ana went back to the group for a more probing discussion, and what came from it is a really honest and illuminating dialog about the direct and indirect influences that money and class have on sex and relationships and power dynamics. You might not think of your Venmo feed the same way again.

Editor's Pick: Chris Carroll, Senior Editor

Evicted Review
By Kristin Dombek
The We Missed You Issue, March 2016

Kristen Dombek's review of Evicted, Matthew Desmond's "lyrical and exhaustively researched ethnography of eviction's effect on the poor in America," opens with a harrowing scene:

A family home on Milwaukee's South Side, late in the afternoon, the house warm and fragrant from cooking done in a well-built kitchen. The little girl's bedroom—"the princess sleeps here" reads the sign on the door—is painted pink, the office disheveled from five years of homework. A toddler's toys blink and beep underfoot. A mover turns to a mother. "In our truck or on the curb?"

In only 850 words, she goes on to convey the force and tragedy of Desmond's book and its sobering arguments—that eviction is not a symptom of poverty but a cause; and that the stratospheric rise in evictions rates has benefitted a booming low income housing industry—as well as the stories of the people whose lives Desmond documents: "Scott, a nurse who slipped a disc at work, got addicted to painkillers, and fell into an eviction cycle; Arleen, whose eviction cycle started with her son's errant snowball, and who, by the end of the book, ends up applying for 89 apartments."

Editor's Pick: Elizabeth Renstrom, Photo Editor

Artists' Odes to Their Favorite Musicians
By Signe Pierce, Lauren Poor, Aileen Son, Paul Mpagi Sepuya, Xaviera, Simmons, Sheida Soleimani, Elizabeth Renstrom, Trey Wright, & Ryan McGinley
The Music Issue, October 2016

This has been an incredibly humbling photo-filled year for me, so I decided to cop out and choose a photo essay I worked on for our music issue that crams nine exceptional artists into a portfolio rather than just one because it would be nearly impossible for me to narrow all the exciting photography put out by the mag this year (hello, entire photo issue!)

In the portfolio, I asked artists like Xaveira Simmons to Signe Pierce to visually interpret their favorite musicians with few guidlines—it could be teeny bopper madness (closet full of New Kids on the Block paraphernalia), or a subtle reference (hypothetical example: a miniature dollhouse full of all purple things for Prince.) The eclectic results produced—literal and abstract shrines, essentially, to bands and singers these photographers adore—is really what makes VICE photography one of a kind.

Editor's Pick: Alex Norcia, Copy Editor

The Prophet and the Acolyte: Ammon Bundy's Fight to Take Back the West
By James Pogue
The Holy Cow Issue, April 2016

Wes Kjar is set to be on home arrest without any of his guns, but when I was first learning about him, in James Pogue's story, he had recently been arrested while driving a military truck with firearms and hundreds of rounds of ammo in Salt Lake City. Months earlier, he had heard about the standoff at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon and quit his job at an oil rig to, in time, become Ammon Bundy's bodyguard. Written at the height of the occupation, before a court found the Bundy brothers not guilty, Pogue's feature takes a deep dive into the Mormon faith, the persistence, and the uncertainty surrounding it all.

If you want VICE magazine delivered to your doorstep, feel free to subscribe here.

Veganuary 2017 was always set to be bigger than Dry January 2017. Last year was the year of the sesh; it would be weird to just absolve ourselves of that for the sake of slightly improved liver function. Plus, not drinking is still boring and mocktails are still just £9 salty juices.

Besides, being vegan is cool now. There are now more than half a million vegans in the UK. The word "vegan" was in the headlines constantly last year. It probably brought Metro most of its online traffic, the amount they were barking on about it. "Desperate" vegans queued hours for pizza! Veggan – like vegan, but eats eggs, get it? – was supposedly a food trend! Research found that vegans live longer than meat eaters, and that a third of people wouldn't date a vegan! And then that those new five pound notes weren't vegan, or even vegetarian! Did it even matter?!

Naturally, the capitalist world accommodated this trend by making it better and easier to be a vegan. The big supermarkets started stocking more vegan products than ever before, and their own brands of vegetarian food widely made switches from being only veggie-friendly to being vegan-friendly. Ben & Jerry's unveiled their plans for dairy-free ice-cream. Quorn started doing vegan products. The culinary bastion for all that is Basic, Pret a Manger, made a Veggie Pret in central London that was so popular it was made permanent, and the brand is now reportedly looking to open or convert more stores. Zizzi got a vegan menu. Carluccio's got a vegan menu. Wetherspoons got a vegan menu.

By the end of the year I was standing in a vegan Christmas market with queues so long it took near enough an hour to get served. Then came the news that we would be gifted the first vegan "fried chicken" shop in the world. Veganism had made it.

Photo by author

It makes sense that this is happening now. Netflix's 86 million subscribers were treated to various documentaries on veganism last year; you couldn't help but learn about its pros and perhaps a few of its cons. And importantly, in a year where it felt like nothing you did made a difference to the world, veganism was an easy way to make the personal political. Change didn't rely on a vote that got lost, or a tweet that got bombarded with negative comments, but something you could do alone three times a day and, after a year, would mean you'd saved 200 animals and that your carbon footprint would have been cut by about a half.

The effect of all this meant that, last year, veganism lost its historical association with sitars and body odour and became a part of the wider health conscious, environmentally aware, 20-something identity. And now it's January, 2017 and Clapham Common tube station is completely filled with Peta posters telling you to go vegan, and fine eateries like All Bar One and Las Iguanas are putting on 2-4-1 deals and new vegan menus for you to try. So you too have decided to go vegan for the month. What a champ.

Because you're going to need a lot of guidance through what's going to be a very strange and difficult 31 days, I (a vegan) am here to help. Here is what's going to happen to you in Veganuary:

YOU'LL SHIT A LOT

Meat and dairy have been clogging up your pipes for years and now you're putting nature's equivalent of Senokot through them. We're only four days in, but you'll have noticed already that, depending on the amount of fruit, vegetables and pulses you've been eating, you'll have been pooping approximately after every meal. Breakfast: poop. Maybe a lil one mid-morning after the coffee. Lunch: yes, another check-in at the nice private disabled toilet at work. And if you can make it home before the next one, good on you. If you make it to the end of the month, you'll have a newfound respect for the human body and its processing powers.

YOU MIGHT GET CRAMPS

And that's because your diet is now like 85 percent fibre. If you get a stomach ache or cramping, just chill out and don't bother WebMD-ing "I have cramps am I dying" or anything; it will pass. Your system will get very used to it quickly. (Also you're probably eating more beans and pulses, so there's that side effect to consider IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN).

Enough to "teese" you? (Photo by Flickr user Christy747)

YOU WILL TRY TO EAT FAKE MEAT AND CHEESE BUT GET ANGRY QUICKLY BECAUSE AT THIS POINT IT TASTES EXACTLY LIKE PLASTIC

The last time you popped a delicious fatty globule of cheddar in your mouth was Boxing Day, meaning you very much remember what cheddar is supposed to taste like. So don't expect your brain to suddenly go: "Okay, sure, this substitute made solely of coconut oil and fucking xanthan gum tastes exactly like Cathedral City."

Some people go vegan and immediately eat all the same things made of substitutes. Some go au naturel at first, because that's essentially just eating more of what you were kind of already eating. If you're a big meat lover I'd recommend the latter option, because otherwise you'll get very angry and disillusioned and become convinced that vegans only pretend to like the fake stuff. The answer is that they don't; they've just forgotten what it actually tastes like and it seems the same to them now.

EGGS ARE IN EVERYTHING, WHICH AGAIN WILL ANGER YOU

"It'll be easy!" you laugh. "Hahaha!" Don't like meat that much and dairy makes you bloated, and anyway, vegans probably cheat with an eggs royale once in a while.

But you do not yet truly understand what vegans know: eggs are in everything. So is dairy, but eggs more so. Those two points combined mean you can't just cruise into a supermarket and eat what you think is vegan. Look at the ingredients and you'll see most of these are off the list: cakes, pastries, pesto, the cheese Doritos, Nutella, granola, breakfast bars, hot chocolate, crackers, caesar salad dressing, lollies, mayonnaise, soup, crepes, pancakes.

Even a lot of innocent-looking veggie stuff still contains egg as a binding agent – like most Quorn products. These things won't even just say "egg" either; they might say stuff containing the incredibly gross word "ova": ovalbumin, ovomucin, ovomucoid. And they contain dairy if it says whey, lactose or casein. Sorry, I know it's anal, but you have to do this if you want to really understand what it takes to be a #smoking #hot #vegan.

Photo by author

PEOPLE WILL SNEER AT YOY AND AT LEAST 20 WILL SAY, "HOW DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE'S VEGAN? DON'T WORRY, THEY'LL TELL YOU"

How do you know if someone's a boring bastard? They will say the above joke as if it's their own. They will also say "eating meat is natural, cavemen did it", to which you must respond: "Yeah, Dan, but at various points in history we also thought it was OK to have sex with animals. Grow up." Thing is, people don't like other people trying something new. We don't like people doing anything that's going to better either themselves or the world as a whole if we're not doing it ourselves. We get defensive if people aren't as predictable as us because it calls into question our own actions and belief systems. We want everyone to be as shitty as us, thanks v much.

YOU WILL HAVE A FUN CONVERSATION WITH YOUR GRANDPARENTS, OR ANYONE OVER 60, FOR WHOM THE IDEA OF NOT EATING MEAT, DAIRY OR EGGS WITH EVERY MEAL IS INCONCEIVABLE

Old people will be kind and try to serve you vegetarian pizza and then be completely bemused and have to be talked through why it's not vegan at all and that pizza cheese is still cheese. What about eggs? No, nan. Well you can have fish can't you? No, nan. You can just have one boiled egg, don't be ridiculous. LOL FRAID NOT, NAN!

WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK OR HUNGOVER YOU WILL FAIL OR VERY NEARLY FAIL

Forget the "not eating cheese" bit; this is the real litmus test for whether you'd make it as a Full Blown Vegan. Hopefully you're doing Dry January too, which, combined with Veganuary, now means you have no friends at all, meaning no peer pressure and very little risk of drunk cheese toasties.

YOU'LL HAVE TO EAT SIDES AT RESTAURANTS AND PRETEND YOU'RE HAPPY ABOUT IT

Nah, it's fine – I completely don't mind paying quite a lot more than you for a meal of sweet potato fries, fancy broccoli and plantain chips.

Photo by author

YOU MIGHT PUT ON WEIGHT

Thought I was going to say you'll lose weight, didn't you! Sorry, all that shitting has done little to help you shed the pounds. If you're going temp-vegan to lose weight without trying then don't bother. All those carbs – combined with the fact you may be overeating to compensate for all the meat and cheese you're missing – could see you put a load of weight on.

VEGAN CHOCOLATE IS BETTER THAN MILK CHOCOLATE

Milk chocolate is a disgusting affront to the cocoa bean and only for children still suckling from the teet. I sort of don't want to tell you about this because you might buy them all, but Vego bars will become your best friend. They're basically sugar, hazelnuts and cocoa, and might leave you sweating from the blood sugar spike, and so therefore are obviously delicious.

ONE MONTH ISN'T ENOUGH TO MAKE THE CRAVINGS STOP, SO JUST CARRY ON

It takes about 45 to 60 days to "get over" your emotional and physical cravings for something. You're not going to be completely onboard with this hip new lifestyle after one month. You might, however, get the initial boost of energy most new vegans get, which may be enough to inspire you to carry on. If you need an extra hand, just watch Cowspiracy repeatedly and eat 300 of those Vego bars.

@hannahrosewens

More on veganism:

Clean Eating Is Giving Veganism a Bad Name

There's Nothing Pretentious About Being a Vegan

How to Go Vegan When You're Young and Broke

The guns Nazzareno Tassone sold before he left Edmonton for Syria were nothing like the ones he'd use while fighting against the Islamic State.

While they were in the same general form, these were primarily plastic, not metal or wood, soft projectiles, not armour piercing. Talking to a LARPing group on Facebook, Tassone wrote, "since you fine folks enjoy Nerf guns, I got a few for sale."

"They all work. Few missing parts. Leaving the country so need them gone. Thanks for your time."

Seven months after selling the toy weapons, on December 21, Tassone would be killed by the Islamic State during an operation to take back Raqqa.

Tassone was born in Keswick, Ontario and moved to Niagara Falls as a teenager, where he met Aleks Rakocevic, a long time friend. Speaking to VICE, Rakocevic described Tassone as a "very ambitious young man, a very enthusiastic guy who really put his heart into everything that he did."

He was a man always willing to try new things.

"We played games together, he used to play the Burlington Vampire games [LARPing] with me. He enjoyed the game, he enjoyed getting in there and playing a character and doing all the in-game stuff," he told VICE.

"It wasn't something that took up all his time or anything but we loved doing it. He had lots of hobbies that he did, we originally met playing Aerosoft, he did paintball for a while when he was younger. Hobbies change over time you know."

Rakocevic said that Tassone loved the army and always wanted to join but never could.

"He always wanted to be a part of something bigger than himself and it looked like he went and did that."

In 2014, Tassone, with his girlfriend, moved to Edmonton from Ontario for a job with CN rail. While in Alberta's capital, Tassone continued to LARP and make friends online and off. His Facebook profile picture was taken at the "Larpies," an event he described as "like the Oscars for underworld LARP in Edmonton." Tassone eventually lost his job at CN but after time found work with Impark, a parking lot company in Edmonton.

Tassone taking in "the Larpies" in Edmonton. Photo via Facebook

It was in early 2016, that he started talking to a few friends about going overseas to fight ISIS and finally, in June, Tassone boarded a plane for the Middle East. He told his family he was going to teach English as a second language in Iraq. However, after arriving in Turkey Tassone met up with a recruiter for the the Kurdish People's Protection Unit (YPG) and joined their ranks.

One of the few people he had told his plan to was Mike Webster, an online friend.

"He was certainly idealistic," Webster told VICE. "I think what motivated it wasn't really that he was looking for adventure but he was seeing what was going on over there and was disgusted by it and wanted to do something about it."

The YPG is a fighting force of about 50,000 strong in northern Syria fighting for a democratic Syria against ISIS. Among them are a group of foreigners that have left their homes all over the globe to pick up arms against the Islamic state.

Macer Gifford, a UK man who has done two tours with the YPG and is the chief executive of Friends of Rojava Foundation, said that he may have met Tassone on the last day of his 2016 tour in Syria when he welcomed the new fighters. While he's not 100 percent sure the two crossed paths, what he is certain of is the reputation Tassone earned from fellow friends still in the mix.

"They told me he was a very lovely person, a very sweet person, very chilled out, very popular," Gifford told VICE. "There will be a lot of fighters that will be absolutely devastated by this news. The man showed an exceptional level of bravery."

Tassone's fellow fighters referred to him warmly as "Nazz."

Gifford said that it is normal for people with no prior military experience to join the YPG and that, sometimes, they do even better than former servicemen because of the difference in combat styles.  

Although the internet access was shoddy, Tassone kept in touch with Webster when he could while fighting in Syria. Webster said the last he heard from Tassone was in late November when he received a message saying that the 24-year-old had done well in a battle called Manbij and was building a role for himself in the group.

"Initially his role was basically an infantryman essentially," said Webster. "Last time I had spoken to him, he said he had gotten into sniping. He was proud of that, he was proud of the work he was doing."

Tassone, left, and Ryan Lock, a 20-year-old UK man. Both were killed fighting ISIS on December 21, 2016. Photo supplied.

Webster said he was told Tassone was with Ryan Lock, the 20-year-old British man also killed on the 21st, guarding a post when there was a large attack by ISIS and both were killed in battle. Gifford heard a similar story saying that "Nazz" was on the frontline, an area rife with snipers, mines and "horrendous fighting."

ISIS has claimed they have 7,000 fighters in Raqqa. The city is an important one in the battle for Syria's soul. Gifford described the city as "the very heart, this is the military capital of the Islamic State, something they will refuse to surrender."

"While the world has its eyes on Aleppo, there is a secret war in northern Syria that is the real war against jihadism," said Gifford. "The real war against the Islamic State."

The battle that cost Tassone, Lock, and four other fighters their lives took place in Jaeber village, just outside of Raqqa. While it's impossible to know exactly what happened to "Nazz," Gifford said he is familiar with the type of firefight that Tassone was killed in.

"[They] would have taken the village from ISIS, most possibly in the night, which possibly gives them some level of cover. They would get inside the village and a huge firefight erupts and they kick ISIS out. Then ISIS came back in force, they would have dug in but ISIS has such significant numbers they were unable to resist and they had to pull out of the village themselves and in the brutality of the fighting they were killed."

ISIS still has Tassone's body and his family has launched a Facebook page called "Bring Nazzareno Tassone Home" that implores the Canadian government to bring his body back to Canada. On the page, they share a portion of the letter they got from the YPG.

"Nazzareno was not only a fighter providing additional forces to our struggle," reads a portion of the letter. "In fact, with his experience and knowledge he has been an example for younger fighters."

The last photo Nazzareno Tassone posted of himself online. The caption reads "Hey all from Turkey." Photo via Facebook

As for how a LARPer from Canada found himself overseas fighting ISIS alongside Kurdish forces, Gifford said, well, that's just par for the course. The foreign recruits for the YPG are a mixed bag of people ranging from communist, to conservative, globalist to, in this case, a kind-hearted LARPer. Gifford said while fighting alongside someone you don't think of your differences, only what you share in common.

"The reason we all get along, whether you're a former servicemen or a non-servicemen or a conservative or leftist is that, what unites us, is a belief in democracy," said Gifford. "So going out there and fighting for a secular democracy is incredibly important to all of us and then, of course, another thing that unites us is an absolute burning hatred for the Islamic State and everything they stand for."

Tassone is the second Canadian killed while fighting alongside the Kurds in Syria. The first was John Gallagher, who was killed in November of 2015 after bleeding out from a gunshot wound to the hip. When Tassone was killed, Webster said the YPG contacted him via text message asking for help getting ahold of the fallen man's family.

"I was able to, thankfully, get ahold of some mutual friends and had somebody who was down in Niagara Falls and tell his mother what had happened before they read it in the newspaper," said Webster.  

Rakocevic was one of the people Webster was able to get ahold of. Tassone's old friend from Niagara said he was there when the news was broken to Tassone's family, some of which were still of the belief that he was teaching in Iraq.

"I don't think any of us knew exactly what he was doing until we found this out. We know he went over there to teach English. We knew he was in the Kurdish areas but as far as I knew he was teaching there, it wasn't going to be a surprise if he got shot at but I also didn't expect him to be fighting."

"It was extremely upsetting to learn."

Tassone's family, speaking to the CBC, said that they were proud of the man who was described as a hero and a martyr by the YPG. Gifford and Webster likewise echoed that sentiment and added that Tassone formed an intense bond with his fellow fighters over the several months he spent fighting ISIS.

They said the man died doing something he believed in.

"He was with his friends, doing something he was passionate about, doing what he felt was the right thing and I think everyone who goes out there knows they may not come back and he just paid the ultimate price and showed the very best of himself, showed the very best of Canada too," said Gifford.

Webster said that in all his talks with Tassone the young man never seemed fearful or concerned for his safety.

"He told me once, 'I don't care how intense it gets, I'm not leaving my brothers.'"  

Follow Mack Lamoureux on Twitter .

Lead image: Nazzareno Tassone, left, in Syria alongside a fellow YPG fighter

Since the Industrial Revolution, humans have been obsessed with the idea that machines will steal our jobs—and that fear appears to be playing out. 2016 was another year towards complete automation, with service and driver jobs—two of the most common professions in the United States—marching towards obsolescence.

The often-cited statistic is that 47 percent of US jobs will be lost to robots in the next decade or two, and a recent report from the United Nations raises that number, saying that two-thirds of all jobs in the developing world are at risk of being poached by automation.

But will robots take all the jobs? The popular opinion is that they won't. Communication, high-skilled and creative jobs won't be taken by robots in the foreseeable future, some say. And according to Google's chief futurist Ray Kurzweil, when the robots get smarter than us, "We are going to have new types of jobs creating new types of dollars that don't exist yet and that has been the trend."

But what if these optimists are wrong?

It's just too hard to predict which jobs robots will and won't take. For instance, you might think a job like an architect requires creativity, but robots could easily do most of what an architect does, as Oxford University Economics Professor Daniel Susskind pointed out to VICE.

It's quite possible that even if robots don't take all the jobs, they'll take most of them. And if/when they do, how will we spend our time?

The simple answer is: Nobody knows.

But here's one way things might play out: George Mason University Economist and Futurist Robin Hanson predicts in his book The Age of Ems that in roughly a century (a long way off as far as futurists predictions go), robots will become like the poor working class, doing most—if not all—of the jobs to make the world run efficiently.

The robots in Hanson's future are programmed with brain emulations—sort of like what you did with your Super Nintendo back in the day, but with your brain. The "ems" could then be put on fast-forward so 1,000 years of robot work would only take one-year of our time.

So with robots doing all of the work at mind-boggling speeds, what would we be doing?

"What [humans would] do is pretty much what all you and your friends would do if you were able to retire," Hanson told me.

I'll let your imagination wander on that for a sec…

Hanson says that while robots become the working class, jobless humans might be like ancient Greek elites.

"[The Greeks]... became more promiscuous and more leisurely and focused on travel and art and things like that," said Hanson. "In some sense our whole society is now enacting that as we all get rich and there's no particular reason to think that that trend doesn't continue."

Hanson doesn't expect that robots will become our overlords or try to kill us off. There wouldn't be a point. Humans would just be these weaklings chilling in retirement communities (perhaps turning their friends into zombies and fucking with dicks on their foreheads). And we wouldn't want to rebel against the robots because we're too damn weak.

The major hole in Hanson's theory—one he acknowledges—is that the money earned by robots probably wouldn't be distributed equally. Maybe monopolies that own the robots will take control of the wealth, or maybe governments will—but the majority of us will probably be starved and in agony, with no work left to do. That is, unless we change up the economic system and upend capitalism.

Sounds nutty when you put it like that, but the idea of spreading free money to everyone in the form of a universal basic income dates back as far as 1516 with Thomas More's Utopia and has been proposed by prominent Republicans and Democrats alike. And the idea has already been tried. Experiments have taken place in Manitoba, Ontario, Uganda and Namibia—all with hopeful results regarding the alleviation of poverty.

But hold on, who are we kidding? People are too lazy and they'll just sit around eating Doritos instead of doing anything productive, right?

Currently, there's evidence to back up the people-don't-do-shit-if-they're-not-working theory. Retired folks spend half their leisure time melting in front of the TV, and when we're not working we feel guilty about not being productive and shove our faces into a bowl of ice cream while watching Netflix instead. Besides, what are we supposed to awkwardly tell people at dinner parties when we're asked: "So what do you do?"

Our identities are completely shaped by our jobs. "Love and work…work and love, that's all there is," Sigmund Freud famously said.

But there's a group of people out there called "post-workists" who point out that work doesn't actually make us happy. Work makes us depressed and if you go by the traditional definition of happiness—having meaningful relationships, being good at what you do and having freedom—there are other ways to be happy outside of slaving over a 9-to-5.

Doing art or being an artisan, taking care of people and inventing shit currently aren't always paid a lot—if at all—but they all give you purpose, the feeling of independence and the potential to become really good at something. What else do you really need? And if we were given enough money in the form of a universal basic income, we'd be as content as can be, as the theory goes.

Unfortunately, there's no way to actually prove that we won't just sit around and eat Cheetos instead of doing something useful when the robots take our jobs. But that doesn't mean there's no evidence at all to draw from.

If we look to the past, farmers and their kids didn't have jobs per say, but they made themselves useful throughout the day. And if we go back further to when we were hunter-gatherers, humans made use of our time without institutions like religion, marriage or land ownership. Even in modern times, for the hunter-gatherer Pirahã tribe, work is fun and time off isn't something to feel guilty about. "We think it's bad to just sit around with nothing to do," said anthropologist Daniel Everett, who researched the Pirahã, to The Atlantic. "For the Pirahã, it's quite a desirable state."

So what will we do when robots take our jobs? Hopefully by then we'll have developed a universal basic income—for the whole world, not just each country—and be able to do what we really want instead of working for the sake of working.

But somehow it's easier to picture being picked apart by murderous robot tentacles than to imagine a work-free future.   

Follow Joel on Twitter.

Everything you need to know about the world this morning, curated by VICE.

US News

Trump Picks Fight with US Intelligence
President-elect Donald Trump has renewed his dispute with the US intelligence community, claiming a top-level briefing he was set to receive on Russian election interference was delayed until Friday. He tweeted: "Perhaps more time needed to build a case. Very strange!" But a senior intelligence official insisted there had been no delay.—NBC News

NAACP Officials Arrested for Protest Against Senator Sessions
Six NAACP protesters were arrested after staging a sit-in at the Alabama office of Senator Jeff Sessions, a protest against president-elect Donald Trump's controversial nomination of Sessions as Attorney General. NAACP president Cornell William Brooks was among those charged with criminal trespass in Mobile, Alabama.—CNN

Activists to Distribute Free Weed During Inauguration
Activists from the DCMJ group are planning to give out free weed in the nation's capital on January 20. The #Trump420 will see protesters march to National Mall and light up 4 minutes 20 seconds into Donald Trump's speech. The passing of Initiative 71 in 2013 made it legal to possess, grow, or give away small amounts of marijuana in the District of Colombia.—CBS News / DCMJ

Ford Cancels Plan for New Factory in Mexico
Ford has cancelled its plan to build a new $1.6-billion plant in Mexico and will spend spend $700 million broadening operations in Michigan instead. Ford CEO Mark Fields said the decision had been mainly determined by a decline in demand for small cars. But he also described it as a "vote of confidence" in president-elect Donald Trump, who has threatened manufacturers with a "border tax."—Reuters

International News

Attack in Philippines Prison Lets 150 Escape
More than 100 gunmen launched an attack on a prison in the southern Philippines, allowing 158 inmates to escape. One guard and six prisoners at North Cotabato District Jail were killed in the violence, and only eight who escaped have been caught. Officials suspect the armed men were linked to the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) separatist movement.—AFP

Turkish Authorities Have Identified Nightclub Attacker
Turkey's foreign minister Mevlut Cavusoglu said the identity of the suspected gunman who killed 39 people at the Reina nightclub in Istanbul is now known to the authorities. Cavusoglu said the gunman's house has been searched and the hunt for his capture continues. Cavusoglu said the nightclub attack had been organized by "professionals."—Al Jazeera

Indonesia Suspends Military Ties with Australia
Indonesia has suspended military cooperation with Australia over Australian Army teaching materials. Indonesian military spokesman Major General Wuryanto said the "offensive" content had been seen at an Australian Army base in Perth. Reports suggest it related to the principle of "Pancasila," the philosophical underpinning of the Indonesian state.—Reuters

Israeli Soldier Convicted of Manslaughter
An Israeli soldier has been convicted of manslaughter after he was filmed shooting dead a wounded Palestinian attacker who was lying on the ground. Sergeant Elor Azaria shot 21-year-old Abdul Fatah al-Sharif in Hebron in March last year, after Sharif and another young Palestinian stabbed an Israeli soldier.—BBC News

Everything Else

Zuckerberg to Tour the States in 2017
Mark Zuckerberg has pledged to tour around 30 states in 2017 to fulfil a personal challenge to have visited every state in the US. The Facebook CEO said he wanted "to get out and talk to more people," a possible indication of a move into politics.—The Guardian

Ellen Cancels Appearance by Kim Burrell
Ellen DeGeneres said Kim Burrell will not make a scheduled appearance on her show after the gospel singer made homophobic remarks at a church sermon. A video posted on YouTube showed Burrell describing homosexuality as "perverted."—Entertainment Weekly

Megyn Kelly Leaves Fox News to Join NBC
Megyn Kelly has explained why she is leaving Fox News to join NBC News. Kelly told Fox News viewers the move would allow her more "human connection" with her children. She also said she was joining journalists she "admires" at NBC.—The Daily Beast

Coachella Line-Up Includes Beyoncé and Radiohead
Beyoncé, Radiohead, and Kendrick Lamar will headline Coachella in 2017. Other big performers announced for the April festival in California include Bon Iver, Future, Gucci Mane, The xx, Lorde, and Father John Misty.—Noisey

Governor Cuomo Wants to Make State College Tuition Free
New York governor Andrew Cuomo has announced plans to offer free tuition at state colleges and universities for families earning less than $125,000 a year. It would apply to two-year community colleges and four-year public colleges and universities.—VICE News

Feral Cats Now Cover 99.8 Percent of Australian Continent
A study by the Australian government's National Environment Science Program has revealed feral cats now cover 99.8 percent of the continent, and 80 percent of Australia's islands. Scientists are worried cats could wipe out many bird species.—Motherboard

'Tis the season for detoxes and misplaced hope. As a registered dietician and resident nutrition expert to my friends and family, I constantly get questions about detoxes and cleanses, especially as people are trying to move beyond their holiday-season gluttony.

Even if you do find yourself on the wrong end of a holiday binge, unfortunately, there's no evidence that drinking a series of juices, teas, or any of other so-called 'detox' products do anything besides profit the people selling them. Whenever I hear someone promoting a detox or a cleanse, I just roll my eyes and keep it moving. There are no shortcuts to health, yet plenty of "gurus" and celebs will tell you that drinking kale juice with activated charcoal can make you "toxin-free." These claims are everywhere from food blogs to food labels, and they've become falsely legitimized by their ubiquity. But there is good news!

Detoxification is a process that your body is already extremely well-equipped for, and there are certainly things you can do to support this—no quick fixes or miracles, but rather lifestyle choices that can give you a good baseline. I'm fully aware that it's not sexy to tell people to eat their vegetables, but it's the only advice that actually works… and it has the benefit of not costing $13 a bottle.

Read more on Tonic

On this episode of 'Smokeables,' our resident weed expert Abdullah Saeed uses a few rolling papers, some string, and a business card to show you how some Europeans like to roll their weed.

Tulip by Andrew Shalansky, UA Random2 Collection

Joint by Anniken & Andreas, NO Drug Paraphernalia Collection

Charles Manson, the 82-year-old former cult leader, is reportedly "seriously ill" and being treated in a Bakersfield, California, hospital for an undisclosed medical issue, according to multiple sources.

Los Angeles Times reports that a spokesperson for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation would not give specifics about Manson's health issues, but confirmed that he is still alive at this time.

Manson has been serving nine consecutive life sentences at a prison in Central California for masterminding the 1969 murders of Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring, and five others. Manson and his "family" expected the killing spree to ignite a race war, after which the Manson Family would emerge to lead the survivors. He and his accomplices were arrested and convicted due in large part to the efforts of prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi, who passed away in 2015.

Two years ago, Manson made headlines after he got engaged to a 26-year-old fan named Afton Elaine Burton, a.k.a. "Star," but the marriage fell through when he learned that the wedding was just a scheme for Burton to get control of Manson's body after his death.

Manson has been denied parole 12 times since his incarceration in 1979. His next parole hearing is slated for 2027, when Manson would be nearly 100.

On Wednesday, HBO released the first trailer for its upcoming documentary, Bright Lights, which followed the lives of actress Debbie Reynolds and her daughter, Carrie Fisher, before the pair's untimely deaths in December.

HBO first premiered the doc at Cannes last year and was set to release it in March 2017, but after Fisher suffered a heart attack and died December 27 and Reynolds passed away a day later, the network bumped up the release date to early January.

The trailer follows Fisher and Reynolds's lives as next-door neighbors in Beverly Hills as Fisher begins work on the latest installment of Star Wars and looks after 83-year-old Reynolds as she continues to perform at her Las Vegas show. The mother-daughter duo—along with Carrie's brother Todd—open up about living in the spotlight as one of Hollywood's most famous families, Fisher's struggles with depression, and the close relationship they share.

"I'm my mom's best friend," Fisher says in the trailer. "Far more than I would ever want to, I know what my mother feels and wants."

Fisher and Reynolds will be honored with a private memorial this Thursday, followed by a double funeral on Friday.

Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds premieres on HBO on January 7 at 8 PM. Have some tissues handy.

Beyoncé, our beloved, has recently been eternally memorialized at the Louis Tussaud's Wax Museum in Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada's answer to Niagara Falls, New York. But wait… is that Beyoncé or a robotic demon sent to us from an alternative universe? Because that's what I'm seeing.

It is important to note that many celebrities have been brutalized by their wax portrayals. But, sorry to all of the wax Morgan Freemans and Elvis Presleys, Beyoncé needs us right now.

What makes this wax figurine so outrageous? Is it because the figurine doesn't even look like an African-American woman? Or that it looks like a flight attendant wearing a 1970s inspired sleep gown? Whatever the wax-makers did, people are pissed.

Is this what the year 2017 holds for us? A white-washed, non-bootylicious, sad wax Beyoncé?

We went and asked visitors at Louis Tussaud's to see how they feel about it.

"Help...me."

Caity, Welland, Ontario  
VICE: You seem very upset looking at the wax Beyoncé. What's up?
Caity: That's my queen. Her ass is supposed to be flawless and it's flat as a pancake here. You know what else I noticed, all the other people look so good except Beyoncé! I feel personally attacked. 

Micky, Florida
VICE: Do you know who this is supposed to be?
Micky: *silence*

It's Beyoncé.
Were they going for the white Beyoncé? It's way too skinny and doesn't do her justice. And this is coming from a 40-year-old that only knows the song "Halo."

Tiffany, Niagara-On-The-Lake, Ontario
VICE: What brought you to the wax museum?
Tiffany: I literally only came here because I saw some tweets about this. It's obviously hilarious but when you really think about it they took a black idol and whitewashed her. Intentional or not I ain't down with it.

Author with "it"

Ahmad, Pickering, Ontario
VICE: What do you think of this Beyoncé?
Ahmad: Honestly, I didn't see the name tag at first and I thought it was a Hillary Duff with a bad tan and on crack. No wonder Twitter is shitting bricks. Hey! They didn't even spell her name right.

Eyebrows not on fleek

Follow Madi Fuller on Twitter.

What is cap and trade explainerA North American climate pricing market, once lauded as a huge step forward in fighting climate change, but it is now facing threats from all sides. Here's how the system is set up.

Every list of the things people most fear looks just about the same. On them, you'll find a fear of speaking in public, heights, snakes, spiders. Death, of course. And right alongside them is the fear of failure. Nearly everyone has this particular fear subconsciously baked into them from childhood. It's easy to understand why.

Like most people, I too was taught and instinctively believed that the purpose in life, one of its main directives, was to avoid failure at all costs. And that certain risks simply weren't worth taking if the possibility of failure was too high. This general fear of failure is one I've tried to eliminate from my own life, in part because failure seems to be a natural and unavoidable fact of existence. To fear trying something because you might fail seems almost as neurotic as being afraid of breathing or eating. But it sticks with us nonetheless, and in some cases can be quite debilitating.

The fact is, we all fail. No one is immune from tripping up, getting knocked down, or suffering from the large and small humiliations of slipping down life's ladder. In order to move through existence, we must be prepared to accept and even embrace these inevitable failures. Failures in our work. With friends. Family. In romantic relationships. These failures, by and large, aren't ruinous. We can rebound from them. This may be because, after them, we can still hold on to our sense of identity and piece the rest of our life back together. They're manageable.

A cataclysmic failure, a breakdown that contains within it a breakthrough.

But what I'm writing about today is bigger. A deeper fear of a darker type of failure. A cataclysmic failure, the likes of which changes one's life forever. It almost doesn't make sense to call what I'm talking about here "failure," but instead a total and complete fall from grace. A breakdown that contains within it a breakthrough. Hitting a type of rock bottom so hard, that we can feel the resounding thud deep in our soul. This is a reckoning. A life event so profound that it seems impossible to move past.

This "fall" can be of our own making or through circumstances we're wholly unable to control. Some event, or series of experiences so completely shattering, a fall so long and deep, that everything solid about life seems torn away. We lose ourselves completely in this suffering whether it be self imposed or pure underserved misfortune. The climb out of this sort of hole seems too arduous a task, maybe even impossible. We long for life as it once was, realizing we can never return to that place and also not seeing how we can remain like we are. In a fall of this magnitude, we feel that we have either failed at life, or that life has failed us.

You'll know it when you get there. And if it's already happened, you need no further explanation.

There's a Franciscan priest named Richard Rohr who writes eloquently about having the carpet ripped out from under you in this way. It seems inescapable that everyone will eventually be forced to confront themselves from the inside, often through a series of calamities or personal decisions. In his book Falling Upward, Rohr writes about what can be gained from a deep failure and describes how one can recover from something otherwise upsetting, frightening, and seemingly insurmountable.

Rohr describes this fall as entering into a the second half of life, and believes all people are either in the first or second halves of their lives depending on when they cross this threshold. This isn't chronological. He's met very young children he believed to already be in their second half of life (I too have experience with this), and old men who are still in their first. The second half of life begins after the "event" mentioned above, a collision with reality that hurls a person into what seems to be abyss.

In the first half of life, Rohr explains, people are busy constructing "containers" for themselves. This container is our identity. Within it are all of our particular points of view and beliefs, our interests, our tastes, our preferences. We cling to this idea of who we are based on an image of self defined by these perceived absolutes. Contained inside our vessel are signifiers to others about who we believe ourselves to be, and we come to believe it ourselves. We hold tightly to our opinions, mistakenly believing them to be who we are.

In our first halves, we reinforce and advertise this version of who we are to the world and to ourselves. It takes an extraordinary amount of energy and dedication to maintain it and keep it all congruent and held together. It can be a full-time job, just shoring up of this flimsy superficial construction of identity. And all along, deep down inside, we fear that all of this has very little to do with who we really are.

When the "fall" happens, we're forced by tragedy or a failure so deep—smashing into the rock bottom of the chasm in our soul—that our container is shattered and all the parts of who we thought we were show themselves to merely be a thin shell.

Sometimes we begrudgingly abandon this identity, sometimes we abandon it rejoicefully. But being forced through a humbling coming-to-terms encounter with the puzzle of our true inner self will never allow us to reassemble the Humpty Dumpty pieces of our old identity again. We have seen who we are, for better and worse, and this instills humility, compassion, and freedom. The freedom to just be, instead of having to always be "me." The world opens up. There is more clarity and also more confusion. Possibilities that once appeared binary reveal themselves to be infinite. Questions that were once black-and-white now appear prismatic. There is less certainty and more openness. The self remains a magnificent mystery, but it's now finally free to be that mystery fully, no longer squeezed into the container of identity.

As Rohr writes, only those who have failed, fallen, or gone down hard can truly understand up.

Don't be afraid of massive failure. Don't be afraid to fall. The worst ordeal of your life contains within it the potential to make you a better person. Sometimes falling down is actually lifting you into a higher part of yourself. The parts of you that were broken in the fall reveal the real you underneath.

Follow Andrew W.K. on Twitter.

Over the past four decades, Michael Jang's photography has magnified lives that most will never experience. Since 2012, VICE has published Jang's unique family photos, candids from his time at Cal Arts, and off-kilter portraits of amateur weather reporters. Now, the Bay Area photographer is sharing a collection of images of San Francisco's punk scene in the 1970s he took while in grad school. The energy Jang captures within his subjects mirrors the blaring music that accompanied the scenes his photos depict. Although we don't have the good fortune to know what it feels like to juggle a camera and flash while at a Ramones show, Jang's work illustrates an intimate view of punk. In these photos you see punk as a raw, charged scene that could detonate at any moment, unlike the way it now tends to be depicted, behind glass or on a museum wall.

After 40 years of collecting dust in boxes, Jang is finally showcasing these photographs at a one-night pop-up show this Thursday at Beams' B Gallery in Tokyo.

All photos by Michael Jang/courtesy of Michael Jang

VICE: Did you approach show photography the same way that you approached your street photography in the bay area?
Michael Jang: My personal history has gone through some interesting changes in the four or five decades of working. As a student in the 70s, my heroes were Friedlander and Winogrand. It was all about seeing through the viewfinder with an intensity that I can't quite get with an iPhone. Also, real darkroom prints were a part of the process. Going further, the endgame would be a show of perfectly printed and framed silver gelatin prints on white walls and maybe do a book. In the past several decades, I never really got around to all that. Because the times have changed and the audiences can access the work in ways not available before, I spend my time thinking up new ways for presentation. This particular event is all photocopy in terms of the zines and prints. I think it also fits perfectly with the punk aesthetic.

There are so many angles and perspectives in this body of work that are so specific to photographing a show. Were the shows you were going to a hard environment to take photos at?
I never thought about anything technical, except to respond to what was in front of me. Often when shooting live music, you feel and hear the music and think you are having a great time and therefore getting great shots. I was careful not to forget that the picture was the main event and that looking at the pictures later would not have the benefit of a soundtrack to make them better.

One of the photos in the series is of Johnny Rotten, just after the Sex Pistols' last show in 1978. How did you end up getting that shot?
I had seen the Sex Pistols' last show at Winterland in San Francisco. As a freelance photographer, I had a job the next morning to shoot the employee of the month at the Miyako Hotel at 10 AM. When I walked in, I saw Johnny in the bar area, smoking cigarettes and having some beers. He told me that they had just broken up.

What made you decide to keep these photos under wraps for so long?
Again, I did them for just the pure pleasure of it and didn't even think they would have any value. Sometimes in life we miss the significance of something when it's actually happening.

Do these pictures hold a particular meaning to you? Do they become more powerful over time?
It is a fun thing to reconnect with people through the photos almost four decades later. One person, Chip Kinman of the Dils, is still rockin'.

Do you have a favorite from the collection?
That's a tough one. If had I had to keep one, it might be the Bowie.

How do you feel about the work and the scene that you were a part of now, 40 years later?
I feel so fortunate to have done all this work initially as a hobby/passion, and for it to have a social and even artistic relevance 40 years later to an even wider audience is just beyond a dream come true.

More photos below.

Michael Jang will take place on Thursday, January 5, from 6–8 PM at B Gallery in Shinjuku, Tokyo. For more of Michael Jang's photography, follow him on Instagram.

Follow Matthew James-Wilson on Instagram.

A soldier the size of an oak tree stands in the Texas heat, sipping from a red plastic cup of warming beer. He tells me his name is David. His intimidatingly huge tattoo of a shrieking bald eagle and waving American flag on his equally massive bicep suggests David leans conservative. But he's reluctant to admit this to me. The reason may be that I'm one of the few black faces at a country show in the rural exurbs of Austin. David assumes we'll disagree, politically. After he enjoys another swallow of beer, David seeks common ground. He happily confides this is the first time he's ever seen Willie Nelson perform live. He and his girlfriend have driven across Texas to see this show.

We're at the Circuit of the Americas racetrack. It hosts Formula One races, and just like Texas it's a big open space. Under the high sun and thin clouds, a hot, hollow wind whips across the track. Throughout the early afternoon, the music emanating from multiple stages gets caught and garbled by sudden gusts of air. If you've never been down in Austin in July, it's hotter than the Devil's balls. The heat forces people to huddle together in small spots of shade. Any direction you look, strangers share the cool.

Thousands of fans––both brand new and diehard––traveled here, like David, for Willie Nelson's annual Fourth of July picnic. There are American flags everywhere. You spot flags on the sweating cans of domestic beers. They decorate T-shirts that stretch across the bellies of fans, they unfurl and sag under the heft of a breast suspended by a tank top and nothing else; as a bandana, a flag holds back the hair of a blonde boy. The unmistakable skunk smell of pot wafts through the crowd, lacing the event with a hippie vibe. Meanwhile, families gather on picnic blankets on the grass. Baby-boomer grandparents huddle with grandkids in the stands of seats. They clap along together to an opening act. It's proof that as much as things change, some things stay the same. Budweiser wets the smiles of sun-baked fans whose shoulders are already the color of cooked lobsters. But they don't care about the sun. Not today. They're eager to see the outlaw country legend take the stage.

Behind a food truck, on her break, a young black woman smokes a cigarette. We nod and smile like two travelers lost in a strange land. Her name is Crystal Banks. Twenty-five years old, she's come from Daytona to work this event to raise money for her non-profit group back in Atlanta, Georgia–Soul Kids. She travels all over America selling food at concerts. Her face is proud. You sense what she does matters to her. When I ask her about the show, Crystal admits she's not super excited to see Willie perform. But she likes that he smokes pot. She credits Willie as a leading advocate for legalization. Like him, she's dedicated to social justice. Crystal mentions her active involvement in #BlackLivesMatter. It excites her about our future: the idea everyone can come together and change. Like a missionary for his music, I attempt to explain why Crystal may really enjoy Willie's songs. She listens, says she'll check out his show.

Continue reading on Noisey.

As Canadians await the legal weed they have been promised by Justin Trudeau, it's become obvious that Trump's America will inevitably share a border with a country whose drug policy it is increasingly at odds with. While Trump has yet to comment on Canada's looming recreational marijuana legalization and regulation, he has said that weed will be kept illegal at the federal level in the US.

University of Windsor law professor Bill Bogart says that Trump's stance on weed could cause "discomfort" for Canada.

"With Canada, the flashpoint could be the fact that when we legalize and regulate marijuana, we will not be in compliance with several international covenants that we are parties to that attempt to control drugs, and attempt to do that largely through prohibition," Bogart told VICE. "We will be departing from those conventions."

Bogart stresses that we should characterize our wonderings about Trump right now as speculation—the president-elect has somewhat flip-flopped on the topic of marijuana in the past. Trump once told the Miami Herald that the US needed to "legalize drugs to win" the War on Drugs, but last year in an interview with Bill O'Reilly he both expressed his support for medical marijuana and called Colorado's legal weed industry "a real problem." Mike Pence, who will soon be vice president, is against legalizing weed, and Trump's pick for attorney general, Republican Senator Jeff Sessions, told the Washington Post in 2016 that "good people don't smoke marijuana."

"If Mr. Trump and Mr. Sessions get together and decide that they're going to rekindle the War on Drugs, that could be a problem for the several states that have already legalized and regulated marijuana." But in addition to that, Bogart says it's possible the Trump administration could put a strain on Canada's legalization and regulation processes.

"It is conceivable that so much pressure could be put on Canada that Trudeau would have to say we can't proceed until we get the international obligations sorted out… I think it is more likely that if Trump and Sessions catch their eye on what Canada is doing, there will have to be a lot of diplomatic maneuvering and even wrangling," he said.

Another possible complication is that the illicit marijuana market in Canada, which will soon begin to be ousted by legalization, could cause issues with trafficking into the US.

"The illicit market is not going to disappear overnight. There will be remnants of it for a while, and part of it may be attempts to smuggle marijuana into the United States." While the legality of drug trafficking between the two countries is not going to change just because Canada legalizes marijuana, Bogart says that eventually we could be looking at a similar situation to how alcohol is dealt with at customs, when and if both countries legalize weed.

Ultimately, though, Bogart says he thinks that Trump and Sessions will have a lot to deal with and that marijuana might not be a big concern for them initially. "They could just say that they're going to leave marijuana alone, various states can legalize it and regulate it based on their own individual decisions, and Canada can have this experiment… They could just be indifferent and see where we are in four or five years."

Follow Allison Tierney on Twitter .

Two words describe how American public middle school teachers compare to other wealthy countries: Overworked and underpaid.

American teachers in such schools spend more time teaching than peers in other member countries of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), a economic research group that focuses on the world's more affluent countries.

However, they earn only 70 percent of what workers with similar levels of education make. On average, teachers in public middle schools in OECD countries earn roughly 85 percent of what similarly educated workers bring home.

Read more on VICE News