I was my "ideal weight" at my Year 12 valedictory dinner: a six-foot, 50-kilogram mess of gangly limbs and anemia. I was hungry and faint all the time; deliriously anorexic. I loved it.

But in my size 6 dress I was still wholly convinced that I still needed to wear Spanx. Even after two and a half hours' cardio that day, and every other day. The night ultimately took a turn after I downed my sixth glass of prosecco and my friends found me sprawled out on the bathroom floor, trawling around in an alcohol-infused delirium. I'd begun to feel my ankles quake and my vision fade, so had fled there for some privacy. I gave an excuse, collected myself, then went to receive my award.

At 18, the eating disorder wasn't a new fixture to my personality. I had began to constrict my portions because I equated thinness with greatness. I truly believed that regardless of the fainting spells and perpetual hunger pains, there was something "higher" to my disorder. That being lean was to exist as a floating, emotionless entity. And I didn't want to feel emotions, especially not frustration or anxiety. I only wanted to be successful. My inspiration came from the person I looked up to the most: my dad.

He has always been an athletic man, dabbling in amateur basketball and swimming. He's always had his looks, too; when he married my mum he stood at a tanned six-foot three inches. In their wedding photos his white smile is brighter than her lace, and her appearance was always secondary to his. He liked being the most handsome man in the room, and making people aware of it. "Handsome Man," he'd call himself. That's what being a man meant to him—looking good.

One of my earliest memories of us is my father waking me up with a hemp juice. I couldn't have been older than nine but I can still taste the coarse, gluggy concoction. "Drink it," he said to me, sternly, with a smile. I did what I was told, skulled the grey swamp water. "It'll make you strong," he assured me. Then we went on our routine five kilometre run. He always ran ahead, panting heavily, but my spindly legs kept up. Back home, he'd greet my mum with, "Marie, next time you should definitely join us. We burned 1,000 calories... Hemp juice? You could use it."

My father exercised until exhaustion, crash dieted, lived solely on green juices, drank himself into oblivion, disciplined his children with flurries of rage, and chain smoked to quiet his cravings for food. He wanted to look like someone who does True Grit every weekend, but beneath the taut muscles and tanned skin was a tumultuous mess of charred lungs, fat liver, and a barren stomach—a relentless clash of alcohol and nutrition.

My dad's dad, my opa, was a stoic man. The Red Army pushed him from Latvia to Australia during World War II, so he made a life for himself building houses. He constructed the family home my dad grew up in but he was a cold, unflinching father. He didn't say much, which made my father, a sensitive individual, feel abandoned. But although my opa never offered physical or emotional warmth, he did offer a type of embrace through the thick, fortified walls he built. His masculinity was visible in the bare bricks and his football-sized muscles. I believe this triggered something in my dad.

My father's job chained him to work emails and Skype calls. He was a nerd, an IT guru, so striving for a certain type of maleness couldn't come from his profession. His athletic body depleting behind a desk, he got into "The Zone". The Zone is a diet of cold-pressed vegetable juices. And nothing else. For every meal of the week. Just. Juices. "When I'm in The Zone," he told me as he pulled out his waist-band to demonstrate his leanness, "I can shed half a kilogram a day." He gave up salt and went blind for eight hours, forcing my mum to take him to hospital.

To him, The Zone is about going right up to the lip of weight loss limits and laughing as you pass it. He wanted to be the master of his body, but then he drank until he couldn't feel it anymore. Inevitably, this skewed sense of masculinity rubbed off on the women in his life. My sister, mother and I all developed our own eating disorders and alcohol issues. Joe, my sister, jumped on the scales when she was nine and beat anorexia just last year at age 22. She has battled her own alcohol-infused demons.

One day, when I was 10, my dad took us to shoot hoops at the local basketball court. He brought along a six-pack of Tiger Beer and a bottle of Absolut Vodka too. Once there, he dribbled the ball by himself, drunk and sweaty. We were sitting on the sidelines watching him miss shot after shot, when my sister called out, "Moist Man!" Swaying, he wandered over and poured all his beer over her 11-year-old head. He then fished a bottle of homemade green juice from his backpack, skulled the lot, and left us in courtyard, stranded and hot. "I'll be back with cigarettes," he shouted back at us. I watched him stumble away while my sister, with her clothes dripping beer, held my hand tightly.

My mother wasn't immune to the pull of his obsession, either. By the time I was seven she'd had liposuction, cut out carbs, and been through numerous failed memberships to fitness clubs. She was 40 years old and in a moderate weight range, but to this wasn't enough for my father. So they worked out together and dieted. After they exercised they would sit on opposite ends of the dining table, silently drinking their respective liquids.

Despite the routines, mum's weight didn't move. She loved Cherry Ripes and had a stash in her underwear drawer. She also had a liver disorder which meant trying to shift extra kilograms was difficult. We could always count on my dad for not letting her stay in the "stupor" though. He loved making offhand comments about her weight: "Marie", he'd say, wearing Nike exercise shirts that smelt of last night's alcohol binge, "come for a walk with me before work. Let's get some of those toxins out of our bodies."

The alcoholism was critical to his maleness. Counterproductive to his weight loss, my dad would nonetheless always finish the working week with a bottle of European spirits and a six-pack of beer. He couldn't drink casually during the week because that would disrupt his workout routine. So every Friday he'd render himself a stumbling, boozy baby, locking himself in his office.

What followed was a barrage of verbal abuse—we were "bitches" and "didn't appreciate him"—and then hysterical crying over the fact he had "failed as a father", or because "no-one ever cares." If there were times my sister and I felt particularly frightened, we would call a cab and stay at a friend's house while my mum dealt with his moods. But we soon learned he wasn't afraid of driving drunk to find us. He wasn't afraid of crashing his car, getting arrested, or being hospitalised either.

Sooner or later, his insecurities became my habits. By the time I was 18 I had a severe eating disorder, plus an unhealthy reliance on alcohol. I ate raw till four, aggressively exercised, and prized my period-less adolescence. I loved that my body was working with me to deteriorate itself and look good.

The worst of my self-imposed deprivation came when I discovered my dad was cheating on my mum. Her name was Monica and she was from Romania; her hair was orange, like straw, and even now, after years of self-awareness and therapy, Monica is still a home-wrecking whore. Back then I had even more rage than I do now. To silence these emotions I turned to the treadmill. I worked on the only thing that made me feel I was in control. I couldn't handle my dad but I could manage how thin I was.

My sister would find me emaciated, running on the treadmill like a zombie. She'd try to pull me off the machine but I'd fight her with my nails and tears. When that didn't work, she reasoned with me. "Penny," she said, "Imagine what you could do with those two and a half hours every day if you didn't exercise. You could read, listen to podcasts, watch movies, learn a new skill." That was the clincher: I didn't want to waste my life in The Zone, like my dad. I wanted to be more than my insecurities.

When I moved overseas, I severed any remnants of my relationship with my him. On an international flight he had gotten drunk, called me a "bitch", then threatened to fight one of the passengers who tried to stop the irate tirade funnelling against me. My psychologist says having a relationship with him is impossible. "For the good of the progress you're making with your diet and anxiety," she explained, "A distanced father-daughter deal is probably the best, for now." We still talk on occasion, and I think I do love him, but I wouldn't call on him to protect me. Not because I don't think he would—in his own weird way, he would—but because I can't risk him shattering my confidence again.

My mum didn't want to be worn down by him either. She took him back after he cheated on her but eventually filed for divorce anyway. She'd had enough of the cucumber cold press juice that was 70 percent whisky. Strangely, they are still friends; she takes him to the hospital every so often, and buys him food when his Centrelink runs out. But she's distanced herself from him romantically. She loves her body, drinks shandies, and does zero exercise. She's never looked happier.

My dad is still an alcoholic. An ambulance rushed him to the emergency room a couple of months ago—they found a huge plate of glass protruding from his calf. In a drunken state he'd kicked down front door and couldn't bring himself to tend to the wound, or call for help. Instead he just sat there as blood collected around his body until a neighbour found him.

He's trying therapy. When we talk on the phone, every blue moon, he'll let slip of the sensitive chasm that's widening. "I'm calmer, Penny," he says, "I have a veggie patch coming along and the house renovations are almost finished. I can't wait for you to see it." And I'll tell him that the distance is good for us. I won't remind him my last memory of that house he's renovating was him throwing me out of it, drunk. And he won't tell me about the glass sticking out of his leg, like a flag in earth. Instead, on the phone and in person, I wait for him to get better. Because I'm better and I'm happy. I'm just waiting for him to catch up.

This article originally appeared on VICE Switzerland.

Tristan Eckert has an enviable sort of walk-in closet—his entire guest room is dedicated to clothing. Not for him, but for his drag alter-ago Ennia Face. The 38-year-old keeps his extensive collection of expensive wigs, tights, corsets, and high heels here—everything he needs to perform as Ms. Face in nightclubs across Zurich. "When I have people over and they wander into my drag room, they often think they've ended up in a toy store." His act isn't just limited to the club circuit. Ennia Face can also be booked for private events—like an upcoming 50 birthday party where she'll be serving cocktails while gliding on roller skates. I met up with Eckert during his lunch break from his day job—dressing mannequins in a retail store—to find out what he loves most about being Ms. Face, what his parents think of his hobby, and whether tucking in your penis for hours hurts or not.

VICE: How much do you charge for an event? Tristan: My costume is very expensive, so it's not really worth it for me to get into drag for anything less than $190. Still, I invest pretty much everything I earn in my wardrobe—with the wig, makeup, shoes, corset, gown, underwear, and stockings together, my attire for an evening is worth at least $600 to $1000. Isn't the kind of drag you're doing just a caricature of women? Well, in order for me to put on a show, my act needs to be completely over the top. And I'm trying to create the illusion while some masculine features of my body are working against me—like my broad shoulders and my less than slender legs. Originally, drag might have started as a play on female beauty standards, but the aesthetic has developed so much over the years that it stands on its own as an entertainment form. And there are female drag queens too.

Tristan outside the window he dresses.

What do your parents think of Ennia Face? I'm not completely sure because we haven't spoken about my hobby for a very long time. But I'm in a Swiss TV commercial in drag, and I do know that whenever it comes on while one of them is watching, they'll yell at the other to come watch. Which is very cute. They've actually never seen me perform live—but it would be a bit uncomfortable for a couple of 70-year-olds to be hanging out in a techno club.

Have you always loved performing? Yes—but it's not something I've always been given the chance to do. In school, we weren't really encouraged to explore our artistic abilities. If you had any sort of creative talent, you had to develop it in your spare time. The enjoyment I got as a kid from choir, theater, and music club, is the same pleasure I get now from performing in drag.

Do you feel more comfortable in drag? In a way, yes. Being in drag under the bright lights of a club is so much fun, but I try to make sure that I feel just as good about myself when I'm sitting in front of the TV without any makeup on. Like most teenagers, I went through that universal experience of feeling ugly and without a place in the world when I was growing up. But now that I understand more about life, I see how important it is to be comfortable with who you are.

How do you deal with your body hair? Luckily, I have very little hair. But I use the old trick of wearing four pairs of tights over each other to hide the leg hair I do have. The first layer is an opaque pink for color balance, the second two resemble my skin color, and the fourth is a sheen pair. That combination makes my legs look smooth and taut, just like a mannequin.

Watch: Backstage with RuPaul's Drag Race

Do people you perform for ever treat you like a sex object? Yes, but I know how to look after myself. I'm so used to drunks trying to grope me that when it happens, I just stay calm and defuse the situation by joking that it'll cost extra. I personally don't associate drag with anything sexual, so I would never seriously encourage it.

Does tucking in your penis hurt? No. Thankfully, Mother Nature made it fairly easy for men to hide their penis. So much so that I'm pretty sure that every dude has tucked their penis in at some point in their life, and squeezed their thighs together just to see what they'd look like without one.

My personal method is pretty simple: After I pull on those four pairs of tights, I grab my whole package and push it in place, back there. Those layers of nylon provide all the support I need. I do have to be careful when I sit down, though.

How do you go to the bathroom when you're in drag? Yeah that's pretty tricky. Usually, when I'm in drag, I'll only do shots so that I go less often. But if I absolutely have to go, then, depending on the outfit, I'll take a 45 minute break. That's about how long it takes to get everything undone, unbound, and untucked.

What quality does your drag persona have that you wish you had in your life? Ennia Face finds it easier to talk to strangers, and people seem to naturally gravitate toward her. There's also something about wearing high heels and a corset that allows you to move so gracefully, and just makes you feel so confident.

On November 8, 2016, Donald Trump won the presidential election. For many, the world itself seemed to change overnight. The old rules and certainties of politics were revealed as worthless; a sensation that anything could happen—for better or for worse—struck the entire country. The experts who so confidently predicted a Hillary Clinton victory looked like failures. The media gadflies in the alt-right gained new prominence and power, with some eventually getting White House press passes. And a crew of crony capitalists would soon assemble to advise the new president.

But even as Trump's supporters celebrated, the opposition became energized as well. Protests were organized, anti-Trump groups manifested seemingly out of nowhere, and hundreds of Democrats signed up to run for office. The political landscape is still undergoing the tectonic shift that began on Election Night, and no one is sure what it will look like once the shaking stops.

To be sure, Trump's victory affected some more than others. A year after the election changed everything, we talked to five people whose lives were transformed by Trump: an opposition activist, a Republican strategist, a Trump-loving social media maven, a college student running for office, and a racial justice advocate. Interviews have been edited for length and clarity.

Leah Greenberg, co-executive director, Indivisible

Photo courtesy of Leah Greenberg

After the election, Greenberg and her husband Ezra Levin, both former congressional staffers, became central figures in the opposition to the Trump administration when they published the Indivisible Guide.

My husband and I had organized a trip of about 15 people up to Pennsylvania to knock on doors for Hillary the week before [the election]. We came back from that trip and planned a party to celebrate. So we had about 40 people at our house, and the mood started off celebratory and got increasingly grim over the course of the night. It was a pretty tough night for everybody.

Immediately afterward, we were really alarmed by what we were hearing in Washington in meetings with progressives. There was this current of, Well we lost, we're going to have to cut some deals and accept that they're coming in and they're going to have their priorities. People sort of took for granted that the Affordable Care Act was lost already. Me and my husband Ezra, we were like, The incoming administration has some people who are talking about internment camps. Why would you be talking about deals on infrastructure?

Simultaneously, we were seeing this surge in energy from people who had not previously been politically engaged. We were meeting up with a college friend of ours who was running a Facebook group for people in the Austin area dedicated to resisting the Trump agenda. It was 3,000 people. It was called Dumbledore's Army. What she said was that people in her Facebook group were getting frustrated and felt like they were hitting a wall. They didn't really understand what any of their actions were adding up to, and they just didn't feel like local action was useful.

Ezra and I worked on the Hill during the rise of the Tea Party, and we knew that local action could be really, really successful because we had seen it used against us. So we had this idea that our contribution to this wave of energy would be to write this simple action manual about how to replicate some of the successes that we saw the Tea Party have in doing local, defensively-oriented congressional advocacy.

We launched this guide in mid-December, and we were promptly totally bowled over by the enthusiasm and energy that came back to us—people forming groups all over the country to put it into action. We pulled together a bunch of our friends and colleagues to start responding and basically built this big volunteer team of about 150 people who were working wildly unsustainable hours trying to build up what we could to respond to this wave of energy. I quit my job in mid-March and came on full-time.

I am simultaneously really alarmed by how much damage they have been able to do—the cabinet officials and the executive branch have really been wreaking havoc on a range of issues from voter rights and police brutality to, obviously, immigration to the environment to education and civil rights protections—and also the past year has borne out our original thesis that really determined congressional advocacy could change what was politically possible. This administration still has not passed any significant legislation. I'm hopeful that we are moving toward midterms in which Democrats are able to reclaim the House, and I think what we're seeing is there's a lot of energy and enthusiasm that's showing up in local elections and special elections. So I'm very hopeful that we'll see that next November.

Rick Wilson, Republican political strategist and media consultant

Screengrab from CNN via

After nearly 30 years helping to run Republican campaigns, Wilson became a prominent voice of the Never Trump camp in 2016, supporting the independent candidacy of Evan McMullin. He's continued to be an anti-Trump voice on cable news and Twitter.

I've never been a fan of the Clintons. I didn't go into election night thinking, This is so fabulous, and it's going to be really great to have Hillary Clinton as president. In fact, I was trying to race ahead a little bit and figure out how to rebuild the Republican Party and get it back on track to where it can effectively counter a Hillary Clinton presidency, because it's going to be a statist nightmare. I fucking loathed the woman. She's a terrible, monstrous human being.

My critique of Donald Trump from the start was from the right. I believe in limited government. He does not. I believe in the rule of law. He obviously, obviously does not. All these differences about what I thought Trump's risk factors were between myself and the bulk of my Republican friends, it's a pretty sharp dividing line. And I felt that dividing line Election Night pretty strongly. I try not to say this flippantly, because I think it underplays it if you're flippant about it: I truly believe Donald Trump has a mental disease or disorder that puts this country at tremendous risk.

Being a defrocked priest in the Republican Party is kind of a fun job in some ways. I've done a lot more writing. I had to sort of reconfigure some of my business model, because the Trump people are very big on scorekeeping and big on calling your clients and saying, "He doesn't believe in MAGA—you better not work with him anymore." But, ironically, I've also sort of become this confessor for a lot of Republican members, a lot of Republican leaders, who now call me up, even guys I didn't work with before, they call me up and they're like, "Oh my fucking god. I had to vote for this thing, I had to say this about him, can you fucking believe this guy?" This is every damn day.

"A person who you would absolutely know in national politics told me, 'I eat Ambien like it's candy every day because I have to pretend that this isn't really happening.'"

I've got some political clients that are starting to pop back on the radar too, which is interesting. Right now, I'm very quietly working on a political committee for a statewide candidate who is a rabid pro-Trumper on paper. He's only doing it because he's in a multiway Republican primary and recognizes that he has to play in a primary where the Republicans love Donald Trump right now. But he wants me around in the background to help to make the turn back to—as he put it to me—"back to sanity when I win the primary."

One of the great things is I sleep fine at night. A person who you would absolutely know in national politics told me, "I eat Ambien like it's candy every day because I have to pretend that this isn't really happening, and I have to pretend it's all OK, and I have to pretend we have an agenda, and I have to pretend that he's not crazy." A lot of people are taking Xanie bars, put it that way.

I'm working on a documentary right now called Everything Trump Touches Dies. That's been a blast. What we've learned is traditional political tools, ads, policies, they may have been superseded by social media chaos, celebrity, wit, skill, timing. There's a possibility I can make a bigger difference clarifying the way people really see Trump at the end of the day by being an advocate and an activist, and by being a filmmaker and a writer.

Bushra Amiwala, college sophomore and politician

Photo courtesy Bushra Amiwala

Since last year's election, people from all over the country have decided to run for office for the first time. Among them is Amiwala, a sophomore at DePaul University who hopes to be elected to the Cook County Board next year in Illinois.

During the summer of 2016, I was an intern for then-Republican Senator Mark Kirk. The reason behind that was I had a lot of friends who expressed interest in voting for Donald Trump to be our president. To me, it just seemed very odd for them to have a Muslim friend and to still want to vote for someone who spreads bigotry and used such harsh, racist language. So I was like, Let's take a first-hand look at what the Republican Party really entails, what they really care about. We had to go door-to-door or make a phone call and ask five questions. The only one I distinctly remember is I would have to ask the voter, "On a scale of one to five, how fearful are you of an Islamic terrorist attack happening on US soil?" Being a Muslim who wears a hijab, and was also wearing a shirt that says Mark Kirk on it, standing in front of a Republican voter's door asking her this question, I'm pretty sure she looked both ways looking for a camera.

On the night of Election Day I was in my house, and my older sister and my mom were actually in Pakistan. My mom was frantically texting me, saying, Who's winning? Who's ahead? And my dad and I, we were sitting in front of the TV, just watching the numbers go up and the states one by one turn red. I'm like, "Dad, what is going on?" It was scary. I woke up the next morning and my mom was like, "You need to not wear the hijab tomorrow." I was like, "I can't just stop wearing it." It had become part of my identity. I just didn't feel comfortable walking out of the house without it. The day after the election, in class, my English teacher pulls me aside. She's like, "How are you? Are you OK? Has anything happened yet?" The way that my mom feared for my safety is the way that a lot of people were fearing for my safety. It was scary. I don't think any of us have seen our country in this state before.

I think seeing [Trump's election] shed light on my dedication to politics a bit more. My parents and everyone were like, As a Muslim woman you should not be involved in politics. You should quote-unquote "know your place" and step back and not be so outspoken. It just comes with the fear that we don't deserve to speak out against the things we disagree with because we should just be grateful to even be living in this country. Even during one of the most intensely Islamophobic periods in our nation, I'm still doing this. It's a way to show others that they have no reason to hold back either, because our lack of engagement with the system has led us to this point.

Regardless of whether I get elected or not, I hope something my candidacy does is help inspire a new generation of politicians. Not just young people but women and people of color—now is the time when we have to reclaim what it means to be a politician in the United States.

Jack Posobiec, pro-Trump political operative

Photo courtesy of Jack Posobiec first published here

A former naval intelligence officer and Republican political staffer, Posobiec helped organize the "DeploraBall" to celebrate Trump's election and was one of the pro-Trump figures who popularized the "Pizzagate" conspiracy theory. He's often identified as a prominent member of the alt-right, but he insists that's inaccurate, instead identifying with the terms "new right" or "Trump right."

[Years ago] I had done some work as a political staffer for Republicans. We would win elections, and we won the House back in 2010, we did well at least congressionally in 2012, so we would rack up these victories, and nothing would ever change. None of our policy changes would get implemented.

During the election, I was operating with Citizens for Trump in a volunteer capacity. Around 3 PM, 4 PM I realized that the numbers in Philadelphia were nowhere near what they were during the Obama elections. I was hearing information from western Pennsylvania, central Pennsylvania—massive turnout. And if Trump wins Pennsylvania—ooh. I went over to 30th Street Station and bought a ticket and zipped up to New York and went to the actual victory party.

"Trump is basically just a pre-1990s Democrat."

After that, I noticed my public image really rising and my name getting out there a lot. I spoke at the DeploraBall, and immediately after that I started getting a lot of phone calls from people [in conservative media] saying, "Hey, I liked what you had to say. We want you to come in and do this or do that."

I would say 90 percent of the Trump movement is really more of a pullback from some of the polarization and some of the far-left policies that happened during the Obama administration. A lot of people say, and I kind of believe this too, that Trump is basically just a pre-1990s Democrat. He obviously takes a hard line on controversial issues like immigration, but on other economic and social issues he's quite moderate. And that's something I've even had to come to terms with because I am conservative, but am I going to support a guy who is more moderate?

And I decided that I would because I got sick of losing, quite honestly. I got sick of losing in the policy arena, I got sick of losing elections, and I thought it was a time to get back to centrism as a way first, and then if we can win on some other things let's push for that too.

My wife is an immigrant herself so I definitely can understand both sides of the coin. When I say our immigration system needs reform I mean there are people that want to come in that would be model immigrants, people that we want for our country and that we should be helping, and yet our system is just so stupid at times that you go in for in interview and you get denied for the dumbest reasons. Her family couldn't even come to our wedding. They were all denied visas.

I would say on a daily basis I'm [most] focused on kind of countering the mainstream media in a lot of ways, calling them out when they get something wrong, calling them out when there is a narrative focus issue that they're pushing and so they're only showing one side of the argument.

Ash-Lee Woodard Henderson, co-executive director, Highlander Research and Education Center

Photo courtesy of Ash-Lee Woodard Henderson

Henderson is a progressive southern organizer and a leader within the Movement for Black Lives. In February, she became co-executive director of the Highlander Center, which has been supporting racial, economic, and environmental justice movements in the South for 85 years.

On election night I was in Atlanta, Georgia, for the Facing Race conference. Several of us from the Movement for Black Lives decided we were going to crew up in a hotel room and watch as the results came in. I remember a comrade from the movement turned around and looked at me and said, "What's the first thing you would want to hear from a leader you trusted after this news dropped?" and feeling like there was nothing that a leader that I trusted could say to make me feel better about this. I was really frustrated that people, white-led movements of faith in particular, had really conceded the territory of the church, conceded the territory of rural white people, to the right.

"Fannie Lou Hamer said a long time ago that none of us are free until all of us are free, and I think we got a real taste of it after November."

We had already been thinking about strategies to protect and defend our communities, to build a new economy, to build a democratic participatory governance process. [After the election] we went into, OK let's implement this plan we've developed, that we spent like four years developing. The timeline on figuring out how to work in practices of solidarity really increased dramatically in those first few months. Fannie Lou Hamer said a long time ago that none of us are free until all of us are free, and I think we got a real taste of it after November.

We've seen huge surges in support for Highlander. The other piece of it is that we get requests for support, like hundreds of emails a day at least, from people saying, "Hey, can you get us in touch with other people that are fighting deportation and detention? Can you get us in touch with people that are trying to end police brutality and misconduct? Can you get us in touch with people who are trying to build worker-centered movements for people to get fair wages?" It's on and on and on.

What I'm seeing every day in my work isn't just a tragic story of the harm in our communities. That happens, no lie. Unite the Right 3.0 [a recent white nationalist rally] happened in my state, so I know all too well the response of white supremacists and white nationalists to this election. I see that every day. But on the days when it feels the worst, I see that the Southern Freedom Movement and the Black Liberation Movement have always resisted, and we've always won. And these responses are a sign that the people that feel threatened by that are doing everything in their power to consolidate their wealth and power, to keep us from doing it. And I believe with every inch of me, down to my bones, that we will win.

I think some folks feel like they went to sleep and they woke up and a terrible thing had happened, and they're like jerking awake. That happens. And then get involved with some of these organizations that have been on the ground doing this work for a really long time. If we do that, and especially if we center the South and center black people specifically, but people of colour in general, I think we'll save this country.

Follow Livia Gershon on Twitter.

This article originally appeared on ¡PACIFISTA!, VICE Colombia's platform for promoting peace. It is part of "The COCA Project," which aims to establish and bolster the public policy debate on issues related to the aftermath of coca production with stories from rural regions.

In the 1980s and 90s, Puerto Camelias, in the Colombian department of Caquetá, was often considered the country's cocaine capital. The village, which hugs a curve of the Caguán River, was among the spots producing the greatest volume of processed cocaine in the country's most comprehensively coca-obsessed agricultural region.

But that was then. Since 2004 or 2005, things have changed in this village of 50 homes, which can only be reached after a four-hour boat trip (or voladora, as they say here) from Cartagena del Chairá. Thanks to the US-financed military operations of the Colombian government's Plan Patriota (Patriot Plan), not only did Marxist FARC guerrillas withdraw from where they operated in the region, but—as a result of combat and fumigations—coca leaf and coke production virtually disappeared. The plant moved on quickly—like it always does—toward Nariño, Putumayo, and Norte de Santander, where it remains widely harvested today.

Lacking any support from the government, residents of Puerto Camelias promptly found themselves in search of new work. Previously, even those who weren't a grower or raspachín (harvester) in their own right made a living off people who were. When coca disappeared, cattle-farming emerged as the last viable economic alternative in an area where the only way to move goods was by river. That's where farmers still sell the milk and cheese produced on their land to people on the boats that pass by early every day.

But with a new way of life came a new obstacle: Herding cows required more pasture, so farmers started to cut down trees left and right. In Puerto Camelias, and in much of lower Caguán, workers exchanged an acute problem—and an illegal one—for another that, while legal, was and is itself problematic. Today, Cartagena del Chairá is ranked third among Colombian municipalities when it comes to deforestation, having cut 10,241 hectares of trees annually. To put it in terms that are easier to imagine, that's 1,300 soccer fields every year.

Hamilton Tapias' cattle live in pastures full of trees in Puerto Camelias.

From coca to cows

"Here, people believe that for every cow, you need a hectare (or nearly 2.5 acres) of pasture. If I have 100 cattle, I need 100 fields. And also that the pastures have to be clean, with no trees," explains Hamilton Tapias as he climbs on his horse and begins riding through the hilly ravine connecting Puerto Camelias with the farm where he lives.

A two-hour ride later, Tapias stops at a wooden gatehouse. The landscape of La Hermosa Cinco Estrellas ("The Beautiful Five Stars")—the name he gave his farm—is totally different from what's typically on display at the edge of the Caguán River and throughout the region. The expansive pasture is littered with dozens of little trees, most about two meters high.

Tapias shows us the native trees he's using to create his model of the forested pasture.

"Look, before I cut down everything, but I'm a changed person," he says. Smiling from ear to ear, he begins to show off his trees, one after another, reciting their names with the vibe of a botanist on a forest expedition: Ahumados negros (also known as the guanacaste tree), achapos (also known as tornillos), cedros (cedars), flormorados (pink trumpet tree), medio cominos (evergreens).

Soon, once they've grown a little bit more, 150 cattle owned by Tapias's family will graze and sleep here. This is just one example of a broader experiment to combat the problem of deforestation in the region, the effects of which are already being widely felt.

"Why is it that the big cats come out and threaten the cattle? Because we invade their habitat. And why do the parrots eat from the coconut palms? Because we've cut down the trees whose seeds they ate. To understand this requires a change of thought," says Victor Garcés, the most respected community leader of Puerto Camelias, while sitting in the living room of his home.

Another one of the problems farmers face in the region is that the Caguán River has widened within just a few years, nearly doubling in size, due to the indiscriminate removal of trees on its banks and resulting erosion. Now, many houses are much closer to the river. "They gained a few meters of pasture, but now there's nobody who can stop this. What we've lost can already be measured in hectares," Garcés says. He arrived 30 years ago to work first as a raspachín, later transporting drums full of chemicals, and finally working his own coca lot.

This is how the edge of Caguán River looks today, widened due to the erosion caused by deforestation.

Blaming all this on the coca workers—or ex-coca workers—is easy. But the truth is that nobody showed them another way to live. For that reason, the lower Caguán is a good example of what can happen when a post-coca economy isn't environmentally sustainable and the state doesn't assist rural residents who, like Tapias, are in the process of reshaping their lives.

"This is called silvopastoral. It means that the cattle live with the trees," Tapias explains as he looks across his land. Since the collapse of the 80s cocaine bonanza and amid an enduring absence of schools in the region, he's stuck looking to the future with just a third-grade education.

When he was a teenager, Tapias went to work as a raspachín in Llorente, along the coast of Nariño, with the dream of earning enough to buy a farm. He returned a few years later without a dollar to his name, and began working on the farms of others, saving enough to buy 50 hectares, which he recently supplemented with 50 more.

Today, the trees in the middle of his pastures are hardly the only things setting the man's farm apart. He has already fenced off nearby water sources using wire so that his cattle don't contaminate them. He's subdivided the pasture with fences made of native trees so that those parcels can begin to grow again while the cattle are rotated among them. And since he learned that the secret to getting by with a smaller pasture is having your cattle eat more nutritiously, he's developed a new kind of corral rife with vegetation.

"This is what I call my 'nutritional pasture.' See, this is buttercup. This other one is matarratón (Gliricidia sepium). This one here is king grass, and that one is gólgota. That one with the big leaf is bore (or arum)," he says proudly as he walks around pointing out 20-something species that—their leaves dried and crushed—will become a nutritional supplement, the kind scientists call a mixed forage bank.

Since his cattle are already eating better and using less pasture, he's made a commitment that he won't consider breaking: He's going to protect the 25 hectares of native forest that surround the pasture, where he's building his house of wood. Furthermore, he's allowing a cañero corridor—that's what they call the forest along the Caguán, and what scientists call "secondary forest"—to recover so that animals can cross from one side to the other and reproduce more easily.

They're small actions but, taken together, they can have a real environmental impact.

Living off the forest, living with the forest

Fifteen minutes from Tapias's farm, Juan Esteban Rodríguez and his wife, Cristina López, have just finished moving a heavy pumpkin almost 70 centimeters wide. Just past the water source they've fenced off to protect it from the pigs and cows, there's a family garden where they grow tomatoes, onions, carrots, cabbage, and cucumber, both for their own use and to sell to neighbors. A few meters away is a little pond fenced in by sheets of zinc, where, from January until Holy Week (essentially the Colombian equivalent of easter), they raise tilapia to sell.

"Before, you never saw even a plantain growing here, just coca leaf and grass. And look at it now," says López, a 22-year-old woman and daughter of a coca-leaf-producing family that moved here from the department of Quindío before her birth. Rodríguez, who was born in the same town, arrived as a teen and also began collecting coca leaves. The farm where they both live now was, in another time and under previous ownership, an enormous coca field.

In fact, there are reminders of that era all over this place. From a high point on the property, you can see the remains of jars, cans, and concrete: Twenty years ago, it was one of the hundreds of "crystallizers" where—with the help of hydrochloric acid and other chemicals—the paste that formed the base of cocaine was extracted from the coca leaf, which was, in turn, bought by the narcos along the Caguán River. Today, it's where López and Rodríguez are going to plant the seeds that might soon feed cattle.

Juan Esteban Rodríguez with his enormous pumpkin planted in an area where coca used to grow

The only way that these types of projects will be sustainable over time is if these small actions add up to larger win-win propositions. The first victory, in theory, has to be for rural people: If it doesn't help them live better in a region where the absence of the government has been near-total, it will be difficult for them to see those projects through.

Tapias's farm is smaller and therefore more manageable, which allowed him to increase productivity and begin construction on a wooden house he designed based on a Google search for "country houses." And Rodríguez and López have been able to generate two additional streams of income that have nothing to do with cattle.

There are reasons to be bullish about the environmental gains from these novel approaches, as well. First, they seem to be able to help reduce the loss of forest in Caquetá, which is considered one of Colombia's most vulnerable regions, and, by being a kind of door to the Amazon jungle, is critical for preserving the so-called lungs of the world. That some of the parts of the forest are integrated into the farms suggests a degree of connectivity, the term biologists use to describe the free movement of animals and seeds, and that there's genetic diversity among the species.

Just as important, these farmers are experimenting with solutions to a problem caused by cattle, which contribute the most greenhouse gases to the environment in Colombia—even more than oil, cars, or factories. Having more trees in the proximity to livestock could help convert the methane they emit into oxygen, neutralizing some of the harmful effects to the climate.

This is the map that Tapias dreams of turning into a reality on his farm, with corridors of connectivity.

Lest you think these are just a couple of innovators, along with Tapias, Rodríguez, and López, there are 48 other farming families in Puerto Camelias making small changes on their properties. It's all part of a pilot project sponsored by the NGO Fondo Acción called Paisajes conectados ("Connected Landscapes"), which draws upon international resources.

Each of these 50 families has signed a conservation agreement in which they commit to certain activities in exchange for technical support. For example, they might receive the wire that allows them to build fences or the seeds for native trees. Later, a technician from Fondo Acción visits every so often to see how things are coming along.

Though they're really just getting started with these new farming models, among all the families who are participating in the project, there's a total of more than 5,500 hectares in play. If each participant manages to keep their part of the forest intact, they will have prevented the loss of a tenth of the annual deforestation that occurs in this municipality.

This demonstrates the potential of this kind of work in the most deforested regions of the country, like Caquetá, Guaviare, the south of Meta, the north of Chocó, the Catatumbo, the south of Bolívar, or the lower Cauca, where deforestation has occurred largely because of extensive cattle ranching. In fact, research published in the scientific journal BioScience and conducted by the Colombian biologist Liliana Dávalos (who teaches at Stony Brook University in the United States) demonstrated that the uncontrolled growth of agriculture and livestock farming has been one of the most significant factors in the loss of Amazonian forests—even more than coca itself.

Tapias, on horseback, shows the trees that form the native forest and which he's preserving on his farm.

You might argue the farmers of Puerto Camelias have done everything on their own. They got out of coca, started cattle farming, and are now beginning to think about other models without any real help from the government. The authorities should take notice of these potential solutions, but also how bad things can get in the regions where the eradication and substitution of coca are proceeding at a rapid pace.

"The State's presence here is epileptic: There are no public services, there are low levels of education, and the only doctor (in Remolinos, downriver) left a year ago and never returned," says Rodrigo Velaidez, an agronomist who has worked with the area's rural residents since the 90s, when Chocaguán, a National Peace Prize*-winning project that substituted cacao for coca, was in full effect. Today, the place is paralyzed by a lack of resources.

"If the farmers had had the awareness then that they have today, these deforestation rates would have never happened. That people are talking about conservation, water sources, isolation, and connectivity zones—all words that you never heard in the lexicon—is an incredibly important achievement," Garcés says, adding, "It's not just about saying, 'I have a headache,' but 'What am I going to do about it?'"

*Correction 11/07/2017: An earlier version of this story incorrectly described the award won as the Nobel Peace Prize. We regret the error.

Michael Showalter is figuring out the perfect way to zoom in on a greeting card that cheerfully reads, "You murdered someone!" It's July on a dim Greenpoint soundstage, and the Wet Hot American Summer star is directing an episode of Search Party, the dark TBS comedy he co-created with Charles Rogers and Sarah-Violet Bliss. At this point it's unclear just who sent that missive, which apparently came with flowers, or what it means for the Brooklyn-dwellers at the show's center. It is clear, however, that a brutal murder took place at the end of the first season—and that the second season, premiering November 19, will deal with its aftermath.

The first season followed Dory (Alia Shawkat) as she found herself obsessed with the apparent disappearance of her college acquaintance Chantal (Clare McNulty). In the finale, Dory discovers Chantal safe and sound in Montreal, but not until after she and her boyfriend, Drew (John Reynolds), kill a P.I. named Keith (Ron Livingston), who had also been hunting for the missing woman. (That Dory had also had sex with Keith is a separate matter.) It's a gruesome end to what had otherwise been a satire, where the threat of violence was implied but never confirmed.

"This season, the comedy and the pain comes from: After you've killed someone, how do you go to brunch with your friends?" Rogers tells a small group of reporters during our visit to the set. As they were developing the ten installments, he and Bliss drew inspiration from the films of Alfred Hitchcock and Sam Raimi's A Simple Plan—despite being a movie Bliss admits they don't even really like.

"This season is really a psychological thriller, like The Tell-Tale Heart—the weight of what you've done being in every moment of every day," he continues. "You're just trying to walk down the street and have a normal life, and shame and guilt play into it—but in the most exhilarating way that we could create."

The jabs at millennial culture have fallen away in favor of this emotional turmoil—a decision also made partially for political reasons. "The first season was made in an Obama world, where it felt like we had the luxury of criticizing liberal leanings and paying attention to the hypocritical side," Rogers says. "By chance of there being a darker current this season, it feels like it's a post-Trump world."

Around 7:30 PM that day, some of the actors are gathered around a table eating "lunch," facing a long night ahead as the shoot moves to Williamsburg. We're discussing in vague terms what they're excited for audiences to see, and the conversation turns to an unexpected place: their moms. Specifically, how they've reacted to the show's grimness.

"She was like, 'So what's going to happen?'" Shawkat says of hers. "I gave her a little brief. She was like, 'But sweetie, you still have to be likeable.' I was like, 'Yeah, Mom, that's my job.'" Showalter pipes in: "My mom said after the first season: 'I hope he's not dead.'" Shawkat notes that her dad said the same thing. Reynolds's is most unsettled by the fact that her son delivered the fatal blow to Keith's head. "When people are talking about it, she doesn't really say much, and then she's like, 'Well, ya murdered someone.' I think it bothers my mom a lot that she saw me murder someone."

An exclusive clip from season two of Search Party

It's clearly getting under the characters' skins too. Earlier in the day, the group is working on an tense scene featuring Shawkat and Reynolds—as well as John Early and Meredith Hagner, who play Dory and Drew's self-involved friends Elliott and Portia. Everyone's in formalwear, Hagner teeters on towering heels, and Early's outfitted in an elaborate getup involving a long black coat, a yellow scarf, motorcycle gloves, and an architectural, latticed baseball cap over a bandana covering his head.

During the scene, Elliott begins scratching himself slowly and then more vigorously, ultimately stripping to reveal his body coated in nasty-looking blotches. ("That rash is truly nuts," Showalter says at one point during shooting.) Meanwhile, the members of the foursome are panicking, afraid that their crime is coming to light. Elliott lashes out at Dory. "Are you psychotic?" he asks. "In this scene, for example, I was trying to have John be more accusatory," Showalter says, perched in a director's chair in a brief moment of downtime. "You're always trying to find any opportunity to inject a little bit of suspense."

In the past, Showalter has said that he acts as a check on Rogers and Bliss's bleak vision, but contends that his role has shifted. "This season, I'm advocating for the big swing and the fun idea regardless of how it fits in," he says. "I'm sort of the mindset of 'We'll make it work.'" To that end, he's trying to lean into the "soap opera" of it all—"We're making pulp fiction," he says—but at least some of the actors have felt the material's psychological toll, even while attempting to keep it funny and entertaining.

"It's so upsetting," Early says. "When we had, like, literal gloves on with like blood on it and we're moving his body into suitcase and burying it—that was disturbing." A mom's worst nightmare.

Follow Esther Zuckerman on Twitter.

Rock 'n' roll is dead—a withering report. Death came for rock in the year 1973, when it became cool. That's according to Lester Bangs, the real-life disaffected music critic personified by Philip Seymour Hoffman in Almost Famous. Hoffman occupies the role of elder statesman to the young protagonist of the film, William Miller (Patrick Fugit), who, besides having the most vanilla byline in rock journalism, will lean on his steward's advice as much as he will attempt to disprove his admonitions.

"Hey, I met you. And you are not cool," Bangs tells Miller later in the film as the kid-journo seeks a salve for wounded feelings and expectations. This is observably true, yet, Bangs continues to speak, rewarding Miller and the viewers of this quasi-autobiographical 2000 Cameron Crowe production with a bit of redemptive sentimentality: "The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool."

Before we really get this bus rolling, though, it's worth reminding anyone who doesn't remember what the Chekhov's gun of Almost Famous is: Rolling Stone. You don't just offer a 15-year-old the chance to write a cover story for America's name-brand music culture magazine and not reference it ad nauseum as the epitome of cool. All the players in Almost Famous bow to Rolling Stone. Bangs, ever frumpled, is dewy-eyed even while he derides it as dribble. The gears of capitalism will turn even the most jaded ink stained wretch into a consumer, it seems.

More important for the film, however, Rolling Stone is the catalyst for Miller's bildungsroman journey: The narrative of how he writes the cover story on Stillwater is really that of how his uncoolness is kryptonite to beautiful ladies and svelte rock stars. The longer they are around him the more they suffer the symptoms of maturity. As William Miller exposes himself to the world of rock 'n' roll, he forces the adults around him to grow up.

The ensembled cast includes skateboarder-turned-actor Jason Lee as the lead singer of Stillwater (think Lynyrd Skynyrd–lite), the band Miller is tasked with covering. For his part, Lee is a victim to continued mocking, intentional or not. His foil is the handsome lead guitarist, Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup), whose only shortcoming in the entire movie is that he is forced to grow a conscience. The film focusses on the tug-of-war of male emotional kvetching between the two, relegating their bandmates as glorified extras. In fact, the drummer doesn't have a line until the 2:14:45 mark. "Fuck it! I'm gay!" Then he speaks no more, expressing himself exclusively through side-eye and drumsticks.

Otherwise, the first band manager of Stillwater is played by Noah Taylor, who is now best known for cutting off Jaime Lannister's sword hand in Game of Thrones. The second manager—"your manager needs a manager"—is Jimmy Fallon, right in the thick of his Saturday Night Live years. And you can tell. His character speaks like a nervous wise guy: "I didn't invent the rainy day, man. I just own the best umbrella," and dresses as if his Barry Gibb impression got caught in the act with a shag carpet. The female lead is Penny Lane, Kate Hudson's breakout role, and whose actual name is nearly as absurd as her nom de rock. In the eyes of the teenage journalist and lead guitarist, she is the ideal muse, inspiring magazine and music writing alike. She'll suffer under their gazes, though, until she (finally) springs for a transcontinental escape to Morocco.

Though Almost Famous traffics in cool—as a commodity, a state of being, a posture—it itself is uncool. Attempting coolness through nostalgia is a sort of wistfulness that clearly appealed to critics so much that this film won Best Original Screenplay at the Oscars. Now, with matching clear lenses and eyeglass frames, it's easy to see how the conceit of Almost Famous suffers under the fashions of our own age.

Set in the unremarkable year of 1973, this film follows not a Misunderstood Teenager™, but a precocious nerd—a severely unhip Kevin McCallister—who dupes adults into believing in his knowledge of the world and validity as a person. Modern American teenagers probably shouldn't be such outsize protagonists yet that doesn't prevent pop culture from mining the idea of propulsive pubescents. Perhaps, though, it's just a California thing.

We see that Miller grows up on one of those Elysian Californian streets, similar to the kids of Transparent, 20th Century Women, and Palo Alto—each a more recent narrative centered on youth and its discontents where teens romp about the suburbs, glower against authority and responsibilities, and trade their innocence for kicks. While these kids are depicted with some interiority and callow joy and pessimism, Miller keeps listening to his mom and hounding Russell Hammond for an interview.

Unsurprisingly, Miller does not do drugs or commit egregious acts of vandalism. He does get laid, though; in a sort of 70s pixie girl seduction ritual, he is bedded by three "tour wives" who are bored in Tupelo and engage him in a foursome he sheepishly avails himself to. Penny Lane surveys the debauchery, which turns William on almost as much as when he watched her get her stomach pumped.

Penny's story arc crashes with her attempting to overdose on alcohol and Quaaludes. Miller saves her but not before he confesses his love for her and kisses her. Penny is dying but Miller's interest in sadism and AM rock is awakening. In the least sexy scene of arousal this side of a Jodorowsky film, Miller gets a randy look in his eyes as Penny pukes up the sedatives.

Miller's older sister, played by a young Zooey Deschanel who emphasises her lines as if she spoke in Impact font, explicitly tells him "One day, you'll be cool." Nearly two decades on, Almost Famous belies that promise. The movie is largely a sunny depiction of a notoriously calamitous lifestyle. But, even with the warm "Tiny Dancer" scene and rock 'n' roll historicizing, Almost Famous, like Stillwater itself, stagnates in self-love and musical navel gazing.

A cultural relic for millennials, if you saw the movie as a kid, you know that all goes well and ends well for William Miller. He grows up to become Cameron Crowe, who, in the future, will direct a movie about his days on the road as a music journalist and how great that time was when everything was cool even when it really wasn't.

Five years before he killed 26 people and injured 20 others at a church in rural Texas, Devin Kelley assaulted his first wife and stepson, fracturing the toddler's skull. After charging the former airman with domestic abuse, the Air Force sent him to a psychiatric hospital in New Mexico where he was stationed—a mental health facility he then escaped, according to a 2012 police report unearthed Tuesday.

In the missing persons report, an unnamed individual explained that Kelley "suffered from mental disorders" and "was a danger to himself and others." The person said Kelley, who was in the Air Force at the time, "was attempting to carry out death threats" against "his military chain of command," and "had already been caught sneaking firearms onto Holloman Air Force Base."

"It would be a normal course of negotiation that he had been in behavioral health in advance of going to court," Rick Rousseau, a retired Army Colonel and Judge Advocate, told NBC affiliate KPRC.

But Kelley ended up fleeing the hospital in June and managed to get to a bus station in El Paso, Texas, apparently hoping to catch a ride out of the state, KPRC reports. The cops eventually caught up with him after responding to the missing persons report, and he reportedly cooperated with them. Later that November, Kelley pleaded guilty to assaulting his wife and stepson and was sentenced to 12 months in prison. He was eventually discharged from the military on "bad conduct," according to the New York Times.

But his history of mental health issues, domestic assault convictions, and military discharge didn't stop Kelley from legally purchasing an assault rifle that he later used to kill 26 churchgoers on Sunday, before taking his own life. The Air Force said that it had failed to enter Kelley's name in an FBI database that would have made it impossible for him to purchase firearms.

"Initial information indicates that Kelley's domestic violence offense was not entered into the National Criminal Information Center database," an Air Force spokeswoman said Monday. "Federal law prohibited him from buying or possessing firearms after this conviction."

President Trump has labeled the killing a "mental health problem at the highest level," but investigators are still looking for Kelley's precise motive. As part of its inquiry, the FBI plans to dig through his cell phone, which it hasn't been able to access, the Washington Post reports. The phone has been sent to a Bureau facility in Quantico, Virginia, where experts are hoping to breach it.

Follow Drew Schwartz on Twitter.

This story appears in VICE magazine and Noisey's 2017 Music Issue. Click HERE to subscribe to VICE magazine.

It was August, and the waters and the towels were in place behind the trap house: "All waters and all towels are behind the trap house," a stage manager announced over her radio. Someone called for the Trap Choir, and they descended the stairs from the Chicago Theatre greenroom in pastel pink windbreakers with trap choir printed on the back. Then came the background dancers, a.k.a. the trapground dancers, who congregated in the trapground, with the Trap Choir, behind the trap house. In the theater, trap music played.

If this trap house were on your block, your property values would almost certainly be depressed. The pink paint was peeling, and keep out and beware of dog signs were plastered across the front door. Burglar bars covered boarded-up windows on the ground floor. A chain-link fence partitioned off the front yard, and in front of that, lampposts stood like beacons to illegal acts that might be committed beneath them, which in this case would soon include criminally unsafe amounts of twerking from the trapground dancers. On the second floor of the house were four windows blocked out with the letters t-r-a-p, which would soon be illuminated by colored lights flashing in time with the music, as if this set were for a Broadway musical about slinging bricks ("Traparet"? "The Best Little Trap House in Atlanta"? "Cokelahoma"?).

Continue reading on Noisey.

The viral story of five naked people arrested after a car crash turned out to be a lot darker than originally thought as police now describe it as a triple kidnapping that involved a six-week-old baby.

With only scarce details available, the story was picked up by not just Canadian media but the Associated Press and international outlets. Various people on the internet, including this reporter, assumed that this was just the antics of young kids gone wrong and treated it as such.

However, the reality of the situation, appears to be much darker.

"The incident began at a residence in Leduc County at approximately 9:30 a.m., when an adult female and male, and a 6-week-old baby were forced into a vehicle against their will and taken from the residence," reads the RCMP press release. "While the car was being driven, the adult male, who was in the trunk, managed to escape. Shortly after the adult female escaped with the baby."

The release goes on to say that a Good Samaritan helped "secure" the three people in his truck, which the car used in the kidnapping then rammed. The car then spun into the ditch after the collision. Police arrested three adults and two youths at the scene. At no point does the news release explain why the five were naked.

Leduc and Nisku are two communities south of Edmonton which are in extremely close proximity to each other. At the time of the incident, four of the five arrested were taken to hospital.

RCMP arrested five people at the scene. Currently three adults remain in police custody while two of those arrested were youths and the press release said they were released from custody without charges. Charges against the adults are currently pending but they could face kidnapping and resisting arrest. Police stated that they believe this is a targeted incident and that the suspects were known to the victims.

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There's no question that when it comes to ubiquitous internet porn, the jury is still out on its impact on society, be it positive or negative. So, it's hardly surprising that governments and health professionals are grappling with how to deal or not deal with this still not-safe-for-the-6-PM-news issue.

Recently, the discussion of porn and whether it has any negative mental or physical side effects was tabled in the House of Commons, after Conservative MPs put forth the motion last December. It was the Canadian government's first time looking at porn (as in issue, heh) in more than 30 years—and that was back in the days before the internet; when indulging in some smut usually involved a back-shelf magazine at a 7-Eleven, or a risqué rental from the curtain room at a local video store. Now, porn is just anywhere we want it—and we still can't seem to decide if that's a good or bad thing.

Certainly, for some people, internet porn has led them down a problematic road of over-usage. Here in Nova Scotia, the government has recently funded an initiative—aptly titled, the Porn Diet—to begin a conversation around the general populous' consumption habits and how to tell if it might be a detriment to their health.

Hosted by workers with the Nova Scotia Health Authority, the Porn Diet had its first session in September and have held several sessions around the province since then. I attended the Porn Diet talk in Halifax at Dalhousie University last month, because as someone who's fascinated by both sex and the internet, it seemed fitting. A whopping four people showed up—myself included—along with three live-stream attendees. It was my first time sitting in on a lecture in that university since 2011. The room was clean and clinical looking—with handouts placed neatly at each (empty) chair, and complimentary coffee and donuts lumped lonesomely in the front of the room. Yes, there was an AA-vibe.

During the talk—which touched on the evolution of porn, psychoanalytic theories, erectile dysfunction and abusive behaviours— the Porn Diet organizers tried to answer the one of the great looming questions of our time: how much porn is too much?

"It's a tricky question," mental health worker Sonja Svensson told VICE. "It's too much porn if it's interfering with your regular life. So, whatever that is from one person to another, specifically, in [terms of how many] hours or videos, that varies—but it really is just a matter of: if it's starting to interfere with your life, that's problematic use for you."

"If it's damaging your relationship, if it means that you're missing school or work or it's interfering with how you interact with people, then that's a problem."

Though maybe perceived by some as a smidgen puritan in its approach, the initiative aims to provide statistics and research on how internet porn has changed the way we live.

Photo by the author

There are numerous, competing statistics out there but most say that somewhere between 5 and 15 percent of the internet is porn-related. But serious studies about the effects of porn—if any—are few and far between. It was only in 2014 when an academic journal devoted to porn research was created.

During the session, one of the studies that was mentioned was one reporting lower amounts of grey matter in males that consume more hours of porn per week. (Although, that study has been criticized for not showing any causal relationship there.)

Also discussed during the Porn Diet talk was the "Triple A engine" of anonymity, affordability, accessibility—a term coined by sex researcher Alvin Cooper to describe the three key factors that come into play in the wake of increased online sexual activity.

When watching porn, the brain releases dopamine, which is the same chemical released when you have great sex, eat a rockin' slice of pizza, or do meth or whatever. It makes the user feel good, so they get pulled into the reward cycle: want something, get something, feel good, come back. And so on. Along with this addictive trajectory, the implications of excessive internet porn use can often extrapolate into real life, affecting personal relationships. Some of today's porn is violent and degrading and definitely not focused on women's pleasure—so it could also be unknowingly teaching a lot of young people a lot of wrong things about what relationships or consent should look like. According to the Porn Diet organizers, it's also contributing to a growing number of men who experience erectile dysfunction on a regular basis, since they've become so accustomed to cyber stimulant overload that when given the opportunity in real life with another person, they can't get it up (there's even an entire online community -- "Reboot Nation" -- dedicated solely to providing resources and support for "porn-induced ED"). That said, some researchers have thrown serious cold water on the ED theory as well.

By the time I had finished chatting with Svensson after the meeting had ended, the three other attendees had already left. So I asked a couple other people what they thought about porn, the volume of it which we regularly consume, and if they felt it's ever had any significant effects on their life, for better or worse.

Graham, 22, told VICE he's never considered himself addicted to porn, but said he did go through a period when he would reconsider how often he watched it. "I used to watch a lot of porn, and then my friend told me that you your brain will eventually crave more stimulating or engaging sexual images," he said. "And that often results in people looking up more violent sexual images and people end up watching more violent porn because they aren't stimulated by boring vanilla shit."

James, 27, has been steadily consuming internet porn since he found out it existed—not unlike the vast majority of us—and sometimes it causes him to be late for work. But he doesn't see it as an issue—he says he just really likes it. "[It's] never affected a relationship," he told VICE. "I was, like, 15 minutes late for work today because I was watching porn, but I'm the boss, so I'm kind of allowed to be late."

In Svensson's books, however, as soon as it starts interfering with your life—be it professional or personal—that could be a sign of problematic porn use (or, PPU). "Most things in mental health come down to that," she said.

According to Svensson, there are, however, good uses of porn.

"Healthy use of porn would be in cases like if you bring it into your relationship and they're both agreeable, or it can have some medical benefits for people who have had prostate surgeries recently. I mean, as long as you're using porn in a way that's not interfering with your normal functioning life, it can be OK."

Porn can also be a really helpful vessel for people to find comfort or seek self-relevance, instructional guidance or a sense of affirmed identity, specifically for those who fall outside of the heteronormative population, which, the Porn Diet organizers admit is the population that the sweeping majority of public research is based on.

The Porn Diet organizators claim they aren't about debating the morality of porn, but more so about debating the functionality of it. "Again, if it's consenting adults and it's agreeable and it's not otherwise affecting your life, then have at it."

"[The goal] is to start a conversation with people about internet porn use—specifically, problematic internet porn use. Even if you don't agree with what we say here, as long as people are talking about it and starting a conversation about it really, then we've accomplished our goal here."

The Porn Diet meetings will continue at locations across Nova Scotia until the end of the month, and will have a fully-functioning website launched in the coming weeks. Svensson says, for those who feel like they may consider their porn use problematic, there are resources. "You can find [resources] that are non-judgmental to any kind of lifestyle […] and there are clinicians who are comfortable talking about these kind of things."

We really don't know what types of sociological or psychological impacts excessive porn use may have on us long-term. And, us being the first generation to grow up with the internet at large, legislation regulating usage has yet to be drawn up -- whether it's watching porn, scrolling social media or trolling someone in a thread. So, maybe we just take advantage of this free-for-all time while we have it, because it certainly won't last forever—and maybe that's a good thing?

Hillary Windsor is a writer living in Halifax. Follow her on Twitter @hillarywindsor.

In 1999, Jeff Ross made comedy history at the N.Y. Friars Club Roast of Jerry Stiller when he got up and delivered this line after fellow roaster Sandra Bernhard performed a song:

"I wouldn't fuck Sandra Bernhard with Bea Arthur's dick," Ross said as the camera panned to the Golden Girls actress, whose reaction made the line even more memorable.

On Tuesday's episode of Desus & Mero, Ross stopped by to talk about his new comedy special and Desus asked him about the roast moment that many comedy fans idolize—one that inspired the VICELAND host to persue comedy himself.

You can watch last night's Desus & Mero for free online now, and be sure to catch new episodes weeknights at 11 PM on VICELAND.

Kids are easily manipulated. They'll do just about anything you ask if you frame the request as a dare that challenges their fragile, budding senses of self worth. Sometimes, these challenges get a bit out-of-hand, other times, they can have truly tragic outcomes.

Dares can be character-building experiences in one's formative years, however. The sobering rush of pain or embarrassment that comes from completing an ill-advised dare is often a catalyst for youngsters realizing that maybe they shouldn't just go along with what any old asshole asks them to do as they go forward in life.

We asked people to dredge up the past and divulge the worst, cruelest, craziest, and otherwise most regrettable dares they went through with.

Watch:

Back in the fifth grade, someone dared me to scrub a Teddy Graham off the bottom of my shoe and eat it. Now, in my young mind, I was indestructible. Plus, there was a girl right next to me that I really wanted to impress. Using my imbecile fifth-grader logic, I scrubbed the graham off the shoe, ate it, and came down with a 106 degree fever. The next couple of days were a blur. I haven't taken a dare since.
- Kevin, Los Angeles

When I was young, a friend dared me to stab beneath my frenulum with a sewing needle and thread string through the hole, the goal being to then pull the thread and stretch my dick out longer. It was painful as hell and, of course, did not affect the length of my penis.
- Anton, Mexico City

I bought some cock-numbing spray (supposed to make you last longer) at an adult store in Guam before heading to a brothel my friends were taking me to. They dared me to jack it to see if the spray worked, so I jacked in a taxi full of people. I'm not sure if the numbing spray worked or it was stage fright. Not my proudest moment.

- Eric, Hoboken, New Jersey

I visited LA in my early twenties and was an audience member at a Jimmy Kimmel taping. Justin Bieber was the guest but I wasn't really familiar with him at the time. My friend dared me to act like an insane fan of his and outdo all the teenage girls in the crowd. I went so ballistic when Justin came out that Jimmy called me out on camera.
- Patrick, Los Angeles

I made out with my sister. We never spoke of it after.
- Stefanie, Las Vegas

I'm ashamed to admit this but, at a summer job when I was like, 15, my friend dared me to sleep with one of our coworkers who we both thought was pretty cute. To make matters worse, I was completing this dare for the measly sum of $10. To make matters even worse still, once I'd gone through with it and seduced and slept with her, I was dared to, for another $10, tell her that the entire thing had been nothing but a game. I did that too.

I felt so terrible after and I think that was a catalyst for me growing up and trying to be less cavalier with romantic partners going forward. I never got to apologize to her so, if you're reading this, I'm so sorry. That was incredibly shitty of me, my age is no excuse, and I hope it didn't fuck you up too bad.
- Sean, Pittsburgh

Photo courtesy of Ryou

About ten years ago, I got into a fight with my ex-boyfriend and he locked me out of his apartment. I was texting my friend about it while it was happening and this friend dared me to pee through the key hole to get back at him. But the key hole was too high, so I wound up squatting and aiming the stream of piss at the gap between the door and the floor.
- Ryou, Tokyo

The entire party had been spitting its chewing tobacco into a Mountain Dew can and, for only $5, I took an enormous chug of it and swallowed. I spent the rest of the night vomiting on the driveway.
- Chris, Tempe, Arizona

Photo courtesy of Taylor

My relationship with my boyfriend was going down the tubes because he'd stopped having sex with me so, to spice things up, while I was high on ecstasy, I thought it'd be a good idea to send him a video of me eating a friend out in a Vegas club bathroom. Apparently that was the wrong move and things unraveled from there.

He broke up with me a few days before my 21st birthday. We'd had tickets to see Blade Runner on some rooftop but, because that was no longer on the table, I instead got drunk with a good gay friend of mine and we decided to get tattoos. Turned into him ending up with a bee and me getting dared to just get this classy, fun, timeless one to commemorate the series of events.
- Taylor, West Hollywood

Follow Justin Caffier on Twitter.

One of life's greatest pleasures is merchandise. For every celebrity you stan for, every album you love, every brand you thirst over, there is merch. That's capitalism, baby!! So it comes as no surprise that as Robert Mueller's investigation into the Trump campaign's ties to Russia and associated other sub-scandals heats up, there's merch to go along with it.

You see, mugs and T-shirts aren't just things to drink coffee out of and wear, they are also ways to tell people, I am a unique, well-informed individual with $20 to spare, and a lot of attitude! But which items should you pick? Well it depends on who you are. Don't worry, I've created a nifty little guide to help:

For any red hot renegade and/or prison abolitionist

via Teespring.

On first glance, this "FREE MANAFORT" long sleeve is the perfect item for any MAGA enthusiast who believes, to appropriate the words of Kanye West, "PAUL MANAFORT INNOCENT." But when you look deeper, you'll discover that this excellent piece of merchandise—nay, history!—is also the perfect piece of gear for any prison abolitionist who's looking to say, "Free Manafort... as well as the 2.3 million incarcerated people in the United States."

For beer drinkers who love law and order

via teeshirtpalace.com

All beer aficionados yearn every day for the clock to hit that special number that commences "Miller time," when you can finally drink Miller, America's favourite beer that is just OK.

In Trump's America, however, it's never not Mueller time! (Mueller not Miller is the joke here.) This mug is the perfect vessel to consume an adult beverage as you watch Robert Mueller's (pronounce mull-er) investigation into the Trump campaign's ties with the Russian government slowly unfold.

More of a shirt lover? Do not fear, sweet reader. "It's Mueller Time" T-shirts, baseball shirts, and tank tops are also for sale. More of the tote bag or trucker hat type? Don't you worry, baby. Teeshirtpalace.com has got your back!

For the middle of a Venn diagram of the anti-Garfield faction and Manafort haters

via Amazon and Teespring

As you probably know, former Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort turned himself into the FBI on Monday, October 30, a day which was henceforth known as "Manafort Monday." This is a well-known phrase people actually say in real life. For anyone in the anti-Trump crowd who was full of glee on this key day, one of these shirts is for you. But the Monday haters (that's me, bitch) and Garfield lovers (not me) should stay away from this one: No need to parade around in gear that's repping the worst day of the week.

You can find the #manafortmonday shirt on Amazon and the hoodie on Teespring.

For the pun-loving lefty who wants to see Manafort take a plea deal

via Redbubble.

This T-shirt is a reference to Donald Trump's The Art of the Deal. They've replaced Trump with a picture of his former campaign manager, Paul Manafort, and changed the title of the book to The Art of the Plea Deal. What a hilarious shirt, after you explain it to someone who asks!

You can find this baby on Redbubble, where there are 17 different colours to choose from.

For the centrist virgin

via Amazon

Since being fired from his position as FBI director by Trump, James Comey has become something of a resistance hero, an example of a decent—and very tall, at 6'8"—public servant undermined by corrupt blah blah blah you know what I'm talking about. It's an odd place for him to be, given that he can be plausibly blamed for costing Hillary Clinton the election.

Comey is a man with both merits and flaws—for example, remember that letter he wrote to Congress a week before the election? (I don't because I Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-ed myself.)

In any case, the only legit Comey fans are hardcore centrists (not me) and anyone with an attraction to incredibly tall men (extremely me). But even the most intense Comey stan should approach "Comey is my homie" merch carefully. Why? Because even within the microcosm of silly merch, it feels innately embarrassing to call the former director of the FBI your "homey."

Purchase the tank top, mug, and/or T-shirt on Amazon at your own risk.

For anyone named America

via Cafepress.

Imagine the added layer of hilarity that would ensue if America Ferrera, for example, wore this T-shirt.

For a liberal who doesn't mind getting mistaken for a Trump supporter from afar

via Teepublic.

This shirt is a comical tweak of Trump's campaign slogan that adds "Mr. Mueller" to the end of the sentence. (The "Mr." is a sign of respect, I guess. I would've gone with "Sir.") It's great if you want to be mistaken for a Trump supporter at a distance, then have that person realize that actually you have a weirdly intense emotional investment in the special counsel's investigation.

All of these shirts could also be gifts if you medium-like the person.

Follow Eve Peyser on Twitter.

What Are Millennials Ruining Now? The productivity of the entirety of the UK, somehow;

Says Who? Your boy Douglas McWilliams, deputy chair of the Centre for Economics and Business Research and author of The Flat White Economy, who – and listen, we all have our foibles! – quit his post as a senior adviser to George Osborne after the Mirror filmed him allegedly smoking crack and he was questioned by police for allegedly assaulting a prostitute after smoking crack (McWilliams denied the allegations and no charges were ever brought). But yeah, no, please mate tell me why millennials are the problem—

What's He Saying? "People are increasingly taking on jobs that offer less in remuneration than those that their predecessors might have accepted but that offer a more attractive lifestyle," McWilliams told The Times. "This change in job preferences, the lifestyle economy, has reduced growth since 2008 by 4 percent of GDP and could explain slightly under a quarter of the measured productivity shortfall." The argument is basically: millennials are choosing – actively choosing – lower paid jobs with fewer hours because we like living lives outside of work, and this is leading to a national loss of productivity. Because younger workers are "placing more emphasis on job content other than remuneration", the government lost out on an estimated £36 billion in tax last year. That if millennials shifted their arses a bit more, Britain – mighty, mighty, mighty Great Britain – would only have a £10 billion budget deficit.

Hello, welcome to the new column, so anyway: what is "hard work", please? I think I have a wrong grip on the idea of hard work: hard work, in my eyes, is, like, a single mother working two or three jobs to feed her children, or a labourer sweating as a town's thriving factory slowly winds down forever, or you, working overtime to cover the work of two people because your colleague got made redundant and the company you worked for couldn't afford to replace them so you just got foisted with their work and asked to cover it without any additional pay, thanks. I have, clearly, got hard work wrong, though, because Baby Boomers keep telling us – us fey millennials, with our, I don't know, our bikes, and our 4G internet connections – Baby Boomers are very fond of telling us hard work is the way to get ahead. "Work 40 years at the same exact job which you clock into at 9AM on the dot and clock out of no later than 5PM," they tell us. "Do a cash-in-hand 'consultation' gig for a mate of a mate's business and drive home in an Audi about it." This is hard work, they tell us, and we millennials don't know about that, because we're too busy knowing what a .GIF is.

To Douglas McWilliams now, who says millennials are increasingly favouring their "lifestyle" – the insane idea of doing anything with your time beyond working yourself down to the ragged bone all the waking hours of your life for an employer who doesn't care whether you live or die, yuk, no thank you, no thanks, no leisure time for me, cheers – over their career. This rise in the so-called "lifestyle economy" since 2008 – the time when millennials emerged onto the job market, but also, let's not forget, every single economy collapsed because it was all built on a swamp of busted property – has cost the UK £80 billion in lost productivity.

Now, I know a lot of millennials, and I can honestly say I don't know anyone who has ever chosen a job with fewer hours – and, crucially, less pay – because it's more fun or allows more time in the evenings to drink. Millennials are often painted by Boomers as some sort of perennial gap year generation, just because we go to Europe on holiday (flights are cheap, get over it), or that we have jobs that didn't exist 20 years ago (yeah the internet is a thing, mate; just because you can't connect an iPad to the WiFi without phoning your son, doesn't mean it isn't real), or that we eat avocados (all your life, adults tell you to eat vegetables, and then when you do they shit on your for it, my god), but that ignores the causation: we're a generation that isn't as settled as 25-to-34-year-olds of time gone by because we literally cannot afford to be.

There's slim-to-no way of stepping onto the property ladder. Our salaries are disproportionately low compared to previous generations. Employment is harder to find despite zero-hours contract-padded figures painting a false picture of job market rosiness. Disposable income is barely higher than it was 30 years ago, with millennial income falling to as much as 20 percent below the national averages across Europe (only time this has happened outside of world wars or periods of natural disaster). We're leaving university with more debt, seeing less wage growth and having to pay more rent than any generation ever in history. And yet, despite all this, our supposed choice to take low paid work (nobody on earth chooses to take less money, thanks) is the thing impacting an economy that's already working against us at every possible turn. Honestly, it's like this "lifestyle generation" news was designed in a lab to piss me off.

"At one level this does not matter too much and in reality is probably a good thing, particularly if an increasing proportion are enjoying their jobs," McWilliams told The Times. It's good to enjoy your job, yeah. It's better to be able to afford a house for three years' worth of annual salary in the 1970s and then sell it on for a few million 30 years later, I imagine. It must be sick to be able to buy breakfast one time without being blamed for the downfall of the country's entire economy. Douglas McWilliams, mate: I wish I had more time to ALLEGEDLY smoke crack and ALLEGEDLY assault prostitutes, I really do. It's the lifestyle I desperately want to lead. But I'm too busy working all the time to try and make rent.

@joelgolby

Josh is a 29-year-old nursing student. He lives in the South Welsh Valleys, where he was born and raised. He's a big fan of David Bowie, is vegetarian and hopes to specialise in the mental health field, something he's passionate about. He speaks in smooth baritone, with a soft Welsh accent. Josh also has roughly 7,000 matches on Tinder.

VICE: When did you first download Tinder?
Josh: I first used it in 2013, and [have] periodically since then.

What were you hoping to find?
Someone to date. Or other gay or like-minded friends. I'd never used a dating app before, so it was a bit of a novelty. The fact that I could only speak to people who were interested in me made the whole thing less scary, too.

Yeah, that's a good point. Did you find friends or dates?
Well, I found you, David!

That's true. I'll probably edit that out of the article. How does Tinder compare to other apps?
I definitely prefer it. As an app it's limited but good as a starting point. It's more conducive to good conversation than some of the other apps. Also, you can't send pictures there, so you're not constantly inundated with obscene images. As it's connected to other social media like Facebook, Spotify and Instagram, you can get a rough idea of who someone is before you strike up a conversation. I suppose that does take some of the fun out of dating.

WATCH: Mobile Love Industry

But it also makes it slightly harder – although not impossible – to be catfished. Have you ever been catfished?
[Laughs] I think so, but I can't be sure. Having said that, I have come across Jamie Dornan on there a few times, which is a bit suspect.

Did you swipe right?
Of course!

Anyway, as you say, you both have to approve talking to each other. So how selective are you when it comes to swiping right or left?
I'd like to think I'm pretty selective. Initially I used to take a lot of effort to read through their profile before swiping, but more recently I've just based it on their first photo. If you're not attracted to someone then what's the point of dating?

Do you usually send a message first, or wait for them to start the conversation?
It depends. If I like the guy's look or if it seems as if we have a lot in common then I'm happy to send a message first.

What's your opening line?
I don't have one as such. Usually I'll ask them how their day is going or bring up something that I've found interesting about their profile.

What makes a good opening line for you? Are there any great ones that stick out as capturing your attention?
If someone mentions that they've got the same taste in music as me then they've immediately got my attention. Or if they suggest going for a drink or a bite to eat as opposed to chatting endlessly.

What are some of the worst things you've been sent?
Well, someone actually unmatched with me when they realised I was Welsh. Other than that, most people are fine. It isn't like Grindr.

How many matches do you have right now?
Roughly 7,000. I haven't used it in a while though.

How do you have so many matches when you live in a relatively sparsely populated bit of Wales?
I've had it for a few years and they've just built up. Tinder matches are based on location, so it's possible to meet someone who's close to me geographically – like Bristol and Dorset – but who it isn't really easy to travel to. That can be frustrating. I'm in London fairly often so I've matched with people there as well.

Of the 7,000 men, how many have you met in real life?
I've been on dates with maybe 15 to 20, only one of which developed into a serious relationship.

How many do you regularly talk to online?
If someone makes the effort to talk to me then I always try to respond in the hope that we hit it off. Being a student nurse means that I don't always have the time, unfortunately. Having said that, I've made some of my best friends through Tinder.

Like me.
Put that in, I dare you.

Okay. Why do you think so many men swipe right for you?
You'd have to ask them. I imagine it's because they like my photos or think we'd get on well.

It's really that simple? Be nice and attractive and the Tinder matches will follow?
Yeah. Dating is pretty simple. We shouldn't over-complicate it.

Do you enjoy Tinder? And are you still hopeful you'll find what you were looking for before?
It's a fun distraction, I suppose, but I've always been happy when I've been able to find someone who makes me want to delete [the app]. Two-thirds of my long-term relationships were with guys I met more conventionally, through friendship groups or university or work. So I guess, ultimately, it hasn't brought me what I was looking for.

More on VICE:

I Tried To Do Tinder Like a Guy

Hey, Tinder Rejects, Stop DMing Us On Instagram

Women Share the Worst Opening Lines They've Had on Tinder

Relationships die, but feelings linger. At least initially. Breakups would obviously be a lot easier if they didn't. But until you master the art of not caring, you'll wonder what your ex is up to. Nowadays, because of social media, it's easier than ever to turn that wonder into action, release your inner Sherlock Holmes, and compulsively check their latest Facebook status update, Instragram story, or Tweet. Once you sneak some peeks and feel the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the snooping, it can be hard to stop.

But with a little help you can end this unhealthy habit. With some self-control, mindfulness, and a liberal use of the unfriend and block buttons, you'll not only regain your dignity but also some peace of mind. We spoke with relationship experts, dating coaches, and therapists about how to keep your eyes off your ex's social media. Here's what they recommend. Answers have been edited for length and clarity.

Total Detox? There's an App for That

If you're unable to resist the urge to check your ex's social media and you want to take a drastic measure, a social media detox may be in order. There are apps and browser extensions that will help you limit your ability to go on certain websites and apps by time of day and even your location. I love the app AppDetox for this. If you know you are more likely to do this late at night or while you're at work, you can get ahead of it and not allow yourself access. If the detox is not enough and you keep breaking it (the app will tell you how many times you've tried), delete and block your ex's profiles for good. —Ravid Yosef , Relationship Expert

Be Aware

Awareness is the first step in stopping behaviour which is not healthy for you. Trying to get information from stalking your ex's social media will only bring you back down the rabbit hole without gaining any actual information, as you're only seeing a sliver of their life. Breakups can be rough, so when feeling the urge to check their social media updates, distract yourself with other interests. Connect with friends, marathon a TV series, or workout. Go back to doing something you gave up when in the relationship or make a list of everything that irked you about your ex. If you continue to ruminate and can't cut back on the number of times you check every day, consider getting professional help with a licensed psychotherapist. —Julie Spira , Online Dating Expert and Dating Coach

Replace Bad Behaviour with Good

If you want your ex back or you wish they were still in your life, you're actually pushing them away every single time you look. Once you stop checking their social media, within days you'll finally start to become free and feel alive again. Replace the bad behaviour with a new good one. Focus on your health, friends, or moving your life forward. Focus on your interests and passions. Don't worry about jumping into the next thing and trying to replace the person. You can't. What you can do is refocus on your life. —John Keegan , Dating coach and expert

Create Boundaries

Decide what is best for you regarding unfriending, unfollowing, or deleting your ex. Remember, friends will offer a lot of advice but at the end of the day, you need to do what is best for you to heal and recover from the break-up. Create the boundaries that are best for you. —Sarah Mandel , R.N., L.C.S.W., Psychotherapist and Relationship Expert

One Day at a Time

Commit to just one day of not checking. Then another day, then three days, and so on until you feel less need to, which you will. Taking it one day at a time is easier than vowing to never check again. Do something else that enhances your healing instead. Go for a walk, listen to your favorite song, read, just sit still and breathe, call a friend––anything that comforts you. Try and be aware of the times you feel more triggered, vulnerable, or when you're more likely to jump on your ex's social media and have something more positive ready to put in its place. Stay dignified, put healthy habits in place of the social media checking, stay strong and put yourself back at the center stage of your life where you belong! —Laura Yates , Coach and Writer, "Big, Bold Bounce Back"

Cut Ties

I highly recommend unfollowing or unfriending your ex's friends and family. Knowing what your ex's people are doing is a gateway to seeking more information. It would also be helpful to delete reminders of birthdays, anniversaries, and future plans on your cell phone calendar. All reminders will only emphasize what you are no longer privy to know. —Lisa Brateman , Psychotherapist and Relationship Specialist

Follow Anna Goldfarb on Twitter.

US News

Democrats Nab Big Wins in Virginia and New Jersey
Ralph Northam was elected governor of Virginia Tuesday night, one of several major victories for Democrats in the state. The party's candidates also came out on top in races for lieutenant governor and attorney general—and won historic gains in the House of Delegates. Outside Virginia, Democrats won total statewide control in New Jersey and a close mayoral race in New Hampshire.—VICE News/VICE News/New York Times

Trump Calls North Korea 'Hell that No Person Deserves'
President Trump railed against Kim Jong Un in front of South Korea's National Assembly Tuesday, accusing Kim of helming "a country ruled as a cult," where "torture, starvation, rape, and murder" occur "on a constant basis." Pundits predict the speech is likely to anger Pyongyang, but Trump seems to be operating under the assumption that it will push the country to rethink its nuclear weapons program.—The Washington Post

US Elects First Openly Transgender State Legislator
Democrat Danica Roem beat a staunchly anti-LGBTQ Republican in an an historic election for Virginia's House of Delegates Tuesday. Her opponent, incumbent Robert Marshall, once referred to himself as Virginia's "chief homophobe" and repeatedly misgendered Roem. "Discrimination is a disqualifier," Roem said Tuesday.—VICE News

International News

Spanish Court Voids Catalonia's Declaration of Independence
After the regional parliament attempted to break free from Spain with a declaration of independence in late October, Spain's Constitutional Court officially annulled the document Wednesday. The push for independence led Spain to sack Catalonia's leader, Carles Puigdemont, who fled the country to Brussels, where he is currently out on bail.—Reuters

Dozens Killed in Yemen Air Strikes, Report Says
A Saudi-led air strike left at least 30 dead in Yemen on Tuesday, with the village of Hiran hit at least 16 times, according to local accounts. A loyalist to the Houthis—the Yemeni rebel group being pursued by the Kingdom and its allies in a vicious campaign—was said to be the target of the bombings.—Al Jazeera

Immense Air Pollution in New Delhi for Third Day in a Row
The Indian city continues to keep schools closed and cancel flights as a dense, toxic fog persists—a combination of car emissions and the smoke of burnt crops, among other sources. Delhi state's chief minister called the city a "gas chamber," and medical experts are warning of a health epidemic. Pollution caused the deaths of an estimated 2.5 million people in India in 2015 alone.—CNN/The New York Times

Everything Else

Wave of Sexual Harassment Complaints Hit BBC
The BBC is currently investigating 25 allegations of sexual harassment, more than it has in years. The network's Deputy Director General Anne Bulford told British Parliament the organization had seen a "spike" in harassment complaints in the wake of the Weinstein scandal.—Variety

Drake Looking to Get Deeper into Film and TV
The pop star said he wanted to get (back) into Hollywood after recently nabbing his first producing credit for the Vince Carter documentary The Carter Effect, and might make a return to acting. "When I get back into acting, I want to do things that make people go, 'Wow, I didn't expect that,'" he said.—The Hollywood Reporter

Make sure to check out the latest episode of VICE's daily podcast. Today we take a deep dive into a tech company trying to treat substance abuse with an app.

On Tuesday, we finally got our first look at the first trailer for Steven Spielberg's upcoming Pentagon Papers thriller, The Post, starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks in a story about a newspaper's fight against a president who tried to silence the press.

According to Entertainment Weekly, the film follows the 1971 Pentagon Paper leak, where thousands of pages of government documents regarding the scope of the Vietnam War were shared with the New York Times. The documents showed that the US government had engineered a massive coverup about the extent of the war over the course of three decades. President Nixon responded by barring the Times from publishing stories about them.

Spielberg's film focuses on the Washington Post's role in the scandal, following the paper's first female publisher Kay Graham (Streep), its executive editor Ben Bradlee (Hanks), and journalist Ben Bagdikian (Bob Odenkirk) as they weigh the threat of prison time with the weight of exposing the truth. The trailer also features appearances from its all-star cast, including Alison Brie, David Cross, Sarah Paulson, and Bradley Whitford, whose character continually tests Graham's "resolve" to run the paper as a woman.

Like 2015's Spotlight, The Post hits on the importance of journalism and press freedom at a time when the US president claims to have coined the term "fake news." But it also follows a woman fighting to stand her ground as a professional in an industry typically run by men, another topic that seems all-too-familiar even in 2017.

Give the trailer a watch above, and catch Steven Spielberg's The Post when it hits theaters on December 22.

The first time Andrew Johnston slept outdoors, he curled up under a tree.

His schizophrenic episodes worsening, he'd been kicked out of a shelter for drinking, and was so exhausted he ditched a bag of his only belongings because it was too heavy to carry.

"I didn't know where to go," Johnston says. "I was just roaming the streets."

That was about eight years ago. Today Johnston has a home in more ways than one.

Johnston is half Ojibway and half Cree. He was born in Toronto but grew up on a reserve near Cape Croker, on Ontario's Bruce Peninsula. He lived with his brother and mother. When his stepfather walked out, it caused a rift in his family and Johnston rebelled.

By 14 he was doing drugs and drinking, and says now he was trying to find something to fill a hole he didn't realize was there. His early adult life involved a lot of bouncing between shelters.

Jesse Thistle knows all too well what that feels like. A Metis-Cree man with roots in Saskatchewan, Thistle was himself homeless for a decade, wrestling with a crack addiction on Toronto's streets.

But that period in Thistle's life—painful though it was —doesn't define him. Little does, but any complete description certainly includes titles like Governor General's Silver Medal winner, Vanier Scholar, and published historian.

The thing that Thistle and Johnston's experiences have in common is that their homelessness wasn't about lacking shelter. It was about broken relationships with family, their culture, the land, their identities.

"Indigenous homelessness must be considered as a loss of healthy relationships, spiritual, emotional, physical, political and economic relationships over time," Thistle told me.

"That's what the process of colonialism has eroded and starved out. The later houselenessness that occurs in adulthood is a product of that earlier Indigenous homelessness, the early loss of relations," he says.

Thistle should know. He literally wrote the definition himself.

Late last month Thistle published a formal definition of Indigenous Homelessness, written for the Canadian Observatory on Homelessness.

It's the result of 18 months of work that included 39 drafts, a 10-person advisory panel, and input from more than 40 experts, academics, elders and people with lived experience.

So broad was Thistle's consultation for the document that he originally wanted to publish it without his name on it.

"This is community knowledge, this isn't my knowledge. I'm just the guy who wrote it," he says.

Thistle spun the concept out of an Indigenous teaching called All My Relations. It's the belief that each of us is connected—related—to everything else; the air we breathe, the earth we walk, the culture we're raised in. Lose those things, and you've lost your home whether or not there's a roof over your head.

The process of colonialism dispossesses Indigenous people of their land. It removes children from their families. It teaches them that their culture is something to be ashamed of. According to Thistle's definition, it literally takes away their identities, their homes.

And it's still on-going Thistle says, through things like the overrepresentation of Indigenous children in foster care, industrial projects that threaten traditional ways of life, even the Indian Act itself.

Since the newly-published definition was birthed in ceremony with a drum song in Winnipeg last month, Thistle has been practically everywhere—on the radio, in newspapers, speaking with politicians.

He'll meet with representatives from federal Indigenous Services Minister Jane Philpott's office later this month, armed with a document he hopes will help translate his and others' experiences into something Ottawa officialdom can understand.

"It's hard to explain to a policy maker that it's important to teach people their drum songs to help them off the streets," he says.

When he meets with Philpott's office, Thistle will argue that the solution to Indigenous homelessness isn't just to build more affordable housing (though that would likely help). It means finding ways to help people rebuild the relationships that colonialism breaks.

"We don't need to 'Indigenize' a huge organization like The Salvation Army. We need to direct money to the hands of Indigenous service providers who do understand the problem, who are already working to try to recover identity and help people recover their history," Thistle said.

That's at the root of what NaMeRes does. The Native Men's Residence in north Toronto grounds all of its programing in cultural teachings. And it's where Johnston rediscovered his home.

Growing up without much of his culture left a hole in Johnston's life that he didn't even recognize at first.

"It was like a lost kind of feeling," he says. "There was this void in my life that I didn't know how to fill. I felt like I was drifting from person to person and from community to community."

He found the community he needed at NaMeRes and its transitional housing program Sagatay. There are elders who teach skills like harvesting cedar and other medicines. There are Cree and Ojibway language classes, and sweat lodges every Wednesday.

"Everything we do, culture is first and foremost throughout our programming. It helps people regain their cultural identity," said Steve Teekens, the executive director of NaMeRes.

"It brings a sense of awareness that this is where I belong," Johnston said.

Follow Jesse on Twitter.

Before Democrats' resounding victories in elections across much of America Tuesday, they hadn't exactly been killing it in the Trump era. A CNN poll recently pegged the Democratic Party's favorable rating at 37 percent, its lowest mark in a quarter-century. Donna Brazile, the former interim chair of the Democratic National Committee (DNC), just published a book alleging a shady backroom deal helped Hillary Clinton win the 2016 presidential nomination—reopening some of the bitter wounds of last year's bruising primary battle. The last nationally prominent election, a June fight over a House seat in Georgia, ended in a disappointing and demoralizing loss for Democrats. The party's standard-bearer in Tuesday's Virginia gubernatorial election, Ralph Northam, had a seemingly rocky end to his campaign, pissing off progressives by saying he wouldn't allow sanctuary cities and talking about working with the Trump administration. Meanwhile, he was embroiled in a controversy over an ad produced by allies that associated his opponent, Ed Gillepsie, with murderous white supremacists.

"Are Democrats blowing it in Virginia?" asked a CNN headline that was emblematic of coverage of the country's highest-profile contest.

Turns out no, they weren't blowing it, at least not enough to make a difference. All of that disarray and backbiting didn't matter—or it mattered less than larger-scale trends, which could propel Democrats to bigger wins next year even if the party continues its long tradition of internecine feuding.

Not only did Northam win handily, but Democrats won full control of the state governments in New Jersey and Washington, and took so many seats in the Virginia House that control of that previously Republican-dominated legislature may even flip, pending recounts in close races. Among those Virginia victors was Danica Roem, who defeated a self-described homophobe to become the country's first openly trans state legislator. Voters in Maine approved a Medicaid expansion over the objections of Republican Governor Paul LePage, and Philadelphia elected an outspoken criminal justice reform advocate as district attorney. Off-year elections generally favour the party not in the White House, and there wasn't really anywhere for the Democrats to go but up. Still, this was an unexpected bounty, and Democrats were all but partying in the streets.

"I know folks that lost tonight who were going against candidates I'd never even heard of," Virginia Republican Congressman Scott Taylor told the New York Times.

All of which is a clear sign that the "Resistance" to Donald Trump is more than just a bunch of angry people on Twitter. Still, it's not easy to graft a tidy narrative onto this off-year election cycle. Northam is hardly the type of fire-breather progressives love—for one thing, he voted twice for George W. Bush before he got into politics professionally. In fact, the challenger from the Bernie Sanders wing of the party lost badly in a primary against Northam earlier this year.

But the left can claim some wins too: Lee Carter, a Democratic Socialists of America member and Marine veteran, pulled out an upset of a Virginia House of Delegates Republican leader. What's more, Carter did that even after the state Democratic Party largely withdrew its support due to a spat over how much the candidate should report to the higher-ups. (Carter is still part of the Democratic Party.)

The conflict between Carter and his local party bosses is likely to play out on bigger stages as the 2018 midterms approach. Senators Dianne Feinstein of California and Joe Manchin of West Virginia are already facing primary challenges from the left. There will likely be crowds of Democratic candidates competing among each other to unseat Republican members of Congress in California. Party insiders will continue a long-simmering beef over DNC membership that Tuesday's elections didn't settle.

But if there are still plenty of differences dividing Democrats, the debate over how far to the left the party's candidates should run and which messages to emphasize may matter less than the very fact that they aren't Republicans. On the generic ballot, a method of predicting midterm races, Democrats lead Republicans by double digits. Trump's approval rating keeps dropping, and the GOP's top legislative priorities this year—repealing the Affordable Care Act and cutting taxes on the rich—look like political losers. Almost two dozen congressional Republicans in have already announced they aren't running for reelection next year, probably either because they see a wave election coming or simply because they want to get away from Trump.

If there's a lesson to learn from Virginia, it's that Republicans have one big problem the Democrats don't: the guy living in the White House, who is simultaneously the elephant in the room, the monkey on their backs, and an albatross hanging around their necks. In the Republican gubernatorial primary, Gillepsie barely beat out Confederate statue-loving loony Corey Stewart, then pivoted to race-baiting in the general election with ads linking Northam to notorious Central American gang MS-13. But while Gillepsie echoed Trump's rhetoric, he didn't actually embrace the president. Meanwhile, Trump endorsed Gillepsie and recorded a robocall for him, then denounced him on Twitter as soon as it was clear he wouldn't win—standard operating procedure for a party leader who demands loyalty while giving none in return.

Overreacting to the latest round of elections is always a bad idea. If theocratic Republican Roy Moore wins the Senate race in Alabama next month as expected, maybe the "Democrats are doomed" narrative will pop back into vogue. And it shouldn't be forgotten that the midterm map heavily favors Republicans. But Tuesday showed that nationwide, Democrats really are more energized than the GOP right now. And whatever intra-party faction individual liberals, lefties, and moderates support doesn't matter as long as they show up and fill in the correct bubble on the ballot.

Follow Harry Cheadle on Twitter.