VICE News heads into the hills near Lake Enriquillo to see how people whose livelihoods have been ruined by the lake's unstoppable expansion are now surviving. What we find is that many have become involved with the black-market charcoal trade. As they cut down and burn trees to make the charcoal—labor-intensive work that isn't very lucrative—they actually contribute to the climate change that probably led to the lake's growth in the first place.

Photo and graphs courtesy of Pornhub

Do you jack off to creampie porn? Do you spend your evenings busting nuts as you watch fellas slide slimy, wet ones up ladies and/or other fellas’ backsides? Does the thought of an anal prolapse make you hard like a 13-year-old witnessing Britney Spears’s “... Baby One More Time” music video for the first time?

According to Pornhub, for many people, the answer to these questions is a resounding yes.

Pornhub Insights, the smut giant’s data department, recently conducted a study about Americans’ anal porn consumption. For several weeks, the team examined Pornhub users’ searches. The research unearthed important facts, like which state’s users likes asses the most and how much American Pornhub viewers like ass in comparison to other countries (only Russians likes butts more than us). For funsies, Pornhub also looked into how much countries America has invaded—like Iraq and Afghanistan—use Pornhub to watch booty sex.

Afterwards, the Nate Silver of porn created these exclusive graphs for VICE to reveal their findings. (All terms in the graphs were found in users' search results.) The results may surprise you—and also get you very, very hard.

Follow Mitchell on Twitter

New York has transformed wildly in the past three decades. The years in which living in the city was an excitingly terrifying experience, a climate in which punk rock and hip hop could not only be created but thrive, are dead and gone. Nowhere is this fact more evident than on the island of Manhattan, New York’s largest and most affluent borough.

The wealthy have always sought shelter in certain pockets of the island—the Upper East Side, especially—and still do. The difference between the past and the present, however, is that the lower classes who used to bunk amongst them have been priced out of existence, fleeing Manhattan for more rent-stable waters. The more time that passes, the more intense the social stratification becomes. Hell, even Harlem is gentrifying.

Today, Manhattan is mostly devoid of terror (with the exception, of course, of the 9/11 Memorial and Museum). It now exists as an outdoor shopping mall for the bourgeoisie, a place where the poor are allowed entry so long as they retreat, via subway, by nightfall after spending the day cooking Chilean sea bass for investment bankers and selling high-end handbags to the wives of investment bankers.

Times Square, former home of den, sin, and vice (and all the porno theaters the three concepts would imply) is located smack dab in the middle of it. Most deride it as a garish, shticky tourist trap, the kind of environment which appeals solely to Ed Hardy-sporting mouth breathers who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at dropping $60 to slowly snail through rush hour traffic on a double decker bus in 90 degree heat. It is, to be sure, that. But it’s also, at this point, the most honest, accessible part of the island. Let us now sing its praises.

Its Mediocrity is a Comfort

Times Square is, essentially, a chain restaurant containing multiple chain restaurants, surrounded by digital screens running advertisements for the chain restaurant equivalents of news, products, and services. There is no subtlety, no nuance. Its complete and utter lack of sophistication lies in stark contrast to the intense over-sophistication of the area that surrounds it, a collection of high rises, wine bars, and Park Avenue plastic surgeons that the average person could never afford to patronize. There is comfort in its mediocrity. It is a safe place for safe ideas.

Everything’s a Chain
From M&M’s World to McDonald’s, Forever 21 to Famous Footwear, enormous chains line Times Square like trees in a forest (albeit a forest of trees slathered in neon and Budweiser ads). Times Square isn’t the only chain-laden part of Manhattan, though; far from it. The rest of the island, as rents rise, demographics change, and the rich get richer, has begun to chain up. But just because a multinational clothing manufacturer in Greenwich Village sells $200 jeans instead of chicken fingers doesn’t make it any less of a chain that Applebee’s. The saving grace of Times Square’s chains is their accessibility to people who can’t afford $200 jeans.

It’s Accessibly Exorbitant 

I’m not saying that Times Square is the most reasonably priced tourist trap in the world. It is, after all, designed to bleed the vacationing workingman dry by over-charging him for flavorless hamburgers served in over-air conditioned restaurants that are over-stuffed with pop culture memorabilia. But at least those hamburgers are within his grips. It's stupid, but possible, for someone without a college education to spend $17.50 on a Big Bite Burger at Guy Fieri's (bowel-clenching) American Kitchen. It's not possible, however, for them to buy a Chanel handbag in SoHo without blowing their entire life savings.

Guy Fieri Does, Indeed, Have a Restaurant There 

Home of The Vegas Fries (“a throwback to Guy’s UNLV days”), which come both pre-slathered in dipping sauce and with an additional dipping sauce (bleu-sabi, natch), Guy’s American Kitchen and Bar is exactly as horrifically beautiful as you would imagine. Sliders, disgusting enough as is, are inexplicably spelled in the menu with a Y (as in, “Slyders”). The menu also touts “Awesome” Pretzel Chicken Tenders, the quote of “Awesome” attributed to no one. Alcoholic drinks that taste like juice boxes, combined with the foodstuffs, make you want to lay in a dark, cool room with your eyes closed and stop the world for a few hours. They facilitate mediation and quiet reflection, followed by soul-shattering defecation. They build character.

You Can Be Self-Employed For $0 Rent 

With the average retail rent in Manhattan ranging from $300 to $500 per square foot, there’s a reason why everything’s a goddamned chain. While I don’t necessarily agree with the aggressive selling techniques of the guys pushing self-manufactured rap CDs on unassuming tourists (nor do I care for their sexual harassment), I appreciate the fact that, in Times Square, they spend $0 per square foot of sidewalk space, on which they bully scared Midwesterners into purchasing $15 CD-Rs. The same goes for people who sell personalized nameplates with copyright infringing art, unethically manufactured t-shirts with slogans like “I (Heart) New York” and “Cool Story, Bro,” and pre-broken costume jewelry.

Depressing Mascots Teach Important Life Lessons 

A beaten, broken, bootleg Elmo. A sighing Mickey Mouse, foam visage propped atop a human forehead. A beautiful but morose girl in a princess costume, slowly walking down 42nd. The existence of these depressing characters teaches children the important definition of pathos—that there is, in fact, an end to the rainbow. This lesson can also be learned in front of Hollywood’s Mann’s Chinese Theater, but Hollywood Boulevard has far more bong and stripper shoe stores than T.G.I. Friday’s, therefore making it infinitely less kid friendly.

It’s a Great Place to Read Awful News 

The 24-hour news tickers inform you, in small bites, about the awful state of the world—what’s happening in Gaza, what fucked up thing Putin did this Thursday, where the latest suicide bombing took place. What better reminder that you have it better than the majority of Earth’s residents than to read this harrowing information while standing in front of the biggest Chili’s you’ve ever seen?

It’s Impossible to Walk Through

Nothing is more frustrating, yet also more interesting, than being stuck in a slow-moving stream of humanity. Forced to shuffle behind a shorts-clad family, the patriarch of which carries an enormous digital camera far beyond his technical skill around his neck, you not only slow down your body, you slow down your mind. Let the endless digital stimulus surrounding you flow over you like a tide. Give yourself over to the new nature.

Sure, You’ve Seen Sbarro, But Have You Ever Seen a MAMA Sbarro? 

Unless you’ve been to Times Square, I believe the answer is no. Which makes Times Square an important social and cultural epicenter. Possibly the most important social and cultural epicenter.

Follow Megan Koester on Twitter.

In January Spanish photographer Manu Mart visited the Philippines to photograph victims of the recent typhoon. Instead he found the Smokey Mountain community located in Tondo, one of the poorest regions in Manila. The families and children living there were scavenging rubbish and making a meager living off of wasted cables and metals. The major income in the area was earned through the production of charcoal in outdoors ovens. Fifty percent of the charcoal workers there were under 17 years old.

Due to the low housing standards, child labor, poverty, and poor hygiene, life expectancy in the area is just 40 years. Manu is now using his images to promote the NGO project ALIVE who are working to protect children from a life in the charcoal stacks.  

VICE: How did you find out about Smokey Mountain?
Manu Mart: I met the person in charge of a NGO in Smokey Mountain called Malaya Kids Ministry. I told them I was a photographer and they liked the idea of doing a project there. I lived in a church nearby owned by the NGO and slept there with some orphan kids that worked in the charcoal mines, they just take turns and sleep in the church some days.

What were the main issues you found in the community?
Everything. The situation there is so difficult and complicated that when I started working there I didn’t even know what to focus on because everything was stimulating as a photographer. Little by little I figured out the group that had the toughest conditions were the kids and young people.

How many hours a day do the kids work?
Approximately 13 to 14 hours a day. The kids don’t get paid, their main job is scavenging in the remains of wood or metal objects like nails or cables they can sell. They live off whatever they can find.

That sounds like an inescapable situation.
It depends on the families. Some families have managed to build little stores and businesses in Smokey Mountain so these families little by little have gone out of the charcoal production. Then there are the kids that don’t have families that live there and sleep around the charcoal ovens.

It’s strange to say, but the kids don’t look very sad in your project. It seems they are still normal kids. What’s their attitude like?
In the end they are kids, it’s their reality and I never heard any kid or person saying “I don’t want to be here.” The kids live the reality they have and do it the best they can, even in tough conditions.

What health issues do the charcoal mines have on the people?
All kind of diseases: tuberculosis, hepatitis B, respiratory problems, and everything that you can get from breathing charcoal smoke that is burning constantly. The long-term consequences are fatal.

Tell us about the project ALIVE?
It is a project created by Malaya Kids that aims to support these families, giving them alternative lifestyles so they can create different businesses or stores so they get out of the charcoal production. Also, the objective is to get them to school, so even if they don’t take them out of the mines they at least work fewer hours.

How do locals regard the kids scavenging in rubbish? Are they compassionate or callous?
Well, Smokey is in the middle of various slums. The life in Tondo is really hard so the community is not above of Smokey Mountain. No one is compassionate or callous, everyone is in the same situation of poverty, and they are all living the same reality of the neighborhood.

In photojournalism there’s always this debate on the limits of photographing poverty. Sometimes it seems to be more for commercial purposes rather than making a change.
As long as you are reporting and making people aware of the issue, it’s fine. Photographing poverty for the sake of it should never be done. As photographers we are here to tell the stories that are happening in the last corner of the world or next-door. The real problem of photographing poverty is when it’s done because it’s easy or accessible and you put yourself in a higher rank from that situation.

What's the saddest thing you saw?
It’s hard to tell, but photographing Smokey Mountain was not a sad experience. I always try to keep in mind that it is their reality, of course it’s an unfair situation but it exists, if you let all these feelings of sadness get to you it is very hard to do a photographic project.

Doesn’t the inequality piss you off?
Of course. The problem is that it’s something that is present all over the world. You can’t fight against it, but as a photographer you can tell the stories and report them.

More of Manu’s project can be seen here.

Follow Laura on Twitter

Lucien Clarke. Photos by Carl Wilson

British street skaters have always had it a little rougher than American skaters, if only for the fact that their “plazas” aren’t polished concrete utopias—they’re industrial parking lots covered in broken glass and bits of rusty metal piping intent on giving you tetanus. Compare any Cali tape with, say, Heroin’s Everything’s Going to Be Alright and you’ll see what I mean.

Lucien Clarke has been a fixture of this scene since his first section in 2004’s Hello Coco, but is increasingly being flown all over the States—and the rest of the world—by his list of sponsors, which includes Supra, KR3W, Palace, and Supreme. I caught up with him recently at Hackney's Frontside Gardens skate park ahead of the Supra demo to talk about skating and finding yourself naked in front of your idols.

VICE: All right, Lucien, how’s it going?
Lucien Clarke: I’m good, man.

You’ve said before that wherever you go in the world, you always like coming back to London. You're back.
Yeah. I grew up here; I started skateboarding here. This is my roots! The spots here are a lot more rugged, and it’s an old city, so the buildings are really cool.

I'm guessing you have a strong connection to Southbank, then?
Yeah, man—Southbank is the heart of London, pretty much. Old Boris saying that it’s cool for us to stay there is great news, innit. It’s been under threat for years, but we’re safe for now. I’ve been promoting it and spreading the word as much as I can—it’s one of my favorite skate spots, man.

What do you do when you’re not skating?
I skateboard all the time. But when I’m not, I’m hanging with my mates and going to festivals and that sort of thing.

Have you done any festivals this year?
Not yet. I haven’t been home for a full month yet—too busy touring. I’m going to Croatia to a house festival called Dimensions. I love Croatia, but I’ve never skated out there, because every time I go it’s just a total mash-up with my friends.

You've been too busy touring? Is that an unbearably harsh reality of being pro? Or actually one of the best things in the world?
Yeah, definitely the second! I never thought I’d be able to do this for a living and travel the world with all these legends. I feel blessed to be able to do this. [Members of the Supra team] were people I looked up to. I’m so hyped to meet all these legends, see how safe they are, be able to skate with them, and become mates. It’s great.

Nice. How have previous tours been for you?
Oh, on a tour a while back we all had our own rooms, and you know how it is—you bring a lady back [laughs]. Anyway, we partied all night, and in the morning we were crashed out, totally naked on this bed. I opened my eyes and there’s this skate legend in the room. I won’t say his name, but he was skater I loved who I hadn’t met yet. He was just sitting there eating fish and chips and having a smoke in the corner of the room. I was like, “All right?” It was surreal.

That kind of answers my next question—you must have had moments where you stopped and thought, How the hell did I get here? right? Because you're still relatively new to touring with American teams.
Yep. Another one of those was in Fresno. It’s basically like Breaking Bad—there was just meth everywhere [laughs]. It was on a Supra trip that we were filming for, and I woke up there like, What the fuck? How did I get here? It was amazing, though.

Have you had a different response—as a skater—in the States compared with here?
Yeah, it’s like skaters are fucking pop stars over there! It’s massive. Some of the skateboarders over there think they’re rappers or something [laughs]. It’s sick, though. I’m going back over in October for a few months when the weather stars getting shit over here. Supra are making a video, so I’m going to go and film a part for them.

You've had hip-hop in most of your video—what do you listen to yourself when you're skating?
I listen to a lot of Detroit house and loads of hip-hop when I skate. I like grime a lot too, and my friend FKA Twigs is really blowing up. I don’t listen to that when I skate, but it’s good stuff. I also like some psychedelic hip-hop stuff.

What’s the worst thing about skateboarding right now?
When egos fly through the roof when people get a bit of money. That’s the worst.

And what’s the best?
How free it is, the people you meet, the places you go. It’s just fun, innit. It’s a great thing, and it keeps you young.

Do you like being interviewed?
It’s all right. I’ve done quite a few for skate mags, so it’s cool.

What would you have liked me to ask you?
Hm… "What are you up to now?"

What are you up to now, Lucien?
Well, Supra are making a video, which I’ll be filming for—hopefully that'll be finished by the end of the year. This whole team hasn’t made a video before, so it’s really exciting; everyone having a part is going to be bangin’. Also, Palace are filming a video, so I’ll be doing that. I think it’ll be out in the beginning of next year. 

Cool. Any closing words or advice?
I just feel stoked to be able to do what I’m doing. I have a little reflect from time to time and think, "This is actually pretty fucking sick." I’m always up. I’m just happy. My advice to young skaters would be to just keep skating and having fun. Always have fun with it. If you’re not having fun, then there’s something wrong.

Follow Jak on Twitter.

Journalists crowd around an ambulance in Gaza. Photo via Flickr user Basel Alyazouri 

The role of the press in the turbulent conflict playing out in the Gaza Strip is becoming more and more a part of the story, with journalists forced to defend themselves in an online flame war over media coverage of this latest Middle Eastern disaster.

One of the most remarkable salvos came courtesy of David Frum, a senior editor at The Atlantic magazine and a former speechwriter for President George W. Bush. Frum took a shot at three of the world’s largest and most respected media organizations—Reuters, the Associated Press and the New York Times—when he tweeted his opinion that a widely circulated photo of a grief-stricken Palestinian man soaked in his own father’s blood was a “fake.” 

Without getting stuck in the weeds about why Frum thought the photo was in some way staged (BagNews has a thorough breakdown here that pretty much crushes his argument), let’s just say that reaction to his comments has not been kind. On Tuesday, Poynter obliterated any remaining doubt, vetting the photographer’s work and determining that Frum was dead wrong. Reached via email, Frum declined to provide evidence for his initial charge. “Sounds like you’ve written the story already," he wrote back. When I pressed further, he said simply, "That *was* my comment." (UPDATE: Frum has issued an apology, but defended his initial skepticism, writing, "[As] anyone who follows news from the Middle East knows, there is a long history in the region of the use of faked or misattributed photographs as tools of propaganda.")

But Frum's tweets are indicative not just of his own position—he has been vocally supportive of the Israeli offensive, as well as his belief that last year’s peace talks eroded because of Palestinian stubbornness—but also of a growing trend. While the world is simply watching, those in the press are examining and scrutinizing every image, tweet, video, story and report coming out of the Gaza Strip for evidence of bias or favoritism toward one side or the other. And while reporters are dodging rockets (and, in the case of Palestinian journalist Khaled Hamad, being obliterated by one), their editors and ombudsmen are deflecting blows from readers and media observers alike. 

In the process of reporting on Hamad’s killing, I came across an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal penned by Thane Rosenbaum, who made the following claim:

“There are now reports that Hamas and Islamic Jihad are transporting themselves throughout Gaza in ambulances packed with children. Believe it or not, a donkey laden with explosives detonated just the other day,” Rosenbaum wrote.

The author provided no source for his assertion that Hamas is cynically using children as pawns in what has become, on their part, a battle for sympathy from the global community (let alone a citation for the exploded animal). If the increasing amount of coverage of civilian deaths in Palestine has been a boon to Hamas, unattributed information like that supplied by Rosenbaum represents an irresponsible act on the part of a major news organization. That Hamas carries out such practices has long been the reason held up by Israel for what has historically been a disproportionate loss of life on the Palestinian side. Rosenbaum himself acknowledged part of the reason there is any debate at all as to the morality of Israel’s actions is due to the rapidly rising Palestinian body count.

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if the (loss of life) wasn’t disproportionate,” Rosenbaum told Mike Pesca, host of Slate’s The Gist podcast.

Credit a large media presence in the Gaza Strip not just to providing those numbers, but the haunting images, stories, videos and interviews that have amplified the cold hard stats.

Those statistics—the high number of Palestinian casualties compared to Israeli ones—come with a caveat, Rosenbaum claims. In his view, many of the dead are either complicit in Hamas’ attacks on Israel, supportive of their efforts, or themselves guilty of providing shelter and resources to the terrorist organization. (In response to Rosenbaum’s column, Vanity Fair noted that many of Gaza’s residents are under the age of 18, making them ineligible to have voted Hamas into power during the 2006 election.) But this assertion—that civilians are either intimately or peripherally involved with Hamas via voting or implicit support—was echoed by the Israeli Government Press Office (GPO) in regard to journalists working in the region. In comments made to Sherif Mansour, Middle East and North Africa program coordinator for the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), the GPO insisted that reporters “are working with Hamas.”

That’s a serious charge, and one that leads to a question being asked by media observers around the world: Is there too much coverage of the Palestinian side of this conflict? And is that coverage “pro-Palestinian,” as Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman has argued? Apparently, the perception among some Israelis is that media coverage has been slanted to show the conflict too much from Palestinian eyes, to the point where journalists are facing hostility not only in Gaza, where the overwhelming majority of the violence has taken place, but in Israel. There, a man shoved a BBC Arabic correspondent during a live shot, knocking him out of frame. That’s in addition to the off-camera threats received by CNN correspondent Diana Magnay.

Many American elites have argued that the only reason there is so much focus on Israel’s invasion of Gaza is because people are more interested in hearing about Jews killing Arabs or Muslims than they are Arabs or Muslims killing off each other. Which, of course! Why wouldn’t there be massive interest in the most recent iteration of a conflict that has been boiling for centuries? No amount of reporting could possibly express the horrific nature of the situation in Syria, where one religion extends to both sides of the conflict. But expecting people to care more about that than what’s going on in Gaza is akin to wondering why more people watch a Yankees/Red Sox game than they do a contest between the Yankees and Blue Jays. Some fights are more interesting than others.

As an editor, Frum should understand this. And his job title makes his apparent belief that three of the world’s largest media organizations worked in collusion with a photographer to stage a photo that would benefit the Palestinian cause all the more baffling.

If the dangers on the ground in Gaza and the smearing of journalists online wasn’t enough, there’s more. Last week the Foreign Press Association (FPA) reported a disturbing string of events in which journalists were either intentionally or accidentally targeted by Israel. They included the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) apparently firing on Al Jazeera offices in Gaza City, and an attack on a CNN crew filming a protest in Hebron for Palestinian prisoners on a hunger strike. Undercover police at the protest eventually destroyed the camera, and accused the crew of “incitement,” according to the FPA.

Whether the artillery that struck Al Jazeera was intentionally fired or not doesn’t really matter when you consider Lieberman’s thoughts on the media organization. In a somewhat stunning declaration last week, he added fuel to the fire:

“Just as Great Britain would not permit Der Stürmer to establish a television channel to broadcast from London, and the United States would not permit an Al Qaeda channel to broadcast from New York, so must we act in order to prevent Al Jazeera from broadcasting from Israel.”

Set aside the chilling implications of such censorship on a free and open press and consider what it means for the shaping of views within Israel. Without contrasting voices, the conflict in Gaza would take on a head-in-the-sand tone.

While disconcerting for fans of a free press, Israel’s reaction to the media coverage of Operation Protective Edge is not surprising as condemnation for the attacks and calls for an immediate ceasefire grow.

Mansour of the Committee to Protect Journalists called the Gaza Strip a “deadly environment for journalists,” adding that the CPJ “expected an escalation of violence and the death of journalists from the beginning.”

Hamad may have been the first casualty, but as the conflict drags on, more journalists are being pulled into the far less deadly fight over framing. Regardless of your position on this mess, stories of the destruction and loss of human life in Palestine shouldn’t be labeled as propaganda. Documenting the carnage there has another name: journalism.

Justin Glawe is a freelance journalist based in Peoria, Illinois. He writes about crime there, and recently launched a reporting project that will address issues of child welfare on the Spirit Lake Indian Reservation.

Most Canadians say you'll never catch them in this position. Image via Creative Commons.
According to a new Forum Research poll, Canada is full of prudes. Or, perhaps, liars.

The pollster asked over 1,600 Canadians about their pornographic proclivities and Canadians, generally, responded with an, “Ew, no.” Unsurprising, given that they were being asked what kind of porn they watch by an inquisitive, seemingly-horny robot, but even still, an unnervingly low number of Canucks copped to accessing the spank bank in the last year, if at all.

What’s more is that a frightening number of Canadians actually support slapping restrictions on how consenting adults get ahold of their wank material—a fact that certainly won’t be lost on the fringe members of Canadian parliament who actually think a UK style, internet porn filter is a good idea.

Anti-porn wackos aside, let’s jump into the results of Forum Research’s latest poll so we can delve into the psyche of Canadian porn lovers.

Porn Denial, by Region

Probably out of shame, or perhaps unwillingness to discuss intimate sexual preferences with an automated voice over the telephone, only 16 percent of Canadians confessed to watching smut in the past year. The rest said they stayed away from filth, or preferred not to answer.

If that sounds like utter bullshit, it could be that us hosers are actually just tight-asses.

In nearly every demographic, a majority of Canadians said they hadn’t viewed pornography in the last year. Yes, even those you would expect to be the most inclined to popping on a pair of headphones and loosening their belt—18 to 34 years olds, men, and Quebecers—said they hadn’t checked out porn in the last 365 days.

That Quebecers are so puritanical might come as some surprise, considering that online porn giant MindGeek, formally known as ManWin, runs such smutty servers as PornHub, RedTube, YouPorn, Brazzers, and a host of others. Their North American corporate headquarters are in Montreal. Some estimates put the value of the Canadian porn industry at around $1 billion.

The most liberal provinces were, surprisingly, Manitoba and Saskatchewan: those were the only provinces where the majority of the respondents didn’t say they shied away from the sections of the internet devoted to sex. I suppose it makes sense that the flattest provinces are also the most inclined to take a trip to the bone yard—the prairie-folk heavily Google such family-friendly terms as ‘testicles,’‘rough sex,’’fisting,’and ‘beastiality.’

26 percent of the Canadians polled refused to answer any of the prying robot voice’s questions. Even if we decided to take that whole 26 percent and count them as definite porn watchers, we only end up with 42 percent of Canadians who willfully admit to lovin’ skin flicks.

Even those that confessed to engaging in hand-to-gland combat sound prudish. Of the mere 169 respondents who said they viewed pornography in the last year, only a third said they watch it once a week or more. Ten percent of those asked, mostly women, said they watch porn once a year or less.

Of the sliver of those folks who said they partake in Friday night delight, more than a quarter do so with someone else. Though, most do it alone.

In a pretty good effort to figure out how many Canadians may be closet cases, the poll also asked Canadians whether they watch porn featuring men and women, men only, women only or, D, all of the above!

Of the men, 13 percent admitted that men-only porn is featured in their porn diet. Women were a little less adventurous, and only nine percent said they enjoyed a little lez action.

Hilariously, zero percent of Canadians living in the western half of the country said they watched dudes-only porn. Heading eastward, 15 percent of Ontario and 30 percent of Atlantic Canada said they did.

So, either the Atlantic is full of man-on-man loving ladies, or gay dudes. Either way: good job, b’ys.

God Versus Porn

The demographics of porn connoisseurs breaks down, unsurprisingly, by party lines and crucifix-clutching religiosity.

On the political side, the Tories were the least likely to have taken in a dirty film in the last year—14 percent said they had, while the Liberals weren’t far off, with 15 percent, and the NDP not far ahead, with 17 percent. Nearly a quarter of those filthy Greens, on the other hand, said they indulged.

In fact, those hippie environmentalists can hardly be stopped—more than half of them who admitted to enjoying pornography, say they took the matter into their own hands more than once a week.

The pollster also asked whether Canadians thought pornography was “harmful to society.” Distressingly, half of the respondents—812 people—said that it was, indeed, a plague on our otherwise white linen moral fabric.

Conservatives were most likely to feel this way, but all four federal parties clocked in around the same level of disapproval—yes, even the Greens.

What makes that so alarming is that it could give rise to the contingent of whacky social conservatives hidden in the Harper government’s closet. Right-wing puritans like Joy Smith.

"In this massive fight against child exploitation, human trafficking and the sexualization of our children, porn is the mass groomer and driver of demand,” Smith said in a November press conference that illicited such public responses as “really?”and “wake the fuck up!”

But Smith wasn’t just tilting at windmills—she has an actual proposal to install mandatory porn-blocking software into all of Canada’s WiFi routers. To turn off the software, you would likely need to call your internet service provider. Yes, those calls would be very awkward.

Forum, at the behest of this journalist, even asked Canadians what they thought of that proposal: and most agreed.

In fact, more Canadians favoured a law to make porn harder to access than thought it was harmful to society. Which is confounding. Even 41 percent of 18 to 34 year olds thought it was a good idea.

And, of course, 60 percent of Conservatives endorsed the idea. The number drops to about half for the NDP and Liberals, and roughly 40 per cent for those smut-loving Greens.

Only a third of Canadians opposed the idea.

That proposal may find its way into actual legislation, and Canada wouldn’t be the first country to experiment with it. The United Kingdom introduced similar laws, but the opt-in model has been a complete failure (Smith wants an opt-out model.) Iceland, on the other hand, banned physical pornography in 2010, and it has floated similar proposals to limit access to online porn. Smith has already taken a page out of the Nordic Bible in helping to craft Canada’s new paternalistic sex work legislation.

Forum also asked respondents which kind of Christian god they follow—and, as you might expect, the more colourful brands like the Evangelicals were less likely to take-in a boob flick, while the others were a little more liberal.

But it was the Catholics who were the horniest devils, with 15 percent saying they watched porn in the last year. Atheists, of course, were a little more liberal: nearly a quarter said the same. Nearly half of the non-religious folk had some one-on-one time with their laptops at least once a week. Probably on Sunday.

Bible-thumpers also listed late-night “research”as a societal ill; with a solid majority of Christians, Protestants, and Evangelicals all agreeing that porn is harmful. That number goes up to 84 per cent for Evangelicals, and as low as 31 per cent for the non-believers. The trend is about the same for the porn-blocking software—only the godless ones were predominately opposed the idea.

Thank god for those atheists.

Juking the Stats

Admittedly, Canadians may have trouble fessing-up to the automated pollster who calls them at home.

"We pride ourselves as Canadians on our open-mindedness, but even with the anonymity guaranteed by the IVR survey method, it would appear there is substantial under-reporting of pornography use,” says Forum Research president, Lorne Bozinoff.

So maybe it would be better to turn to a report put together by porn-purveyor PornHub, the world’s most-visited online nudie site, to figure out just what Canadians are into.

While the adult content clearing house doesn’t publish just how many Canadians visit their website, website-ranking service Alexa reports that three of the top 50 websites visited from Canada are porn. And, according to the analytics firm Comscore, Pornhub receives over 3.7 million unique visitors in Canada per month, which accounts for 10.6% of the country, and that’s just one porn site! So clearly, there’s a bit of underreporting going on when it comes to Canadians denying their own love of porn.

Over 70 percent of Pornhub’s Canadian visitors are male. And, Canadian visitors to Pornhub also frequent Ashley Madison—the premier “dating site” for married people to cheat on their spouses.

“What a lot of Canadians agree on is that Lesbians, Teens and MILFs are the best,” writes PornHub. “What is interesting, without necessarily coming as a surprise, is that Lesbian is the most popular of the three.”

On Pornhub, Canadians spend somewhere around 10 minutes per internet-porn-safari, and only need to visit about nine pages before they’re satisfied.

For reasons I don’t personally understand, hunters search for things like “yoga,”“massage,”and “casting,”as well as the usual fare of “babysitter,”“milk,”and “teacher.”

Quebec, by the way, is really into “smoking” porn. They also search for “Quebec” pretty heavily, probably to find some public sex scenes shot in a Montreal park, or just to capture a bit of Quebecois dirty talk. And some 0.1 percent of Canadian Pornhub views come from perverts watching videos on their Nintendo Wii. Yes, their Wii.

All the searches drop off, however, whenever there’s a big hockey game on, or when it’s Canada Day. Because, you know, we’re Canada.


@justin_ling

Glenn Weyant thrives, using the border wall to make eerie, abstract music as bizarre as the structure itself.

We were in Sasabe, Arizona, a tiny and little-known border town with a population of 54. It was Memorial Day, ay a high of 93 degrees. One of the quietest border outposts in the US, Sasabe is surrounded by the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge, not far from the Tohono O'odham Indian reservation and just 37 miles west of Nogales.

The wall is a massive metal structure made of 20-foot-high steel beams a few inches apart, rusted the color of dried blood. Glenn pointed out dusty foot and handprints running up the sides of the posts, evidence of previous infiltrations. Many describe the wall as a "speed bump," designed to slow down crossers, not stop them. According to one video, it's possible to vault over in under 20 seconds.

Glen walked along the wall, rapping it with a mallet. Most of the posts are filled with cement, but some are hollow, ringing like church bells. Rat, rat, rat, rat, DING! Glenn grinned. “Isn’t that sweet?” he said.

The 50-year-old Tucson resident sported a wave of grayish-brown hair in a ponytail. With a goatee, athletic sunglasses, black shirt, and jeans, he resembled a college professor, a job he held once before he started “badmouthing” the other faculty. Now he’s a full-time dad. Originally from New Jersey (you can tell because he says “idea” with an “r”), Glenn has lived in the Southwest for two decades, still describing himself as a migrant. Out here, he’s not exactly paranoid, but he places extreme emphasis on following every letter of the law.

It’s completely legal to be this close to the wall, where you can easily stick your toes through the gaps into Mexico. But everything still feels forbidden, ominous, sinister—especially knowing every move you make is being watched and recorded by cameras, drones, and security towers. While you’re not allowed to paint, alter, or otherwise vandalize the wall (and obviously you can’t lawfully hop over it), it’s perfectly admissible to touch and play music on it. And so Glenn does.

In plain view of a surveillance tower about a mile back, Glenn unloaded a case of equipment—several effects pedals, a small soundboard, a battery-powered amp, and several custom-built mics that magnetize to the metal, amplifying whatever vibrations sing through it. Glenn also got into costume, donning two masks—one of a goat, the other of something like a Kokopelli—which Glenn wore because he said people in India wear masks on the back of their heads to ward off tigers.

Using drum mallets, a cello bow, and a viola, he started to play. It began with bizarre, alien warbles, some clicks and snaps, then echoes looping back in on themselves, oscillating in droning waves. Glenn rattled a wire drum brush between the beams and even pounded a mallet against Mexican soil. He squealed into a moose call, sounding like a horse screaming in pain. Then he faced the tower, pulled out the viola, and began creaking on it. It sounded beautiful at first, but quickly became harrowing, the kind of agitating strains common to horror flicks. There was an extended, ringing lull before he took the bow to the fence, sliced at it, made it snap and squelch like crumpling cellophane. Finally, everything purred and faded out. Glenn faced the tower and took a bow.

The piece is “Escape Goat/Ghost,” part of a larger series called Performance for Surveillance. It’s just one of many of Glenn’s ephemeral sound works in The Anta Project, ("anta" being a Sanskrit word for "limit" or "border"), including “Droneland Security,” “Unreal City Sounding,” and “The Two Sun Sin Phony.”

Performance for Surveillance was written with the exact watchtower behind us in mind. It’s an actual annotated score, registered with the Library of Congress, that begins with feedback drone in the key of C, transitions to radio waves and cello playing, and then echoes away. The final part of the performance involves filing a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request soliciting all video, audio, or other documentation relating to the work. Glenn began filing these FOIA requests, complete with GPS coordinates, with his first recital of Performance, when he wore a zebra mask and played a cello for whoever was watching the cameras.

“They haven’t acknowledged it, other than saying they received everything,” Glenn told me. “At one point, they told me there was nothing and then someone else wrote and said, ‘Oh, you have to wait for it.’ If they don’t have it, does that [tower] even work? Does that billion-dollar instrument, does it even work? Or is it just for show?” he asked, laughing.

Glenn kept pestering the Department of Homeland Security, getting the run-around every step of the way, but eventually received an hour’s worth of footage. It was from the time and date that he performed, but not the location that he asked for.

“You see the camera zoom in, and off in the distance you see these black objects moving and you’re like, what are they?” Glenn recalled. “And you realize they’re a couple of dogs. They’re in America and they sneak into Mexico. And the camera follows them and pans them down the street in Mexico. How much is that guy making to follow some dogs that snuck into Mexico? It’s ridiculous. It’s so absurd. It’s almost as absurd as making music with a wall.”

One of the many goals of The Anta Project is to challenge the observer effect, in which monitorship influences the behavior of the observed. Imagine you’re a Border Patrol agent, cartel member, or rancher, watching a wall all day through binoculars, then see someone whip out a cello bow and start making music and noise from the wall. How does the relationship to the object change? Does the observation of something change its behavior?

“How does that change your relationship to the people on either side?” Glenn asked. “Does it create the potential for something more? Can you build a bridge instead of a wall?”

Glenn has been playing the wall since 2006, and in that short time he’s seen a lot of change. Originally, the border was only barbed wire and ocotillo branches. Then, to deter vehicle crossings, Border Patrol erected Normandy-style barriers made from recycled railroad tracks. Some of these giant steel X’s still scatter the landscape. Next came repurposed helicopter-landing pads. Now, we have these formidable, six-inch steel bollard-style beams with concrete bases.

Things will undoubtedly become more complex now that Sasabe Pipeline Co. plans to export natural gas to Mexico by building a pipeline through the Altar Valley watershed. Understandably, several environmental groups are on edge, as the pipeline is being built close to the nearby wildlife refuge. We even saw several laborers in Mexico working on the pipeline on the other side and we spoke to them in broken Spanish, but didn’t learn much.

To Glenn, the semantics between “fence” and “wall” are important. He explained that when you hear the word "fence," you think something a little more benign, more temporary. “A wall is more permanent, and there is something quintessentially anti-American about walls,” he said, quoting Reagan’s famous catchphrase to Soviet Union leader Mikhail Gorbachev: "Tear down this wall!"

“Language is really important because when someone hears ‘wall on the border,’ it’s much more powerful than ‘fence on the border,’” Glenn said. “Myself, I think there are, basically, instruments on the border. Miles and miles of the most expensive instruments." And they are expensive: one mile of border fence averages $2.8 million. "It does nothing other than make sounds. It’s pointless.”

Often when Glenn starts to bring out his equipment, Border Patrol makes an appearance. So far, we hadn’t seen a single agent, just the silent tower. But soon enough, a Ford F-150 came rolling up. The agent stepped from the cab, hands on his hips, and said, “You guys are making music or something?”

Glenn seemed almost ecstatic to have more of an audience. He explained his whole project, how he did it, and even got into the history of the border. The agent didn’t appear amused. “Why does it have to be this fence?” he asked. But there was nothing he could do—we were well within the confines of the law.

That’s not to say Border Patrol hasn’t probed Glenn in the past. One agent implied the musician was testing the wall for weaknesses, while another accused Glenn of being a Russian spy. But Glenn says if you drive a white truck and have a cowboy hat, no one messes with you out here. Before he left, the agent mentioned that most immigration traffic had been pushed east to Texas, so they were getting slammed pretty hard. It seems he was right—this was a few weeks before news broke of 8,000 children traveling without their parents who were caught on the Texas border in May. About 1,000 of these kids were shipped to Nogales, Arizona, where they currently sleep at the Office of Refugee Resettlement, a federal detention center. That’s just a fraction of the estimated 60,000 that have made it here this year alone, with officials expecting that number to rise to 90,000.

Glenn firmly avoids labeling himself an activist, even though he does want to bring attention to these border issues and has supported No Más Muertes, an advocacy group that aims to stop the rising death toll out here. To Glenn, The Anta Project only began to chronicle the weirdness that he was seeing in a place he loved.

“Then I heard how many people were dying out here,” he said.

According to the National Foundation for American Policy, at least 2,202 migrants have perished between 2001 and 2013, attempting to cross into Arizona alone. The total including other states between 1998 and 2012 is pegged at 5,595 deaths, but because official record keeping is spotty at best and not all bodies are found, this is just an estimate.

The question isn’t what can kill you out here, it’s what can’t. Risks include drowning, dehydration, snake bites, heat stroke, hypothermia, even getting hit by cars, to say nothing of the danger of being killed by Homeland Security. One of the more recent examples of Border Patrol killing a person didn’t even deal with illegal trafficking—on October 10, 2012, 16-year-old Jose Antonio Elena Rodriguez was in Nogales, Mexico when he was shot eight times through the wall, once in the head, the rest in his back. Why? Border Patrol claim he was throwing rocks at their vehicle. No one has been held responsible.

In March, I attended a vigil in Nogales for Jose, held because the family still wants answers. Street art with the boy’s face is plastered all up and down the street and you can look up to where the officers stood behind the wall and fired their weapons.

Coincidentally, Glenn used to play the exact same wall (the US side) back when it was still made of helicopter landing pads. “I spoke with the guy from the Army Corps of Engineers who tore down the old wall and built the new mega-wall,” Glenn recalled. “I was optimistic the more open wall design would facilitate opportunities for communication, but it apparently wound up doing little more than giving Border Patrol a clear shot.”

Now, “No Trespassing” signs surround that part of the wall, which is probably why Glenn has said, “Music becomes really frightening when you’re doing it in the wrong place.”

Being in the “wrong place,” the musician has witnessed many bizarre things out here in the desert, but he said he isn’t sure if he’s seen any illegal crossings. “I don’t profile,” Glenn said, adding what’s bizarre to him is “what people leave behind,” such as toothbrushes, water bottles, maps, baby shoes.

“Stories that are never told. The bodies in the desert that are never found or never identified,” Glenn said. “That’s the bizarre thing—that people can go about their daily life. If a bus crash happened with a hundred people dying, it would be front-page news. But a hundred people die crossing the desert every year makes a small little blurb in the national paper. There’s just so many people dying, so many kids being displaced. The desert is as normal as it can possibly be. The bizarreness is the little talismans of inhumanity that exist here.”

All Glenn wants to do with his music is challenge that inhumanity, encouraging others to follow his example. “Play the world,” he said. “Everything is a musical instrument. Every sound is valid. You don’t need to buy a guitar and an amp and all that. You just need some sticks to bang on something. I’d like to hear more people doing that.”

Follow Troy Farah on Twitter.

Photos by Joey Prince

In college, a friend who didn’t shave her armpits lent me her copy of Inga Muscio’s feminist treatise Cunt: A Declaration of Independence. Paging through it instantly gave me a ton of great ideas, like supporting female-run businesses and LGBT rights and checking out my vagina with a compact mirror. Then there were some I wasn’t immediately sold on, like abortion via reflexology and, more specifically, using menstrual blood as plant fertilizer.

The period-blood-fertilizer reference is buried among descriptions of alternative feminine-care products: “You can squeeze the blood out into a jar, fill it with water, and feed it to your houseplants, who… [a friend] assured me, ‘absolutely adore the stuff.’” Shocked, I googled the trend and, sure enough, found a few green-living and apocalypse-prep websites supporting the idea of gardening with the crimson wave.

Blood contains three primary plant macronutrients—nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. Plants demand these in large amounts so they can actually survive or whatever. The granddaddy of the bloody nutrients, though, is nitrogen, which helps boost plants’ overall luster and growth. So, as a poor gardener and menstrual-cup enthusiast, I decided to collect my next cycle to help grow some plants.

Menstrual cups—in case you’re a slave to riding the cotton pony and are unhip to them—are flexible silicone thingies you fold and stuff up your holiest of orifices to catch blood. Most people pour their period down the toilet, but for my own personal Shark Week, I emptied my cups into a mason jar instead. At the end of the cycle, I added water to make the balance about one part blood to nine parts water. I decided to conduct the experiment for one week on an indoor plant and an outdoor plant. The plan was to water aloe (indoors) and Bibb lettuce (outdoors) each morning with blood tea.

I invited my friend Joey to photograph the first day, and was surprised how easy it was to convince him. He pointed to the sticky jar by my nightstand. “How do you think that’s going to go over with dudes?” he asked. “Is that gonna freak guys out?” I hadn’t thought about that—the idea of frightening potential sexual conquests out of my bed. Welp.

Day two kicked off with the lady-nutrient dump. Nothing immediate happened, good or bad. Same with day three, but it rained that night, and I wondered whether the deluge would wash away any of the vag vitamins from the lettuce. I added a dribble more in the evening, just in case. The aloe was obviously fine and safe on my bedside table.

That night I proved Joey wrong and had a man over. The dude asked about the jar full of sick-looking brown cooch soup, but once I told him about the experiment he accepted it and even continued to text me throughout the week. After that I started keeping the tea outside—on my fire escape, by the lettuce. Even though Night Three Dude wasn’t shaken, I started to worry about spending days in my tiny, hot bedroom surrounded by blood plants and jars of blob. My dad asked whether I was OK. I wasn’t sure about myself, but the lettuce leaves seemed to have perked up outdoors. The aloe looked kind of the same.

On day five I called off the aloe’s blood-tea treatment. The sun baking it had made the concoction smell unholy, and I couldn’t deal.

A 2004 commenter on one of the hippie sites I consulted warned that menstrual blood attracts ants. I half-expected insects to have ravaged the lettuce by day six, but she looked fine—actually, she looked great and perky. One might even say thriving.

On day seven, Joey returned for our special lunch date. I rigorously washed the vibrant blood lettuce and prepared a little summer salad with strawberries. Finally, it was time for a taste test. It tasted… like lettuce. I’ve grown this variety of Bibb lettuce in a few states now without blood, and it’s always about the same.

Despite the lack of obvious taste difference, the soil was clearly packed with nutrients. When making the salad, I chopped the heads down to the bottom of their stalks, and one week later a head had grown back, at least three inches tall.

The result was remarkable, but I couldn’t keep it up. I’m supposed to move in a few weeks, so I’ve been doling out various belongings I can’t carry south. One roommate reserved most of my plants but couldn’t handle the Aunt Flo–fortified Bibb. I ended up giving it to Night Three Dude, who emphatically accepted it, and now some blood lettuce grows in Bed-Stuy.

The fact that I grew something from my body is still exciting to me. You won’t see a dude doing that. Some message boards promote menses fertilization as a transcendental way to strengthen “ritual herb” growth, and I’m into that witchy shit. Maybe my next blood project will be for mystic purposes. Anyone got some white sage seeds to share? I have some spells to consider for the next time I fly the Japanese flag.

On the second episode of The Jim Norton Show, Jim sits down with former drug kingpin "Freeway" Rick Ross for a discussion that could never happen on a traditional talk show. Snoop Dogg even makes a special guest appearance. Check it out.

Four "consultants" at Dr. BJ's Salon in Bangkok, Thailand. All photos by KT Watson

Bangkok, Thailand, is one of the world's deepest pits of pure sin, a forbidden zone where you can get pretty much whatever sexual perversion tickles your pickle presented to you on a silver platter, with drugs and booze on the side. Countless massage parlors, brothels, and call services exist to cater to the humongous sex tourism industry. So how does an aspiring entrepreneur, uh... stick out in such a super-saturated marketplace?

Well, the first step is to take a cue from branding experts: be as obvious and memorable as possible. That's the thinking behind Dr. BJ’s Salon, the most notorious suck bar in Bangkok.

The spot is within sight of the Nana Skytrain station, just up the street from the swankiest mall in the city. Walking up to Dr. BJ's, you're blasted with light from 14 identical neon signs, which make this knob-slob parlor pretty hard to ignore. Inside, it's stark white, harshly lit, and designed to resemble a medical clinic—the perfect place to get cone.

The exterior was all it took to convince my friend Jared*(not his real name), a 27-year-old American living in Bangkok, to give professional blowjobs a try. Twice.

“When I first got to Bangkok," he told me, "I saw the signs for Dr. BJs Salon and thought, Wait, am I reading that right or am I a pervert? Because it kinda looks like a medical clinic. I checked out their website when I got home and I was like, Oh my god, this is a real thing!” he said.

I was intrigued, so I asked Jared to bring me there for a tour, and Dr. BJ was nice enough to let us take a few photos, and even gave us an interview about his business strategies.

The owner, a Brit who prefers only to be known as “Dr. BJ,” has a background in stereo sales and a talent for marketing. Dr. BJ posits that all businesses should aim to be clear about the service they are offering, so why not the sex industry?

“I think the name conveys what we do pretty well," he told me recently when I visited the salon. "It’s easy to remember, and the logo is easy to spot. When I got involved in the sex industry, I couldn’t understand why no one made an effort to stand out. How could they not take note of the real experts in retail? We looked at what McDonald’s and KFC did. In every location, you see Ronald and the Colonel, right? We wanted to do that too. Dr. BJ is the Ronald McDonald of the sex industry."

Dr. BJ continued, telling me a bit about the founding of his bizarre company. "When we were planning our business, I expected Dr. BJ's to cater to tourists looking for a laugh. We were trying to create a fun place but, as it turns out, more than half of our clients are non-Thais that live in Bangkok. We have a huge Korean and Japanese following,” he added.

Dr. BJ’s approaches business with a sense of humor. On its website, it lists locations opening soon in places like Vatican City, Kabul, and Tehran. They regularly receive email inquiries about those locations by people who don’t realize it’s a joke.

When you walk in, there is a reception desk not unlike that at a doctor’s office and a simple menu listing prices and services. The BJ girls are separated into two skill levels: nurses and consultants. The nurses wear white and the consultants, considered BJ experts, wear black. Prices start at 700 baht ($22 US) for a 30-minute blowjob sesh with a nurse, and 1,000 baht ($31 US) for half an hour with a consultant. They cap at 5,000 baht ($157 US) to take a consultant out for the entire night.

There’s a mezzanine above the lobby where the girls gather for clients to choose from. “They reminded me of vultures circling or crows on a line. It’s off-putting to have 20 girls staring down at you,” Jared said when we walked in.

Many of the girls have photos, ratings and reviews on the site, including some surprisingly honest reviews written by the management, such as this one: “She is very popular and I do not have any idea why. A customer goes to the room, comes down, pays, leaves and comes back again for the same lady. I need to find out why, as she is not the best looking lady.”

“I asked for the same girl both times because she has the best reviews online,” said Jared. “The last time I went was just a few weeks ago, I was out with friends, drunk and hopped up on M-150s [a Thai energy drink favored by motorcycle taxi drivers]. I started thinking, I could just sneak over there and be back before anyone notices. I was feeling really impulsive and sexually frustrated and in need of some kind of release."

The bar isn’t designed to feel welcoming. The girls aren’t hanging around outside trying to lure guys in, like at most of the neighboring places. Dr. BJ’s Salon is hardly alone on Soi 7/1, a street filled with your standard happy ending massage parlors. However, the name and aesthetic of Dr BJ’s guarantee that no one will ever come in looking for a foot rub or neck massage. While its neighbors might metaphorically whisper in the clientele’s ears, Dr. BJs screams down the street: “Hey, check it out! We’ll put our mouths on your dicks for money!”

“After I paid," Jared told me, "we went up to the third floor. The rooms are like really big broom closets lined up, close together, down a very dimly lit hallway. It’s a little creepy and a little bit like a fun house. The girls carry these plastic baskets that have mouthwash, condoms, lube and some other stuff. In the room, there’s a black leather recliner, a stool and those special kinds of sinks they have at the hair salon. You can guess what its for.” If you guessed dick washing, you're right. “They’re about to blow you so they might as well," he adds, "After they wash you, they lay a cloth over the chair cause obviously other people have been there."

I asked Jared about how good she was, if this was a fumbling high school slob job or a luxury experience. He went into detail that was a little more explicit than I expected: "There was a lot of variety in the blowjob. She started at the tip and used her hands to stroke up and down. Then, she played with the head while kissing the shaft—she was actually very talented and did some deepthroating. I was impressed."

"I had been scared I was going to come too soon," he went on, "but then we were getting close to half an hour and I think she was getting frustrated that I couldn’t come. She stayed dressed at the beginning but, when it didn’t seem like I was close to finishing, she took her top off and let me touch her. But no titty fucking or anything like that. I guess you have to pay the extra 1,000 baht for that. I finished all over myself. They don’t want you to come in their hair or on their face or dress since they do so many per night. They stay with you for like 30 seconds or a minute afterwards, then they grab the mouthwash, rinse, wash you off, and go back downstairs."

He continued telling me the story in TMI-detail. "The experience was strange and surreal and a little bit kinky. I felt dirty, but not in a cool way. I never had anyone deepthroat me before so that was awesome. But, as great as it felt, it would have felt 10 times better if it was with someone I cared about. I don’t think I’ll go again but it was a good experience. There’s just something about the place that’s so interesting. It has anecdotal or experiential value. It’s sleazy to be like, I got a blowjob from a whore, but it’s interesting to be like, I went to a place called Dr. BJs and got blown by a fake nurse.”

Whatever you need to tell yourself, Jared.

In response to Lake Enriquillo’s rapid rise and expansion, a black market charcoal trade has flourished, and Haiti is the Dominican Republic’s biggest customer. In part four, VICE News heads to the DR's largest open-air market, on the border with Haiti, to witness this trade in action.

Charlotte Lewis jacket, Gogo Philip earrings

PHOTOGRAPHY: ALEX DE MORA
STYLIST: BRIDI FODEN
Make up: Amy Conley using MAC
Hair: David Noble
Props: GLITTERGUN$ LDN
Models: Maddie Seisay and Ella Bernie at Elite Models, Emily at M+P, Jasmine Lia at Models 1, Alexandra Dell Anno at FM Models, Emily Bador at NEVS

Vintage Tommy Hilfiger top from Rokit, Angharad Evans bottoms, vintage hat from Rokit, Gogo Philip earrings

Lazy Oaf sweater and backpack, Naomi Valentine dress, Joyrich Hat, Gogo Philip earrings

Lauren Lake coat, vintage bandana

Clio Peppit sweater, American Apparel skirt, Converse shoes; Charlotte Lewis dress; Funky Offish T-shirt, Natalie Dawson skirt, Lazy Oaf backpack,Vans sneakers; Natalie Dawson jacket, Lacoste dress; Pop See Cul sweater, Monki skirt; Shade T-shirt, Natalie Dawson skirt

Clio Peppit sweater; Charlotte Lewis dress; Pop See Cul top

Lauren Lake coat, Beyond Retro dress, Kickers shoes, Gogo Philip earrings

Camilla Grimes coat, Gogo Philip earrings

Lazy Oaf coat, Auria swimsuit, Joyrich skirt, Vans sneakers; vintage Tommy Hilfiger top from Rokit, Angharad Evans tracksuit bottoms, Vans sneakers, vintage hat from Rokit, Gogo Philip earrings; American Apparel top, GAP shirt, Christian Cowan-Sanluis pants; Lauren Lake fur, vintage Adidas jacket from Rokit, Naomi Valentine pants, Le Coq Sportif sneakers, Gogo Philip earrings; Lazy Oaf sweater, Naomi Valentine dress, This Is Uniform shorts, Converse sneakers, Joyrich hat; Le Coq Sportif sweater, Beyond Retro skirt, Vans sneakers, Gogo Philip earrings, Lazy Oaf backpack

Natalie Dawson coat, Beyond Retro top, Lauren Lake pants, Kickers shoes

Photos by Antione Harinthe

Noemie Aiko Sebayashi is the 23-year-old designer behind a new women’s street wear brand, Nattofranco. Taking cues from her heritage, her first season took maniacal prints inspired by Japanese artists and illustrators like Tadanori Yokoo and incorporated them onto clothing with a French minimalist sensibility.

It doesn’t take long to realize that Noemie truly is the living ambassador for her brand—over the phone, she was calm, collected, and confident. We talked about that one time she casted her grandparents (who are each over one hundred years old) to model in her look books, the difficulties of starting a label in Paris, and how social media has impacted the fashion world.

VICE: Starting a new brand must be hard in a city like Paris! How do you keep up?
Noemie Aiko Sebayashi: It’s especially tough here because I feel like Paris is behind when it comes to the street wear industry. Every time something new and different comes on the market, it takes more time for the French to catch on. Thank god the Internet exists. It’s an open door that exposes brands like mine to an international level. Social media is a crucial part of my work.

What is your background in fashion?
I always had the thought of working in the fashion industry because I loved clothes but didn't know what part of the industry I would be involved with. I studied two years in a fashion school in Paris and from one internship to another I gained experiences in creative studios and production. The one experience that gave me the most maturity was working with Mongolian designer Tsolo Munkh for two and a half years. She was starting the brand so it was ideal as I got to learn everything from creative to sales and production. After that, I did a six-month internship with Diane Pernet, who was working on six years of fashion film archives of ASVOFF for the Fashion Film Festival in Paris. I owe a lot to Diane, she really understands who I am and what I wanted to do in the future and was the one who convinced me to build my own brand.

Wait! You were Diane Pernet’s assistant? I find her such a lady of mystery, what was that like?
It was really interesting to work with her because I was able to learn about the press side of the fashion industry. I got to see many art openings, fashion shows, showrooms, etc. I had so much fun doing reports for asvof.com and shooting clothes while talking to designers. Since I was working on her archives for ASVOFF, I learned so much watching all the fashion films. She is the sweetest person and such a hard worker; I have the upmost respect for her.

Your fashion label is fairly new. How has the last year changed your life?
I ended my internship with Diane about this time last year. She really encouraged me to look for happiness in my career rather than thinking safety and stability. I started to re-work on older drawings I did in school. I felt like I needed to succeed this project into something real and not just Photoshop designs. That’s when my Ichi [first] collection was born. This year has definitely been very exciting.

You mentioned Walter Van Beirendonck being one of your influences? I'm a huge Walter Van fan, he's one of my all time favorites.
HE'S A GENIUS! He opened my eyes during my fashion studies and I had the biggest crush on him for years. I love his Sado/Maso funky world; he is a monument! I wish he would have an exhibition in Paris one day so I can see all his work. There is MOMAT Museum in Tokyo where they show a small permanent collection of his work and I go every year like a pilgrimage.

Now you’re working on “Ni”, your second collection?
Yeah, but this time I’m developing a collection inspired by Japanese illustrators from the 80s like Shigeo Okamoto, Peter Sato and Takashi Koizumi—the space universe, sexy women and the whole vibe around it. There are going to be close-ups of body parts on the clothes, but they are going to be mainly subjective. I’m really into the aesthetic and idea around those connect-the-dots drawings and unisex shapes—one-sleeve sweaters, oversized tunics, oversized tees etc. I’m showing the collection in a showroom apartment for Paris Fashion week in September.

So what exactly goes into designing a new collection for you?
I go to exhibitions often and consider that a part of my job in order to cultivate my mind. I live in the everyday search of inspiration and travelling also helps me a lot. Once I moved out of my hometown, I got to develop more concepts and ideas in different ways. I’ve always started the process from a muse, like Rinko Kikuchi, Daniela Sea and different public personalities. From there I start to create a story by mixing in other elements.

The creative process is like an on-going investigation. I gather lots of inspiration on my wall, and from there I just nerd on Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop for weeks. All the prototypes and creative explorations are made here in my studio. I make the patterns and experiment with graphics for the prints. While creating the looks and slowly planning the collection, I do small photo shoots to help set the atmosphere of Nattofranco.

When it comes to your label, Nattofranco—you mentioned you see France as your home and Japan as your muse?
I feel as a person, 90% of my personality is French, but as a creative I definitely feel 100% Japanese. I feel very connected to Japanese art, illustration and fashion.

How has your ethnic background influenced your designs?
Paris is still very exciting for me as I grew up in the suburbs. The best part about living in Paris is the number of museums, exhibitions and fashion weeks. Japan still remains a bit of a mystery, especially because my dad never really shared any Japanese culture with me. He’s let me build my own opinion of my Japanese origin. Creating helps me find answers to my own questions I have about my Japanese descent.  This is my outlet of connecting two different cultures and expressing through Nattofranco designs, which I really enjoy.

Do you travel to Japan a lot?
I’ve been there many times to visit family. I try to travel to Japan every two years, but my last trip definitely made me want to go more often.

How was your recent trip to Japan?
This time, I visited as a “fashion designer” and I made some really cool connections in Tokyo and Osaka. I went with a very good friend of mine got the seven day rail pass and went all over Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka and Naoshima Island. I met with a few buyers and visited the craziest shops like Gr8 Tokyo, Faline and H100 Bonsai. I wanted to reconnect with my Japanese heritage a bit more and went up north to visit my 100-year-old grandparents. I did a Nattofranco photo shoot of them wearing the spring collection.

If you could see anyone wearing Nattofranco, who would it be?
Cibo Matto, Kiko Mizuhara, and this babe I found on Instagram, Kirsten Kilponen. She is like my ultimate muse.

If you could travel into the future, where do you see yourself and Nattofranco?
As Diane tells me all the time, “You never know what and how the future is going to unfold.” Right now, I love building the label. There's no limit to it.

Everyone dies. Good morning! You are going to die. Hi, hello, we are all fucking ticking time-corpses. It sucks, but embracing that awful fact might make all this bullshit a little easier. We Americans barely confront death, instead marketing our entire culture to the enviable youth and their sweet, sweet, disposable income.

Megan Rosenbloom does just the opposite. She is a librarian who works with rare books, studies the history of medicine, and is the co-founder and director of Death Salon, which gathers writers, artists, and death professionals for public events and lectures around the world. She joined us and our two special guest comedians—Kyle Kinane (Conan, Drunk History, @midnight) and Chris Fairbanks (who is headlining our LA standup showcase ENTITLEMENT next Wednesday 8/5 at Los Globos in Silver Lake)—to chat about our untimely demise in the latest edition of the ENTITLEMENT podcast. 

This chandelier at Sedlec Ossuary in the Czech Republic purportedly includes at least one of every bone in the human body. Photo by Dr. Paul Koudounaris

She brought with her some amazing pictures of European charnel houses and ossuaries, featuring real human bones assembled into metal-as-fuck interior design. These photos were taken by the immensely talented Dr. Paul Koudounaris. You can find more exclusive photos of the world's ossuaries and charnel houses in his book, The Empire of Death: A Cultural History of Ossuaries and Charnel Houses.

Recorded at historic EastWest Studios, in the same fucking room where Brian Wilson’s sanity died during the recording of Pet Sounds.

PRODUCER: BRETT RADER

ENGINEER: CHRIS SOUSA

MUSIC: LA FONT

Follow Josh and Alison on Twitter.