Do violent movies make people violent? Does gun violence onscreen lead to people being shot in the streets? Are school shootings the result of too many John Wick rewatches? We can pretty confidently answer “no” to these questions. At least, there’s clearly no 1:1 relationship between fictional violence and real-world violence. The motivations behind things like mass or school shootings are just too complex to be reduced in such simplistic ways. But that doesn’t mean we should end the conversation there.

Last week, Infowars editor-at-large and fake brain pill enthusiast Paul Joseph Watson suggested that the recent bombings in Austin, Texas, may have been inspired by Netflix’s Manhunt: Unabomber, a series about American terrorist Ted Kaczynski, AKA the Unabomber.

Watson was conspicuously, if predictably, dismissive of racial motivations.* As another white terrorist targeted people of colour in a city rife with racial tensions, this certainly stands out.

Even with a confession tape, authorities haven’t determined a motive for Mark Anthony Conditt’s crimes, and certainly nothing about his streaming habits has come up. There’s a possibility he was motivated by Kaczynski’s actual crimes (which weren’t exactly obscure even before the Netflix series), or he could have been motivated by literally anything else.

Watson is reliably found on the wrong side of just about any debate you can dream up, but we can call bullshit on his arguments without forgetting that representation does matter. “It’s just a movie” is a useless contribution to any discussion of cinema or its impacts on society. It’s why we can discuss everything from positive depictions of queer love to passive acceptance of toxic masculinity onscreen as important parts of the zeitgeist.

When film studios announce that their movies won’t feature characters smoking anymore, most of us accept the logic of it—try watching Don Draper chain smoke his way through a pitch meeting without wanting a cigarette. And yet the right vs. left, us-and-them tenor of 2018 has managed to make us play a mind-numbing game of yes-it-does/no-it-doesn’t with the question of violence in pop culture, stripping the nuance from just about any ensuing discussion.

Infowars’ Austin bombing claim comes on the heels of another right-wing push to blame gun violence on pop culture. It’s a predictable deflection away from gun control, with many conservative lawmakers (many of whom accept vast amounts of money from the National Rifle Association) blaming the recent Parkland mass shooting tragedy on movies and video games—all while schoolchildren literally beg grownups not to let them die.

This kind of nonsense is nothing new. The Columbine shooters were famously thought to have been inspired by The Matrix and the video game Doom. And any crime with even a passing resemblance to a film has led to speculation about pop culture corrupting minds and causing violence.

But this latest flare-up of faux concern stands out. It is clearly tied to a desperate need to legitimize a pathological love of guns, even in the case of a series of bombings.

It’s hard not to be cynical about the whole thing. Sure, maybe the Parkland shooter was inspired by what he saw on TV (his MAGA hat was likely purchased after seeing Trump at a televised rally, even if that’s not what they’re talking about), but the more pressing issue is and should be why he had such easy access to the assault rifle he used to kill 17 of his classmates and teachers.

But we would be wise not to throw the baby out with the bath water. Of course turning to movies, TV, or games is transparently ineffectual when reasonable Americans fearing for their lives and their children’s lives demand stricter gun laws. Of course! But the now ubiquitous response that movies obviously don’t make people violent is getting less and less convincing—where does this certainty come from? Rolling our eyes with the utmost confidence in the face of Trumpian stupidity might feel good (or it did until the Trump Fatigue began to set in), but there’s still value in checking our facts in the face of bold-faced lies.

After all, people study this kind of thing. And their voices have been conspicuously absent from the self-satisfied responses to the “movies made them do it” camp. The few exceptions usually rely on opinions from outliers in the field, people pushing against what seems like a fairly strong consensus from those who research the psychology of aggression and violence.

Brad Bushman is a professor of communication and psychology at the Ohio State University. He was also a member of President Obama's committee on gun violence as an expert on media violence effects. He has studied the effects that popular media can have on aggression extensively. VICE connected with Bushman on the phone last week to understand how violent movies might impact someone like a mass shooter.

“There is no simple cause for violent, criminal behaviour. It's usually based on a number of risk factors that combine in complex ways,” says Bushman. “Violent media is one of those risk factors. It's not the only one or the most important one, but it's not a trivial one either.”

Bushman stresses the complexity of the studies that have been conducted, where no single cause can ever be identified for things like mass shootings, but that doesn’t mean we can’t identify some links.

“There's very strong evidence that exposure to violent media increases aggressive behaviour, and what I mean by that is any behaviour intended to harm another person who doesn't want to be harmed. There are hundreds of experiments that have been conducted on that,” he says. With “violent” behaviour, “the harm caused is extreme physical harm, such as injury or death, and that's a lot rarer than aggressive behaviour. There is a correlation between exposure to violent media and violent criminal behaviour, but as the behaviour becomes more extreme...the strength of any risk factor diminishes.”

“We can predict pretty accurately whether a kid will get in a fight during the next year in school, based on a number of predictive factors including exposure to violent media, whether they're male, and things like that. But as the behaviour becomes more and more complex, from getting in a fight to murdering someone to committing a mass shooting, the behaviour becomes rarer and much more difficult to predict.”

Craig A. Anderson studies violence specifically. He is a professor of psychology and the director of the Center for the Study of Violence at Iowa State University. VICE spoke with Anderson to get a clearer sense of how violent media can impact those who commit more extreme acts of violence.

“Extreme violence always requires the presence of multiple risk factors. So when the NRA says it's violent video games, that's too simplistic,” he says. “That's not to say violent video games don't play a role, but it's clearly too simplistic.”

Anderson says there’s more than a dozen studies showing links between violent video games and real-world violent behaviour. These studies rely on complex correlations between violent behaviour and exposure to violent media. While we like to deny links between correlation and causation, that’s a pretty standard scientific measure—it’s how we know smoking causes cancer.

“Every major scientific body that has ever reviewed the media violence and aggression literature has come to the same conclusion. This isn't just my position,” he says. It’s also the position of organizations like the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Psychological Association, and the US Surgeon General.

Now what do we do with this information? It certainly doesn’t tell us that guns aren’t a problem, nor even that they’re not the primary problem.

Unlike guns, movies aren’t made to kill. They actually serve other functions, and those functions, in this humble film critic’s opinion, are important to a healthy society. Some films distract us. Some challenge us. Some disturb us. And yes, some rile us up.

I’m not here to offer an answer, because I don’t have one. Censorship doesn’t appeal to me, but neither does quietly doing nothing. Trump suggested the implementation of a ratings system while discussing the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shootings, which actually isn’t a bad idea. The fact that America has already had one in place for decades doesn’t reflect particularly well on the president, but it does show a national attempt to address this issue already. And maybe that’s enough, though it seems a little weak.

(For one thing, the MPAA, the organization in charge of rating movies in America, lacks transparency and oversight, and frankly does a terrible job of rating movies.)

But wherever the violence-in-pop-culture discussion goes, the country, first and foremost, needs robust gun control. And that gun control should neither be dependent on nor related to whatever we do to reduce the root causes of violence.

Australia has become a popular reference point for how America should rethink its murder weapon fetish, and for good reason.

In 1996, in Port Arthur, a man shot and killed 35 people, wounding another 18. One of the two military-style weapons he used was an AR-15, the same model used by the Parkland shooter. The Australian government was quick to act, banning semi-automatic and military-style weapons and their import, and creating a government buy-back program to get such existing weapons out of circulation. It was the kind of “common sense” approach we hear so much about, and since then, Australia hasn’t experienced any mass killings.

Mel Gibson from Mad Max | Image courtesy of Mad Max Films.

Australia—home of Mad Max and Russell Crowe—clearly isn’t immune to violent entertainment, nor, presumably, to its effects on viewers. But the country has found a way to limit the use of guns by limiting the availability of guns. As much as violent films may affect us, there’s a limit to what we can do with our newfound aggression when the potential outlets for it are limited, even if that ought to be addressed.

As Bushman told me, there’s a critical period when someone is contemplating suicide when they decide whether or not to go through with it. When a gun is readily available, the number of people who successfully take their lives is over 90 percent. When a gun isn’t available, the number is closer to 18 percent.

It doesn’t take a huge leap in logic to imagine available guns being used to satisfy an impulse to harm others too. While making the choice to commit a mass shooting is complex and may or may not involve some kind of interaction with violent media, the availability of firearms is a constant. Or as Bushman succinctly put it, “of course there'd be no mass shootings without guns.”

Similarly, Anderson described research that shows you’re more likely to be assaulted in the UK than in the US, but that you’re more likely to be killed in the US than in the UK. “That's because of guns,” he says. “We don't assault at a particularly high rate, but we're very efficient at it, because very often we have guns.”

What a statement like this tells me is that we need to get rid of guns ASAP, but do we ignore non-deadly assault and its causes? I’d rather get punched in the face than shot, but I’d like someone take steps to ensure I don’t get punched in the face regardless.

If I thought making shit up would finally lead to some basic gun control and even a small reduction in the completely preventable deaths that keep making headlines, there’s a good chance I’d go along with it. But the right-wing lawmakers lining their pockets with the NRA’s blood money aren’t listening anyway. Instead they’re offering up the red herring of media violence, which has the kernel of truth necessary to be an effective dodge.

But why not also have an intelligent conversation about media violence? A real one that doesn’t detract from the dozen other pressing issues that should come first, ideally.

It sure as hell won’t solve the pressing issue of gun violence. Not even close! But if nothing else, it’ll keep us busy while America’s kids do what the grownups should have done years ago: force some kind of change in the nation’s gun laws.

Follow Frederick Blichert on Twitter.

*Story updated Monday, March 26, 6:45 PM.

On Monday, for one glorious half-hour, a few lucky souls were allowed a brief taste of pure, unadulterated excitement in the form of a local news live stream involving a cat, a pole, and a very slow news day.

It began like this: On Friday a cat named Gypsy climbed an electricity pole in suburban Phoenix, Arizona, WTVA reports. It's unclear why or how the cat scaled said pole, be it fear or confusion or just an overwhelming sense of adventure, but what became abundantly clear is that once it was up, it could not come down.

The cat stayed atop this pole for at least three days until worried neighbors decided that something had to be done. On Monday morning, the local ABC News affiliate got wind of the situation and, seemingly absent of anything more worthwhile to do, sent over a camera crew and set up a livestream.

"Again we are on the scene, but we are again trying to help get this cat down from the pole as much as we possibly can," the faceless ABC anchor calmly told viewers. "We will continue to bring you live pictures here."

And that's when people went fucking nuts. Who knows why, exactly, but thousands of people tuned into Gypsy's saga. They glued their eyes to the livestream, ostensibly abandoning meetings and pulling over cars and leaving children half-soaped in the bath to watch the fate of the cat unfold in real time.

There were moments of great terror:

And suspense:

And a man with a bucket tried and failed to coax the cat to jump:

All the while, captivated viewers across the country called 911 to try to get someone out there to help the stranded pet. Unfortunately, the Phoenix Fire Department wasn't particularly pleased with the sudden deluge of phone calls about a stranded cat, especially since its job is primarily to put out fires, so it called the news station to announce that it was "aware of the situation" and to please stop calling.

This immediately prompted cries for a fire department boycott from Facebook commenters.

The mayor was reportedly notified.

And Good Samaritans offered up their own solutions.

And then, all of a sudden, the ABC feed went black. When it came back on, the cat was gone.

Some of the 10,000 viewers erupted in vitriolic rage rarely heard since the last episode of The Sopranos. Then the conspiracy theories started up.

Luckily, FOX 10, another local news station, had a different vantage point, one that never mysteriously went dark at the precise moment of its thrilling conclusion. There, the fate of the cat was revealed.

No, no one shook it off. Some dude just took matters into his own hands and did what the fire department refused—he climbed up a very tall ladder and brought the damn cat back down. The man's grip was so secure, so precise, that the Fox hosts even speculated if he had "played football at one point."

In the end, the cat was saved by a mysterious vigilante and the world could go back to doing whatever it was doing on Monday afternoon before people got completely sidetracked by a live stream of a cat. But for those lucky few who managed to watch it, their lives will never quite be the same.

Maybe the modern world isn't all dark and depressing. Maybe there's still room for some happy endings, once in a while. Maybe sometimes, when the time is right, people will band together in harmony to do what's right, like yanking a cat down from a tall-ass pole.

Thank you, heroic Phoenix resident. We may not know your name, but your deed has restored our faith in humanity, if only a little. Gypsy the cat will forever be in your debt.

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Listen: There is a thing being sold by the Texas Rangers baseball team called the "Dilly Dog" and what that is is a hot dog inside a pickle inside a corn dog. That's all the information I have. I do not know if this is a new thing or an old thing reinvented but I've never heard of someone putting these foods in combination before, so let's assume it's new. Here's a tweet about it that includes a photo just so we're all on the same page (look at the first image):

One obvious question about the Dilly Dog is: Would you eat it? I'm actually not interested in that because I already know I would—gladly, and probably in a way that would gross out the people around me.

Now, here are some other questions about the Dilly Dog to fulfill the promise of the headline:

1. How do they get the hot dog into the pickle? Is a machine involved?
2. If a machine is involved, can I see it in action please?
3. What is done with the pickle "cores" once they have been replaced with hot dog? Do they just throw them out? Are there going to be piles and piles of pickle innards just lying in a wet trash can in Arlington's Globe Life Park?
4. Are the hot dog skins crispy? Because it occurs to me that the mouthfeel of corn dog followed by fried pickle followed by crispy hot dog skin followed by hot dog meat would be strange.
5. How much are Dilly Dogs? Answer: It is $10 per Dilly Dog.
6. What sort of pickle are we talking about? SI.com says it's dill, which makes sense both because of the name and because I can't imagine any kind of sweet or spicy pickle really working here, taste-wise. But will alternative varieties be available?
7. Is this a sandwich? (Credit for this one to Gizmodo's Dell Cameron.)
8. Is this a reference to the Bud Light "dilly dilly" thing? Please say no.
9. Will proper credit be given to the Nashville Sounds, the minor league team that pioneered the meat-inside-pickle strategy?
10. Have we as a nation become so addicted to novelty that the insertion of foods into other foods is enough to rouse us to excitement? Taco Bell puts some shit inside some other goddamn shit every other week and yet each time it's like, Oh this is new! No, it is NOT, it's just the same low-grade meat wrapped in different combinations of low-grade tortillas and cheeses. So too with the Dilly Dog. Whatever.
11. Or should we celebrate the Dilly Dog as a distraction from having to watch baseball? Or from the collapse of American society?
12. I'm still thinking about the pickle-coring machine. This isn't really a question, sorry.

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This article originally appeared on VICE US.

I've always loved stories about badass female detectives. My grandma collected vintage hardcover Nancy Drew books, and I tore through the series as a kid. Now that I’m an adult, I only watch TV shows with lead women who are detectives, superheroes, witches, or spies. So when Netflix released Jessica Jones in 2015, which is about a private investigator with superpowers, it felt like hitting the pop culture jackpot.

Jessica Jones is based on the Alias comics (unrelated to the TV series starring Jennifer Garner as a secret agent, though that’s also one of my favourite shows). Jessica (Krysten Ritter) is a failed superhero-turned-private investigator who happens to have super strength, speed, and agility. She’s kind of a mess. She’s a borderline alcoholic with a prickly personality and terrible relationship skills. She also gives zero fucks about pleasing anybody.

Basically, her vibe is diametrically opposed to the Midwestern aspects of my personality. I default to politeness. When I moved to New York City, people kept telling me I seemed “really nice.” But in a city of 8.5 million ambitious, no-bullshit humans, I’ve always worried that being “nice” has held me back. So I wondered: Would my life be better if I lived like Jessica Jones?

Kara's water bottle is full of whiskey. Her leather jacket is by Acne. All other garments and accessories are owned the author

Before I embarked on my cosplay mission, I came up with a list of quintessential Jessica Jones activities, like drinking an irresponsible amount of whiskey, never smiling, and spying on people from a fire escape. I thought about cracking open an ATM or beating up a creepy dude and getting myself arrested, like Jessica does many times on the show, but I figured VICE might draw the line at bailing me out of jail.

Then I tracked down someone who knows more about Jessica Jones than I ever could, showrunner Melissa Rosenberg. She has spent two seasons honing the character with Ritter. She liked my list but said the real secret to living like Jessica Jones is getting into her mindset. “There’s a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude that pervades everything,” she told me.

I just jumped onto the roof of VICE from street level, can't you tell?

For my experiment, I also wanted to nail the Jessica Jones look. She wears very specific clothing in the show: tee and hoodie under a leather jacket, ripped jeans, fingerless gloves, and motorcycle boots. And though there’s been a lot of chatter about whether the look is stylish, Jessica Jones costume designer Elisabeth Vastola told me that’s totally beside the point.

“I took inspiration from Patti Smith, Frances Bean Cobain, and other women who wear clothing and feel very rough in it,” she said. The stiff denim and heavy leather are basically armor, just like Jessica’s prickly attitude, but they’re also meant to be functional.

“Jessica’s most terrorizing power is when she jumps off or onto a building, and then also when she uses her brute force against people. The idea behind the boots, for example, is that they’re almost giving her two tree trunks at the bottom of her feet so she can feel stabilized when she needs to land very hard on her feet or throw somebody through a glass door.”

The repeat wardrobe is also a matter of convenience. Perpetually drunk, crime-fighting Jessica wouldn't waste mental energy getting dressed. Most of the time, she pulls on dirty jeans she found on the floor.

Once I was properly attired, I hit the streets to live a day in Jessica Jones's jeans. Here's how it went:

Rogue poopers beware

Part One, AKA Go to Bed Drunk and Chug a Red Bull for Breakfast

The night before my Jessica Jones day, I went to the bar around the corner from my apartment and got myself liquored up. In the show, Jessica’s neighbour-slash-employee Malcolm wakes her up every morning and plies her hungover ass with cans of Red Bull. I didn’t have a Malcolm, so I improvised and let the mewling of my roommate’s new cat rouse me. Grumpily, I grabbed my jeans off the floor and donned Jessica’s signature outfit. Then I slumped out the door to go to work, making sure to glare at strangers on the train.

On my walk to the office, I stopped at a bodega to grab a can of Red Bull. When I went to the counter to pay, the bodega guy called me sweetie and asked if I needed a bag and a straw for my Red Bull. It was my first opportunity to flex Jessica’s IDGAF attitude. I said no and resisted the urge to append “sorry” or “thanks” or smile at this man. He shut up and left me alone. It felt good.

Part Two, AKA Take a Case and Conduct an Investigation

Stalking someone who ghosted your friend is easy when you're hopped up on Red Bull

Once I was in the office, I cracked open the Red Bull and got to work. Even though Jessica Jones has superpowers, she pays rent by working as a private investigator. I decided to take the case of my best friend J, who'd been ghosted by this guy named D. The goal was to find this mysterious dude and snap a photo of him to prove he hadn't died or moved to China or something.

To get some tips on how to conduct my investigation, I called a real New York City private eye named Michael McKeever. He told me that a lot of what goes into being an ace detective is street smarts and patience, but he did have one solid piece of practical advice: "I learned years ago, if you’re following somebody on the subway, and it’s not that crowded, don’t get in the same car. Wait two stops and then get in their car, and then it seems like you're a new guy."

Don't worry Williamsburg, I'm keeping an eye out for bad guys

Fancy equipment, he said, was a waste of money. "It's not like you can buy something that'll make you a better PI. You think Eric Clapton would suck if he had a $200 guitar instead of a $5,000 guitar?" It sounded like my ancient DSLR would suffice for conducting surveillance.

Back to my case: I used my Google sleuthing skills to track down D's job title and place of work, home address, phone number, and social media accounts. Then I tacked up all the evidence I'd collected on the wall and studied it while sipping Red Bull. My coworkers told me my research seemed "really creepy."

When Jessica's at home at Alias Investigations, she also spends a lot of time swigging whiskey straight from the bottle and passing out at her desk. I wanted my day to be as authentic as possible, so I chased the Red Bull with a whiskey shot. It wasn't even noon yet. I felt like garbage.

Part Three, AKA Doing Superhero Stuff

This is what doing parkour on the VICE roof looks like, in case you were wondering

There was one big problem with my plan to be Jessica Jones for a day: I don't have superpowers. And I was having a tough time tracking down a shadowy team of scientists willing to conduct genetic experiments on me that might kill me but might also bestow me with superhuman strength. So I approximated, running around the VICE rooftop doing lame parkour and jumping on and off things. Then I snuck into a weird parking lot under the Williamsburg bridge and jogged around for a while, it always seems like Jessica is running somewhere on the show. Once I felt winded and faint from only consuming Red Bull and whiskey all day, it was time to go spying.

Part Four, AKA Spy on People from a Fire Escape

Yes it's broad daylight, but there's no way anyone can see me up here on this fire escape

On my way to midtown to track down the guy who ghosted my friend, I stopped to conduct some supplementary surveillance. On the show, Jessica camps out on fire escapes with her DSLR camera and a thermos of booze to snap sneaky photos of people behaving badly. I climbed out a window and tried to catch people in Williamsburg not cleaning up after their dogs or having an affair with the mailman or something. I did bust a cabbie going the wrong way down a one way street and snapped photos of his license plate and medallion number. Maybe there’s a fruitful career as an NYPD traffic cop in my future…

Part Five, AKA Catch a Bad Guy

Jessica is always running. Why does she do so much running?

When I walked into the lobby of the fancy financial firm where my target, D, works, I noticed a security guy immediately giving me a suspicious look. This was not an auspicious start to my stakeout. As McKeever had counseled me, rule number one of conducting surveillance is to try to blend in. "There are cases where you tail people a lot, and you know the person has never seen you. If there was a lineup of five private eyes, they could never pick you out. Their eyes have never fallen on you. That’s the ideal," he said.

I don't think I look conspicuous at all

Security at this place was bananas, so there was no way I could talk my way upstairs without getting caught. I decided I had to get D to come to me. My master plan was to pretend I was delivering a gift and try to get him to come downstairs to grab it. From an out-of-the-way bench in the lobby, I dialed his work extension and was sent straight to voicemail. Rats. Then I tried calling the company's main number to reach a receptionist. No dice. A robo-directory blocked my attempts to get a human on the line, no matter how many times I asked to speak to an operator.

I hung out and watched for D a while longer, in case he went out for lunch or something. But, by then, I was cranky and hungry and wanted to get out of there. The only food we really see Jessica eat on the show is pizza, so I stopped to grab a slice on my way to Hell's Kitchen. It was time to try out Jessica's favourite pastime...

Part Six, AKA Drink a Lot of Whiskey

Can you spot the drunk bros smoking outside the bar?

I went to Rudy's Bar on 44th and 9th, because it's mentioned in the show. It's cheap and a total dive. Plus, they give you a free hotdog with every drink, which is very on-brand for Jessica Jones. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the bar was full. When I walked in, a group of drunk bros checked me out and immediately tried to hit on me. I remember thinking, "I will be lucky if I leave this bar without punching anyone."

This is the face of someone who does not want to smile for you

Things didn't improve after I ordered a whiskey neat and grabbed a booth. An older man at another table asked me why I looked so serious and told me to smile. I honestly could not have scripted a better toxically masculine moment. I gave the dude a steely look and downed my glass of whiskey, then the photographer I'd brought with me turned her camera on him while I asked him why he wasn't smiling?

Then I flipped a table.

Just kidding, but that would have been a very Jessica thing to do. Instead, I ordered another whiskey.

Part Seven, AKA Hook Up on the Floor in Spilled Paint

Jessica Jones might seem tough as nails, but every once in a while, we get to see her emotional side. "Jessica has a side of her that’s sexual and feminine. It sounds funny to talk about that, but she’s not out of touch with her body. She’s out of touch with it in some ways, like how she drinks herself crazy, but she’s also a woman who's attuned to her sexuality," Vastola pointed out. We see this softer side of Jessica a few times, usually in the context of her relationships. And there's one scene in season two that gets pretty steamy—that is, if you get turned on by arts and crafts.

It's hard to set this up without giving away any spoilers, but I will do my best: A life is saved, a prickly relationship softens, a lot of booze is consumed, and spontaneous sex is had—on the floor of someone's apartment in spilled paint.

In real life, staging a hookup in spilled paint requires a lot of planning. I had to buy supplies, like non-toxic washable paint, more whiskey, and a dropcloth for the floor so I wouldn't get evicted. After I set everything up and taped down the sheets of plastic, it honestly looked like I was planning to murder the guy I'm seeing, Dexter-style.

Luckily he's a chill person and wasn't put off by the weird things I do for journalism. Perhaps for that reason, or thanks to the additional whiskey we drank before getting down to business, it was silly and fun.

My insides feel like garbage, can you tell?

My day living like Jessica Jones was honestly exhausting. All the whiskey and junk food made my insides feel radioactive. I felt angry at the male species after still getting catcalled despite my "don't fuck with me" face. And it turns out it's actually hard to spy on people when you're constantly drunk. I never photographed the guy who ghosted my friend, but as McKeever the private eye told me, "If it’s happening, it’s happening. If it’s not… you can’t make it happen."

One thing I did like about living like Jessica Jones was how good it felt when I didn't bother being polite to people who were rude to me. I came away from the day inspired to lean into my "resting bitch face" a bit more. Despite her issues, Jessica is a powerful female character. She reminds me that it's OK to lean into your prickly, stubborn side to get what you want sometimes, especially when it's for a noble cause.

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This article originally appeared on VICE US.

Did I mention The Shed? That thing I did? ICYMI, I fooled the world by making the shed I live in the top rated "restaurant" on TripAdvisor with a load of bullshit reviews.

Bizarrely, it's changed my life. Over the past few months, thousands of new followers have flocked to my social media accounts; dozens of drunk men have requested photos with me in south London pubs; and I can barely walk through the village I grew up in without family acquaintances waving at me. But how long will this last? I'm no real celebrity, just a moon-faced con-man from Redditch.

For ideas on how to prolong this new life, I browse some famous people's profiles. Among the self-promotion and pound shop motivational quotes, I see photos of new trainers, tickets to special events, delicious meals, high class hotels and bespoke clothing, always accompanied with captions like "thanks @nandos!" or "big up @nike you absolute legends". It seems that one way to maintain the high-life is to use your status to request nice stuff, publicly thank the brand for sending you that nice stuff, then be left with both nice stuff and a sense among your followers that you're someone worthy of receiving free stuff. It's ridiculous, and gluttonous, and I want in.

To do that, though, I need to make myself more brand-friendly. I need an endorsement, a friendship with someone whose fame far eclipses my own. I rack my brain for ideas and a prophet appears: Mr Brand himself – Russell, star of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Trews and those prank calls on Andrew Sachs' answering machine. Unfortunately, I don't know how you go about making friends with Russell Brand, so have to find another way to convince brands and followers that I am.

How do I do that? It's actually quite simple.

SETTING UP A PLAYDATE WITH RUSSELL

Meet Ryan.

I find Ryan by asking friends if they know anybody who looks like Russell Brand. And Ryan does, sort of, doesn't he? That's all I need: the bare minimum. That, and Photoshop, and a few photos of the real Russell. Then, what's to stop me from taking a selfie with Ryan, doing a quick face-swap and posting the photo to Instagram?

I contact Ryan and he's up for it. The wheels are in motion.

But even with my fake Brand in tow, I can't just post photos from an All Bar One, can I? I need to be in the kind of hangout you'd expect to see a celebrity in. The Groucho, say, or one of those terrible upmarket Mayfair clubs where Rihanna and Bieber and Drake drink bottles of champagne worth more than a first class transatlantic flight. How do I access one of those? Easy: by inventing a Russell Brand PA to arrange things.

I jump onto GoDaddy, gobble up the available www.russellbrand.co, and create an email for Russell's brand new member of staff, Ben Mather. I fire out a slew of emails, and sure enough: perfection.

I find a hotel that touts itself as popular with celebrities, therefore making it "cool", according to its website. After some back-and-forth, we have ourselves a £400 to £500 suite to hang out in this Wednesday.

THE BIG DAY

Arriving in west London, my day begins like so many influencers' does.

A grateful coffee with a dash of humble brag.

Before long, I unleash my first post:

Russell Brand photo: Mike Marsland / WireImage

Quick disclaimer: the photo above isn't the one I actually uploaded, because we had to go back and buy licensed images of Russell Brand to be able to include them in this piece without getting sued for copyright infringement – but it's close enough!

Of course, before the rendering magician Chris Bethell got his hands on it, it looked a little different.

Importantly: are people going to buy it? I only get one shot at this. Are my followers going to think that I'm a man who could actually be hanging out with the Russell Brand for a day? Or that I'm a man sad enough to pretend that I am? A dangerous toss-up.

I post the photo. Two minutes of silence follow, then vibrations.

My Insta DMs are full of messages from people buying it, but they haven’t seen anything yet.

Sure, I can trick people into believing that Ryan is Russell with the protective guise of the internet, but how do I fool a hotel that Russell Brand is in the house? I tell Ryan, who's nearby, to lay low in his sunglasses.

I enter the lobby and am accosted by a busy lady. "Is it Oobah?" The hotel representative introduces herself. "I've been speaking with Ben. Do you know Ben?" I almost forget, before my brain clicks into gear: the PA.

I nod. She asks me what time Russell will be around and I answer vaguely, so she hands over the room key. I thank her, turning to disappear.

"I'll follow you boys' antics on Instagram!" she says. "It looks like you've already been with him?" She stares at my story, my world falling apart as she analyses the photo. "Very cool!" She disappears and I get into the lift, heart thumping.

Next, I get to the room and see:

They've gone all out, buying Brand – who, famously, is a fan of sexual intercourse – a range of sex toys; just what you need during an interview scenario. I almost feel bad, but then remember this has all been laid on free of charge for someone in the 1 percent of people globally who could actually afford this suite.

Insta must see where we're at.

I dump myself onto the presumably very expensive bed, disappearing into its vastness like a chihuahua in a jacuzzi.

This room seems to have legitimised our day and attracted another type of onlooker.

This attention is good, but I yearn for more.

It's now that I remember something I've forgotten: Ryan! I sprint down to the street to fetch him. With a voice forged far from Essex, I must keep Ryan silent and at a distance from hotel staff. We pace through the lobby without breaking a stride.

My social media followers are really going for this, but that's not enough. I want to be clothed and cobbled; wined and dined. I need a post which invites brands to come forth for just that. But it must be flawless, so I pick a Russell face and try to recreate the precise angles.

We post another picture on Instagram.

Russell Brand photo:

I wait silently, staring at my phone and praying for a DM to appear. After a little while... bingo. I exchange addresses with the company and a present arrives.

Novelty Street Fighter socks from the kind people at Stance. This is perfect. But I don't just want to be the envy of the internet; I want to be a fun fella, too. So I tell Ryan to hand over the socks...

And slip into something a little more comfortable.

Which, of course, becomes...

Russell Brand photo: Mike Marsland / WireImage

All full up on fun, I'm now hungry.

I call around the press offices of various fast food companies, requesting that they send some food to our suite. While Pizza Hut, Itsu and KFC have a bit of a nibble, there's one winner. One for sheer volume. One for the big occasion.

Doms. Offering a £120 order in exchange for "a cheeky post of you and Russell enjoying your Dominos"? Sounds like a joke, but within 30 minutes...

We have a feast! Now for the crucial cheeky post…

Does it matter that a quick google of Russell Brand would tell you he's vegan? Or that he's missing his very visible right arm tattoos in the post?

Nope!

Nine slices of pizza and a cookie down, I'm filled and satisfied. Time to hit the town. I run upstairs, grab Ryan, and we disappear into the night. Looking for somewhere to have fun, I fire out messages left, right and centre, to Wembley, the O2 and places that are usually too dear for me to afford.

I spot two men standing outside of a pub, drinking, and I head over, holding my phone. "I'm Facetiming with my friend Russell Brand!" I tell them, apropos of nothing. They look amazed.

"Wave to Russell!" I say, showing them the faceswapped video of Ryan waving.

"Is that for real?" one asks, waving back to the screen. "You're mates with Russell Brand?" I quickly put the phone away. "Yeah, I wind him up, making him wave at people in the street when we're on calls together."

"That’s mad!" they respond.

I feel validated.

I'd previously made the decision to keep all posts exclusive to Instagram to avoid too many replies, but after that encounter, I fear nothing. So I fire off a tweet.

The likes rack up from colleagues, peers and industry people. This is the kind of company I want to keep. And if that wasn't enough, an email has hit my inbox that clinches it. A VIP invitation to a party that only the likes of Russell Brand could grace.

Photo: Monica Schipper / Getty Images

VIP tickets to Elbow at the O2. The mark of both a true influencer and a friend of Russell Brand.

Heading back from the O2 Arena, reading messages from friends and colleagues asking what I'm doing with Russell Brand, I'm astounded. Whether the fake PA, the tailored photos, the completely off-Brand selection of cheese pizzas, beers and socks we enjoyed, or the simple fact that a google search would have told you Russell Brand has a gig in Hull this very night, there have been so many opportunities for people to call bullshit on this story. But they didn't. Evidently, the power of celebrity is strong.

Now, there's nothing from stopping me from getting free socks and going to see Elbow every night of the year! Nothing! Apart from...

THE CEASE & DESIST

I wake up to a mobile pressed into my temple, vibrating. "Is this Ben?" says the stern voice on the other end. "How long have you been working for Russell, because I’ve been working with him for ten years."

I bumble and she cuts me off: turns out that the VIP Stereophonics tickets I requested may have given the game away. "You've registered the domain name russellbrand.co?" I stay silent. "I'd recommend that you stop whatever it is you're doing. And if you continue to send messages as his PA, you can expect legal action from Russell's agent. Goodbye."

Before publishing, I try to go to Brand for a comment on the whole ruse, but receive only a message telling me I can't use his image to get free stuff – which is tricky, because I've already done it.

Unfortunately, I can't comment any further on this matter.

@Oobahs / @CBethell_photo

Thanks to Liam Clemson for help with photo retouching.

DISCLAIMER: We do not recommend that you try to replicate this tactic. If anything, it takes way too long to convincingly Photoshop pictures of celebrities' faces onto pre-existing photographs, and nobody has time for that.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Finally, the second Ellen Page lesbian film is here – and after the poorly received 2016 gay rights drama Freeheld, it might be the one we've been waiting for ("we" being Ellen’s loyal army of gay fans who called it within the first five minutes of Juno). My Days of Mercy, which opened London's LGBTQ+ film festival BFI Flare last week, is a lesbian love story-cum-death row drama. Original, yes, but some reviewers have struggled to get their heads around the melding of an "issue-based film" with an "LGBT film", while others walked out early during its debut in Toronto. It might not become a big box office hit, but it is at least an intake of fresh air.

In My Days of Mercy, Ellen plays Lucy, a woman whose father is on death row for a crime he may or may not have committed, with decreasing time to be saved as the film progresses. While the clock counts down, Lucy attends demonstrations at American prisons campaigning to end the lethal injection, an issue that's obviously close to her heart. It’s at one of these protests – specifically, a demo against the execution of a mentally ill man who killed a police officer – that Lucy meets Mercy (Kare Mara), who, despite her name, is on the other side of the fence to Lucy, protesting with "The American Institute of Homicide Survivors" in favour of capital punishment.

Once audiences are done asking themselves whether it's appropriate to cruise at someone's execution, they'll quickly begin to wonder whether it's ever a good idea to start a romance across the picket line. Lucy and Mercy have wildly different ethical outlooks on the death penalty that they must overcome if their relationship can triumph. According to the film’s British scriptwriter, Joe Barton, the idea for the story came from a description he read in a true crime book about how the two real rival campaign groups kept clashing outside of prison executions, and "it just seemed like an interesting place to set a romantic drama".

Image courtesy of BFI Flare: London LGBTQ+ Film Festival

The second feature from female Israeli director Tali Shalom-Ezer, whose first film was the Hebrew-language Princess, is paced near-perfectly, which is to say I didn’t get bored. The plot verges on wildly farfetched, sure, but the reveals keep you interested, as does the authenticity of the acting in depicting the couple’s relationship (something Freeheld was severely criticised for). It’s a little upsetting that the primary sex scene revolves around a rendition of a Duffy song, but the rest of My Days of Mercy swerves cringe lesbian film stereotypes.

The most notable thing about it for me, however, was that it seems to fall into a new category of storytelling in contemporary queer cinema, lifting the weight of external homophobia in order to make room for characters to explore their internal homophobia. Like Call Me By Your Name or the more underrated Beach Rats – both released last year and both concerned with gay male coming-of-age stories – My Days of Mercy asks its supporting characters to withhold judgement. Rather, it's the protagonists who must overcome their own shame.

According to Barton, this was intentional: "There's one scene with a brief homophobic confrontation between Lucy and a girl in a bar, and I guess some secrecy is implied by the fact that Mercy and Lucy have to keep going off together alone, but really we wanted to make a film that was primarily about these women in falling in love," he tells me on the phone after the film’s London premiere. "The focus is on the regular experiences of meeting someone and all of the stuff that comes with that," he adds – and, as a gay cinema-goer, I can confirm that the result is uplifting.

Image courtesy of BFI Flare: London LGBTQ+ Film Festival

Barton explains that he chose lesbian protagonists because he felt a gay love story would be interesting in the context of death row activists who were Christian and conservative, and because he wanted to practice writing female characters. When I ask if he had any reservations about writing a lesbian story as a man, he tells me "no", because he wrote the script ten years ago as a writing exercise for himself. It sat in a drawer until he dug it out for his agent a while back – "about the same time Ellen and Kate were looking for a project to do together", says the scriptwriter, "and when Ellen had just come out and was actively looking for more LGBT roles to play".

Barton is optimistic about how the film will be received, given the moment we're in. "It feels like it’s a good time for gay cinema – after the huge critical love for Call Me By Your Name, people are excitedly talking about Love, Simon and 120BPM," he says, which are two other films showing at this year's BFI Flare. Personally, I'm unsure that My Days of Mercy is heart-melting and cinematic enough to mimic the success of other recent LGBT breakthrough films, but it’s nice to see a lesbian actor play a lesbian character. And, of course, to watch a film where the debate going on is not just about a gay couple’s right to exist.

@MillyAbraham

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Every winter, a statue of Mahatma Gandhi at Carleton University is affectionately adorned with hats and scarves to keep it from getting too cold.

But this tribute is a lie, say a growing number of critics, who are demanding the university remove the statue of the Indian activist. They say despite his admirable reputation, Gandhi was also a misogynist, a racist towards black Africans and a supporter of the caste system in India.

"For you to deify Gandhi, some people have to be erased from history. You don't engage with how his activism as a whole was detrimental to certain segments of society," says Kenneth Aliu, the president of Carleton's African Studies Student Association, whose opinion piece in the school's newspaper ignited the debate across campus.

"He talked about how the Indian struggle is a continuous struggle against the kaffirs, who want to live out their days in savagery and nakedness. I cannot see myself worshiping this man. Everything I learned about him was a lie."

The current debate at Carleton is not an isolated event. The statue came under criticism when it was unveiled in 2011 and commemorations of Gandhi have increasingly come under fire worldwide in recent years.

In 2016, the University of Ghana decided to remove a statue of Gandhi from its campus, citing concerns of racism. That same year, the unveiling of a new Gandhi statue at a public park near Sacramento, California, was met by a flurry of anti-Gandhi protests from immigrants from India's minority communities. The statue is still there. In 2013 and 2010, similar protests broke out surrounding Gandhi statues in Cerritos, California, and San Francisco, also failing to get them removed.

The accusations are many: That Gandhi slept naked next to young girls to test his sexual restraint; that he worked to prevent the untouchable caste from being recognized as a distinct political group; that he routinely referred to black Africans using the slur ' kaffir' and demanded Indians in South Africa not be classed alongside natives.

Aliu's piece set off a debate across campus and on social media, with many students coming out both in favour of and opposed to taking down the statue. Carleton administrators, when reached by e-mail, say there are currently no plans to remove Gandhi's statue, which was donated to the school by the High Commission of India in 2011.

There's been much written about the subject. In 2011, the Indian state of Gujarat voted to ban the book Great Soul by Joseph Lelyveld, because of harsh claims the author makes about Gandhi's racism and sex life. More recently, the book The South African Gandhi, by Ashwin Desai and Goolem Vahed, has raised eyebrows, alleging Gandhi was an adamant supporter of British imperialism in South Africa. The authors point to an incident from Gandhi's time in South Africa, in which they claim Gandhi refused to use the same post office entrance as native Africans, demanding that Indians have their own entrance.

Scholars are deeply divided about how, or whether, society should commemorate Gandhi’s life in the 21st century.

"The idea that Gandhi's racial attitudes are somehow not up to par for 2018 is a difficult argument to sustain in any meaningful manner," says Hans Bakker, a retired professor of sociology at the University of Guelph, who has written extensively about Gandhi and edited the 1993 book Gandhi and the Gita.

"Anyone who claims to somehow be superior to Gandhi in terms of race relations should go live in a situation as fraught with danger and then live up to the highest ideals."

According to Chinnaiah Jangam, a professor of South Asian history at Carleton University, Gandhi never saw Africans as equals to Indians, despite being treated by the British as a second-class subject himself.

"Gandhi comes from a very privileged upper-class background and he was never able to see himself as someone who was deprived, so that's why the racial humiliation hurt him a lot," says Jangam.

"It didn’t make him reflect that there were people below him. That is a major failing on his part."

However, Jangam says there are other aspects students should consider before trying to have the statue taken down.

"Gandhi was a very ethical man and he believed in humanity and ethics, despite his problems with race and caste," he says.

His limitations are "perfectly understandable, because he was a product of his own caste and context. But one thing Gandhi had was compassion for humanity. See him in that context."

Is this debate historical revisionism? An unfair attack on a moral giant from a different generation? Or a necessary re-evaluation of an overpraised figure? The controversy over Gandhi's statue mirrors other clashes over history from the the past few years.

As Canada marked its 150th birthday, bitter disputes broke out across the country over the commemoration of once-iconic figures who were also associated with racist policies: The federal Liberals renamed the Langevin Block in Ottawa, in recognition of the role Hector-Louis Langevin played in setting up the residential school system. Similarly, the city of Halifax removed a statue of Edward Cornwallis and there were calls to rename several sites named after Jeffrey Amherst—all due to the treatment of Indigenous peoples by their namesakes.

Activists are also fighting to rename Ryerson University, named after Egerton Ryerson, and schools named after Canada’s first prime minister, Sir John A. Macdonald, due to policies that are now decried as acts of genocide by some.

Though there are only 13 schools in Canada named after Macdonald, the debate is highly contentious: A 2017 poll by Angus Reid found 55 percent of Canadians oppose removing Macdonald's name from schools, while 25 percent support it.

The issue of what to do with a figure whose ideas are now rejected by society as offensive has divided historians between those who think it’s wrong-headed to judge our past through the lens of the present, and those who argue it’s high time we did.

“The politically correct attitude is running wild and it won’t stop until we are without history," Ottawa-based historian Jack Granatstein told VICE. He says the commemoration controversies are being “driven by groups pushing their own particular agenda,” and that a lot of historians have followed suit.

"Historians have lined up on the wrong side of this issue so, frankly, I see no hope that sense will prevail."

But Jesse Palsetia, a historian of South Asian history at the University of Guelph, proposes a more nuanced view of the issue.

"The first exercise of re-examining whether statues should be taken down is a modern-day re-examination of our values, not historical ones. It clearly involves history, but it really is about our values today and how we represent them," he says.

As for Gandhi, Palsetia says Carleton should keep its statue.

"Gandhi's motivations were not to promote slavery, race dominance, or perpetuate negative images of whole peoples, in the way some of the historical figures whose statues are controversial, and that have been scrutinized lately, are implicated in," he argues.

"Raising a statue to an important historical figure should not obscure their whole life. Perhaps the monument should in some way reflect this with a plaque of explanation."

Chinnaiah Jangam says there's an irony in the fact this debate is even happening. He says Gandhi never wanted statues or commemorations made for him in the first place.

"The statue of Gandhi is here not because Gandhi wanted it to be here," he says.

"For me, whether to have the Gandhi statue on campus or not, that is not Gandhi's choice. It's the choice of powerful Indians who don't follow what he said. Gandhi never wanted statues to be established. It's a very ironic problem."

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When you spring for an Uber, the idea is that the person behind the wheel has a much better idea of how to get you where you want to go, taking the quickest route, than you do. Whether it be a person or a robot, we blindly trust these drivers to navigate the roadways, avoid accidents with pedestrians, and get us to our destination in one piece.

But on Monday, some Uber passengers in San Francisco were treated to a much more, uh, off-roading experience when their driver took this adventurous detour.

According to Business Insider, the driver, Fred, said he was just following the instructions on his Uber navigation app when he careened his Toyota Camry down the flight of concrete steps like a hapless Michael Scott. He also had two passengers in the car at the time, and was on his way to pick up a third, when he decided to take the stairs out of the Safeway parking lot. Luckily, no one in the car or on the walkway was injured, KRON4 reports.

Unfortunately for Fred, his embarrassing trip down the road less traveled by was on full display on San Francisco's Market Street for about an hour until a tow truck arrived. Then Fred had to watch as the tow truck tried to lower his vehicle onto the street below, freeing it from its vertical purgatory, only to have the cable break and send the car careening into a trash can.

It's unclear whether or not Fred, who's been driving with Uber for less than a year, will keep shuttling people around. But he told Business Insider that if he does, he won't be driving in that Safeway parking lot again until the grocery store makes some changes to the layout. Still, it's not clear how he missed the handrails and the straight vertical drop.

Photo via Google Maps

And while Fred might live on as one of the most legendary Uber drivers, unafraid of the perils his GPS might steer him down, his stair detour is still not the most Grand Theft Auto thing that's happened on California's roadways.

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Follow Lauren Messman on Twitter.

This article originally appeared on VICE US.

Amid all the hubbub surrounding porn star Stormy Daniels's recent interview with Anderson Cooper on 60 Minutes, there's one aspect of the story that is both disturbing yet, unfortunately, not surprising. According to Daniels, Trump compared her to his daughter Ivanka before they had sex. It's not the first time he allegedly thirsted after women who reminded him of his perfect little angel (not Tiffany), so Desus and Mero took us on a trip down memory lane.

You can watch the latest episode of Desus & Mero for free online now, and be sure to catch new episodes weeknights at 11 PM on VICELAND.

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This article originally appeared on VICE US.

Back in 2016, the anarchist art collective INDECLINE put up life-size statues of Donald Trump in the buff in five cities across the US, showcasing his impressive paunch, tiny mitts, and micro-peen. It only took a few days for the masterworks to wind up completely destroyed, either by some passionate anti-Trumper, a punk band, or a local parks department—but somehow, one of the monuments to the Donald survived.

Now, the only statue that's still in good condition is going up for auction, the Associated Press reports. Anyone with the strange desire to own a massive replica of Trump's naked bod will have a chance to bid on it through Julien's Auctions on May 2 in Jersey City, New Jersey, where the piece—made by the same artist who built that gold Weinstein statue—is expected to sell for $20,000 to $30,000.

Whoever purchases the thing will have to make some tough choices as to what they'll actually do with it. Sure, given its size, historical significance, and uncanny likeness to the president, it might feel natural to display it in a living room or perhaps a foyer, where guests at a dinner party could admire the nude Trump's prominent veins and nearly-invisible dong.

At the same time, anyone who has a few grand lying around might want to buy the statue just to see it destroyed—and that's where things get interesting. Do you install it in a garden as a makeshift scarecrow, and watch as, day by day, Trump's body slowly succumbs to the elements and gets splattered with bird poop? Or do you just take it down in one go with a little bit of rage therapy?

Maybe someone will purchase it for a museum so that the pantsless Trump can live on and remind us of the divisiveness of his 2016 campaign, one that inspired naked statues of a future president and angry hordes hell-bent on tearing them down.

If you have $30,000 on hand, the choice is really up to you.

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Follow Drew Schwartz on Twitter.

Related: Trump and Stormy Daniels

This article originally appeared on VICE US.

There are many things in the world to be angry about, but some American Christians have decided to spend their energy complaining about a Toronto ice cream chain.

Their anger is directed at Sweet Jesus, an ice cream brand founded in 2015 which runs about a dozen stores clustered around the GTA. Recently, Sweet Jesus decided to expand into the States and across Canada—opening one store in Baltimore and planning to open one in the Mall of America. This is when some Christians saw the name and thusly decided to take up holy arms against the shop.

The main weapon in their sweet tooth crusade is petitions—the first, started on the conservative action site Citizen Go, has about 9,000 signatures so far. Citizen Go has several other important campaigns in the works including making Justin Trudeau apologize for his “blasphemous” Christmas sweater.

The author of the petition shows they are super angry over three types of ice cream served up at the store: “Red Rapture”, “Hella Nutella”, and “Sweet Baby Jesus,” and think one “S” in Sweet Jesus is a shout out to Hitler. “It is noteworthy that the first ‘s’ in the Jesus in their company logo mimics the Nazi symbol for Hitler’s paramilitary organization, the ‘SS,’” reads the petition.

The petition also links to a blog post by “Activist Mommy” which claims that the ice cream shop also “fetishizes children” by using them in their advertisement. For example, they are mad at an image of a boy in a sailors uniform as it is an “outfit reminiscent of the sailor in the homosexual music group The Village People.”

“There is nothing cute or clever about these advertisements, they are sick and creepy and only sick and creepy people would be inspired to buy their product upon seeing them,” reads the post.

A second petition was launched earlier in March on Change.org and is, at least according to the write-up, going directly to Justin Trudeau. It’s received about 1,200 signatures so far and say that those behind it are boycotting the brand.

The ice cream shop is defending their name saying that they got it from the exclamation people say when eating something hella tasty—that it was, “created from the popular phrase that people use as an expression of joy, surprise or disbelief.”

“We are conscious of the fact that, to some, our name can be off-putting,” said Andrew Richmond, one of Sweet Jesus’ co-founders, in a statement. ”That fact is something we struggle with because we sincerely do not wish to give offense or show disrespect in any way toward anyone’s personal beliefs. Neither is it our intention to be exploitative or flagrantly provocative.”

The petition addresses these claims directly by saying, “even if this were some innocent faux-pas, it would still be unacceptable!” They also, of course, bring Muslims into it and bemoan that allowing an ice cream shop to be named Sweet Jesus is the first stop on an anti-Christ slippery slope.

[Note from the author: this next section is best read in the voice of Helen Lovejoy]

“It is time for Christians to take a stand against the anti-Christ agenda, clearly now in open season against Christianity. If this Ice Cream chain is permitted to keep the mocking and blasphemous name of Sweet Jesus, what is next?”

Won’t somebody think of all the little children, all the little children in the world!?!

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As Mark Zuckerberg comes to terms with his latest public-relations disaster, he has made some interesting admissions. One is that the Facebeook CEO feels “fundamentally uncomfortable sitting here in California in an office making content policy decisions for people around the world,” as he told Recode. This sentiment echoes his manifesto on the future of Facebook from earlier this year, in which he called for “a system of more local governance,” for the same reason: He can’t figure out by himself how to set standards of behavior for Facebook’s more than 2 billion monthly active users.

It’s a sensible realization, and it wouldn’t be surprising if it came from anyone but Zuckerberg. This is the person, after all, who has managed to structure his company so as to retain monarchic powers despite being a minority owner. This is the company whose leading shareholders allowed that to happen. How would a company whose shareholders don’t even trust themselves ever enable meaningful user governance?

The current crisis of trust for Facebook should be a wake-up call that the tech giant—and others like it—need more appropriate structures of ownership and accountability.

Most of the talk about how to handle Facebook’s vast troves of valuable personal user data has revolved around regulation. Zuckerberg, along with Apple’s Tim Cook, have outright invited such oversight, and Europe’s new data protections are forcing them to plan for it anyway. Commentators from Steve Bannon to Zeynep Tufekci have called for Facebook to be treated as a public utility, like power companies and telecoms. Before legal advisors got the better of him, presumably, Zuckerberg himself used to refer to the company as a “social utility.”

Some well-placed rules might do a lot of good. But heavy regulation can also backfire. Think of what our most highly regulated, utility-scale industries look like—Comcast, PG&E, AT&T. Airlines. Big banks. Many of these are among the most hated companies out there. Zealous regulation can result in regulatory capture; a few big firms can afford enough lobbyists to write their own rules, which tend to be are so onerous that they make it impossible for smaller competitors to challenge the incumbents. Regulation thus ends up subsidizing the big firms’ investor-owners and reducing the incentive for providing quality service.

We might also consider whether governments, especially the ones we currently have, can be trusted to protect our personal data. The Department of Justice, for instance, is seeking rules to ensure its ability to access data on encrypted phones; Congress has permitted ISPs to sell their customers’ personal data.

There are other ways to imagine organizing a social network of Facebook’s scale—ways better aligned with Zuckerberg’s ambition of “local governance.” One of the few companies that rivals Facebook’s scope is the Associated Press, the newswire service that claims to reach over half the world’s population every day with its reports. The fact that we tend not to think of the AP in the same breath as Facebook is a signal of its success; the goal of a good platform should be that we don’t notice it.

The AP was formed in the 1840s as an association of New York City newspapers that needed to share resources like telegraph wires and horseback couriers. It has since endured its share of Facebook-like controversy; Upton Sinclair once called it “the most powerful and most sinister monopoly in America.” But a decisive turning point came with a 1945 Supreme Court decision that forced the AP to become a truly open-membership cooperative, owned and governed by the competing news agencies that use it, which run the ideological gamut from Fox News to the New York Times. It provides its member companies—including my local paper—with much-needed reportage from all over the world. In a moment of media polarization, the AP has stuck to the center by virtue of its diverse ownership structure—which is to say, the structure of its accountability.

Calls have been mounting for antitrust action against the new tech behemoths—not only Facebook, but also Amazon, Google, and others. Too rarely do these proposals involve fundamentally changing how the platforms are owned and governed.

One approach, following the AP example, would be to reorganize Facebook into an association of diverse, interoperable social networks among which users could choose. The central company would act as a kind of franchiser, managing the core technology and underlying infrastructure; the smaller member-owner companies would compete for users by offering varied options on matters of ad deployment, data standards, content filtering, and even interface design. Like the internet’s most essential and resilient social network—email—the result would be a blend of unity and diversity. Like AP, also, Facebook would be insulated from the day-to-day economic temptations of the ad business.

The technology for such “federated” social networks has existed for years; the trouble is that the allure of monopolism has so far prevented more competitive models from flourishing.

A second approach might involve a more direct form of user-ownership, in which the company as a whole remains unified but individual Facebook users, together, wield significant ownership and governance powers. This would be especially well-aligned with one of Zuckerberg’s stated ambitions: “I hope that we can explore examples of how collective decision-making might work at scale.” Handling such governance would not be easy, but already large-scale co-ops and mutuals—think REI and Northwestern Mutual—do a fairly good job of serving member interests without being toppled by the fleeting whims of the crowd. The electric utility co-ops that supply electricity to much of rural America receive consistently higher customer service ratings than their investor-owned counterparts. If companies like Facebook are going to hold the data of our daily lives, the surest route to security and a sustainable business is for us to hold a stake in those companies in turn.

The path to either of these outcomes is not easy or clear. They are goals to work toward, not short-term fixes. And achieving them will require a mix of policy intervention and ingenuity. Perhaps the process could begin with Zuckerberg's promised stock sell-off. One way or another, it is time to look beyond the ownership structures the online economy currently has to the ones we need for a healthier future.

The Cambridge Analytica case now plaguing Facebook is not a hack or a breach; it’s the rule, not an exception. It’s a symptom of a problem we already knew we had but were content to ignore. Facebook, Google, Amazon, and firms like them hold reams of data about us whose potential for abuse—if not now, in the future—may exceed the companies’ incentive to act in our interests. As online networks mature from dorm-room experiments to social utilities, our expectations should mature with them. Even Zuckerberg seems to realize that his network isn’t just his anymore. We give it value by acting like it is ours, by sharing our lives like it is ours. The nature of the company should reflect this.

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Nathan Schneider is a professor of media studies at the University of Colorado Boulder. His next book, Everything for Everyone: The Radical Tradition That Is Shaping the Next Economy, will be published by Nation Books in the fall.

This article originally appeared on VICE US.

Note: the author was flown to this interview for the release of Far Cry 5

Liz was at a shopping centre in her hometown of Canberra when a woman with a big smile asked if she was a model. Feeling flattered, Liz stopped to talk and agreed to fill out a form for what she thought was a fairly innocuous Christian group. But just three years later, Liz was on SBS VICELAND’s The Feed, recounting how this moment led her into a cult.

“I didn’t think I was joining anything,” she told reporter Joel Tozer. “They said they were doing a Christian arts show. They emailed me some pictures and it looked wonderful, it looked awesome, so I said I’d meet up with them to talk about maybe participating.”

The group she was speaking with calls themselves the Christian Gospel Mission, but they’re more widely known by their previous names: Providence and Jesus Morning Star (JMS). They began in South Korea in 1980 and they believe their founder, Jung Myung-seok, is the second coming of Christ. In stark contradiction, Jung has has spent the past 10 years in jail for rape.

“They told us that he was in prison because he was being persecuted and falsely accused,” Liz explained.

Eight months after first filling in a form, Liz moved into a shared house owned by JMS. A year later she visited Jung Myung-seok in jail, and was gifted a pearl necklace that she was told symbolised a vagina. “Jung is just women-obsessed and sex obsessed," she explained. “I guess he just wanted his women to wear things that symbolised him.”

Finally, she was hospitalised with an eating disorder. While recovering at her mum’s house, a US cult expert by the name of Rick Ross was hired to try an intervention. Luckily it worked, and Liz left JMS in 2013. “The only way I could describe it was rape,” she said of the two-year experience. “Even though it wasn’t physical—it was mental and it was emotional and it was spiritual rape. I just felt violated.”

Now several years later, Rick Ross believes that JMS is the single most dangerous cult in Australia. “Jung Myung-seok has just been released from prison and he hasn’t changed, as far as I know,” he tells me. “And for some reason his group has been recruiting in Australia pretty hard.”

Rick explaining his work on the game

I’m meeting Rick at a media event in Paris. He’s an academic-looking guy with glasses, a blazer, and an accent that he tells me originated in Arizona. He’s been extracting people from cults for more than 30 years, and he approaches the subject of indoctrination in a thoughtful, evidence-based way, while still indulging my fascination with weirdness. And I guess this is why Rick has appeared in several documentaries, and has now assisted with the creation of a video game.

So, let’s pause here. We’ll come back to cults in a moment, but I just want to provide the branded backstory on how I came to meet Rick.

Rick has just finished consulting on video game called Far Cry 5. Rick was hired by the game’s developers, Ubisoft, to help their team create a fictional cult. The cult they invented is a fairly garden variety of Christian fundamentalists, holed up in the hills of Montana and armed to the teeth. Players assume the role of a local police rookie, assigned to helicopter in and arrest the group’s leader, which is a plan that quickly goes pear-shaped. And as you play you can’t help but notice how the game dances with history. There’s a bit of Congressman Leo Ryan’s disastrous 1976 visit to Jonestown. And there’s a lot of the 1993 siege on the Branch Davidians in Waco.

Rick’s job was to guide the development team on creating a cult and situation that was fictional, but steeped in enough precedents to feel scary. “So the guys at Ubisoft would ask me things like ‘Has a cult ever done something like this?’ and then they’d give me an example of something they were considering, and I’d say ‘Yes, but actually there have been even worse examples than that’—and that’s how I helped out.”

So I’m meeting Rick at the Far Cry 5 media event in Paris, which I see as an opportunity to get the lowdown on how cults are recruiting and operating in 2018.

“A cult can now completely exist on the web,” he says. “There’s a woman named Sherry Daniels and she runs something called the Miracle School. Sherry sells miracles via PayPal and they can end up being a lot of money. One complaint I received, someone had spent $25,000 in a few months, only for Sherry to pull them into a magical world where they were detached from reality. And things like this are just as destructive as more traditional cults.”

In this way Rick says that cults in 2018 are often harder to pin down, while on the upside the internet empowers followers with far more information. “I’m getting more emails from people saying that, ‘Hey, I was with this group and going to their meetings, but then I googled them and sure enough they were in your database. And I decided hey, screw them.’”

Related: check out our VICE doco on a Siberian cult leader.

But the constant factor, says Rick, regardless of whether a group is old or new, is that they’re built around the gravity of an individual. This is the case for JMS in Korea, and it was the case for the Branch Davidians in Texas, or Jonestown in Guyana. These organisations are created around the idea that their leader has a direct line with god, and therefore everything they say gospel. “But what’s interesting is that some gurus are frauds and they know it,” says Rick. “But in many cases, the leaders of these groups believe that they’re actually god-like.”

Rick says he worked hard with the Ubisoft team, writing a believable cult leader and antagonist for Far Cry 5. The result was a character named Joseph Seed, who—between believing his own fantasies and wanting to make the world a better place—achieves a very familiar, human type of evil. “I watch some of the promotional clips of this character,” says Rick, “and it’s incredible how right they got that kind of psychology.”

I ask Rick what he’s learned about cult followers after more than 30 years, and he doesn’t even hesitate. “The human mind is far more fragile that we wish to admit,” he says decisively. “Anyone can be had by a destructive cult given the right set of circumstances and timing.”

He tells me that one vulnerability people don’t even realise they have is arrogance. “It’s like saying 'An STI will never happen to me.' People think they’re superman, so they don't recognise the symptoms when it starts to go wrong. They’re so sure ‘This couldn’t happen to me’ that they don’t even realise it’s happening.

“But do you think you’re winning?” I ask. “And especially when the idea of cults are so completely embedded in popular culture—are cults finding it harder to function?”

Rick tells me that it’s a hard thing to measure, but one way is to see how hard cults fight back, through both lawsuits and through general threats. “And right now, I would say the resistance bar is quite high.”

He talks about being sued five times by five different groups, one of which spent about $5 million in the process. But his favourite example is the group who spent months collecting his garbage trying to find some dirt on him. “The person responsible for trash in my apartment was selling it to this cult, and I found this out in Federal Court. The fact this happens tells me the resistance meter is high. So, I must be doing something right.”

Far Cry 5 launches in Australia on March 27 (today!) And you can follow Julian on Twitter for more of this kind of thing.

This article originally appeared on VICE AU.

Laughter is the best remedy when things are at their darkest, and boy are things bleak. Between geopolitical scandals, governmental incompetence, and global climate change, you're probably in need of some escape. I've compiled the best action movies and horror movies on Netflix, the platform's greatest shows to watch when you're stoned, and even the most psychedelic movies to watch while you're tripping, but what about some gentle caresses for your funny bone? Here are the best comedies to watch right now on Netflix (minus romantic comedies, which deserve their own list):

Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls

Alongside The Mask, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective cemented Jim Carrey as the consummate over-performer back in 1994. But where the debut Ventura film peters out with its sports-bro affectations and a transphobic finale that’s more mean than funny, When Nature Calls succeeds by doing what the pet detective does best: going batty. Here’s a fun fact: Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls was written and directed by Steve Oedekerk, of Kung Pow! Enter the Fist fame.

American Pie

Next to Spicoli ordering a pizza in detention, is there a more singular American teen-movie moment than when Eugene Levy catches Jason Biggs fucking a cherry pie? Jim and Nadia’s nonconsensual live-streaming moment doesn’t hold up in 2018, not even with Blink-182 tuning in, but lest anyone forget, this is the film that made Seann William Scott famous.

Bad Santa

Billy Bob Thornton is one of the best, and most underrated American actors working today. He was Oscar-worthy in Sling Blade, which he also wrote and directed. He was unforgettable as Lorne Malvo in the first season of FX’s Fargo. And as Willie T. Soke, the alcoholic anti-hero in Ghost World director Terry Zwigoff’s Bad Santa, he’s as downright reprehensible as it gets. Also, rest in peace, Bernie Mac.

Barking Dogs Never Bite

Remember The Zoo Story? Well, this right here is also a pitch-black dog torture comedy, but don’t let that dissuade you from watching what’s ultimately a stylish and supremely satisfying debut film from Bong Joon-Ho, the director of Okja, Snowpiercer, and The Host.

Beerfest

Following the breakout success of Super Troopers and Club Dread, the Broken Lizard comedy troupe turned their attention to the dumb-as-dogshit world of drinking games, and actually made something fun and inclusive out of it. What makes Beerfest work is great characters, from PhD chemist Steve "Fink" Finklestein to drinking game wizard-turned-male prostitute Barry Badrinath, along with perfectly selected cameos like Das Boot star Jürgen Prochnow as a Bavarian beer baron.

Burn After Reading

Call this one Fargo-lite. The black comedy starts bleak and ends bleaker after alcoholism and infidelity sets CIA analyst Osbourne Cox (George Clooney) off on a soul-searching quest to write a memoir. This underappreciated entry in the Coen brothers’ catalog also features Brad Pitt as a total fucking moron (he’s great at it), and cinematography by the legendary Emmanuel Lubezki.

Caddyshack

Damn, I have to explain why you should watch Caddyshack? OK, here goes: Golfers, gophers, Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, and Bill Murray. And if you haven’t seen it already, do not continue on with this list until you have. This right here is one of the all-time greatest American comedies, right up there with Airplane!, Animal House, and Coming to America.

Cool Runnings

Disney’s semi-true tale of the 1988 Jamaican bobsled team features all the trappings of a classic sports comedy: an underdog story, a down-on-his-luck coach (the inimitable John Candy, in this case), and a sing-along theme song. If you haven’t watched Cool Runnings since you were a kid, why not now?

Forgetting Sarah Marshall

When Freaks and Geeks fan favorite, Jason Segel, wrote a movie for Judd Apatow, few expected it to be as charming or as hilarious as this. Featuring never-better roles from Mila Kunis and Russell Brand, this one will have you forgetting your own Sarah Marshall, but not forgetting Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Or something.

Goon

The least funny thing about this movie is that it came out the same year three NHL enforcers—the guys who get in the fistfights—died of complications related to head trauma. The funniest part is that Superbad co-writer Evan Goldberg teamed up with Jay Baruchel to write a hockey-fistfighting movie starring Seann William Scott as an anti-homophobic Stifler.

I Love You, Man

Twitter user John-Michael Bond wrote, “The most unbelievable part of the Bible is a 32-year-old man with 12 close friends.” And that is pretty much the basis for this 2009 bromantic comedy starring Paul Rudd and Jason Segel. Need some more platonic pet names to call your best bud? Watch this film, directed by Zoolander and Meet the Parents co-writer John Hamburg.

Jaal

For the uninitiated, the narrative non-conventions of Bollywood mean it’s a genre that won’t immediately make a lot of sense. But for those willing to take the plunge, Jaal, technically an action-thriller, is all the right amounts of basketball-dance-fight-in-gravity-defying-moon boots.

Jackass: Number Two

This is the one where they put an anaconda in a ball pit. As Johnny Knoxville told me recently, he still has the sailor hat.

Mac and Devin Go to High School

There’s something inherently funny about rappers Wiz Khalifa, 30, and Snoop Dogg, 46, putting the high back in high school. Add the fact that all the “prop” weed was real—real enough to get the production kicked out of its original shooting location, an actual high school—and you’ve certainly got the perfect recipe for a stoner comedy.

Mad Money

Callie Khouri, the Academy Award-winning screenwriter of Thelma & Louise, directed this female-led crime comedy. It stars Diane Keaton, Katie Holmes, and Queen Latifah—a combination that will definitely make you feel old—but that alone makes it way more interesting than 99 percent of films in the genre.

Meet the Parents

There are a lot of good Robert De Niro movies out there, but few of them are on Netflix. The two-time Academy Award-winning actor’s comedic chops get their due opposite Ben Stiller in this mega-successful family comedy, which has about as many memorable lines as Zoolander (which came not shortly after). “I have nipples, Greg. Can you milk me?”

Nacho Libre

Following his performances in School of Rock and Orange County, with Nacho Libre Jack Black fully filled the vacuum left behind after Jim Carrey stopped doing over-the-top comedy. The story of a dimwitted monk who just wants to be a luchador is just as funny today as it was when it came out in 2006, thanks in large part to the perfect pairing of Black with the off-kilter humor of Napoleon Dynamite creators Jared and Jerusha Hess.

Naked

I’m waiting for Marlon Wayans’s Netflix deal to kick off a Wayans-issaince, because now is when we could really use it. This one co-stars Regina Hall in a Groundhog Day-type story wherein Wayans keeps waking up, in the buff, on the floor of a hotel elevator. What a nightmare.

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby

Will Ferrell went all-American for this full-throated parody of/paean to NASCAR culture. Co-starring John C. Reilly and Sacha Baron Cohen, it’s essential viewing for fans of the full-grown baby-man genre (along with other Ferrell favorites Anchorman, Elf, and Old School).

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar

The story behind this 1995 road comedy in drag, starring John Leguizamo, Wesley Snipes, and Patrick Swayze as three gay queens headed cross-country, is every bit as good as the film—so you should read it. Basically even though Steven Spielberg personally vouched for the screenplay, it was a tough sell during a time when the realities of the AIDS epidemic had been swept back under the rug in Hollywood. Nevertheless, the film emerged as a modest box-office success, and today it remains some of the most interesting work by its three leading men (plus it has an incredible cameo by Robin Williams).

Trading Places

Legendary director John Landis brought comedic stars Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy together for an 80s-ass take on Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper. Basically, it’s like Wall Street but glorifying good deeds instead of greed.

Tropic Thunder

You knew this one starred Ben Stiller, Jack Black, and Robert Downey Jr. But did you know Stiller directed, and co-wrote the screenplay with Idiocracy co-writer Etan Cohen and The Leftovers star Justin Theroux? Chew on that next time you’re watching Tom Cruise chew-out Matthew McConaughey.

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

Few comedies approach the scale and scope of an epic, but Walk Hard is one of those films. The fictional account of Johnny Cash-type Dewey Cox is basically a biographical parody of rock’n’roll itself, in America and abroad. Come for the earnest skewering of cliches portrayed in biopics like Ray, stay for Paul Rudd, Jack Black, Justin Long, and Jason Schwartzman as the India-era Beatles.

The Waterboy

Everything you need to know about sports culture in America can be summed up with the single line “Water sucks. Gatorade is better.”

Wedding Crashers

Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn in Wedding Crashers might be the only likeable pair of pickup artists on the planet. If you’re the type of “motorboatin’ sonofabitch” who takes this kind of approach to getting laid seriously, there’s a reckoning coming for your lying ass. For the rest of you, who aren’t so stupid as to apply in real life the things you see in movies, this one’s as devilish as the idea of getting a date at a funeral. (The idea!)

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This article originally appeared on VICE US.

There are all kinds of ways to take a boring, ordinary wedding and make it memorable, like getting married at Disney World, Tim Horton's, or the garden section in the Walmart where you met. But sometimes, as one English couple learned earlier this month, it's probably better just to play it straight.

Looking to spice up their big day, Jeni Arrowsmith and Mark Wood decided to make an owl their ring-bearer, which, at first, seemed cute and innocuous: Carrying their bands in a pouch tied to its leg, the plan was to let the bird zip down the aisle and gently deposit them at the altar like a real-life Hedwig. Instead, all hell broke loose and the bird went rogue, flapping around like the wild creature it is and attacking Wood's best man, the Guardian reports.

That's when the ceremony basically devolved into a scene from Planet Earth. The bird swooped in on the guy like a hawk picking off an unsuspecting mouse, sending him toppling out of his chair and onto the floor. Luckily, it didn't do go after his eyes or anything, and everyone at the wedding—bride and groom included—just laughed at their good friend's misfortune. The wedding photographer got a pretty nice shot too.

"The best man’s reaction, when he fell off the seat and the crowd erupting into laughter was just great," Stacey Oliver, the wedding photographer, told the Guardian. "For some reason, the owl just decided he wanted to go for him and he was just terrified. He’s absolutely petrified of anything that flies."

According to the Daily Mail, the winged beast eventually backed off, settling down by the wedding register for the rest of the ceremony. Things went pretty smoothly from there on out—the happy couple said their vows, their loved ones gazed proudly up at them, and the dude who was mauled by an owl presumably had some new fodder for his best man's speech, so it probably could have been worse.

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Related: Teen Too Lit at Wedding

This article originally appeared on VICE US.

In 2018, the quest for self-actualization involves a ubiquitous and relentless compulsion to post on social media. The desire for likes and shares—and perhaps even 15 minutes of fame—trumps practically everything else on the hierarchy of needs. As such, we live in a dystopia in which pregnant couples have switched from using cakes to announce whether they're having a boy or a girl, to filming themselves pulling complex and dangerous stunts. These so-called "gender reveal videos" sometimes go awry and lead to injuries like broken fibulas, though everybody seemed to have a great time in the latest clip from Louisiana that took the genre to a whole new level of insanity.

Mike Kliebert lives in Ponchatoula—about 50 miles east of Baton Rouge—and goes by the nickname "T-Mike, the Gator King." In a video posted to Facebook on Sunday afternoon, the professional reptile wrangler puts a watermelon filled with Jell-O into the jaws of a giant alligator and waits for the beast to chomp down. When it does, blue gelatin sprays all over his front lawn, causing Kliebert's family to cheer with delight from behind their cellphones while George Strait plays in the background. Then the 33-year-old forces the gator down to the ground, so it doesn't kill that very same family he's celebrating a new addition to.

Worth noting:

• An unnamed woman screams, "Let's get this party going!" to kick off the video.
• With the exception of the baby screaming in the background, no one seems concerned that they're standing mere feet away from an alligator—least of all the kid who's rolling around on the ground next to it.

• It's unclear if Crocs are really the right footwear to have on a) at a baby shower and b) when wrestling an alligator away from your friends and family.

Regardless, congrats on the new baby, T-Mike. You've already proven yourself to be a very protective, if ambitious, father and I can't wait to see what the Gator Prince's birthday parties look like.

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Allie is a proud Floridian and wants to be sent gator content on Twitter.

This article originally appeared on VICE US.

No longer a niche lifestyle choice, veganism has secured itself in the mainstream, but many folks still see veganism as a lifestyle for white people. So what gives? In 2018 does mainstream veganism not appeal to minorities, or are non-whites just underrepresented in the community?

In search of some diversity in the vegan community, I stumbled upon a talk given by Dr. Margaret Robinson, an Indigenous vegan and professor of Indigenous Studies at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. During her talk, Margaret shared how her views on veganism come from values and philosophies rooted in her Mi’kmaw culture. She spoke with VICE about her experience as a culturally-connected vegan.

VICE: When you told people you were vegan, were they like, ‘why’?
Margaret Robinson: In my Indigenous culture, we’ve got a culture of non-interference—there’s a value that you’re not supposed to challenge people in their behaviour. You model behaviour that you want to see other people adopt, rather than telling people when they’re doing something wrong. I think partly because of the non-interference value I haven’t had too many problems from folks about it.

I read that in Mi’kmaw culture, animals are called to sacrifice themselves to be eaten. Can you elaborate?
The Mi’kmaw belief is that animals sacrifice themselves so that people can eat them, and they have to consent to be hunted. The animals are essentially so wiley that if they didn’t allow you to catch them, you’d never catch them. I think a part of that [belief] is that we don’t really have a particularly high estimation of human abilities; we tend to see humans as dependent, especially when compared to other animals. So yeah, Mi’kmaw culture has tended to see animals as volunteering themselves to be eaten, and you see that in our stories.

Do you ever sum up your philosophy at the dinner table as not asking for animals to sacrifice themselves for you?
I don’t really get challenged on it. I talk to my partner about veganism and what are the values and philosophies grounding our practices, and for me it connects up with Indigeniety.

Can veganism help someone reconnect with his or her culture?
There are a lot of ways to connect to your Indigenous culture. For me, I think it was a way to help me connect with the values and philosophy of the Mi’kmaw nation—not necessarily with our traditions or our cultural practices. There’s the common sense in my community that we have a responsibility to protect the water, the air, the soil, the plants and the animals and I think we have that in common with veganism. If someone is looking to connect with their culture and they happen to be vegan, these are the ways in which that segue to connect with Indigenous values is not going to be that dramatically different for them. If they already feel a responsibility to protect the environment, if they already see animals as someone, not something, than that’s going to make the transition really smooth.

Do you see veganism as a form of cultural resistance?
Yes and no. Anything that keeps us separated or keeps us able to see the Western tendency to treat living things as if they are objects that we can use and dispose of is always a good thing in terms of resisting colonialism. And I think yes in that the distinction [of animals] being some one not some thing, that goes back to Mi’kmaw views of animals, and I’m sure that’s the case with other Indigenous nations as well. But also no, because it’s still really easy to make terrible choices, even when you’re vegan. The avocado that I like so much has probably been picked by someone who has been economically, socially, and politically oppressed—possibly another Indigenous person. So I think yes and no—colonialism has so many claws in us, it’s difficult to completely separate from them.

Are there any philosophical parallels between Mi’kmaw culture and veganism?
I think one parallel is the value of subsistence. For instance, in Mi’kmaw culture, you’re not supposed to kill more animals than you need to actually stay alive. Hoarding, for instance, accumulating a whole bunch of food in your freezer is not really done. So even people who hunt, if you hunt a moose, in my culture, you’re supposed to share that moose with people in the community who need food. Even though the practice of hunting and killing a moose is clearly not a vegan activity, I think the focus of not taking more than you need—that subsistence value—is very amenable. It parallels in some ways with the kind of values that I see in vegan communities around respect for animals and around being honest about what we need and what we don’t need. I think that because of that kind of respect for animals and ecosystems, there are ways in which indigenous values overlap with veganism, and I think that can be really politically productive in a lot of ways.

I sort of feel like sometimes people have presented Indigenous folks and vegans as if they’re like this natural set of enemies, when in reality I think we have a lot of values in common, even if we’re not expressing them in the same practices.

Have you inspired other Indigenous people to become vegan?
No, I don’t really feel there’s any kind of domino effect of Indigenous people becoming vegan, but I do think Indigenous people are thinking about their food choices and how other choices connect up with their own Indigenous values. I think everyone goes through that self-reflection, especially if you’re engaging with your culture in any particular way, or if you’re trying to decolonize psychologically or trying to reclaim your culture. People have to figure out how they will live as an Indigenous person, and what that’s going to look like. I think everyone has that thought process they go through—it might not lead them to veganism, but it might lead them to something on a similar path. I do talk about what I do, and I write about the things I do, but I’m not out with a sign trying to get people to stop eating factory farmed meat or things like that. If they wanted the information, it’s already accessible.

Do you think Indigenous vegans should have their own label separate from other vegans?
I don’t think there are enough of us to justify having its own label. I only know three others, so I’m not really sure we’ve got the critical mass to carry a label. I’d want a couple more shoulders helping carry that.

What about your cooking? Has it inspired anyone?
I do tend to bring to bring vegan food to events but I don’t tend to tell people it’s vegan food…You can definitely sway stomachs before you can sway minds (laughs).

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The great state of New Jersey is having a resurgence. First, it got rid of Chris Christie and voted in the billionaire Democrat who's promised to legalize weed as quickly as possible. Then, a few months ago, we learned that the cast of Jersey Shore (well, most of them) would be taking a family vacation to Miami, after years of depriving us of their drunken antics. Next, we found out that there's going to be a Sopranos prequel. (My dad, for one, is very excited.)

And now, to top this all off, the Satin Dolls gentlemen's club, the real-life Bada Bing from David Chase's mob drama, has reopened its doors after closing them in January, NorthJersey.com reports.

While the Bada Bing was the location of many key moments in The Sopranos—like when Tony and Paulie Walnuts decide to have Big Pussy whacked, or when Johnny Sack says he won't murder Ralph for making a fat joke about his wife—the actual Satin Dolls has a modern-Mafia tale all its own.

According to NorthJersey.com, an unnamed manager said that the go-go bar got back in business just two weeks ago. Before that, in January, state authorities had closed it down because Anthony Cardinalle—an alleged Genovese crime family associate convicted of racketeering—owned the liquor license, and they demanded that he sell or transfer it for the place to remain up and running. That's now, apparently, happened: An entertainment company in Parkland, Florida, is partnering up with Vincent Martin, a local town councilman, to snag the license.

It's unclear if Satin Dolls will continue to be a strip club, but NorthJersey.com does note that the signs advertising it as a "gentlemen's club" are still outside, and people seem to be carrying boxes in and out, which is evidence that, in the very least, they know how to transport things.

One can only hope, though, that this New Jersey landmark follows in its great tradition, but until then, all we can do is wait—for the dancers to return, for Tony's dad to riot in Newark, for Snooki and Deena to fall over once again, for me to finally be able to legally smoke a joint on my mom's porch while I listen to Thursday.

Good things lie ahead: Jersey's back, baby.

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This article originally appeared on VICE US.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Clifford Jago is the kind of stylist who can take some plastic grocery store bags, aluminum ducting hose, a pair of fluorescent leg warmers, and a one-man tent and make it look like a high-end fashion shoot from an alternate universe. The London-based stylist—in fact, the alter ego of a mysterious fashion duo—released his first fashion book in 2017, Clifford Jago and The Tulip Chewers, and now returns to challenge fashion norms with his second book, Clifford Jago & The Ice Queens.

Taking influence from video games and the Icelandic landscape, Jago's newest book—which you can buy here—sees the digital and analog worlds collide, featuring 3D digital supermodels alongside images shot on 645 film.

To find out more, I spoke to the self-proclaimed "king of the fashion underground" about his recent adventures through Iceland.

VICE: Tell me where the idea for Clifford Jago & The Ice Queens came from.
Clifford Jago: Well, my books take a gonzo approach to fashion styling. So every book is set in a different location; the first book was Amsterdam. The whole project was based around there and around the culture, and then I styled the models within the landscape and the city.

What is gonzo styling?
Gonzo styling is a phrase I like to joke around with. It takes Hunter S. Thompson's gonzo journalism approach and loosely applies it to what I do with fashion. It's all about spontaneously reacting to your environment. He would submerge himself into his environments and become part of the story.

How would you describe Clifford Jago & The Ice Queens to someone who has never seen it before?
Well, it's definitely a step into the unknown, but as you make that step, you get handed a marshmallow-topped hot chocolate. It's basically the fashion bible for video game enthusiasts across the world. Imagine styling someone in the middle of a freezing landscape but you have no clothes, just items you gained along the way—that's pretty much the idea. One of the models wears a banana cone that I picked up at Luton Airport on the flight out. It turned out to be a key piece.

How did you come up with the name for the book?
My last book, Clifford Jago and the Tulip Chewers, got its name from a slang term for someone from Holland. For this book, I thought "The Ice Queens" was a good a metaphor for the models we photographed in Iceland. All the models were local Icelandic people, and super nice too.

Why Iceland?
Great deals on easyjet.com! But the professional side of me would say: stunning natural wonders. I think the backdrop speaks for itself—the appeal of the Northern Lights, the Blue Lagoon, and vast mysterious landscapes that are almost alien. But the fact that it cost only £30 [$42] to get there sealed the deal.

What do you hope to achieve with your books?
My aim is to build characters and tell stories through my styling and photography. I like to try new ideas and take things to the next level, and hopefully confuse some people along the way. I love to travel and take my method of working to new places, which is why each book is set in a different country. I would like the Clifford Jago brand to become one of the biggest in the world so I can buy a ticket on Elon Musk's trip to Mars. My dream is to be the first fashion stylist to style in outer space.

So you mix 3D models and actual models. How did that happen?
Using 3D models alongside my film photography was a bit of an experiment. I thought, Can what I do in real life translate in 3D? It's the same process, only I can make characters that are way more surreal, for example, something like Naomi Campbell dancing in a Coca-Cola vending machine.

It’s completely different from mainstream fashion books.
The reason I started doing this is a reaction to that fashion formula. You can shoot a story or an idea in a certain way, but you’re always going to be limited, whether it’s from the stylist or what the magazine needs. This way, you can get away with styling someone in just a bunch of bananas and that’s it, and it’s cool. There’s no one to answer to.

What do you see in the future for you and your books?
I will hopefully collaborate with more brands and have the freedom to put them in my world. I also want more wild adventures—I'd love to make a book on a banana farm in South America and document the journey of the banana back to London. I also think I could do a pretty banging Ferrari campaign.

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You can find more of Clifford Jago's work on his website and Instagram.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

A group of far-right anti-Islam protesters attempting to flex their power on the streets of Hamilton were met with sharp counter-resistance and a massive police presence on Sunday. The failed “Patriot Walk on Lock” was largely derailed thanks to a 1,200-word anti-racist blog post that looks straight out of 2009.

The pushback was so intense that the “patriots” attempted to reschedule their event but in haste forgot to tell the people attending—leaving lots of their supporters high and dry.

To get the full story about how a single blog could spook the far-right, we have to go back to two weeks ago when a group of anarchists calling themselves “The Ungovernables” marched down Hamilton’s Locke Street causing $100,000 in damages. In response, this group of nationalists who have unifiyed over anti-Islam worldviews decided to have a march of their own in solidarity with the small businesses that line the street. Many groups like this (even more extreme groups like the KKK and the Heritage Front) typically perform charitable activities for propaganda and recruitment.

A photo of the nationalist march. Photo via Facebook.

The group was planning on keeping their march largely under wraps and then loudly claiming victory to the media afterwards. Instead, the anti-fascist network in Hamilton was informed of the march and organized a large counter-protest, which was picked up by local media. This, in turn, caused Hamilton Police to have a large show of force and ship in officers from Toronto and Waterloo.

The far-right groups were embarrassed and divided by the forced time change, a group did walk Locke earlier in the morning but only five showed up at the park to confront counter-protests. About 150 counter-protesters—some communists, some anti-fascists, some labour organizers—showed up and held their own march. No arrests or injuries were reported but there were minor skirmishes with police—you can read a thorough recap of the counter-protest march here.

While the group that showed in the morning claimed victory there is no way to describe their march other than a humiliating and abject failure. This failure was handed out in no small way by a little blog that, in recent days, has been getting a big readership—Anti-Racist Canada.

The man who runs Anti-Racist Canada (commonly referred to as ARC) asked to be referred to as Alex and told VICE that he received the information, alongside a few other people, sometime last weekend. It has been over 10 years since Alex began running the blog. He started out as an anti-racist activist against Heritage Front and moved online to fight Stormfront in the early days. Over the years people have worked with him but the constant on the site has been him.

“My big goal was to disrupt this kind of event,” he told VICE. “I figured if it was made public then it might cause some of these individuals to rethink their actions, certainly there was a lot of talk on the group chat about confronting the anti-fascists violently.”

Photo by Evan Balgord.

It has since become the third most popular article on his website and, at the time of writing, has been seen 93,000 times.

“It was obviously an effort to try and cleanse their image, to make themselves like the good guys. So I wanted to minimize that and I wanted to make sure the people were well aware of who these people really were and what they do and what they believe."

The lengthy post features quotes from the organizers of the walk—leaders from multiple far-right and patriot groups—discussing, in a private message, the walk, the goal of it, fighting with “Antifa” if it comes to it, and possibly heading to an anarchist bookstore for confrontation afterwards.

“The message is we’re bigger, and fuck around, we’re badder,” reads one of the messages from the organizer regarding Antifa. “[It will be] 120 lbs beta males vs beer drinking, whiskey-chugging, hot bitches fucking, bar fighting, powerlifting, gun shooting alpha males.”

Alex describes the groups involved as having different belief systems that overlap at some points (mainly over their fear of Islam), who have come together because they’re “desperate to be seen as tough brave patriots when in reality they're just cosplayers.” Seeing their behind-the-scenes discussion is as enlightening as it is humorous.

Alex is quick to say that many others worked to disrupt the march and didn’t want to take full credit for what he described as a “success” but it’s impossible to ignore the impact of his blog.

While Alex considers himself an activist, his work is typically covert. He monitors and publishes information about these groups—he does this through an elaborate network involving moles and sock puppet accounts. Alex told VICE he doesn’t see himself as a journalist and laments traditional coverage of groups like the Soldiers of Odin, the III%, or the Proud Boys, especially when journalists “try to present 'both sides' as if both sides have an equal voice.”

“It's a philosophy that often leads into anti-Semitism and overt racism—that's one side. The other side is the people who want to stop them, I'm not going to weigh both sides as being equal. I think one side is morally superior to the other and I try and present it such a way,” Alex said.

Alex tends to make fun of the people he describes as “bigots” in his blog posts, which has turned him into a regular target of the groups. He also tries to play mind games with members of these groups—in the Hamilton blog post he challenges them to try and figure out how he got their private messages, suggesting, among other things, that one of the leaders is a turncoat or one of them forgot to log off a public computer.

“Sometimes I like to poke the bear a little bit," he said of the tactic. "Obviously if I can cause any more internal dissension, well, all the better for us."

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