Illustration by EpicFaceFist. Photos by Julia Prescott.

When one has made the decision to be a contrarian toward virtually everything that most normalpeople find universally appealing, San Diego Comic Con probably seems like an easy target. It’s crowded, it’s bloated with aggressive corporate pitchmen, it’s expensive, phony, and some all of the people there are super weird. That much is true, I can’t rightfully deny any of it. But despite all of this, it’s still pretty great!

Exclusivity Keeps Out the Riff-Raff!

I’ve been going to SDCC for six years in a row now in some sort of professional capacity or another. Dave Schilling is correct to point out (in his pissy, cynical diatribe against all things fun) that the process of getting a general pass from EPIC Registration is needlessly complicated. However! This is a necessary process to keep casual nerds from ruining the event for the actual nerds.

Professional passes are what we’re after here, and the accepted definition of what does or doesn’t constitute “professional” at SDCC is actually quite flexible. Do you dress up costumes? You’re a professional. Do you draw derivative sketches of pop culture characters on your Instagram? Professional. Have a blog? A YouTube channel? Air-sex champion?  Professionals all!

It’s admittedly a nuisance having to jump through hoops, proving your “credibility” before you can even be given the opportunity to purchase a pass. But think about it like this: When an event is as overpopulated as this one is, you need some way to separate the OG dorks from the fair-weathers. SDCC is crowded enough without a few hundred more chuds in rascal scooters cutting in line and taking up space on the public walkways because they heard the cast of The Big Bang Theory was going to be here or something.  

It’s Not Even That Expensive!

SDCC is pretty much an industry event at this point, like E3 or CES. If you have any business being here in the first place, your company is probably paying for your passes, hotel, travel and entertainment anyway, freeing you up to spend all your disposable income on limited edition hardcover comic books, vinyl toys, and apparel. But let’s say that you were the kind of person that wanted to spend your own money on a Comic-Con trip. Anyway you slice it, it’s still cheaper than tickets to Coachella, Burning Man, and FYF. All the same bullshit EDM DJs that pass for musicians these days are here playing the private parties, and you don’t even have to suffer through any 90s has-beens acts in order to get turnt like you would at Coachella. Win/Win!

It's Good for the Economy!

Every one of those mutants camping outside of Hall H just to get a glimpse of a sweaty, hungover Nathan Fillion or Joss Whedon who can barely function because they were out all night at a sweet industry party (that you weren’t invited to) is putting DOLLARS IN YOUR POCKET. I’m assuming that many of you readers must work in some kind of creative field, or else you’d be reading about Comic Con in “People” or watching a report about it on E! or something. But no! You profit directly from the ding-dongs that wait 24 hours in sweltering, humid weather just to be the first to see a trailer for the third of three Hobbit movies (that should have been one Hobbit movie) 15 minutes before the rest of the world sees it on YouTube. They are the reason you have jobs as writers and creative directors and graphic designers and whatever the hell else you do. Do not despair for the urban-camping enthusiasts, for they shall keep you employed! And you’ll be too busy to even consider doing something as stupid as camping outside of Hall H.

San Diego Is Better Than Vegas

San Diego is too small to host this many people. No one is arguing that. But consider the alternative: Vegas is the only place that actually is big enough, but Vegas sucks. It’s super douchey, all the bars are clubs, all the restaurants are buffets, it’s in the middle of the fucking desert, and it only exists to fleece tourists and bachelorettes with bad taste of their hard earned money.

San Diego is sunny and temperate, it’s on the water, and there are dozens of excellent restaurants and bars within walking distance of the convention center. Plus, five times as many people as the downtown area is meant to sustain produce five times as much local revenue for the local businesses. So moving the convention from San Diego would literally take jobs away form decent, hardworking people and put them in the underserving hands of the kind of person that would willingly live and work in fucking Vegas.

Sex Is Everywhere!

I don’t believe for a second that cosplay isn’t, on some level, a sex thing. The bronies and the furries don’t seem to have a problem admitting it. But for some reason, the superhero and video game cosplay types would have you believe that dressing up as Vampirella or Weapon X Wolverine and running around in your underwear and nipple tape all day isn’t sexy. But ask yourself this: what is the horniest holiday of the entire year? The answer is obviously Halloween. For cosplay people, Halloween is year-round, and SDCC is like a sexually charged, latex clad, drunken five-day-long climax of sweaty capes, erect, pulsating lightsabers, overflowing bustiers and body paint.

PLUS: an alarming majority of nerds are into crossfit all of the sudden, so the men and women both are looking pretty good, and want YOU to acknowledge their hard work at the gym and the sewing machine. Only on Tinder though, please, they can’t let their freaky secret identities be know to the general public. 

Most importantly…

Comic Con is the living, breathing epicenter of a cultural shift that can actually validate one’s inability to grow up and put your action figures away, read up on world events, get politically active etc. It’s a place to be a child forever so you don’t ever have to face the horrors of adulthood. It rewards you financially for being an “expert” in Doctor Who and/or Guardians of the Galaxy. It hands you a free drink on every street corner. It wakes up next to you in a hotel room, hungover, wearing nothing but face paint and Hulk Hands, then sends you back home to reality like none of it ever even happened. Does that sound like something that’s really worth all this vitriol? 

Follow Jeremy Azevedo on Twitter.

“You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.” - Dorothy Parker

The first thing I realize about grad school is that it's not like a strip club: There is no saying “fuck you” to a patronizing middle aged man who tries to tell me what to do and still waltzing across town and clearing a grand at another club by the end of the night. I have personally fuck-you-peace-out-ed from dozens of strip clubs, waitressing jobs, relationships... well, you get the idea. For the record, I think it's our culture, not me, that has issues with authority.

At orientation, the program coordinator, my adviser, stood in front of us and explained (with the help of PowerPoint, of course) exactly what we had to do and were not allowed to do for the next four years if we wanted to put those magic letters after our name: MSW. I willed my butt to stay in the chair even though I couldn't breathe with the humming lights and rules pressing down on me. Sure, there are other master's social work programs out there, even radical ones, but none that I could get into, afford, and live near.

In my life I've forced myself to do some things, and they have not turned out well. There was the time I made myself stay in a horrible foster home because my therapist said the foster parents were good people. There was the time I agreed to shit on a guy for a thousand dollars and then I hated it so much I puked on him and he didn't want to pay me. The time I stayed with an ex because they needed me. The time I got in a client’s car because I needed the money. I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind and tell myself this was only the first day of school.

Three days into the program, I finally met a professor who acted like a regular human being, and I begged my way into her office. Ms. Tulip had a big smile and a big purple mumu and an office door cluttered with cartoons. She said that I was very bright and she definitely thought I could make it through the program. They didn't kick people out for anything but academics or barrier crimes.

What about prostitution? I didn't ask.

Maybe I could have, but social workers especially have a habit of thinking escorts are poor unknowing self-destructive little wenches. I could have told her I don't do drugs or have a pimp, but that never comes out right. I could illustrate my freedom and empowerment by telling her about the email I got the day before from a conservative politician that I refused to see. It all just seemed too risky and exhausting.

“But I don't understand why you want to do this program,” she says.

There are so many reasons, but it's not any of them, it's all of them. I start to stammer through a list of justifications, reasons why I'm here. Why am I here?

“I know,” she says, “I read your application essays. But I don't understand.”

I nod and the conversation turns to local communities, then problems, then ethics. She's a pacifist, she doesn't believe in killing or maiming. Hitting either, I suppose.

“Not even to save a life?” I ask.

“Only if it was very clear-cut.”

“What if you knew of a person who had tortured and killed several women, and you had the ability to stop them?”

“I would call the police,” she says.

Fuck, if only I could be that innocent, to think I could just call the cops and they would do something. I don't tell her any sad stories though.

I don't tell her that when my auntie was sixteen – not my real auntie, but the woman who took me in when I was a teenager – a customer in a strip club offered her a hundred dollars to go to lunch with him, and she accepted. Soon she was in chains in his basement. He told her about the women he’d already killed, about turning them loose in the woods and hunting them like animals. He told her to start thinking about how she might use the head start he would give her.

She got away. Somewhere between his house and his airplane.

The cops yelled at her. They said she was obviously just a hooker mad about not being paid, and she was lucky they didn't lock her up for making a false report.

That man went on to kill dozens of women. When he was finally arrested, it came to light that there had been at least one other report similar to my auntie's. Hers, they hadn't bothered to write down.

I don't tell Ms. Tulip about the time my boyfriend, trying to do the right thing after I'd been raped, shoved me out of the car and abandoned me at a police station in the middle of the night. I'd squared my shoulders and told myself that I was, after all, a very well-spoken college student and that surely in the last fifteen years cops had been trained not to be mean to rape victims. They made fun of my dress and threatened to arrest me for making a false report.

I don't tell Ms. Tulip about my friend who killed the man who was raping her when she was six. One day after he'd passed out drunk with a cigarette, she opened the valves on the propane stove and walked out the door. She's hated herself ever since. I've been telling her for years that she was the smartest and bravest six-year-old ever, but she already knows murderers are awful people.

I don't tell Ms. Tulip any of those stories because they wouldn't sound real to a person like her. She would think I was making them up, or I was just dramatic, or worse, irreparably damaged.

Instead I say, “I think that's a very naïve and privileged point of view.” Words like this mean people like me might exist, without having to say I am one of them.

She shrugs. “I'm a social worker. Cops listen to me.”

The casual power in those two sentences almost takes my breath away. That's what I want, why I'm doing this, it comes to me. I want that power, to make them believe.

Tara Burns is the author of the bestselling Whore Diaries series. Her latest installment, Whore Diaries III: Retirement is available today (and tomorrow) for just 99 cents.

Over the years, I’ve learned that it’s generally best to keep your mouth shut in a sticky situation. It took me a few run-ins with the police in my teenage years to figure this out. At first, I’d try to explain my way out of the situation, which often just made things worse. In a bind, you have to play dumb—just stand there expressionless and don’t speak unless spoken to. If a cop asks you a question, just respond in the simplest way possible and don’t offer any additional information. Better yet, just remain as still and unassuming as possible so they don’t ask you anything at all. I vividly recall the first time this worked for me.

One night my friends and I were drinking beers in the parking lot of a townhouse complex, right outside the home of a spazzy, squirrely younger kid with a shaved head named Theo. This was the same kid that I was later handcuffed to when I got arrested, but at this time we shared no such experience. Theo was kind of a bitch, but we could hang out and blaze at his house because he didn’t give a shit what his mom said. He thought it impressed us, but we all secretly hated him for being rude to his own mother. We’d be nothing but polite when she answered the door, and then Theo would roll down and say something like, “What the fuck mom, those are my friends, let ‘em in!” He sucked, but his house was a place to blaze, and we were always short on those. That evening, threw a little party for a friend of his who came to visit. He was an intense, trashy kid named Dennis. He kept us entertained with stories of fistfights over trivial matters and arguments that he won against service industry workers. You could tell he had a short fuse, but he was chilling and happy to see his friend Theo.

The party was nothing too crazy—just a dozen people drinking beers and passing around blunts. Theo was beaming, delighted to be hosting the shindig, and chatting incessantly in his squeaky voice. As I got more stoned, my tolerance level for Theo’s voice dropped sharply, so I walked a few yards away and hopped into the shotgun seat of my friend’s car to smoke a cigarette. From my vantage point, I could see the entire scene. Theo was facing a group of dudes and gesticulating while he spoke. Two parking spaces down, Dennis and a chick shared a bottle of clear liquor. I noticed a police car cruising down the road towards Theo’s house.

I thought to signal the party by flashing the car’s headlights, but when I looked back over, the group of dudes Theo was talking to were gone, and Theo was feebly trying to decide which way to run. Everyone else had discretely dispersed, but poor, inexperienced Theo was stricken with panic. As I watched him fall to pieces, I mumbled to myself, “Run to the back of the house, you little turd.” As much as I personally disliked Theo, it was never pleasant watching a guy get intercepted by the cops. I was rooting for him.

To my dismay, the cop car stopped right behind the car I sat in. I slunk down in the shotgun seat and put my cigarette out in the ashtray. I glanced back over at where Theo was standing and he was gone. The cop car turned on its searchlight and flashed it onto steep, grassy incline next to Theo’s house. The beam revealed Theo scrambling up the hill holding a plastic bag full of beers. As soon as the light hit him, he spun around, his beady eyes staring directly into the light. In that moment, he was so squirmy and rat-like that I chuckled a little bit. Right as I laughed, I heard the cops cracking up as well. I watched as one of them ran up the hill into the beam of light, grabbed Theo by the collar, and threw him down the hill. In one fluid tumble, Theo rolled down the hill and into the clenches of the second cop, who slammed him hard against the cop car. “And where the fuck are you going?” The cop said as he frisked Theo. I watched in the side view mirror as the cops roughly frisked him and emptied his pockets.

A voice came from the other side of my car, “Don’t hurt him.” Both cops stopped and looked over my trunk at Dennis, Theo’s easy-to-snap homie from out of town. “And who the fuck is this guy?” one of the cops said as he walked around my car and grabbed Dennis’s arms behind his back. “He’s my friend, and I don’t like it when people hurt him,” Dennis said. The cops looked at each other like this had just made their night. They sat Dennis down on the curb and started going through the contents of Theo’s pockets, now spread out on the hood of the cop car. “Oh man, you were ready for a party tonight,” said one of the cops. “You got papers, some weed, some cigarettes, and…” he trailed off as he pulled an aluminum foil square out of Theo’s wallet. “A condom!” the cop exclaimed. “Planning on getting lucky tonight, buddy?” he asked Theo, who rubbed his bald head and mumbled, “Yeah, you never know, um, safety first, always be prepared.” Both the cops and me started laughing again. By now, I felt pretty secure in my hiding spot. I figured if I just didn’t move, I would slip through this whole ordeal unnoticed.

One of the cops started roughing up Theo again, verbally taunting him. The other cop called out, “Whoa, get a load of the other guy.” Dennis was sitting on the curb breathing heavily, grunting hard with every exhale like he was about to go full berserker. The cop asked him what the hell was wrong with him and Dennis replied ominously, “I get really mad when people hurt him.” The cop processed this for a second and then swung around to break it down for the other cop. “OK, so this guy’s fucking crazy. That kid tried to run away from us up a hill, and… well, who do we have here?” The cop was looking directly at me.

The cops pulled me out of the car and sat me down on the curb next to Dennis. One of them continued to harass Theo. The other cop asked me a handful of questions, but Dennis’s heavy breathing interrupted each of them. Neither the cop nor me could focus because it looked like this kid was about to snap at any second. Next to him, I looked completely harmless. I simply said nothing and sat there looking up at the cop as he tried not to stare at Dennis for too long. Finally the cop pulled me aside. “Do you know this guy?” he asked. I shook my head. He pursed his lips and then followed up, “So you don’t know what the deal is here? Like, why that guy is hyperventilating over there?” I shook my head again. “Were you at the party?” he asked. Again, a headshake. “Why were you sitting in your car?” I thought about how I should respond for a moment, and then I just shook my head again. “OK,” the cop said. “Nevermind.” He turned back to the other cop and said, “The Mexican kid doesn’t know shit, I don’t even know if he understands me.” The other cop responded, “Cut him loose.”

I walked away from the situation right there, and surprisingly so did Theo and Dennis a few minutes later. I guess the cops just didn’t want to contend with whatever weird love made Dennis so keen on protecting Theo. Ever since then, I’ve always kept my mouth shut when the shit hits the fan. I don’t always have an insane person to direct the attention away from myself, but if I’m lucky the cops will just figure I don’t speak English and leave me alone. 

Follow T. Kid on Twitter

On Sunday, the Israeli military carried out the single deadliest offensive in its nearly three-week assault on Gaza, killing as many as 100 Palestinians in the neighborhood of Shejaiya. The operation—which many have called a massacre—has forced most of the remaining residents of Shejaiya to flee their homes and seek refuge in hospitals or UN schools because there is nowhere else for them to escape in the blockaded Gaza Strip.

VICE News was in Gaza to see the aftermath of the bombing of Shejaiya. They visited the central morgue in Gaza City, which holds the bodies of many who were killed, then went to see the immediate aftermath of the shelling of yet another house in the city, and later saw another shelling site where residents were still trying to uncover family members in the rubble.

The author as a PUA

Sometime in 2005, a package plonked onto the pile of unopened bills, flyers and takeout menus by my front door. I ripped it open. Inside was a copy of Neil Strauss' The Game, which charts the author’s transformation from feeble geek to master seducer.

Strauss achieved this by joining a sub-culture of pick-up artists (PUAs), namely men who think of themselves as experts in attracting women. I was rapt. If he could do it, why not me? A couple of months later, disgusted by the manipulative tactics outlined, I threw the book in the bin. If only it had stayed there.   

A year after that, my sex life dried up. I was 23 at the time and the situation became desperate enough for me to again look into PUA culture. I signed up for a weekend course with PUA Training—a London-based academy run by Richard La Ruina, who also goes by the PUA pseudonym of Gambler.

The course was held at the Tiger Tiger nightclub just off Piccadilly Circus and began on a Saturday morning. There were 12 clients including me—professional, normal-looking guys. Gambler languished on a sofa next to a stunning blonde. He didn’t acknowledge us—a tactic I later learned was designed to make us seek his approval—and left most of the training to his assistants.

The first exercise was called “set breaking.” Our trainer explained that attractive girls are rarely alone so a key skill to learn is how to infiltrate a group and isolate the girl or “target.” The blonde, whose name was Kezia and is herself a pick-up coach, led the exercise by forming us into conversational groups and picking out guys who would practice cutting in and gaining rapport.

The training was thorough. We were given fashion advice, motivational talks and lessons on how to appear confident. Later, we spilled out of Tiger Tiger keen to practice what we had learned. We were taught the “Three Second Rule,” which stated that you had three seconds from seeing a girl you liked to approaching her and introducing yourself. The aim was to get their phone number. I felt liberated, as if I had been given permission to follow my instinct a bit more and approach the women I liked. I returned with two numbers (one of which wasn’t fake).  

The PUA practice of approaching women in the street is sometimes confused with harassment. In my experience, most PUAs place great emphasis on politeness and consideration when making a cold approach—after all, they are trying to get laid so being aggressive wouldn’t be helpful. We were taught that if a woman is not interested we should always smile and be polite, even if she is rude—especially if she is rude because this trains us to be non-reactive.

Of course, when a number of PUAs gather in one area a woman can find herself running a gauntlet of gamboling nerds. We even used to refer to Leicester Square as “Pester Square.” I remember stopping a girl around Covent Garden. Before I had even begun my spiel, she erupted, “God! You’re the third creepy guy who's come up to me today saying that you ‘like my energy.' Fuck off!" And she was gone.

In my experience, PUA tactics don’t work. They don’t produce Bond-esque rogues but grotesque social robots whose jabbering mouths spout programming written by borderline sociopaths. It’s insulting to a woman’s intelligence to think that a sartorial spruce up and reciting some lines will win her affection.

Some PUAs do a better job by teaching “inner game,” though. This focuses on building men up as opposed to dragging women down. For the men who suffer from crushing shyness this kind of work can be helpful; learning confidence and self-respect is a good thing but I’m not sure professional seducers are the best sources of this knowledge.

While self-styled “Pickup Gurus” like Strauss seem to have created one slick personality, the majority of PUAs appear hopelessly inauthentic. Bona fide seducers like Russell Brand are a rare breed whereas PUAs are like hoverflies; they wear the wasp’s colours but have no sting. Furthermore, women are adept at spotting fakes so creating a fake PUA personality in order to attract them seems bafflingly counter-intuitive.

Add to that the fact their techniques are unethical. Manipulating people for your own selfish ends is enshrined in PUA culture—a “pivot” is a girl you use to raise your social status, “AMOGing” is a technique used to bully rivals away from girls you like and “boyfriend destroyers” are designed to lay a girl already in a relationship.

PUAs justify this with a muddled appeal to evolutionary psychology, particularly the idea of “alpha” and “beta” males. Beta males are men who want to be with one woman and alphas are those with access to many. So the gold standard of success in the PUA community is the “MLTR” or “Multiple Long Term Relationship,” where a PUA has sexual relationships with multiple women at the same time.

Things get darker when you get to “relationship game.” Based on more evolutionary psychology, some PUAs believe that all women are subconsciously trying to entrap them in long-term relationships, a process they call “betaisation.” Tactics to avoid betaisation involve refusing intimacy (which basically means you can only do "hard fucking" only) and freezing-out partners while you focus on seducing other women (called “nexting”). This is the sad heart of the culture—where insecure men form relationships with women, who allow themselves to be mistreated.  

Emerge from the Underground at “Pester Square” on any given weekend and you will spot guys gamely approaching women. Some will grow out of it, some will meet future girlfriends and many will benefit from the confidence boost this kind of training produces. Others will take it too far and become embittered and alienated.

For me, it wasn’t all bad. I still get mileage from a tactic known as “the direct approach.” The verbal formula goes something like this: “Hi excuse me, I don’t usually do this but I think you are really hot and I would be kicking myself if I didn’t come up and introduce myself.” In fact, I met my last girlfriend this way. But I’m sure it had little to do with the words and more to do with the authenticity that comes with maturity and the fact she digs writers.

The PUA Lifestyle is consigned to my personal history, along with my Korn T-shirts and pierced nipple. I don’t need their tactics because now I know that being a happy, independent individual is more attractive than mastering a bunch of psychological tricks. And quite right too, because their system is based on a falsehood—that women are a code to be broken instead of human beings.
 

Follow Nathan Thompson on Twitter

Protests happened in various cities around the world on Saturday, as people rallied to show how appalled they were at the situation Gaza. On the same day in Palestine, a ceasefire held for long enough for Gazans to survey the terrible damage the Israeli bombardment has done—namely, rubble where there homes once stood, with the corpses of dead people under that rubble. I headed down to London’s protest to see what people were saying about the tragedy.

Reports coming out of Gaza show a dire situation where the population is so concentrated and the Israeli strikes so apparently indiscriminate that nowhere appears to be safe for Gazan civilians. Schools and hospitals have been repeatedly hit. The UN says Israel may have committed war crimes.

Since it began hitting Gaza with airstrikes and artillery about three weeks ago, Israel has killed over 1,000 Palestinians, most of them civilians and many of them women and children.

There have been more reports of antisemitism since the assault on Gaza started, not least in Paris where Jewish shops have been attacked and "quenelle" gestures have been thrown by pro-Palestine demonstrators. London on Saturday managed to stay—mostly—clear of that kind of thing. But there was the odd idiot telling people to learn about the Protocols of the Elders of Zion—a nonsense book about a Jewish conspiracy to rule the world, beloved of conspiracy theorists even though it was debunked in 1921. And a few placards like the one above, which I think breaks at least one, possibly two of these rules for criticizing Israel without being racist.

These Hasidic Jews were out showing their solidarity with Gaza. Their presence demonstrated the point that not all Jews support Israel, and therefore being anti-Semitic because of what's happening in Israel is stupid (not that I should really need to bother pointing that out, but there you go). However, they wouldn't give me an interview, because it was the Shabbat so they weren't allowed to be picked up by my memo recorder.

The march started at High Street Kensington, where the Israeli embassy is, and ended at Parliament Square where various campaigners and popular faces gave speeches on the situation in Gaza. After the speeches I grabbed some of the protesters and speakers and picked their brains.

Diane Abbott MP

VICE: Hi Diane, with the current attack on Gaza, British MPs seem to have become more critical of Israel than they have been in the past, don't you think?
Dianne Abbott MP: They have. I think MPs in all parties are quite critical. Unfortunately, David Cameron appears to be quite obdurate. And I think we have to step up the pressure on him. We learnt today that over a thousand Palestinians have died. This type of bloodshed is no way to bring peace to the region.

How do you see that peace working?
Well I think in the first place we need a genuine ceasefire, we have to lift the siege and lift the blockade and we have to end the occupation then we have to negotiate for a two state solution.

Are you doing anything in Parliament working towards that?
Well, yesterday I handed in a letter which was signed by over 21,000 people to ten downing street calling for a ceasefire and I’m going to continue campaigning over the summer.

Mohammed

Why did you come down to protest today?
Mohammed: I came here as a human being. It’s not about religion or anything else – it’s about being human. People need to know what is happening in Gaza. We’re in England and we don’t know what it’s like there—we don’t see what the meaning of losing life. So the protest is important in telling people what is happening in Gaza.

Do you think a lot of people don’t know what’s happening in Gaza?
I think they don’t. We need to send a message that Palestinians have been deprived since 1947 and its an affront to humanity. People need to stand as human beings against the Israeli occupation. They’re killing the civilians and they’re saying that they’re saying its justified as defense.

What do you think the best thing people in Britain could do for Gaza?
People need to come to protests but to be honest the more important thing is to boycott everything related to the Israeli economy. If they’re economy collapses, their war on Gaza will be stopped. They get money from the USA and from other states which they build arms and ammunition with. This needs to stop. People should boycott every Israeli product.

Ibrahim Khan

Hi, can tell us a little about why you’re protesting today?
Ibrahim Khan: We’ve come in from Yorkshire—ten whole coach loads of us. People are generally disgusted by 60 years of atrocity. Young and old, rich and poor are all getting together and seeking justice. And this is it: We’ve realized that there’s not going to be any peace if there’s no justice—this perpetual war will carry on day in and day out, year in year out.

What do you think Israel’s long term plan is in Gaza?
Well, someone once said that the definition of lunacy is doing the same thing again and again and expecting to get different results. And this is what Israel is doing. I think Israel is in a state of madness at the moment. They did it in 2007, 2009 and 2012. And they’re just repeating it again in 2014. We’re only going to see a policy change if enough people come out on the streets like they are today.

So you think these protests will make a difference?
Yes. I’ve been protesting for the past four years and I can tell you one thing: the movement’s never been so strong and big as it is now. I think this is the largest demonstration I’ve ever seen. Last week there were hundreds of thousands of people on the streets.

Jeremy Corbyn MP

You’ve been to Gaza a number of times—what was it like on your last visit?
Jeremy Corbyn MP: Yes, I’ve been there several times over the past twenty years. On one level, it was very hopeful—there was a lot of planting going on and a lot of agriculture. People were determined to make Gaza food self sufficient. There were massive problems with water. Education was generally very good. The main problem was jobs. There isn’t a functioning economy because of the siege. The mental health of people is an issue as they’re constantly under siege. I visited a UN school last time I was there and from the fourth floor you look out of the windows and on one side you can see the fence of Israel and on the other the sea and the Israeli navy three kilometres out to sea. And that’s their life. There are frequent power outages and you look out north to Israel and the lights shine on. That’s the reality of just being reminded that, "you’re under siege and you’ll do what we tell you."

You said in your speech that countries like Brazil and Chile have lifted diplomatic and trade relations with Israel. So do you think it would be possible for Britain to do the same?
European countries are much more economically involved with Israel than Latin American countries but we do have this EU-Israel trade agreement that gives preferential status to Israel—and it’s very important to Israel. But that agreement has a human rights clause in it, which the Israeli’s have routinely breached. Whether the UK would break off relations with Israel seems, from one angle, unlikely. But look at it another way: if the UN human rights council investigating war crimes and finds that war crimes have been committed, then are we in a position to continue supplying arms? Are we really going to try to have a normal relationship with a government like that? Parliamentary opinion interestingly has changed a lot recently. Last Monday at Prime Ministers Questions, a very substantial number of MPs were critical of Israel, cross party. And that’s come from a massive lobbying campaign by the Palestinian Solidarity Campaign and others.

Follow Oscar Webb on Twitter

Keep up to date with developments in Gaza with the VICE News dispatches, Rockets and Revenge

Photo via Flickr user D.C. Atty

The CDC has called prescription pill abuse “an epidemic,” and Missouri is the new epicenter of pill mills.

Opiates are the most heavily abused, mostly because of the floaty, heroin-like high they give users. This family of drugs is responsible for killing about 50 people a day, and they make up 75 percent of all overdoses (which Missouri has one of the highest rates of), rivaling even car accidents as a cause of death nationwide.

The reason there’s such a bad pain pill problem in the former meth capital of the U.S. is its lack of a prescription drug monitoring program, a statewide database that would track when patients fill their scripts and prevent the main culprit behind our country’s pain pill problem: doctor shopping. 

Once you know you've found a pill mill, the typical procedure is to pay a few hundred dollars for the initial exam, MRI and script. After you get the pill popper’s golden ticket, you visit various pharmacies around the state and fill your script as many times as your wallet allows. At about $6 a pill and anywhere between 30 to 120 pills per prescription, bottles cost between $180 and $720 and generate huge profits. The Tampa Bay Times reported that even small doctors, only seeing up to 80 patients a day, can put 20,000 pills in the hands of abusers and traffickers in one day. That’s a fuck ton of pills. 

The revolutionary concept of a Prescription Drug Monitoring Program (PDMP) would tone down some of the more Machiavellian business strategies in the prescription world, both for doctors, and traffickers. When users or drug dealers in other states try to get their prescription filled more than once, an alert is sent to doctors and law enforcement. Not being able to double-dip on your prescription forces you to be imaginative when figuring out how to run your pill trafficking operation. Large swaths of abusers are slowed by this simple step, but somehow, Missouri is the only state that doesn’t have a PDMP. This can largely be blamed on their state leader, Sen. Rob Schaaf, R-St. Joseph.

"If they overdose and kill themselves, it just removes them from the gene pool,” Sen. Schaaf said during an eight-hour filibuster he led against a pill monitoring program bill in 2012. Suddenly, pill dealers from Tennessee to Illinois rejoiced knowing their businesses would not be threatened, and that finally, someone in government was looking out for them. 

A new bill has recently passed in Missouri’s House, but as it moves to the Senate, Schaaf is still holding onto his argument that the program is a privacy concern and he is “protecting other people’s liberty.”

Missouri is following in the footsteps of Florida. Until about 2011, Florida prescribed 10 times more oxycodone than any other state in the country. Florida housed 90 of the top 100 pharmacies buying oxycodone and became a notorious destination for doctor shoppers across the country. In 2010 there were 29 pain clinics just on Commercial Boulevard, a main road in Ft. Lauderdale. Today, there is only one. 

In this one instance, Florida, a state notorious for its swamp people and overall weirdness, actually cleaned up its act and became a model for states plagued with opiate abuse like Missouri. Florida lawmakers started noticing the record number of overdoses, the kids that barely graduated high school, and the piles of bloody syringes in pharmacy parking lots. As I was writing this, the New York Times published a front-page story on Missouri’s refusal to employ a PDMP program. But their piece opted not to connect the trend to the growing heroin problem in cities and towns across the country, particularly St. Louis' heroin epidemic. 

Even though the portable MRI busses in strip club parking lots, the lines of scratching junkies exchanging clean piss outside of clinics, and the rich doctors that used to burn dollar bills to save space are a thing of the past for Florida, it hardly matters because Missouri is now feeding the appetite of all the states Florida let starve. Scott Collier from the Missouri DEA’s office said once a state becomes regulated, the businesses don’t just disappear.

“These folks don’t stop, they simply move beyond the border.”

Take, for example, Advanced Pain Center ("Where Life Just Gets Better"). Accused of being a junkie hotspot on forums across the Web, the clinic has six locations across, most of them conveniently within an hour from the next. Not only that, but they all happen to fall close to their neighboring states. Check out this nifty map I made:

These six clinics are all on Missouri’s eastern edge and nearly border Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas. Their Cape Girardeau location is nine minutes west of the Illinois border and about an hour west of the Kentucky border. About a half an hour north, their Farmington location is about 40 minutes east of Illinois. Another 30 minutes north is their Festus location, which is about 25 miles from a more northern Illinois border. A bit more down state, their Kennett location is about 13 minutes east of Arkansas and 25 minutes west of Tennessee. There nearby Popular Bluff location is about a half an hour north of Arkansas and about an hour and a half north west of Tennessee. As the Times reported, ExpressScripts, which processes medications for 90 million Americans, found that residents of Missouri’s neighboring states fill more scripts in Missouri than Missourians do elsewhere. 

When speaking to Collier about it, I mentioned how oddly close the clinics were to each other and how strategically located they were to other states. “That is interesting, isn’t it?” he said.

Advanced Pain Center was raided in June of last year, and while no charges have been filed according to the U.S. Attorney Eastern District of Missouri, Collier confirmed that the investigation is ongoing against the clinic.

I called counties across Missouri and spoke to medical examiners, advocates and health officials. They all recognize the problem as an epidemic, they see it growing in their hospitals and on their streets, and they can’t wrap their head around why a monitoring program hasn’t been established yet. 

“It’s bad, it really is," Collier told me. "The reported usage is going way up, the death rates are going way up, this is a huge problem and it’s been a decade in the making. The unfortunate part of that is it’s going to take many years to dig ourselves out of this trench and get back to at least where we were 10 years ago.”

Follow Gabrielle Fonrouge on Twitter

It's time, once again, to marvel at some idiots who don't know how to handle the world:

Cry-Baby #1: Merv Mitchell and an unnamed imam

Images via Google Maps and Philadelphia Police Department

The incident: A man allegedly stole some money from a mosque.

The appropriate response: Calling the police. 

The actual response: Two people tried to cut off the accused thief's hands. 

Earlier this month, an unnamed 46-year-old man arrived at the Al-Masjid Ur-Razzaq Ul-Karim mosque in Overbrook, Pennsylvania for the morning prayer service. 

According to police, as the man was leaving the building, he was approached by Merv Mitchell, the mosque's emir, and the mosque's imam, who also has not been named. 

Merv and the imam are said to have confronted the alleged thief, accusing him of stealing jars of money from the mosque. CBS Philadelphia reports that the two men then dragged him down a set of steps into the building's back yard. 

Once in the back yard the men allegedly pinned the victim down and held his arm against a log.

"One of the offenders grabbed a machete from inside the mosque and struck the victim near his wrist," Lt. John Walker, of Southwest Detectives told Philly.com. "The blade cut through some of his tendons."

They stopped the attack before cutting all the way through the man's wrist. He was treated at a nearby hospital and released the same day. 

Merv was arrested and charged with aggravated assault, simple assault and "related offenses." According to Philly.com, Merv has an extensive criminal history, with previous convictions including robbery, theft, burglary (which all kinda seem like the same thing?) and carrying a firearm without a license. 

The mosque's imam is yet to be arrested. 

Cry-Baby #2: Nigel Sykes

Pizza image via Wikimedia Commons

The incident: A man got beaten up while attempting to rob a pizzeria at gunpoint.

The appropriate response: Nothing. That's an expected outcome when robbing people at gunpoint.

The actual response: He's suing the people he tried to rob.

Nigel Sykes is currently in prison serving a 15 year term for his involvement in a series of armed robberies.

One of those robberies took place in a Newport, Delaware pizzeria called Seasons Pizza back in 2010.

After entering the pizzeria through the back door, Nigel flashed a revolver to a delivery driver, who gave him $140. He then went further into the restaurant, where he was restrained by two employees. As he struggled with the employees, he fired his gun. The bullet didn't hit anyone.

"That is when the assault began," wrote Nigel in his suit. "All of the Season's Pizza employees participated in punching, kicking and pouring hot soup over my body. I was unarmed and defenseless and had to suffer a brutal beating by all of the employees of Seasons Pizza." 

Nigel then claims that he blacked out and, when he regained consciousness, was being tazed by two officers from Newport Police Department. He also claims that officers used a racial slur against him, slammed his head into the hood of a police car, and denied him medical treatment for 8 hours. Which actually sounds like a legitimate complaint that should be looked into. 

Nigel is asking for $20,000 from six separate Seasons Pizza employees, $20,000 from each of the two arresting officers, and $100,000 from the owners of Seasons Pizza. He has tried to file several lawsuits against the police department and the pizzeria in the past. All of these claims have been thrown out by US District Judge Sue L. Robinson, but she has allowed this suit to move forward. 

"It's a joke lawsuit," said Newport police chief Michael Capriglione. "It is sad to see this kind of suit being looked at. The court shouldn't waste the taxpayers' money."

Which of these guys is the bigger cry-baby? Let us know in this poll down here:

Previously: Some people who called 911 on their cat vs. Kanye West

Winner: Kanye, unsurprisingly.

Follow Jamie Lee Curtis Taete on Twitter

Via Flickr user Elvert Barnes

The US Government's mass surveillance programs are chilling the rights of journalists and lawyers, and weakening democratic institutions in the process, according to a new report authored by Human Rights Watch and the ACLU. The report found that journalists' sources are either drying up or talking less, and attorneys are increasingly concerned about their ability to keep privileged client-information private.

As a result, long-held stated US values like freedom of expression, freedom of association, and freedom from illegal government intrusion are in danger, according to the report.  “[T]oday those freedoms are very much under threat due to the government’s own policies concerning secrecy, leak prevention, and officials’ contact with the media, combined with large-scale surveillance programs,” writes Alex Sinha, author of the report. “If the US fails to address these concerns promptly and effectively, it could do serious, long-term damage to the fabric of democracy in the country.”

Among the recommendations the report puts forward are that the US Government “narrow the scope of surveillance authorities,” “disclose additional information about surveillance programs to the public,” and “enhance protections for national-security whistleblowers.”

The report comes after more than a year of the closest public scrutiny the US intelligence community has faced in a generation, following the leaks by former NSA-contractor Edward Snowden. Though the Snowden revelations have sparked international criticism and the US mass surveillance programs are deeply unpopular in the rest of the world, reform efforts by Congress and the Obama administration have largely been muted.

A bill purportedly meant to limit bulk surveillance, known as the “USA Freedom Act,” passed the House in May but was so watered down that many initial backers withdrew their support. Just last week, Senator Patrick Leahy (D-VT), introduced a new, stricter version of the bill in the Senate that seems to have received at least limited support from some civil liberties groups.

“It’s encouraging to hear that the Senate may be considering a strong version of the USA FREEDOM Act—one that might ban the bulk collection of metadata under Section 215,” Sinha tells VICE in an email. “That would be a good step forward, a way to alleviate some (though by no means all) of the concerns journalists and attorneys expressed.”

The report argues that not enough attention has been paid to the harm done to journalists and attorneys who are subject to surveillance—or rationally believe they could be. Sinha and those he worked with interviewed 92 people, including reporters, attorneys, and five former or current government officials.

Of the journalists quoted, many describe taking extraordinary measures to protect their sources from any potential leak investigations. “I was warned by someone at the Pentagon that it was easy to track my calls because I used the same number all the time,” one anonymous national security journalist told Sinha. That journalist now uses burners—mobile phones meant to be used only a handful of times—to avoid detection. Many other reporters Sinha interviewed have adopted the practice as well.

Other tactics to protect sources anonymity include calling “a large number of possible sources before a story comes out in order to obscure the identities of those who actually provided information,” or “booking 'fake' travel plans” to throw off any potential future investigators.

Many of the journalists quoted in the report also said they used some form of encryption to protect the content of their emails—though not information about who sent the email to whom and when. And, as the report sates,  “it is far from clear how effective these methods are in the long run.”

Still others took a completely opposite approach, worrying that using encryption could actually raise suspicion, and that if the NSA or any other government agency wants to get information from a journalist there's little to be done to stop them. “If the government wants to get you, they will,” the Washington Post's Adam Goldman is quoted as saying.

Goldman is quoted elsewhere in the report as having a negative reaction to the idea of adopting spycraft as a reporter. “I don’t want the government to force me to act like a spy. I’m not a spy; I’m a journalist.”

Beyond broad surreptitious surveillance, the report also criticizes the Obama administration's policies of limiting interaction between intelligence officials and journalists. One example, called the “Insider Threat Program” encourages federal employees to report any colleagues they suspect of leaking information. Originally reported by McClatchy, the program apparently gives management in an array of federal agencies – including the Peace Corp and Department of Agriculture – “wide latitude” in determining who qualifies as a so-called threat. “Even inside an agency, one manager’s disgruntled employee might become another’s threat to national security,” McClatchy reported.

Other administration policies have similarly constricted the back and forth between government officials and the press. A directive issued in March 2014 by Director of National Intelligence James Clapper “prohibit[ed] intelligence community employees from all unauthorized contact with the press and requiring employees to report unauthorized or unintentional press contact on certain topics.”

As much as the Obama administration has cracked down on unauthorized leaks, they rely on so-called “background briefings”—where senior officials can be quoted but not identified by name—constantly. At a recent press conference, White House Press Secretary Josh Earnest criticized a report in the Washington Post for relying to heavily on anonymous sources. Members of the press corps pushed back, reminding Earnest that the White House had scheduled a background briefing that very afternoon.

Rob Ford is still the mayor of Toronto—even after all the crack smoking, sexist comments, homophobic gestures, and racist remarks—and he likes to celebrate by carrying on the 19-year tradition of FordFest, which was started as a backyard BBQ by his late father. Now, it’s quite obviously (though the Fords deny this) a campaign event, where loyalists of the so-called Ford Nation can line up for free burgers, meet the Fords, play in a bouncy castle, and evidently, assault LGBTQ protesters.

In what is a deeply unfortunate display of ignorance in Toronto, a group of LGBTQ protesters at FordFest were shouted at, had their signs ripped, and one allegedly (there’s a photo of it) had their throat grabbed by a man named Ron Banerjee, an anti-Muslim activist who sits at the helm of an organization called Canadian Hindu Advocacy, which sounds like it might actually have some legitimacy, but was debunked by the Grid in late 2012 as being an “army of none.”

While Ford Nation outsiders may chock up the seemingly endless series of gaffes, fuckups, secret video tapes, allegations of protesters being assaulted, and rehab stints as the end of mayor Rob Ford—the 1,500 or so people at FordFest have sent a message. Whether or not his legions of fans will be enough to propel RoFo through the election in October and back to the mayor’s office is another matter entirely. But obviously, people were very stoked to party with Robbie.

Either way, October’s still a ways away, so check out these photos we grabbed of the FordFest insanity. The party is apparently going to make another appearance or two in other areas of Toronto this year, so stay tuned.

Photos by Peter Larson

The star of this year's Gathering of the Juggalos wasn’t a rapper or a reality starlet covered in poop. It was Ratchet Regi, an Orlando-based stripper who lives in a mansion called the Sausage Castle with playboy Mikey Busey and his Busey Beauties. 

At the Gathering, Regi and the other self-proclaimed “hottest girls in Orlando, Florida” performed on the main stage and at Busey's outdoor strip club. To entertain the juggalos, Regi squirted chocolate and danced with Da Mafia 6ix, the iconic rap group who recently announced they were forming a supergroup with the Insane Clown Posse called Killjoy Club, whose first album, Reindeer Games, comes out September 2.

While partying with the Busey Beauties, DJ Paul recorded a video of Regi giving a lap dance to Busey's 500-pound friend Big LA, who owns a towing company in Florida. DJ Paul uploaded the clip online, calling it a “lap band dance.” Like most videos of fat guys dancing, the clip went viral.  

The video’s popularity has shocked DJ Paul, Big LA, and Ratchet Regi.

“Hey man, that was crazy, but I didn’t think [it would go viral],” DJ Paul told me when we were partying after his performance at the Gathering of the Juggalos. “When I hang out with [the Busey Beauties], we do stuff like that all the time.”

Big LA shared these sentiments because he's been a part of Busey's crew for years. They met several years ago at a bar near Big LA's home in Hollywood, Florida. They bonded, and the next day Big LA drove to Orlando to visit the Sausage Castle. At his mansion, Busey asked, “Who wants to fucking tea-bag my girl?”

“I was first person at the door—that was me—so I tea-bagged his girl,” Big LA said.

They’ve been friends ever since. 

On Friday night when Regi opened for Da Mafia 6ix, she reenacted the lap band dance and bathed in milk.

“I was sober the whole time,” Regi told me about her performance, “but the second I was on stage, I felt high.”

During Da Mafia 6ix’s afterparty at the outdoor strip club, Regi and I walked behind a car to talk about her overnight internet fame, the wild parties she throws for Disney interns at the Sausage Castle, and what it’s like being a (mostly) sober stripper. 

VICE: Was the lap band dance business as usual for you?
Ratchet Regi: I’m just an entertainer, so I was like, This will be entertaining. Let’s do it.

Did you love bathing in milk when you opened for Da Mafia 6ix?
I own that milk; you can tell. I reek of sour milk right now, cause that was milk from yesterday—that was two-day old milk.

This is your first Gathering. Were you into ICP and other juggalo bands before you performed here this year?
I knew about ICP because my cousin is a juggalo, and I had a couple other juggalo friends [in Kansas]. I don’t personally listen to them, besides Tech N9ne. My stepdad is personal friends with him. He drove by in a golf cart, and all I had time to do, because I was up on the pole, was scream, “[My step-dad] says hello!” He looked at me like, “Oh. OK.”

How long have you lived at the Sausage Castle?
I just moved in there a couple months ago, but I’ve known Mike for over a year now, so he’s been begging me for six months to move in. “Please! Please!” I was like, “I can’t afford your rent,” and he was like, “But you’re a fucking stripper. You obviously can afford it.” I was like, “Fine. I’ll move in.”

What's it like living there?
It’s pretty chill Monday through Friday. Once the weekend hits, it’s on like Donkey Kong. We have Disney college program parties we throw. Basically, Disney has a college program where you can bring in a bunch of [international] students who work at Disney. This guy has a party bus, and he fills it up with people, and from about 1:30 in the morning till 5 AM we have at least a hundred-plus people from all over the world [who are part of the Disney college program]. I had a Hindu guy [within five minutes] tell me that he was in love with me.

And they’re all Disney college program participants?
Yes, but a couple locals hear about it, and some of the local kids come in too. For about four hours, it’s complete and utter chaos. You’re just like, “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

You look young enough to intern. How old are you?
I’m 25. I’m like the grandma of the Sausage Castle. Mike usually doesn’t let girls come over who are older than 23. Eighteen to 23—he likes them young.

Is everyone who lives at the Sausage Castle a stripper?
No, I’m actually the one stripper who lives there. Kinky Casey—she lives with me [at the Sausage Castle]—is a server at Chili’s. We have regular jobs. I’m just the only odd ball out.

Are you really sober at the Gathering and most of the time at the Sausage Castle?
Yeah, I’m sober, but I smoked weed with [a performer] and Violent J [from Insane Clown Posse]. I couldn’t say no.

I’ve been sober for nearly a year, otherwise I would ask DJ Paul if we could smoke together. 
You should! Why the fuck not? It’s the Gathering.

Watch DJ Paul on Celebrity Wife Swap tomorrow night at 10 PM on ABC. 

Follow Mitchell and Peter on Twitter

Photo via. 

Earlier this year, the mayor of Oslo, Fabian Stang, announced that the city wouldn’t be sending Reykjavik their annual Christmas tree. This was something of a big deal, as Oslo has been sending Reykjavik, London, and Rotterdam a tree as a token of friendship for over 60 years. According to the mayor, the reason behind this break in tradition was its cost—it is reported that packing up and flying a tree overseas costs Norway around 180,000 Norwegian Krone [$29,000] every year. 

As was expected, the decision didn’t go down too well with the people of Iceland, and Reykjavik mayor Jón Gnarr made some snide comments about Iceland basically writing the story of the Norwegians' independence in 1905.

To make matters worse, news was soon released that, unlike Rotterdam and Reykjavik, London would still be receiving a Christmas tree. Not sure how Rotterdam felt about this, but in the end, the huge Icelandic backlash made the Oslo mayor retract his decision and restart the tree-gifting process.

I spoke to the writer who broke this important story of international diplomacy.

VICE: Hi, Kari. So what exactly is the significance of the tree?
Kári Tulinius: Most children in Reykjavík for the last 60-something years have been taken to see the lighting of the Christmas tree, which Oslo donates to Reykjavík. It is an integral part of most people's childhood memories of Christmas.

Norway and Iceland aren't known for being religious. Why was this tree such a big deal in the first place?
It's true, neither Iceland nor Norway are especially religious (the cross on their flags notwithstanding) but Christmas is a huge deal. It is the darkest time of year. It is cold and there are only a few hours of sunlight. Going all out to celebrate at the end of the year is the only way that Icelanders get through the dark, cold winter.

Were people in Iceland as angry as the internet made it look?
No one is ever as mad as they seem to be on the internet. The human race would have wiped itself out thousands of years ago if people could attain the kind of frothing rage that they appear to reach on online comment sections. But yes, many Icelanders were hurt by Oslo's decision, mostly because it was so unexpected. When it emerged that the City of Oslo would still send a tree to London, people's feelings were hurt—they were caught off-guard and lashed out online.

How big a deal is the actual ceremony of lighting the Oslo tree?
I have not personally been to see it since I was a small boy, but generally it is attended by thousands of people—mostly families with small children. In a city of 120,000 that is a lot of people. Additionally, the lighting is always shown on the evening news of RÚV, the state broadcaster.

Were there any other reasons for breaking the hearts of the people of Iceland, other than the costs?
My suspicion is that someone saw this line item in the budget and thought it would be a simple way to save a bit of money. It also allowed the City of Oslo to reduce their carbon footprint, which is laudable enough, but sending a tree to Iceland is perhaps not Norway's biggest contribution to global warming.

What do Icelanders think of Norwegians now?
Broadly speaking I think this did not affect many Icelanders' perception of Norway. Icelanders consider Norwegians to be practically family. Scandinavians are routinely referred to as "our cousins" in public discourse. I think the decision by Norway, the Faroe Islands, and the EU to exclude Iceland from negotiations on a fishing rights treaty changed the opinions of the Icelandic political class. Many felt that Norway was underhanded in its deal-making, which is not something that anyone expected.

So there is no resentment in Iceland toward Norway? They did say they will still send the tree, after all...
I think this will be forgotten. If Oslo had gone a year without sending a tree, then people in Reykjavík would probably have felt hurt, but as the Oslo Tree was "saved," probably no one will remember this little episode. It is a bit like a family dispute—if the apology arrives on time then there is no time for resentment to build up.