[body_image width='2000' height='1335' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='can-the-feds-stop-islamic-state-recruiters-from-preying-on-somali-americans-218-body-image-1424295623.jpg' id='28752']

Minnesota's Somali community is the largest in America. Photo via Flickr user Fibonacci Blue

On Wednesday, President Obama is meeting with world leaders at the White House to discuss homegrown terrorists. The three-day summit, originally planned for last October, was revamped in the light of recent attacks in Europe carried out by radicalized Muslims. Among the topics will be how local communities can prevent disenfranchised youth from heading to Syria or committing violent acts closer to home in places like Los Angeles, Boston, or Minneapolis.

Those three cities are the focus of a pilot program intended to secure mental health counseling and community support for kids who've been groomed by extremists. The federal experiment was launched in response an exodus of at least 20 Twin Cities kids since 2007 to join al Shabaab—a jihadist group in Somalia that's affiliated with al Qaeda and probably best-known for its attack on a Kenyan mall in 2013. Since then, the Midwestern metropolis has been considered a hotbed of terror recruitment, and the Islamic State may have surpassed al Shabaab in local recruiting efforts.

People caught trying to join terror groups can face years in prison, so it makes sense that even though the family members of the al Shabaab recruits might have known something was up, they didn't go to the cops with their concerns. That's why they asked US Attorney Andrew Luger to give them the opportunity to deal with the problem themselves, without the risk of FBI involvement.

Abdi Bihi, a Somali community leader in the Twin Cities, is grateful for the pilot program, but thinks it doesn't address the systemic problems that allow for terror recruiters to do their dirty work in the first place. He says a lack of employment opportunities coupled with a paucity of after-school programs is to blame, and the government should work on correcting those inequities if they want to fix the problem.

He might know better than most: Bihi's nephew, Burhan Hassan, was one of the kids who shipped off to fight for al Shabaab back in 2008.

As Bihi remembers it, Hassan started spending a lot of time at Abubakar As-Saddique Islamic Center in South Minneapolis when he was 17 and eventually started sleeping over. No one thought anything of it, because it was literally the only place for him to go after school.

But Hassan started spending time at the mosque at the expense of almost everything else. First, he shed friends. Then he lost his passion for hockey. Eventually, his speech became truncated and to the point: Yes ma'am and no ma'am was just about all his mother could get out of him. When she left dinner on the table and went to classes at the local college, Hassan would just stare at his full plate of food until she returned six hours later.

He disappeared on Election Night in 2008 and died fighting for al Shabaab the following year.

The Somali Civil War has been raging for decades, and the United Nations only intervened in 1992. Bidi says there was a period when Wahhabi Muslims were the only people offering aid, and they began implanting the idea among Somalis that they were practicing the wrong kind of Islam. That kind of rhetoric followed the community into the diaspora—and Minneapolis has the biggest population of Somalis in the US.

There, many fatherless young men were susceptible to anyone who might offer them answers to problems like unemployment, discrimination, and poverty. They looked for a positive role model and found people in the local mosque who were willing to offer them guidance and answers in the Qur'an.

"They see a young man who is quiet and angry," Bidi explains. "They give him a name like 'The Great Horseman.' They recognize him and empower him psychologically, and that's how it begins."

After becoming the "dad they never had," as Bidi puts it, recruiters start painting infidels as the enemy. Eventually, after enough grooming, they introduce jihadi videos and Bollywood movies with beautiful women in them—meant to serve as examples of the rewards that will supposedly greet jihadis in the afterlife. Although much has been made of terrorists' use of social media, Bidi says that face-to-face interaction is much more insidious.

"No kid wakes up one day and decides not to go to school and to google terrorist groups that are interested in taking young people to their deaths," he says. "There has to be someone to introduce the idea."

In 2012, the feds figured out who that person was in Minneapolis. "Operation Rhino" brought down Mahamud Said Omar, a janitor at Abubakar As-Saddique Islamic Center, and eventually a court convicted him of taking the kids—ranging in age from 17 to their mid 20s—to Amsterdam or Dubai before dropping them in Mogadishu.

Today, Bidi runs the Somali Education and Somali Advocacy Center in Minneapolis. His goal is to hook up young kids with jobs in health care and construction and to provide soccer and arts programs that serve as an alternative to either joining a gang or extremist groups.

Of course, Bidi is glad that the government is taking steps to help protect his community's young people. But he thinks that if they had the same after-school programs enjoyed by neighboring cities like St. Paul, would-be recruiters wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Until that changes, he's taking on the burden of becoming a father to the fatherless all on his own. And, of course, he wishes he'd realized how dire the situation was before he pushed his nephew toward the mosque that would ultimately lead him to his death.

"When you don't have programs and live in a tiny space with thousands of families and there are all these gangs and mothers that don't have a husband who work two jobs they think, Well, they can get their spiritual needs met and stay out of trouble." Bidi says. "I didn't know what was happening, so I'd say, 'Go have fun.'"

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

The Guardian's video of the incident

This post originally appeared on VICE UK.

Once again, football is unfortunately grabbing the headlines because of racist assholes, rather than fun things like a tiny club knocking a bunch of Premier League prima donnas out of the FA cup, or a pundit dressed like Peter Stringfellow. The Guardian has published a video of some Chelsea fans stopping a black man from getting on the Metro in Paris and chanting: "We're racist, we're racist, and that's the way we like it."

Of course, most Chelsea fans will be as nauseated and horrified by the video as everyone else is, but the club do have an image problem whether they like it or not. In fact, the club has attracted racists from across the country for years.

Back in the 1980s, when hooliganism was a bigger problem, Chelsea had one of the most notorious firms in the shape of the "Headhunters." As fans around the country received banning orders from their local clubs, many looked elsewhere to get their kicks. Once they were refused entry at their nearest ground, or became too well known to smaller communities and local police forces, people sought out the clubs with the most famous hooligans for somewhere to belong. Many began to follow teams solely because of their visible racist and hooligan contingent—particularly Chelsea, Rangers, Millwall, and Leeds. English football's racist hooligan diaspora was born.

In the North West, fans that followed Manchester United and Liverpool FC or smaller local teams Wigan Athletic, Oldham Athletic, and Stockport County were aware of seeing the odd Chelsea shirt knocking about their grounds or on the high street. The same goes for seeing Rangers shirts—another club with fans with far-right connections.

[body_image width='620' height='380' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='chelseas-racist-hooligan-diaspora-091-body-image-1424282722.png' id='28707']

In reaction to the news of the racist incident in Paris, former footballer and now radio host Stan Collymore tweeted: "As I said a couple of weeks ago, Rangers and Chelsea, aka 'The Blues Brothers', made for each other. Quelle surprise," signing off with "#NF #BNP #C18." Those hashtags refer to the National Front (NF), British National Party (BNP), and Combat 18 (C18)—a neo-Nazi terror group.

Nowadays, if you see a Chelsea shirt in a northern town, there's a chance it's being worn by a glory hunter rather than a Headhunter. But it might not be—there's still a slight sense of dread in the North West when you see a Chelsea or Rangers shirt.

I've encountered northern Chelsea and Rangers supporters who were born and raised in the middle of the Pennines. They have had no family links to these clubs. They have boasted of hooligan activity, as well as being proud BNP supporters. They'll argue with you in pubs about the Burka, or immigration, or the Irish celebrating St. Patrick's Day, or whatever normal part of modern British life is pissing them off on that day. Disaffected by the resistance—or what they perceive to be apathy—that they face locally, they seek it out with fans of clubs who are known for far-right views. Wearing a Chelsea kit while walking around a small town in the North West can be your business card, being handed out to any like-minded racists you might encounter.

[body_image width='640' height='428' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='chelseas-racist-hooligan-diaspora-091-body-image-1424281147.png' id='28695']

Chelsea fans in Scotland fusing the club's crest with a loyalist flag. There is a long history of association between unionism and the far-right. Photo via @Chelsea_RFC Twitter

Far-right wingers outside London admire teams like Chelsea, because of their racist history, not in spite of it. As former Chelsea chairman, Ken Bates, has said, "The National Front sold their magazines in the Fulham Road and used to wait in the pub opposite to learn the team selection. If they [the Chelsea players] were all white, the National Fronters used to walk across and buy their tickets." After Chelsea signed their first black player, when he scored, the fans would throw bananas at him and claim the score was still 0-0, because it was a N-word on the score sheet. These high profile incidents are well remembered and provide a grim draw for some people. The firms won't care too much, with the "no-one likes us, we don't care" attitude holding sway.

If there's anything to take from this, it's that people feel the need to latch on to far-away clubs precisely because they're so isolated. A few years ago I was there as Bolton Wanderers and Blackburn Rovers fans joined in unison to mock three supporters seen in EDL hoodies, chanting "superior race, you're having a laugh."

None of this is to say racist Chelsea fans are the majority—far from it. But the fact of the matter is, Chelsea—regardless of any efforts they have made—are still associated with racist fans, thanks to the influx of hooligans, sometimes from nowhere near West London.

Follow Mof Gimmers on Twitter.

In a video uploaded yesterday by police in Eugene, Oregon, you can see a Californian named Aleksander Tomaszewski sitting in a holding cell, waiting to be interviewed on suspicion of sexual abuse. Then he stretches, stands up, walks around his cell, and punches himself in the face about 60 times.

His self-administered ass-whooping resulted in a really nice shiner under each eye, as you can see from this mugshot:

[body_image width='1000' height='601' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='people-punch-themselves-in-the-face-title-tktk-body-image-1424284819.jpg' id='28728']

Mugshot via Lane County Sheriff's Office

According to the Portland Oregonian, Tomaszewski was asked about the black eyes by police officials and blamed the detectives who had interrogated him. He repeatedly demanded that charges be brought against them, and then, in his biggest gamble, he signed an official statement detailing the abuse he'd supposedly received.

Next, the cops produced two videos: one apparently showing the uneventful interrogation, and then, of course, the surveillance footage showing Tomaszewski getting medieval on his own ass. Sergeant Carrie Carver told the Oregonian, "When [Tomaszewski] learned that the incident was caught on camera, he admitted that he thought making the claim would get him released."

The crime is called "attempted coercion," along with "filing a false report," and Tomaszewski has already been convicted, given three years' probation, fined $600, and sent home. His case is the most recent example of someone literally beating themselves up to get out of something, but it's far from the only one. People injure themselves and lie to the police about it all the time.

[body_image width='640' height='320' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='people-punch-themselves-in-the-face-title-tktk-body-image-1424284067.jpg' id='28727']Mugshot via Farmington Police

For instance, Daniel Vagnini of Farmington, Connecticut, tried to get out of a 2011 DUI by speeding ahead of police, getting out of his car, punching himself in the face, tearing his shirt, and throwing his stuff in a river to make it look like he'd been robbed. He later admitted that his flimsy story was just a drunken lie.

Tomaszewski took it a step further by accusing the police of causing his injuries, but he didn't invent that desperate move. The "Police Brutality Gambit," as we might as well call it, has probably been around as long as police, brutality, and lying, but it was most memorably documented in the movie Dirty Harry:

The bloodthirsty psychopath in that movie almost got away with his killing spree by paying a guy to beat him to a bloody pulp, and then getting our hero, Detective Callahan, slapped with phony police brutality charges. The lesson of Dirty Harry is, of course, that stupid liberals and their "compassion" endanger the public, and therefore there shouldn't be regulations on the use of violence by police. (Of course, fake police brutality is, depressingly, far less common than the real thing.)

The lessons of Tomaszewski's failed scheme may be a little more complicated. First of all, the more cartoonish your lie is, the less likely it is to succeed in the real world. Secondly, and more importantly, if you're in a police station, you're probably on camera—heck, if you're outdoors in a large city you're probably on camera. And though there are plenty of people concerned about the sprawl of the surveillance state, there's been a growing movement for cops to film every interaction they have with civilians just in case things go south and somebody complains about brutality, or winds up dead. This sort of arrangement benefits cops too, as Tomaszewski's case shows: It's pretty simple to prove a complaint is bogus when every instant of a self-administered beating is caught on tape.

Follow Mike Pearl on Twitter.

[body_image width='710' height='600' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='paradise-lost-two-legendary-birmingham-skaters-remember-a-legendary-birmingham-skate-spot-282-body-image-1424260950.jpg' id='28531']

The old Birmingham Central Library. Photo by Bs0u10e01 via.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Besides the now-defunct Rover car plant and Cadbury's chocolate factory, there's no real shorthand for Birmingham, England. However, the writer and filmmaker Jonathan Meades most memorably pointed out that it's a city built by—and for—the car; an assessment best illustrated by the complex cardiovascular system of dual carriageways and flyovers that work their way around the place.

The Central Library and the wider complex of which it was a part of, Paradise Forum, stood above the city's inner ring road—a great, hulking form designed by John Madin, who also conceived many of Birmingham's other Brutalist buildings. A big old block of concrete looming over the cars that hurtled through the tunnel below.

For a while it succeeded as a place of study, becoming the largest non-state library in Europe. But its real success lay in its second life as a haven for Birmingham's various subcultures. Skating, for example, was synonymous with the Library long before I started going there to gawk at my first love, a cocky 15-year-old in Emerica shoes and a curved visor. Sadly, this wasn't to last; by the mid 2000s, as the council clamped down and installed more skate-stoppers, the Paradise scene all but died.

[body_image width='800' height='533' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='paradise-lost-two-legendary-birmingham-skaters-remember-a-legendary-birmingham-skate-spot-282-body-image-1424261062.jpg' id='28532']

Birmingham Central Library in the 1970s, shortly after opening. Photo by Mark Warrick via.

Last month, the demolition team moved in on the Library and Paradise Forum. It's a devastating blow to fans of Brutalist architecture and a short-sighted move from a council trying desperately to assert Birmingham's place on the global stage. In its place there are plans to build yet another glass-fronted office block.

Ironically, in a bid to modernize itself for the sake of attracting foreign investment, the council is creating a city so homogenous and devoid of character that you wonder if it will seem attractive to anyone besides the archetypal office drone. When financial investment comes at the expense of local interest, the results can lead to warring factions, as opposed to mutual benefit.

Sadly, since the skaters were pushed out some years ago, there was little hope of a Save Southbank–style campaign to protect the Library. Still, I caught up with two legends of the Birmingham skate scene to remember some of the happier days in the life of one of Birmingham's most iconic buildings.

[body_image width='960' height='691' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='paradise-lost-two-legendary-birmingham-skaters-remember-a-legendary-birmingham-skate-spot-282-body-image-1424261524.jpg' id='28535']

Photo by Chris Marsh via Birmingham Skate Archive (That's not Zippy in the photo, by the way).

Mark Preston, a.k.a. Zippy
Manager of Birmingham skate store, Ideal.

I started skating at the Library around 1985, before they built the shops on the ground floor. It was undercover so it was dry and it had a three-set of steps that was really grindy. You didn't get much hassle, the police left you alone, and, of course, there was no Sunday shopping, so it was just skateboarders and alcoholics and tramps. We had the place to ourselves. By the time skating had really taken off again, around '87 or '88, there could be sessions down there with up to 100 people. Kids doing slappy grinds and wearing silly hats. We'd drag benches around, sit there and smoke the £5 draw we bought at Cannon Hill park. Back then Birmingham city center was amazing for skateboarding. The 60s planning with a strong bias towards Brutalist architecture meant there were lots of subways and lots of stair-sets to skate, which, of course, were always dry. The whole city was a playground and Central Library was where you started your day because it was at the highest point. Then you'd just race through the city in a big gang, running lights because there wasn't any traffic, down to Aston University like a scene from The Warriors. I consider myself really privileged to have been around for that small amount of time when the city really was a public space.

Then they redeveloped the bottom of the Library and installed shops, but there were still a few three-sets round the back and front. Eventually, though, they put stoppers and tactile paving all along there, too.

Up until recently there was still one remnant of the original part, which everyone just called "Paradise." There's a backdoor out of the shopping bit where you could just see the end of an old three-set. That survived right until they shut it down a few weeks ago. A last vestige of the 80s.

The problem with the Library is that it was an unfinished project—they never saw Madin's design up to the end. It was meant to be marble-clad and would have looked spectacular, but they cheapskated it like they always do. There's been a big campaign in Birmingham to save the Library, which should be a listed building as it's a pivotal example of mid-century Brutalist design, and there's nothing like it elsewhere in the UK. The design inside was completely bastardized—it was meant to be self-cooling and have lots of natural light, but as the years went by they added mezzanine floors and fucked up the entire internal structure, which made it seem dreary and enclosed. It was the exact opposite of what the design was meant to do.

People wanted to save it and turn it into a public space, but Birmingham city council are incredibly short-sighted and just want blingy, new, ridiculous buildings like the new cube they built with Marco Pierre Tosspot's restaurant on top; vulgar, gross looking thing. None of it hangs together or looks good.

It will return to smack them in the face, though, I'm sure. Even the new library isn't working. They're having to cut back on resources, getting rid of the archive. Here they have a beautiful building that they could use and they're bulldozing it to build more glass-fronted offices like everywhere else. They're planning to make a big public square, but you know it's going to be the type of place where, if you're seen doing anything other than drinking expensive coffee, you'll get kicked out.

[body_image width='891' height='832' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='paradise-lost-two-legendary-birmingham-skaters-remember-a-legendary-birmingham-skate-spot-282-body-image-1424260792.jpg' id='28530']

Jagger with the Library in the background, sometime in the early-90s. Photo by WiG from RAD magazine.

Daniel Ball, a.k.a. Jagger
Store Manager, Supreme London

I started skating at the Library around 1986 or '87. I'm from Wolverhampton, but I'd travel to Birmingham because Central Library was the spot. A bit like Southbank is to London. It was under cover and the ground level was completely empty, so we could build ramps without anyone bothering us. That was before Sunday shopping came [in 1994], when everything would be closed for that one day of the week. God, we really hated the introduction of Sunday shopping.

I started skating in the first boom since the whole craze had died down in the 1970s. There weren't many skaters during the mid-80s, apart from a core group of older, gnarly guys who hadn't given up. We were all scared of them, but after a while they eventually took us in. Those guys did freestyle—intricate tricks on the little boards—and there was a famous guy called Eric who went to the world championships. I forget his surname now...

Zippy and I were the generation who came up at the time of the Bones Brigade, which followed after the popularity of BMX. You know, when big wide boards first came out. Even after they redeveloped Central Library and built shops on the ground floor we would skate the steps around the front and back. It still suited us because street skating became popular in the 1990s and that's when people started jumping down steps. It was around that time that I was featured in RAD magazine.

[body_image width='640' height='899' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='paradise-lost-two-legendary-birmingham-skaters-remember-a-legendary-birmingham-skate-spot-282-body-image-1424261793.jpg' id='28537']

Jagger out the front of the Library.

The skate scene in Birmingham at that time was really good. We had the skate park called Birmingham Wheels, which was on a rubbish dump in Bordesley Green by Birmingham City football ground. They started getting kicked out of a lot more places by the late-1990s, but I'd already moved to America to skate by then.

We used to have comps in the Library. Real grassroots stuff that people would come to from all over the country. I remember once we all got kicked out of the Library and moved to a car park nearby.

Skateboarders accept that spots come and go, and the kids will find somewhere else to go. I'm more interested in why Birmingham City Council won't preserve these great works of architecture. I've grown up with that style and it's part of the fabric of the city.

I've got two kids now, so it's hard to go for a drink with all the old crew, but I got a chance to visit the Library one last time last year, and I've seen the plans for the new thing they're building in its place. In ten years time it will look outdated, but that Brutalist style would have always looked forever.

Follow Nathalie on Twitter.

[body_image width='1024' height='577' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='quebecs-education-minister-now-realizes-respectful-strip-searches-of-teen-students-is-a-bad-look-812-body-image-1424297186.jpg' id='28755']

Photo via Flickr user Charles Dyer

A day after making controversial statements on this week's strip search of a teenaged student, Quebec Education Minister Yves Bolduc says he will now investigate the situation.

On Tuesday, Le Journal de Montréal published the story of a 15-year-old Neufchatel High School student who says she was asked to remove all of her clothes on school property, ostensibly so her teachers could ensure her undergarments weren't lined with drugs.

When asked about the incident, Bolduc said that this type of process was generally within schools' rights, adding that the important thing was to "respect the person," a crucial guideline for staff to keep in mind as they strip students of their dignity.

But the girl, who spoke to Le Journal on condition of anonymity, says she felt "violated" and "shamed" as the principal and another staff person (both women) "respectfully" held a blanket in front of her as she stripped down. She also claims a request to call her mother before the search took place was shot down.

She told Le Journal her ordeal started when she sent a joking text to a friend, asking him if he wanted pot. As luck would have it, that student's phone had been confiscated and the offending text was sent straight to a teacher.

The girl alleges school staff have been on her case since the school year started, suspecting her of selling drugs and regularly searching her locker.

In a press release defending the school's actions, the local school board clarified this wasn't a police-style cavity search and pointed out staff never touched the student. Rather, they say this was simply a close examination of the girl's clothing to ensure she wasn't hiding any illegal substances. And this, obviously, required the young teen to stand by in the nude.

Initial outrage over the story only escalated in response to Bolduc's comments. An online petition calling for the minister's "respectful" resignation has already gathered thousands of signatures.

In what is now the latest in a series of much-publicized flip-flops, Bolduc went back on his statement and has now committed to a closer examination of existing policy.

School board spokesperson Marie-Elaine Dion says that while her team will also revisit its procedures, exceptional measures like this are allowed when staff suspect the student has contravened the school's code of conduct and believe they'll find proof on the student's property.

The girl's mother says the school has gone too far and is considering taking legal action.

Follow Brigitte Noël on Twitter.

[body_image width='1200' height='1028' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='rasel-chowdhury-photographs-the-choking-pollution-of-dhaka-body-image-1424272539.jpg' id='28613']

Rasel Chowdhury is a Bangladeshi photographer based in Dhaka. In the project Desperate Urbanization he photographs the dying river of Buriganga as a way to document the changing landscape of the area he calls home.

"Dhaka is a 400-year-old city," says Chowdhury, "and the surrounding population that relies heavily on the River Buriganga is growing at an alarming rate. Chemical waste from the rapidly expanding factories and tanneries, and used engine oil from the hundreds of boats that use the river each day, is severely affecting the health and long-term sustainability of the river."

I spoke to Chowdhury about his compulsion to capture Dhaka's pollution problem on film.

VICE: When did you first pick up a camera?
Radel Chowdhury: It was in my childhood. My father sent me an automatic Yashica camera from abroad, which I was so excited about. I loaded a film and pointed at my tutor at home and clicked. I still have that negative.

What drew you initially to photograph your home country?
As a documentary photographer, I like to deal with environmental issues. Bangladesh is a very beautiful country with amazing people. However, corruption and illegal activity have contributed to the harming of the environment. Consequently, we suffer a lot of natural calamities every year. I just try to show how we destroy our own environment.

How would you describe Dhaka? What message about Dhaka do you want to send with these pictures?
Dhaka is one of the most overpopulated cities in the world. Almost 20 million people live in this city. Every day people are coming from other parts of the country, hoping for a better life.

We're not very aware of the importance of nature. People just think about the current benefits [of exploiting the land]—they're not worried about the future. That's why we're destroying nature—rivers, forests, hills, oceans, and lands—for our own gain without considering what we're doing to our environment. It's not only a local problem in Dhaka, but also the rest of the world.

[body_image width='1200' height='1029' path='images/content-images/2015/02/16/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/16/' filename='rasel-chowdhury-photographs-the-choking-pollution-of-dhaka-body-image-1424100151.jpg' id='27894']
Shipyards are expanding day by day on the River Buriganga. Ali Gang, Narayangang.

Did you speak to many residents while you were taking photos?
Yes, I spoke to lot of people who live around the river. I have friends who also live there. People are constantly changing the riverbanks for different purposes. Some people are occupying the riverside, building houses or factories, and bringing more people in from outside of the city. Factories allow for easy transportation and cheap labour. But nowadays, the River Buriganga seems like a small canal. Once upon a time the river was three to four times bigger.

Many of the images are washed out in gray or beige—bleak colors. Is this intentional?
Essentially, I like having one tonal range for one specific project. For my Desperate Urbanisation project, I'm using this kind of faded tone to relate to the dying nature. You will find one common thing in my all stories: That there is not much contrast. I like low contrast and less saturated color.

[body_image width='1200' height='1029' path='images/content-images/2015/02/16/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/16/' filename='rasel-chowdhury-photographs-the-choking-pollution-of-dhaka-body-image-1424100163.jpg' id='27895']
Machines belonging to the Road and Highway department sit on the riverside, polluting both the air and the river. South Keranigang, Dhaka

You called the series Desperate Urbanization. Why "desperate"?
I think this title is very relevant to my story and what I want to say. We, the people of Dhaka, are killing the river through our insensitivity. From the river's point of view, urbanization and urban people are too desperate with their misuse of it. Urbanization is occupying the river because of its greed. That's why I chose the title—to express this issue.

Rasel Chowdhury is shortlisted for The Syngenta Photography Award 2015, Professional Commission.The Syngenta Photography Award exhibition runs from March 11 to April 10 at Somerset House in London.

[body_image width='1000' height='750' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-pigeon-plan-is-flying-skateboards-to-south-africa-123-body-image-1424298351.jpg' id='28756']

Photos by Sam Clark.

Please don't ask me about current events. I gave up watching the news some time ago because I got sick of hearing about horrible disasters and the Kardashians (is there even a difference?). I only subscribe to the Sunday paper for the coupons and the sports section, where I derive no small amount of joy from reading about my former team, the New Jersey Nets, and their continued losing streak. I am well aware that there is war, famine, and genocide taking place across the globe. But ever since having children, I just don't have the stomach for it.

It's funny, before having kids I was the most negative, pessimistic, doom-and-gloom prick you'd ever come across. But just months before my first son was born, I snuck into Havana, Cuba along with my five-month pregnant wife and 18 friends to give away hundreds of skateboards and Vans sneakers to the kids there, documented in the VICE videos above. It was one of those life-changing experiences you read about in fortune cookies, and it came at just the right time to make me think about raising my children as wide-eyed pseudo-hippies instead of gothy negatrons.

Ever since then, I've been trying to find positive stories of love and compassion on the web to read to my boys, but they're few and far between. There are a ton of pointless cat videos on YouTube, but what the hell happened to all the stories about cats being rescued from trees? I don't just want mindlessly cute, I want stories that showcase humanity's goodness. Does that not happen anymore? Are all those cats just stuck up there? If you shake a tree will hundreds of cats drop down like apples?

But there are still some inspiring stories out there. Just recently I received an email from filmmaker and friend Lucas Fiederling hipping me to a thing called the Pigeon Plan. The plan is to take a group of skaters from Germany to South Africa, delivering skateboards to the South African kids who have skateparks-a-plenty, but no money to buy boards. It reminded me of my trip to Cuba all those years ago, so I reached out to the Pigeon Plan's founder, Louis Taubert, to learn more about his program and see how I could help.

[body_image width='1000' height='750' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-pigeon-plan-is-flying-skateboards-to-south-africa-123-body-image-1424298391.jpg' id='28757']

VICE: Where does the name Pigeon Plan come from?
Louis Taubert: Pigeons are our flying rats. They are seen as dirty and full of disease and no one really gives a shit about them. Dirty pigeons surround us on the streets like skateboarders. Also my last name is Taubert and "Taube" means pigeon in German.

What are the goals of the Pigeon Plan and what are you raising money for? How many boards do you hope to bring with you on this trip in March?
We are now sending 100 old skateboards from Germany to South Africa to hold one-week workshops at various institutions. On site, we will leave 20 boards at each institution (a children's home, primary school, and youth center) with a little set up (manual pad and kicker) for the kids. The kids can rent the boards and the ramps, go skate during the day, and every week, one or two of the local skateboarders from South Africa will look after them, create a little session, or just be there for them.

You went on a trip to South Africa in 2011 that sparked this Pigeon Plan. Where did you go and why did you choose those places?
Back in 2011, we went 2,500 miles through South Africa. I'd always wanted to see more than just Cape Town, and we decided to hit as many places as possible. From Western Cape through the garden route, Port Elizabeth, and East London, all the way up to Durban and afterward to Johannesburg and Pretoria. Quite a mission in two weeks, now that I think about it.

Roughly how many complete skateboards and shoes did you give away on that first trip?
I think around 25 boards and around 20 pairs of shoes.

What made your crew want to travel with product to give away then, and what prompted you to start the Pigeon Plan?
Well, when I got to South Africa the first time, I realized how some of the kids could need a passion like I have. Skateboarding helped me getting through a lot of shit, and we just wanted to share that with the kids of South Africa. And it's basically the same right now with the Pigeon Plan, it's just more sustainable. We don't know what happened with the boards afterward or if we even got anyone to keep skating from 2011. Now we want to build something that future generations can benefit from.

Did you try to include any skateboard brands on this goodwill mission? I found that when I went to Cuba, most brands were extremely generous and wanted to help spread the gospel of skateboarding.
Yes, skateboard brands want to support. For now, we wanted to collect old boards and let the people contribute their old stuff—to just use what's lying around at home. For that, we worked together with four core skateshops in Germany. The boards were in good condition and I think that it prevents theft. Old boards do not really have a huge value.

[body_image width='1000' height='750' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-pigeon-plan-is-flying-skateboards-to-south-africa-123-body-image-1424299116.jpg' id='28764']

[body_image width='1000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-pigeon-plan-is-flying-skateboards-to-south-africa-123-body-image-1424298840.jpg' id='28762']

Tell me about the upcoming March trip.
Well, it's more like a solo trip for me. I will fly over to hold the workshop with my good friends and local skateboarders from Cape Town. When I leave, I want to get them volunteerships. That's where the sustainability comes. Right now we have three different institutions around Cape Town. There are plenty more that are very interested. We'll see how it goes, where it makes the most sense, and how much we can really do properly.

How will you achieve sustainability? Will someone relocate to South Africa semi-permanently to try and teach the kids to skate and cultivate a larger scene?
Yes. The locals will stay, for sure. I told my friend Dewald about my Pigeon Plan idea one year ago. He is 100 percent involved and keen on it.

What are the politics of the areas you're visiting? I know when we went to Cuba, despite it being a goodwill mission, we faced a tough time bringing the goods into the country due to the embargo. What are the channels you need to go through to bring this stuff to South Africa?
Politics are mad when it comes to importing goods. It's a hell of a lot of work to get rebated from import fees. I'm working on it every day and I know we will get this permit. I also understand the fear of the country. Anyone could say, "Hey, I'm importing goods for a non-profit purpose," and afterward sell it. But the boards are on their way now, arriving on February 16, and we still don't have the permit. Import fees are 20 to 24 percent of the estimated value, by the way. That is a shit ton of money. We are working with an NPO as well, and every donation will go directly to our project, the Pigeon Plan. Feel free to support us. It's for a good cause!

During your 2011 trip it seemed like some people in remote areas were in total awe of skateboarding.
They were pretty keen and interested in what we were doing. Kids wanted to try it straight away, and some security guards for sure. And some areas already had huge skateparks, but no equipment or money to afford boards. The community thinks that putting a skatepark somewhere will do the job, but equipment is needed too. Big/great skateparks are dope and I love them, but you can also be happy with a piece of tar and create your own way of skating, being creative and expressing yourself through movement. But you can't do that without a skateboard.

[vimeo src='//player.vimeo.com/video/52257647' width='500' height='281']

Can you discuss the Transkei Region, the childhood home of Nelson Mandela? It seemed really remote and like most people didn't know what a skateboard was.
Yes, that area was pretty unknown. We gave two boards away to two kids who we spotted on the road. The region was more like a break in between skate missions to get some rest and power for upcoming sessions. Not many streets in that area, just lots of sandy roads and more of a village vibe.

Pro skaters travel to impoverished areas all around the world to skate their spots. How important would you say it is to leave product behind, to give back to those communities?
It's important to give back. For the Pigeon Plan it's not about traveling the world, though. Our intention is to share the act of skating and to let the kids have a great time in our workshops. More like giving kids from disadvantaged areas the possibility to find a passion for their lives, to find friends all over and learn from them/with them.

I think once the skateboard love is there, the kids will make their way to town and skate other spots. They will learn within the community and, in the best case, commit for the lifetime deal and go travel. But that's so far away. The first step is bringing them the skateboards in March.

[body_image width='1000' height='750' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-pigeon-plan-is-flying-skateboards-to-south-africa-123-body-image-1424299103.jpg' id='28763']

To donate go to www.pigeonplan.betterplace.org

More stupid can be found at Chrisnieratko.com or @Nieratko

[body_image width='1427' height='803' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='you-will-be-able-to-plug-your-brain-into-the-internet-456-body-image-1424302299.jpg' id='28768']
Photo via Flickr user Allan Ajifo

In 2014, when DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, part of the Department of Defense) first announced it was intent on creating biotechnology like cortical modems it sounded like pure science fiction. I mean, we're just now getting hoverboards. But as wild as it sounds, having a small electronic device plug into your DNA and enhance your eyesight with a Terminator-style display is not that far-fetched. DARPA just held a two-day meeting in Silicon Valley to talk about its biotech efforts and assure skeptics that devices like cortical modems will one day really be a thing. And considering DARPA is the government agency that helped create the internet, its researchers probably know what they are talking about. To push the biotech science further, they've even set up a dedicated Biological Technologies Office, which is focused on working with organic systems to improve our way of life.

Editor Peter Rothman just recounted all the details of the two-day meeting in his article for h+ magazine, and the specifics are definitely on some Robocop shit. Chief among the exciting details was more info on the cortical modem, which he describes as "a direct neural interface that will allow for the visual display of information without the use of glasses or goggles." The immediate goal is to create a device "which would enable a simple visual display via a direct interface to the visual cortex with the visual fidelity of something like an early LED digital clock." But that's not all DARPA is cooking up. The event was chock-full of other futuristic, "this can't be real" details, like the construction of "materials that self assemble, heal, and adapt to their changing environment as biological systems do" and "groundbreaking prosthetics such as mind-controlled limbs."

I reached out to the Dr. Alicia Jackson, deputy director of DARPA Biological Technologies Office and asked her to give me some more information on the BiT office's big goals. "BTO is developing new technological capabilities that leverage all of the advances we've seen in engineering and computer science over the past 50 years with the recent breakthroughs in genomics, neuroscience, and biotechnology," she replied. "Our goal is to use biology as a technology to create profound breakthroughs such as providing immediate protection against any infectious disease or enabling communication through a 'cortical modem.'"

When I asked if she felt there'd been enough press on these groundbreaking advancements (I feel like there definitely hasn't been) she was very even-keeled. "We have taken a balanced approach to publicity," she said. "However, we are always looking for new, bright people to partner with. To the extent that more publicity lets more people know about what we are trying to achieve and gets them engaged and working with us, the better."

Which makes sense, as DARPA's trip to Silicon Valley sounded like it's purpose was to recruit as much as to inform the public. As Jackson explained, "we recognize we need to periodically leave our offices in Arlington and visit places like Silicon Valley that have diverse communities of technologists, researchers, entrepreneurs, and venture capitalists. Furthermore, and specific to BTO, we're looking for partners outside of biology from computer science, automation, and microelectronics, who want to bring their tools to bear on the challenges we are facing."

When I asked her to sum up what she's most excited about with all these new developments, she answered with the pitch phrase "Biology is Technology." In her words, "Biology has capabilities that are truly amazing. It can self-replicate, evolve, adapt, learn, self-heal, scale, and compute. It is the most ancient and powerful technology that we know of. If we can harness biology as a technology, we may be able to solve global problems that no other technology can address."

Follow Giaco on Twitter.

[body_image width='1080' height='720' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-1980s-when-tattoos-were-for-tough-guys-218-body-image-1424298490.jpg' id='28758']

All photos by the author

It's 1986 and tattoos are still somewhat unique to alternative lifestyles. I'm at a tattoo expo in a hotel/convention center in San Diego, by the bay. I have a couple of small tattoos under my shirt. My grandfather had snakes twisting up, down, and around both arms. My uncle had a red valentine over his heart that read Betty in a cursive font like I Love Lucy. I was impressed.

I walk around the big room and take a couple of pictures but don't see anything of immediate interest, so I go outside to smoke a joint on the beach. I watch a seagull dance around a half-discarded Hostess Twinkie. I spy a tattooed woman in a low-cut black dress with a high slit, alone and smoking a butt. "Hi," I say. "How's it going?"

[body_image width='1080' height='720' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-1980s-when-tattoos-were-for-tough-guys-218-body-image-1424298542.jpg' id='28759']She checks me out up and down. I blow smoke and she tells me if I'm going to smoke grass, I should be aware I'm in San Diego and the cops patrol the beach on bicycles.

"That's OK, I'm immune. But thanks for the warning. Can I take your picture?"

"I'm not immune and yes you can take a picture but get rid of that joint first," she says.

I douse the roach on my tongue and then put it in my wallet. "Let's go over here with the water in the background." She's older than I am and taller than I am and I want to crawl up her dress and check for secret tattoos. I take a few pictures and flirt but to no avail. She's nice and enjoys being in front of the camera but I'm not her type. I make about ten exposures and tell her thank you. She goes back inside and I stoke up the roach.

[body_image width='1080' height='556' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-1980s-when-tattoos-were-for-tough-guys-218-body-image-1424298616.jpg' id='28760']

Back inside I see a girl I know lifting her short skirt and exposing her bedazzled snatch to a couple of guys who seem enthralled. I photographed her last year at an offbeat gathering of cults in the Angeles Mountains. Her name is Jill and the guy she's with is holding a riding crop in case she proves to be a naughty girl. She has a tattoo branded on her butt, a heart with the word SLAVE.

I go to say hello and ask if I can take some pictures. She introduces me to her boyfriend and he tells me yes, I can take a few pictures, but he needs to chaperone. We take the elevator up to their room where he has a table of S&M toys.

She asks me will I be publishing these pictures and I say I hope so. She says in that case she wants to wear a blindfold like a censor strip. She puts on a blindfold and even though she has pale and sexy blue eyes, she's more picturesque this way. I ask her boyfriend if he would like to be in a few of the pictures, maybe some action shots. He tells me no and no more pictures of Jill, I'm all done.

[body_image width='1080' height='720' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='the-1980s-when-tattoos-were-for-tough-guys-218-body-image-1424298655.jpg' id='28761']

Back in the convention center I find the catch of the day: a young black woman wearing a sleeveless black-leather motorcycle jacket with shiny zippered pockets. Her arms are inked with skulls and fire-breathing dragons. Her hair is bleached white. She tells me her name is Laura Lee and that she is the most tattooed black woman in North America. She invites me up to her room for a photo session. We get on the elevator with a little middle-American family, Dad, Mom, daughter, son. They are here on vacation and they look like Republicans and when they see us, they squeeze into a corner as a unit. Laura Lee says motherfucker this and cocksucker that and fuck shit piss cunt and she says it loudly. I contain giggles and when we get out of the elevator she tells the gaggle of dorks, "You all have a nice motherfuckin' day!"

In the room she strips to her skivvies and we make a bunch of pictures. She's charming and funny and I have a really nice time. I give her a hug goodbye and take her business card and promise to send her some pictures. A week later I develop the film but I've misplaced Laura Lee's card and forgotten her name. I think she would have liked the pictures we made and I'm a dick for never sending her any.

[body_image width='1500' height='853' path='images/content-images/2015/02/17/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/17/' filename='life-as-a-girl-body-image-1424216292.jpg' id='28373']

The author, looking objectifiable

I do not love men. Really, I love the idea of men. And the attention thereof. It is nice to be wanted, needed, desired; these are confidence boosters only men can give me. While I am certainly not immune to the charms of the fairer sex, women lack the ego-salving, life-giving validation I feel only the male gaze can provide. (This is, presumably, the result of decades of heteronormative programming pushed on me by television, a.k.a. my real mommy.) As such, my lizard brain does not hold gals in such high regard as their chromosome-deficient counterparts.

I go out of my way to attract masculine attention—even when it's stupid, even when it's pointless, even when they're taken, even when they're terrible. The circumstances surrounding and the reason for their attention mean nothing. Attention is all I seek, so long as it's from a semi-reliable source. While some random, mouth-breathing asshole on the street who calls me "baby" elicits my ire, if a man I respect (or at the very least, tolerate in the slightest) shows even the suggestion of an interest in me, I run to him like a dog to its master. I see Pavlov's dong and start drooling.

When you are a woman, you are told through miscellaneous channels that sex is one of the precious few powers you possess. You are told this by people who have your self-interest at heart; you are also told this by people who do not. When I found myself in an abusive relationship, it was because the man I was with resented the fact I had cheated on and, as a result, used my sexual power against him—this act, a striking blow to his manhood, was, in his mind, unforgivable. He lashed out in the only way he knew how, by exerting his masculinity through physical abuse (that's what he told me, anyway). At the time, the logic he used to explain his actions made sense. While I no longer blame myself entirely for what occurred, his reasoning does, to some extent, nevertheless ring a bit true. We all do what we have been programmed to—and while it's always theoretically possible to download the latest, bug-free update of our software, some don't or can't.

I didn't wear makeup during my formative years—my mother never taught me how to apply it, ostensibly because I never asked her to. Makeup, I felt, was for vacuous cheerleaders and future mothers. It wasn't for me. Sure, I'd occasionally smear red lipstick on my practiced pout, but that was only because Courtney Love did it. On a daily basis, I operated au naturel.

Thirty pounds heavier and with my own feminist-inspired agenda to prove, I put myself out there, warts and all. It turned out, however, the public at large was not particularly interested in my warts. Department store employees would ignore me; the good, decent people of the world refused to look my way, lest they catch a glimpse at what untreated acne really looked like. Once I caught the acting bug and started dabbling in makeup, I gained my license for humanity. I became a person, a woman, deserving of attention. I now wear makeup on a daily basis. I am, in fact, wearing it right now, in spite of the fact I have not, nor do I intend to, leave my apartment today. It has become rote.

I remember the day I first manicured my enormous, unwieldy eyebrows. I had hired another woman to do it, a professional, because I wasn't confident enough to perform the task myself. "Honey, is this your first time doing this?" she sweetly asked. I answered in the affirmative. "Well, good for you," she told me in a Southern slur before engaging in the laborious process of whittling my caterpillar-esque brows into a thin, appealing arch. Before the act, I resembled a Rid of Me–era PJ Harvey. Afterward, I resembled an Is This Desire?–era PJ Harvey.

I returned to my house and, situating myself like a statue on a pedestal, anxiously awaited my then boyfriend. He had been making derisive comments about my appearance of late; I hoped this improvement in said appearance would make him want me, love me, stop judging me. It took hours before he offhandedly asked, "Did you do something different?"

This was not a mere haircut. This was a deliberate, drastic change of my facial makeup. I have Mediterranean blood—my biological eyebrows are dark, rich, and inescapable. The hatchet job that had been done to them (which I still maintain to this day) was as obvious as rhinoplasty. The changes I made, I decided, weren't drastic enough. I needed to go back to the drawing board.

I became an anorexic for the reason most women do, because I felt it was the only semblance of control I could exert in my life. I just wanted the world to see, externally, how unhappy I was internally. Any reinforcement of this was a victory. I remember when my ex and I evacuated New Orleans because of Hurricane Katrina. We picked up our debit cards full of Red Cross relief funds in Bloomington, Minnesota, and instantly drove to the Mall of America, where he purchased a Slayer shirt and I purchased size 00 slacks. Two zeroes! Why, that was the absence of size! Unfurl the banner, my mission had been accomplished—at size 00, I may as well not exist.

My next conquest's grandmother, upon meeting me, remarked, "There's not much of her, is there?" I took this as a compliment. Said conquest (my ex-husband) would consistently tell me he was afraid that, when we fucked, he'd split me in two. Again, I took this as a compliment.

The boyfriend afterward loved me for me, sure, but I always felt as though he could have loved better. When we first coupled, I was still anorexic—as time went on, I filled out, looking more like a human being than I had in years. But it is difficult, as a woman, to gain 20 pounds and still feel as though you deserve the right to vote. I'd look at pictures of myself on miscellaneous social media platforms with disgust, listening when he said I was still beautiful yet refusing to believe it. He, unlike the gents I had become accustomed to over the years, was not a complete and utter piece of shit. I found his support for me, in my uncompromised form, nearly impossible to accept.

We broke up; I lost weight. People told me I looked great, better than ever. "Thank you," I'd always reply. "I've been grieving." It was ironic, the fact that I had become more desirable—in my assessment, anyhow—once I was completely alone. Adding to my confusion, the one fellow I fancied, the only one I did a modicum of anything romantic with post-breakup, respected me enough to treat me like a person. Sure, we'd make out while The Gong Show played in the background, but he didn't even try to fuck me. Hell, it took him a few times before he even mustered up the chutzpah to touch my tits! What kind of a pussy doesn't take it upon himself to make a woman uncomfortable? I thought.

In spite of it all, I still don't feel comfortable around men unless I'm being made to feel uncomfortable. Old habits, of course, die hard. I'm just waiting for the new operating system to come out.

Follow Megan Koester on Twitter.

[body_image width='1200' height='802' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='is-virtual-reality-really-the-future-of-video-games-117-body-image-1424345348.jpg' id='28890']

Illustration by Stephen Maurice Graham

Hear the words "virtual reality" and your mind is flooded with images of people in stonewashed jeans with big red boxes on their heads fumbling through a blurry mess of polygons. For a brief period in the 1990s, VR was the next big thing; but then it disappeared along with scrunchies, chain wallets, and Pauly Shore. The technology was too cumbersome, too expensive, and too, well, shitty.

But now it's 2015 and people are talking about virtual reality again. In July last year Facebook dropped a dizzying $2 billion on a company called Oculus, whose pioneering headset the Oculus Rift is the most convincing case yet for virtual reality becoming actual reality. You still have to strap a box to your head, but it's lightweight, relatively cheap, and the visual quality is on par with the current generation of consoles.

The instant you put the Rift on, you get it. A virtual world blinks to life in front of your eyes, and every movement of your head, no matter how subtle, is precisely mirrored. You can look at the sky, down at your feet, and even behind you. It's a bizarre sensation, and it genuinely fools your brain into thinking you're there. You can stand up, look around corners, hop up and down, sway from side to side, and it tracks it all.

Try one on for the first time and suddenly Zuckerberg's investment makes perfect sense. How can this not be the future of gaming? The future of everything? But as impressive as the Oculus Rift and other headsets like Sony's Project Morpheus are, the futurist's dream of convincing virtual reality you can use at home is still in its infancy. I've spent a worrying amount of time plugged into the Rift, and the more I use it, the clearer it becomes that it still has a long way to go.

[youtube src='//www.youtube.com/embed/bwLUHEG4oNs' width='560' height='315']

How scary is 'Alien: Isolation' with Oculus Rift? (Contains strong language.)

When it works, and you're lost in the moment, it's incredible. Dogfights in Elite: Dangerous are like being in the thick of a Star Wars space battle. Being stalked by H.R. Giger's terrifying creature in Alien: Isolation is so tense it feels like it triggers some ancient, primal fear hard-coded into your DNA. On a virtual roller coaster you can feel your stomach lurch as you drop. And even just driving down a rain-soaked motorway in Euro Truck Simulator 2 is impressive because of the feeling of being there.

The problem is, use the thing for any longer than ten or 20 minutes and you start to feel like you might die. Turns out having a block of plastic lashed tightly to your skull isn't that comfortable. You start to feel hot, sweaty, and claustrophobic, and the foam cushion around your eyes becomes stifling. Sometimes you feel like you're going to hurl. The Rift's health and safety documentation describes this as "VR exposure," which is yet more proof that we are living in a harrowing cyberpunk dystopia.

It's fine for short demos, but most video games are things you'll want to sit down and play for a few hours at a time. If VR headsets are ever going to become a legitimate alternative to a TV or monitor, you need to be able to wear them comfortably for long periods of time. No one plays Skyrim in ten-minute bursts.

[body_image width='1280' height='720' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='is-virtual-reality-really-the-future-of-video-games-117-body-image-1424345168.png' id='28888']

Deep-space battles in immersive 3D, anyone?

Then there's the narrow field of view. In your peripheral vision you can see black borders, which makes you feel like you're wearing a spacesuit. You do eventually forget about it, but every time your eye catches them, the illusion is shattered. But it is worth noting that the Rift I've been using, the DK2, is an early prototype built for developers. No release date for the one you'll be able to buy in shops has been set—or even hinted at—but it should, hopefully, iron a lot of these problems out. It only takes the slightest reminder that a VR experience isn't real to bring you crashing back to reality.

Games where you're locked in one position, like sitting in a vehicle, work best—especially with a peripheral like a flight stick or steering wheel. But it's when you have to use a gamepad or mouse and keyboard to move around that the disconnection between you and your in-game avatar becomes jarring. You're walking around in the game, but you're also aware that you're sitting in a chair outside of it. You'd think first-person shooters like Half-Life 2 would be great in VR, but the illusion of presence just isn't there. It doesn't help that when you look down you don't have any legs.

[body_image width='1280' height='720' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='is-virtual-reality-really-the-future-of-video-games-117-body-image-1424345278.png' id='28889']

The Rift is getting more useable with each new kit, but it's still something you'll only feel comfortable using for short sessions

Surprisingly, traditional video games are actually among the least interesting experiences I've had in the Rift. An indie development scene is growing around the hardware, and it's here that I've found some of the most compelling uses of it.

An app called VR Cinema lets you import HD movie files from your computer and watch them in a virtual cinema, with a screen that actually feels massive. It's like having your own personal IMAX. People have also been recreating famous sets from TV and films that you can wander around, including the bridge of the USS Enterprise, The Wall from Game of Thrones, and even Jerry Seinfeld's apartment. Exploring somewhere you're used to seeing on a 2D screen in three-dimensions is deeply surreal.

I'm not entirely convinced by Oculus Rift as a gaming platform, and I don't think it'll be replacing your TV any time soon. But it's still really exciting tech, because not only does it work, but it's accessible too. The Oculus Rift dev kit costs about $300, it's portable, and you can plug it into any PC or Mac. If the retail unit is a similar price, and it's marketed right, I can see people actually having one in their home—and not just hardcore tech enthusiasts. The world wasn't ready for VR in the 90s. Is it ready now?

Follow Andy on Twitter.

[body_image width='1026' height='706' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424352764.jpg' id='28981']

One of the recently discovered artworks by Charles Bronson, AKA Charles Salvador, AKA "Britain's most notorious prisoner." All images courtesy of Gabrielle du Plooy / Zebra One Gallery.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Britain loves rebellious artists. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards were prosecuted on drug charges in 1967; five years later the Stones released their highest-selling album. Tracey Emin listed everyone she'd ever had sex with; now she's really rich. But surely there's a line you don't cross—say, taking somebody hostage and demanding an inflatable doll, a helicopter, and a cup of tea in return for their release?

Charles Salvador—the artist formerly known as Charles Bronson, "Britain's Most Notorious Criminal"—will be making a move into the commercial art world next month. The violent inmate's surreal sketches will be exhibited at the Zebra One gallery in Hampstead after the artworks (the ones peppered around this post) were discovered during a clear out.

Born Michael Peterson in 1952 to middle-class parents who once ran the local Conservative Party Club, Charles began engaging in petty shoplifting with friends as a teenager. After leaving school, unsatisfied with factory jobs and a brief stint at Tesco, Bronson moved into more serious crimes, like pinching cars and scrapping with rockers as a teenage mod of Ellesmere Port, Cheshire. It wasn't until 1974, however, after several arrests and court appearances, that the young Bronson would get his first taste of what would be a long-lasting relationship with Her Majesty's Prison Service.

[body_image width='1026' height='658' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353067.jpg' id='28983']

At 22-years-old he was jailed for the armed robbery of a suburban post office, in which he escaped with just £26.18 [$40.40]. Although sentenced to seven years, Bronson could have been a free man and reunited with his wife and child in just four if he displayed good behavior. But as prison officers across the UK were about to discover, good behavior wasn't exactly part of his artistic vision.

Over the next four decades the man who would become Britain's most infamous prisoner would carry out a series of bizarre and savage acts toward prison staff and fellow inmates. He's taken 11 hostages—including an art teacher, a librarian, and three prisoners—for a total of 44 hours. He's also climbed onto nine prison roofs, caused hundreds of thousands of pounds in damage, and reportedly once smeared himself in butter and attacked 12 guards after Arsenal won the FA Cup.

Yet, in a recent statement, Bronson announced an end to his violence. Changing his name to Charles Salvador in homage to the Spanish surrealist painter Salvador Dali, he claims that he is focused only on creating masterpieces from now on—that he's a changed man. Bronson is known to have been painting from his cell for a number of years, and his sketches—which often depict grotesque caricatures and strange creatures—have sold for thousands on internet auctions, with the proceeds going to children's charities and to fund a holiday for his elderly mother.

Now, he's about to be exhibited in one the UK's most affluent areas. Gabrielle du Plooy, who owns the Zebra One gallery in Hampstead, recently found some of Bronson's sketches gathering dust in a drawer while having a clear out.

[body_image width='1026' height='655' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353378.jpg' id='28988']

"I knew there were some old canvases and sketches in the drawer, but didn't know what they were. Then I had a closer look at these and saw Charles Bronson's signature and prison number on them," Gabrielle told me.

Gabrielle's father, who ran the gallery before her, was given the sketches by a local pub landlord who displayed a range of artworks around the now closed bar.

"My dad was doing their framing for them at the time, and I'm not sure that the guy at the bar really knew what they were or what they could potentially be worth," she told me. "I knew he was a convict, but I didn't really know much about his art. I didn't realize that he sold his pieces for a great deal of money, or that any of his art had really made it into the world outside of prison.

[body_image width='1026' height='709' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353418.jpg' id='28989']

"When I found the postcard sketches, I did some research and realized that his pieces have previously sold at auction for thousands of pounds."

Gabrielle, who estimates that the pictures could rake in £10,000 [$15,000] at auction, intends to donate the proceeds to mental health charities and to some of the victims of Bronson's crimes: "I wanted to seek out the families of his victims and offer some of the money made from the sale of the postcards to each of them. I think it would be a great thing to do, and a great use of the money raised from Bronson's art."

See the rest of Bronson's sketches below:

[body_image width='1026' height='1495' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353449.jpg' id='28990']

[body_image width='1026' height='655' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353482.jpg' id='28991']

[body_image width='1026' height='707' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353532.jpg' id='28992']

[body_image width='1026' height='655' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353562.jpg' id='28993']

[body_image width='1026' height='1412' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='charles-bronson-salvador-new-artworks-113-body-image-1424353582.jpg' id='28995']

An exhibition at the Zebra One gallery in Hampstead will display the sketches from March 27 before they're sent to auction the following month.

Wind Farm Syndrome (WFS) describes a range of ailments experienced by people living near wind farms. Sufferers have reported nausea, headaches, sleeplessness, and high blood pressure, all allegedly caused by the omnipresent low-frequency drone of rotating windmills.

The problem is that WFS probably doesn't exist. Two successive investigations by Australia's National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) have failed to correlate wind farms with illness, which likely means the syndrome is a placebic effect of living near a wind farm and resenting the noise. This is the opinion held by most of the scientific community, which is why the NHMRC landed in hot water last week for launching another $500,000 health inquiry. And the most controversial part of the announcement? The allegation that WFS is being used to smear wind farms by fossil fuel interest groups, and that it has nothing to do with public health at all.

[body_image width='1024' height='768' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='australia-wants-to-know-if-wind-farms-make-people-sick-again-body-image-1424235407.jpg' id='28408']
Wattle Point wind farm on Yorke Peninsula. Image via Flickr user David Clarke

"The NHMRC is a public body," says Simon Chapman, a professor of public health at Sydney University. "If I was concerned about chemtrails, water fluoridation, and anti-vaccination conspiracies, there's no way they'd fund the research. Wind farm syndrome should be no different."

If you're thinking WFS deserves more attention than chemtrails, consider this: Infrasound, meaning any frequency lower than 20 hertz, is the alleged culprit behind the syndrome. Many things produce infrasound, including ceiling fans, traffic, storms, hi-fi equipment, and your own heart. Wind itself creates infrasound, with or without windmills. As Professor Chapman and 24 reviews on winds farms have concluded since 2003, WFS is seemingly all in people's heads.

"When I speak to my European colleagues about wind farms, they look at me like, What are you talking about? Apparently it's a disease that only speaks English." –Professor Simon Chapman

In his own study, Chapman audited all known health and noise complaints made about Australia's 51 wind farms between 1993 to 2012. What he discovered is that more than two-thirds of wind farms have never received a single complaint. And of the people who have complained, 73 percent were from areas targeted by anti–wind farm groups. "When I speak to my European colleagues about wind farms," he says, "they look at me like, What are you talking about? Apparently it's a disease that only speaks English."

I took this concern to professor Bruce Armstrong, who is chairing the NHMRC inquiry. He freely admits that the science has some problems, but insists that the government has a responsibility to investigate reoccurring health complaints. "And as a person interested in public health, I think it's wise to pursue all options until we have conclusive answers," he says. "There's certainly no political influence on us and I would have noticed if any other members felt otherwise."

Despite Armstrong's denial of political influence, there was a political event in Australia before the NHMRC's announcement. In November, a national inquiry into wind farms was initiated by cross-benchers David Leyonhjelm, John Madigan, Nick Xenophon, and their Federal Government torchbearer Chris Back. Of these four, Xenophon is the only one who isn't an outright climate-change skeptic, although he did vote for the repeal of the Carbon Tax.

[body_image width='1100' height='733' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='australia-wants-to-know-if-wind-farms-make-people-sick-again-body-image-1424235752.jpg' id='28409']

Image via Flickr user tim phillips

In other words, the inquiry was called for by a bunch of ideologues endorse by anti-wind groups like the Waubra Foundation, which is chaired by Victorian mining investor Peter Mitchell. As Chapman says, "this is an inquiry that's been made in the context of a politically charged atmosphere, by a minority of cross-bench senators who just can't accept the umpire's decision."

Senator David Leyonhjelm doesn't agree. "That's 'the science is settled' argument," he says, "but the science is not settled and the idea of dismissing these people suffering chronic fatigue syndrome, amongst all sorts of problems, is unconscionable." Leyonhjelm was unwilling to enter into a debate on climate politics, simply saying that his issue is with the government subsidizing the wind industry. "If the climate is changing, the market will respond. I simply don't support corporate welfare."

However, government subsidies or even support for the renewable power source have been scarce. In 2011, the Victorian and New South Wales state governments imposed a two-kilometer buffer between new wind turbines and homes. Industry insiders say has made new wind farms almost untenable. The federal Coalition has also scrapped several wind incentive programs since 2013 as part of their wider push away from renewables.

Regardless of the environmental politics at the top, Chapman believes it all comes down to allocation of health resources. As he says, " We're now allocating money to something that isn't a health issue, away from all sorts of things that are."

Follow Julian on Twitter

[body_image width='2000' height='1334' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278594.jpg' id='28648']

Tirana, Albania. 2014. View of Tirana from the window. Census data revealed that the Albanians who have returned tend to be relatively young and of working age.

This article was originally published by VICE Greece.

Human migration is an ancient phenomenon that has always matched periods characterized by overpopulation, political conflicts, and economic crises. Europe in particular has always been a scene for mass population movements, encouraged by either what are called "push factors," which are internal to the country of origin, or "pull factors," which are external and associated to the countries of destination.

During the 1990s, due to the collapse of the Iron Curtain, the fall of many communist regimes in Eastern Europe, and the end of the Balkan war, Europe witnessed an intense migration wave from the east to the west and the south. In Albania, the fall of the Hoxha regime caused masses of migrants to flee to nearby EU countries like Italy and Greece.

As the same countries experienced an economic meltdown over recent years, Albanians stopped feeling the "pull" toward the south.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278580.jpg' id='28646']
Shkodra, Albania. 2014. Agim Dini has opened a farm with the help of a financial aid project (Oxfam Italia onlus) for migrants who returned to Albania.

For instance, Greece is still feeling the aftereffects of the economic downturn with an unemployment rate of 27.5 percent.
 
Albania on the other hand, has made enormous strides over the last two decades in establishing a credible, multi-party democracy and market economy.

Following graduation from the International Development Association (IDA) to the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD) in 2008, Albania has generally been able to maintain positive growth rates and financial stability. So it's no wonder that many Albanians decide to return to their home country.

Perhaps it is still too early to speak of a true "upstream exodus," yet the social and environmental consequences of a mass migration trend are already being felt in Albania, Greece, and their neighboring countries.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278633.jpg' id='28649']
Tirana, Albania. 2014. Two friends sitting at a bar on the top floor of a new skyscraper in Tirana. Endry (illuminated by the flash) has just come back to Albania after having lived abroad for 11 years.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278646.jpg' id='28650']
Shkodra, Albania. 2014. Gasper Ejelli with his son. Gasper came back home after losing his job in Italy.

[body_image width='2000' height='1352' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278665.jpg' id='28651']
Tirana, Albania. 2014. Ilir is the owner of a pub in Tirana. He worked as waiter in Italy for about ten years.
[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278683.jpg' id='28652']
Tirana, Albania. 2014. A study by the National Institute of Statistics (INSTAT) and the International Organization for Migration (IOM) says many of the returned migrants see their return to Albania in only temporary terms. Only 40 percent of them see their future as being in Albania.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424282183.jpg' id='28704']
Tirana, Albania. 2014. Letters used to be the best way to describe life away from home and now they are an important keepsake.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278694.jpg' id='28654']
Island of Corfu, 2014. Many Albanians in Greece are transferring their savings to banks back at home, fearful of what might happen if Greece leaves the eurozone. Some Greek and Italian companies have also begun to set up branches in Albania that are ran by trusted Albanians who used to work for them.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278719.jpg' id='28655']
Shkodra, Albania. 2014. He worked in Greece for about ten years. Many men worked in construction, which has in latter years ground to a halt in Greece.

[body_image width='2000' height='1367' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278731.jpg' id='28656']
Gjirokastra, Albania. 2014. Ardit used to live abroad but has recently returned and opened a barbershop in the south of Albania.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278747.jpg' id='28658']
Tirana, Albania. 2014. A strip club. The owners decided to close the club they ran in Italy and to open it in Tirana.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278769.jpg' id='28659']
Shkodra, Albania. 2014. Catholic church. Although Albania is a Muslim country, other religions are integrated into life there.

[body_image width='2000' height='1333' path='images/content-images/2015/02/18/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/18/' filename='laura-aggio-caldon-return-to-tirana-albania-immigration-photography-body-image-1424278787.jpg' id='28661']
North of Albania, 2014. Attracting foreign direct investments is crucial to Albania's economy.

[body_image width='1280' height='780' path='images/content-images/2015/02/19/' crop='images/content-images-crops/2015/02/19/' filename='robert-mugabe-lion-elephant-meat-218-body-image-1424310833.jpg' id='28790']

Photo via WikiMedia Commons

As part of the celebrations for his 91st birthday next Saturday, Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe will be served a feast featuring five impala, two buffalo, two elephants, two sables, and one lion. According to a report in Zimbabwe's The Chronicle, the menagerie was donated by Tendai Musasa, owner of the prominent Woodlands Farm near the Elephant Hills Resort at Victoria Falls, where the 20,000-person shindig will take place.

"This is our way of supporting the function and to ensure a celebratory mood in our community as well," Musasa told The Chronicle. "The total value is $120,000. This reflects the money we get annually and we thought this would be a perfect gesture. At the moment we are making arrangements with the Parks and Wildlife Management Authority to slaughter these animals a few days before the day. We are also liaising with the hotel that will keep the meat."

While you'd think that eating elephants and lions, icons of wildlife conservation, would be illegal, it turns out it's not—neither under Zimbabwean nor international law. As of 1997, elephant populations in Botswana, Namibia, South Africa, and Zimbabwe were deemed healthy enough to allow regulated hunts and the export of pachyderm products, like meat, which some say tastes of elk or moose. Zimbabwe even argues that it has more elephants than it can support, and accordingly encourages culls and consumption. Yet conservationists seem to believe that state officials have inflated these numbers and are shooting themselves in the foot by destroying the country's heritage, biodiversity, and draw for the vital tourism industry. The US, for its part, banned Zimbabwean elephant products in 2014 for fears about insufficient poaching controls, but this has no bearing on local or international laws.

Lion, as a threatened but not critically endangered species, is fair game for controlled hunts in Africa and even breeders in America, who kill big cats for trophies or food. Over the past few years, there have actually been a few spurts of niche lion-meat crazes in America (consumers say the flesh tastes like rich pork). Americans actually make up 64 percent of the market for trophies from lions killed in Africa, so comparatively Mugabe's one lion down is a pretty minor offense.

Still, it's difficult to quantify wild meat consumption around the world, according to Adam M. Roberts, CEO of the American wildlife conservation group Born Free USA and its British arm the Born Free Foundation. "Meat from wild, threatened species that is consumed domestically will not have to be accounted for [versus official tallies of exports]," he told me.

American markets for these meats are fairly small. Roberts says most of the lion eaten here, for example, is a stunt that often backfires on serving institutions, generating instant controversy. And although there is a history of serving elephant as a rare dish to honored guests throughout Africa, most such meats (lion especially) are not often consumed on the continent.

But if threatened game meat isn't terribly popular in most of Africa, Zimbabwe has occasionally served as an exception.

"[Mugabe and his ilk] have been doing this for years now," Johnny Rodrigues, Chair of the Zimbabwe Conservation Task Force, told The Guardian. "Every time there is a celebration or on independence day, several elephants and buffalo are killed for the celebrations."

Beyond these elite functions, there are records of Mugabe encouraging soldiers and rural villagers to eat elephant, sometimes ordered for distribution by the state, throughout the first years of the 2000s. Economic chaos and food shortages seem to have incentivized popular wild game hunting as well. And just within the past few months, Mugabe has taken flak for authorizing the sale of between 60 and 80 captured baby elephants to unknown buyers in China, France, and the United Arab Emirates for $60,000 a pop, ostensibly (and ironically) to fund wildlife conservation projects in the country. All told, the legal market in elephants has become a $14 million per year industry for Mugabe and his cohorts, not to speak of poaching or the effects of similar hunts on more threatened (e.g. lions) or even outright endangered animals in the nation.

Roberts suggests that any consumption of wild game meat will inevitably put further demand on hunters and poachers, driving threatened animals into riskier and riskier situations. So Zimbabwe's record here, and the very public consumption at a national feast by the nation's leader, is probably not a great sign for the country's big game populations, especially elephants.

Locals are just as unhappy about Mugabe's feast as conservationists, but for very different reasons. About 120 villagers near Musasa's farm claim that the animals are being taken off of lands they have rights to without their consultation or permission. Their removal comes out of the local hunting quota, which residents think means they'll essentially lose the bulk of a year's wages. According to a Zimbabwe paper, Musasa believes those who don't support the donation are "enemies of the president."

Follow Mark Hay on Twitter.