A sign outside the Sojourner Truth homes, a US federal housing project in Detroit, Michigan. Image via Wikimedia Commons

The effects of racism can be invisible, but they're obvious if you drive around Baltimore: The center of the city is over 60 percent black, but as soon as you get into the city's northern suburbs, it's almost completely white.

This, of course, is not a fluke or an accident. The history of housing in the US is largely a history of housing segregation, but in Baltimore the phenomenon is particularly blatant, and its effects proportionately harmful. In 1910, after a black Yale Law School graduate tried to move into an all-white neighborhood, the city responded by passing a first-of-its kind ordinance that legally segregated the city block by block. The legacy of that decision persists; Baltimore is still one of the most segregated cities in America. The racial and class tension caused by this geographic division flares up regularly, as it did last spring after Freddie Gray was killed while being transported by Baltimore cops last spring.

In 1995, a lawsuit called Thompson v. US Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) was filed, alleging that public housing in Baltimore was unfairly (and unconstitutionally) concentrated in the city's poorest and blackest neighborhoods. After a decade of litigation, a judge ruled in favor of the plaintiffs in 2005; the case was settled in 2012 and HUD subsequently launched a pilot program meant to help desegregate housing in Baltimore. Unfortunately, that program has failed to do much at all. A recent Baltimore Sun investigation found that the initiative, which was meant to produce 300 units of affordable housing in racially-integrated neighborhoods each year until 2020, has produced zero after being in effect for two years.

While housing advocates saw the Thompson case as a way to move beyond Baltimore's segregated history, some are saying the struggles of this pilot program are proof there's still a long way to go before anything significant changes in the city or the country.

"People just don't want affordable housing or any of that kind of thing in Baltimore," Antero Pietila, a longtime Baltimore resident who has written a book about the city's housing segregation, told VICE. "It's just the same thing as always: race and class."

The pilot program was meant to encourage developers to set aside 10 percent of new apartments in wealthier neighborhoods (sometimes referred to as "communities of opportunity") for lower-income residents by offering those developers lower mortgage premiums and tax benefits. But so far, not one developer has taken HUD up on its offer.

"It's just economics," one developer told the Baltimore Sun.

But according to others, it's about more than just money.

"It's indicative of a larger historical problem," Pietila said. "If developers were interested, they'd make it their business to know about this kind of thing. There's really a lot of resistance to inserting poor people in market-rate neighborhoods."

That could be why nearly all new housing projects in Baltimore's suburbs are being built at market-rate prices, out of reach of the area's lower-income residents.

The pressing question, which will have answers that will reverberate beyond Baltimore, is what to do about the failed program and, subsequently, the city's continued segregation.

"We're starting doing a lot in Baltimore," Barbara Samuels, the fair housing attorney at the ACLU-Maryland told VICE. "We're probably doing more in Baltimore than in other places, but we have to overcome our legacy of segregation. But the biggest problem isn't technical or financial capacity, it's that you're working against decades of policies and entrenched attitudes."

Baltimore is undeniably segregated, but it isn't even as segregated as many other large cities in the US. By certain measures, Chicago, New York, and Philadelphia are all more segregated than Baltimore. But looking at the Maryland city's history can show us how segregation happens. In addition to the blatant laws like the one from 1910 that forced segregation block by block, there have been subtler tactics implemented in the city, as well as nationally. For more than 30 years, the Federal Housing Administration used maps to decide where to insure mortgages. Predominantly black neighborhoods were "redlined"—meaning barred from receiving insured mortgages, and many African Americans were therefore effectively prevented from owning homes. Public housing was most often restricted to neighborhoods that were already low-income. And wealthy neighborhoods took to implementing "restrictive covenants" that banned people of different races and lower incomes from moving in.

But even as those racist laws fell, segregation continued: Most US cities are now more segregated today than they were 40 years ago.

For the last few decades, a movement has been growing to actively combat segregation, which means moving low-income people from the center of cities directly into suburbs. Since the Thompson lawsuit, 10,000 Baltimore residents have been moved out to the suburbs, mainly through being given rent subsidies that enable them to pay higher rents in richer locales.

Baltimore is also one of the only cities in the country, according to experts, where several suburbs are cooperating with the city in its desegregation plans—helping figure out how to make inter-county transit better, coordinating subsidies for new housing, and planning new programs to move people from the city to the suburbs, where they'll potentially have access to new jobs and educational opportunities.

But one can't help but wonder, if the Department of Housing and Urban Development's pilot program has a hard time getting started in the city doing that much to end segregation, how will it work nationally?

"Baltimore is actually trying to do something about segregation, which is more than a lot of places," Richard Rothstein, a researcher at the Economic Policy Institute who has written extensively about segregation told VICE. "But there's still resistance. There's always resistance."

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It's difficult to overstate how crushing America's student loan debt situation is. The amount of money adults in the US owe due to educations is over $1.3 trillion and jumps up by more than $2,000 every second. The average borrower owes $28,000, though some owe much more than that. Many former students, trapped between low wages and a the high cost of education, can barely afford to keep up with interest payments, let alone start paying off the principal.

Some people are put in so desperate a spot they have attempted to bail on their loans by fleeing the country and hiding out from the banks and collection agencies that will inevitably start looking for them.

It sounds slightly unbelievable, not to mention probably a bad idea from a long-term personal finance point of view, but these debt dodgers are real. I've met these Americans in Berlin, my adopted city. I haven't been able to find any statistics on how many of them there are, but I'm not the only one who's noticed the people fleeing US because of their student loans.

"It's a phenomenon that I'm quite familiar with actually," says student loan lawyer and author Adam S. Minsky. "In my experience, people leave because there's a sense of hopelessness and they see greater opportunities overseas, usually through a combination of higher pay and lower living expenses. They think they'll be better positioned to either pay their loans in real time, from abroad, or to save up and be in a better place to address the loans a couple of years from now."

Many of the students I talked to fear the possible consequences of this strategy, but so far none of them have faced any repercussions. And according to some experts, they may never.

Joshua R. I. Cohen, who calls himself The Student Loan Lawyer, tells me that this plan could work for some people, albeit only if the debt dodgers plan to never live in the US again. Students who move to a foreign country and stop paying off their loan debt "will only feel consequences if they're working for a US company on foreign soil," Cohen says.

If you're living abroad, earning a living from a foreign company, not paying US taxes, and not collecting social security, then loan companies can't touch you, nor will the government chase you after you move abroad.

"The federal government doesn't have really strong tools for collecting debt from people who move overseas," says Mark Kantrowitz, another expert on student loans who serves on the board of the Journal of Student Financial Aid. "In theory, you could live the rest of your life in another country."

Of course, if your family co-signed your loan with you and remain in America, they'll still be on the hook. And this strategy relies on you not wanting to go home again. If these former students ever decide to come back to the US, "the debt will still be there—it never goes away," says Cohen. "All they're doing is putting off what could happen if they come back to the US."

To get more insight about debt dodging, I spoke to several Americans who moved to Berlin and stopped paying their loans. All names have been changed.

Brian, 29
$40,000 in debt

I took out loans when I went to school in California. I received enough scholarship money at the time to cover half of the tuition and the loans covered the remainder. I did not have a plan for paying them off, nor did I consider how I would make it work once I graduated. I needed to go to school and it was the only solution at the time.

When I decided to move abroad, I think in the back of my head I thought that it would save me from having to pay them off. I saw the interest rise and my deferral period lapse and the anxiety just kept rising. I'm sure that Germany and America have some sort of reciprocity when it comes to this kind of stuff, just like they do with taxes, but I try not to think about it.

The loans are about to default, and I'm worried about the consequences. I've blocked the loan company's emails from my inbox. I'm sure they will go after my parents soon, but that won't do much because they don't have any money either.

I think at this point I owe about $40,000. I really, truly, honestly don't want to pay it back. Sure, I realize the responsibility I took on when I signed the papers and agreed to take out the loans, but I should have never had to do it in the first place. I feel some sort of civic duty not to pay them back, as if my small protest will make any kind of difference.

I think I know two friends that have completely paid off their loans and have received an awesome amount of confidence because of it. I am very proud of them, but I don't think I'm one of those people. I would rather spend my money on things that I need like food and shelter than to give it back for a service that should have been provided for me.

Vanessa, 29
$45,000 in debt

I got my associates degree and then transferred to a private university in New York. They didn't accept all of my credits, so I had to do about three years of study. I think it was $53,000 a year at the time. My mom and I applied for a loan through a private bank called Sallie Mae, among others. Every American knows that bank, the name Sallie Mae sounds so friendly; she's just your cute aunt making soup.

Within 48 hours I had $30,000 in my bank account. It was shocking because I had never had that much money in my bank account before. I remember that after paying my student stuff it was just gone, as if I never even had it. And I didn't live on it. I had a part-time job my entire education.

I moved to Berlin the day of my graduation. I got my loans deferred for one year and then my parents deferred it for a bit because you have a short grace period, usually six months to a year. When we tried to consolidate them we met a lot of resistance because they were from so many different banks. But I've never paid back the federal loans. My parents didn't co-sign on them. The only reason that I've ever worried about the debt from the private lenders is because it affects my parents. I don't give a shit about the loans in my name.

A year ago, I was working at a fancy restaurant in Berlin and made a lot of money in tips. For about ten months, I was paying some of the loans, but I don't have that job anymore so I had to stop.

Debt collectors haven't badgered me in Berlin. They haven't found me in Germany. But when I go home, my phone rings non-stop. I always think it's an old friend trying to hang out with me, but it's really Sallie Mae. It rings like every hour.

I have this shame on the part of my parents because I really did not want this for them. When I thought about going to college, this is not what I had in mind. I really thought that they were going to be so proud of me. I was the first child in my family between my parents to graduate college. But then I realized that we weren't thinking about the debt when we were signing up for school. And sometimes I think living in New York City and going to a private university maybe wasn't the best idea. I could have gone somewhere else and gotten a political science or history degree and only been in $50,000 dollars worth of debt. But I'm happy that I got that education. It's the education I wanted.

If I don't have the money, then I don't have the money to pay for loans. I need to eat and live and not be a slave to this debt. But I'm scared. When I look back, I wonder what I could have done differently.

Mario, 34
$160,000-plus in debt

I wasn't even meant to go to college. It was never my intention. And then all this shit happened where I took a year off, and I realized, Fuck, I don't think I can work overnights at a Target stocking shelves for the rest of my life. So I ended up finding this film school in California.

I couldn't afford this private school, so I told my parents I really wanted to do this and they co-signed the loans for me. I wanna say it was like $30,000 each year. It's a ridiculous amount of money.

I was, for sure, intending to pay the loans back. Our mentors and teachers told us that we would pay this education off for a long time, but everyone in America is doing it so it's almost like eating breakfast. That's how Americans are raised.

This idea that you can't afford college so you just make loan payments when you get out of school is crazy. I started to question how could you start something when you're starting in a hole?

Debt is not the main reason I moved to Europe. I moved for my career, but in the back of my mind it was a way to start a clean slate. At the same time, I could never really escape because my parents were co-signers. My parents own a home and were planning on leaving it to us as inheritance. They were nervous about having their house taken away from them because of me not paying student loans, and subsequently signed the house over to my sister so they wouldn't own anything the bank could come after.

To be honest, I just don't see myself living in America again—for reasons outside of student debt. My parents are moving back to El Salvador, where they're from, and then I'll have no ties to America. I don't really like America or the direction it's heading. For now, I don't need to care about going back there.

I encourage whoever I can to study abroad. It's so much cheaper. Starting your life with even $30,000 or $50,000 in the hole is not a good hole to start in.

Zoe, 31
$35,000 in debt

I got a full ride to college and I didn't have to take out loans until the end of my freshman year. I got a D in a class and I lost half of my scholarship. So I could have had no loans. My biggest mistake in life was messing up that one year in college.

When I left, I had maybe $24,000 in loans. My intention was to get forbearance for like a year and then start paying the loans. And I knew I would be paying the loans until at least my late 30s. My brother, who is six years older than me, was still paying his loans at the time, and even my dad was paying his loans then—he got his master's degree when we were kids.

After school, I went through my grace period and forbearance application and started paying the loans off. I was working and had a really good job. I think I was paying like $100 or $150 a month. I decided my senior year that I would move abroad after graduation. The last six months in the States I wanted to get all of my loans in order because I knew I wasn't going to be paying them when I moved to Europe.

I got all of them up to date, and right before I left I told the loan companies I was moving and gave them an email address. Once I moved abroad, though, I just stopped paying. Once you move abroad, you just kind of turn off that whole part of your life off. They can't touch you; you're elusive. But they started calling my parents, my grandparents, my past employers. And I was just living my life in Europe, kind of oblivious to it.

It wasn't until about six months ago that I started paying my loans again. I realized that I'm 30 and I just can't dip out on my loans forever. And maybe I'll want to move back to America at some point. I don't want to have this burden if I do.

The past two years I've been banking on this rumored Obama loan forgiveness bill that still hasn't really been passed. I guess I'll continue at this rate until they go away? I don't mean until I pay them off. I mean until the government's like, "You don't have to pay those loans anymore, you millennial! We know you're not good for it."

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Among the growing mound of half-unpacked stuff in Lindsay Dye's new Bed Stuy apartment is a 27" 5K Retina Display Mac monitor and track pad. I asked if it was a gift from a client. A big grin appeared across her face as she informed me that her dad bought it for her prior to realizing she'd updated her job title on LinkedIn as "camgirl."

Over the past two years, Dye's worked as both a camgirl and artist, often fusing the two practices into one. As a camgirl, she dances, chats, or sits on cake for clients she meets online. As an artist, Dye takes screenshots of other camgirls to create clothing and prints about copyright infringement, identity, and cybersex. Often times, she'll sell prints of stolen screengrabs from clients who've tried to blackmail her. As she told Motherboard in a recent profile, "I'm past being frustrated with being naked on the internet. Instead, I want the circularity of my projects to work in my favor, by taking back what is mine and selling what can't: my physical artwork."

In exchange for pleasing viewers on MyFreeCams.com, Dye has amassed hundreds of anonymous gifts from her Amazon wish list—so many items that it's hard to tell what's a gift and what isn't in her apartment. Of course she receives money from her clients, too, but her presents are as idiosyncratic as her libidinous relationships with online strangers, ranging from sex toys and jewelry, to domestic kitsch and books on black identity. These objects double as art supplies for Dye, suggesting that her cam work and art career overlap in a way that's indistinguishable—they're all part of Dye's singular identity.

Dye said the majority of gifters are "people who don't exist in your physical space, but want to. So they buy you something that you will touch, wear, or feature on your set. The presents suggest how far people are willing to go (or invest) in a relationship with someone that they don't know."

"Honestly, one of the best gifts I've received was a set of hotel towels, but not a set of four; they sent me 16," Dye added. "I don't know if this was a joke or a mistake, but I have a lot of company, and these towels have been very useful."

For more on Elizabeth's photo work, visit her website here.

Images courtesy of Feral House. Above, a Raymond Pettibon illustration.

Punk music changed forever when it hit LA. Tempos became faster, bands became meaner, violence began to spiral out of control. Rose-tinted history remembers the revolutionary effect of punk culture—the DIY ethos, resistance to police harassment, widely influential music—but what's largely forgotten is the body count it left behind. Here, concerts became proving grounds for warring gangs who hailed from different corners of the city. The Burbank Punks Organization, Long Beach's Vicious Circle, the East Side Punx, and other crews who associated themselves with the budding music scene wrestled for turf and street cred through despicable acts of public powerviolence.

Most dangerous of all were La Mirada Punks, a gang that quickly grew in notoriety in the 80s. Hailing from an East LA suburb that was infested with gangs long before punk took root, this coalition of troubled kids was mentored by an old veteran of a cholo gang and bonded over punk's confrontational image and antiestablishment stance. LMP members attended shows en masse, but often seemed to be there out of bloodlust rather than any sort of musical appreciation. Whether it was stabbing an innocent bystander or humiliating a band's frontman by trapping him in a trash can for hours, tales of LMP's indiscriminate violence spread like wildfire throughout the punk scene in the mid-80s.

In Disco's Out... Murder's In!, out now through Feral House Publishing, the story of "LA's deadliest punk rock gang" is told through the eyes of the aptly-named Frank the Shank, the notorious chieftain in the LMP gang who was eventually arrested for murder. Slam pit stabbings, bodies found in the street outside concerts, and an exploration of a scene that was once infested with loosely-organized crime: this is a facet of punk history you won't get in the average band biography.

After spending nearly six years picking Frank the Shank's brain for all of the grisly details of his reign in the LMP gang, authors Heath Mattioli and David Spacone have published his tales in a 230-page account that's written from Frank's own perspective and includes artwork from iconic scene artist Raymond Pettibon. The result is an arresting first-person narrative that begins with Frank's first punk show (X at the Whisky a Go-Go), but quickly becomes more about beat-downs and murders than a love of punk music. Seminal bands such as The Germs, The Adolescents, and T.S.O.L. appear, but only to soundtrack La Mirada Punks brutal rampages, or worse, get bullied and bruised by the gang. In a way, the book feels like a lost chapter in the already-storied history of LA gangs that have been examined ever since the Prohibition era. Over the phone, Mattioli and Spacone spoke with VICE about the gangs' ugly and largely forgotten stain on LA punk's legacy.

VICE: Aside from the initial fear mongering in the news, there hasn't been too much written about the actual violence that occurred in LA's early punk scene. Most stories are from bands' point of view, and they mention these things in passing, but usually only to show that they themselves were uninvolved and didn't promote any of it. Do you hold musicians accountable?
Mattioli: Absolutely. They knew what they were doing, I don't believe that act: "Oh, we were backstage, got onstage, then we got in our van, and bailed . We weren't aware of this stuff." Many musicians have said that, and I think it's absolute bullshit. They just need to own it.

Spacone: They all seem to want to act like they're Pontius Pilate, and they can just wash their hands of it, but it's very clear they can't. Everybody talked about things that happened during and after shows. So to say, "Oh, I didn't know about any of that," is clearly misdirection.

What musicians did you ask about the violence going on in LA?
Mattioli: I don't want to mention names, but we were going after some back cover testimonials from some of these legends, and they just put their hands up in the air and said, "Hey man, I really wish I could say something about the book. It's well-written and all, but I didn't even know this stuff existed." And then there are other people, like Jack Grisham, who had no problem saying he was part of the problem, and I respect that.

I really don't understand why they won't talk about it. I know Rollins talked about being held up at gunpoint by some gangsters back in the day, and he detests violence. I understand and respect that, as well. But the other guys who said, "That's not what we were singing about"? These kids didn't have the depth to understand what they really might be singing about. I just find it a real cop-out. Maybe it's a byproduct of musician narcissism.

As you were tackling this largely unexplored territory, was it a challenge to steer clear of finger-wagging, and conversely, glorification?
Mattioli: Yeah, it was. And no matter what, with this material, it's going to come off like that. Everybody who actually went to shows, who actually lived in this punk rock world during the time, has a different story. At the same time, they all have a similar story.

Spacone: The events and the truth of all the matters are definitely sensational, sure. But you just have to tell it like it is and let you, the reader, interpret it how you're going to interpret it.

Black Flag, Olympic Auditorium, Los Angeles (1983). Photo by Edward Colver. Image courtesy of Feral House

I found it interesting that the book reverses the stereotype that most punk violence was and is racially-motivated.
Mattioli: Yeah, these white supremacist gangs existed, but they didn't show their face . They would have gotten their asses handed to them. The California gangs didn't get down with that, they didn't put up with that shit. There have been books and magazine articles talking about how [white supremacist punks from Huntington Beach] were running things and committing all the crime, but I think inner-city punk rockers saw this influx of people coming into the scene from Huntington Beach, and they developed a misconception that all this violence was coming from the Beach, too.

La Mirada Punks were a diverse crew, but what bound them together?
Mattioli: I'll answer that: hate. They hated themselves, so they wanted you to feel a little bit of that. They didn't know that's what they were doing, but the psychological profile behind it was what it was really about.

Spacone: The hate was fun. Destroying things was fun. You had the hippie movement, kids getting together and trying to battle society, but it was much more fun just to battle each other. There's not a lot of introspection and articulation among dysfunctional youth, it's just all reaction.

There's that paragraph in the book that begins "1978 is finally over." That perfectly describes the bleak climate in the country at the time. Even if the kids weren't reckoning with it, it certainly set the mood for hate.
Mattioli: Definitely. The mood of the country was very important. Reagan era, nihilism in the air, threats of a nuclear holocaust—it all plays in.

Spacone: The world was an interesting place.

Mattioli: It sure wasn't a happy place.

I wonder how strongly the LMP gang actually felt about the music because in the end, Frank the Shanks says, "The gangs ruined punk rock."
Mattioli: I don't really see how punk rock could've sustained itself any further anyway, but the violence was rampant from 83 to 86. It was inevitable that punk was going to implode anyway, but the violence was a big push to get people out of the scene. Music was changing too. The artists couldn't stagnate, so it was about moving on, progressing with their sound, changing with the times. And a lot of these kids were happy with where they were, especially these punk rock gangsters. So they were a big push in the way punk rock ended. Frank knows many people who came up to him saying, "Man, I quit punk rock because of LMP."

Spacone: Let's also remember, after years of violence, you just lose participants—whether it's the people who got beat down or killed out of the scene, or those who just went away because they couldn't take it anymore. So yeah, the punk rock gangs ruined it. They made it evaporate.

Mattioli: And that's the question: Were these musicians moving on prior to this, or did they just say "Fuck, I want to disassociate myself from these fuckin' shaved-head crazy fucks"?

Yeah, you have Black Flag getting sludgier and weirder, most other bands moving away from the original hardcore blueprint. Do you think that's in any way a byproduct of the violence?
Mattioli: I would think so. It makes sense. The best way to disassociate yourself? Change your look, change your music, kill your fan base, and try to start another one.

Spacone: Plus, with how fast the music started, and then how it got faster, and then even faster. And how much violence can you take ? It just eventually goes away.

Pissed Chris and his brothers-in-arms (1984). Image courtesy of Feral House

What was it specifically about LA that produced all of this violence, hate, and speed associated with the music? Guys from the 80s DC scene got beat up a lot, but then they came to L.A. and saw an even more aggressive scene.
Mattioli: The fact that there were gangs in every neighborhood is what ultimately added to that. In no other place could this have happened. It was a very, very violent city.

Spacone: Let's look at the history of Los Angeles: This is one cowboy-ass place. That's what built it. And that energy runs through this city today. So if you look back at Los Angeles in the streets and whatnot, things are always sorting themselves out this way, so it's naturally just going to play into punk rock.

In a way, it feels like a lost chapter in the already-storied history of LA gangs, from the Prohibition era to the Bloods and Crips.
Mattioli: Definitely, and these kids even had an old East LA veterano guiding them, and that's why they were able to get away with so much.

Spacone: Also, the LAPD couldn't effectively attack . They would attack punk rock at the shows. They only understood the violence as it transmitted into riots, so they just thought that bodies left around the wake were just an odd by-product. They didn't really know that these gangs existed.

The LAPD tried doing everything in their power to control actual punk shows, to the point where venues even banned specific punk bands, and this likely helped bolster the DIY ethos of punk. Without the police response, could you see the independent route being less of a necessity for bands?
Spacone: It only made punk rock, as a scene, that much more tenacious. So kind of has the reverse effect where it actually helps it. No way you're gonna stop us from making records, from having shows, from having a scene, from looking this way. You can beat us down, chase us, club us all you want. It didn't matter, it was gonna happen. So they actually were gas on the fire.

Mattioli: Gates needed some kind of a trophy or answer to all the news footage that was being put out there. So anytime he could get ahold of a flyer, break up , he'd put it on the news and say, "Yeah, look what we did."

Spacone: They were showing us, "Hey, we've got control of this, these crazy punkers." Little did they know.

Purchase 'Disco's Out... Murder's In!: The True Story of Frank the Shank and LA's Deadliest Punk Rock Gang' through Feral House Publishing.

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All photos by the author

Ted Cruz and Donald Trump, once friendly adversaries in an otherwise spiteful Republican primary, appeared to finally end their perceived alliance Thursday, calling off their uneasy detente in the first debate of 2016. Until recently, Trump has mostly laid off Cruz, while the Texas Senator has gone out of his way to be nice to Trump, frequently referring to the real-estate mogul as his "friend," as he tried to poach Trump's supporters on the campaign trail.

But that changed this when Cruz decided to properly get in the pit with his Republican rival. Taking the stage at the Fox Business Network debate in South Carolina, the pair launched almost immediately into a sparring match over who Is less qualified to be president, dabbling in Trump's new Cruz birther theories, and Texas Senator's confusing feelings about "New York values" and 9/11.

The feud was heated, if mostly meaningless, confirming that, three weeks before the first Republican voting contests, the GOP primary has come down to a two-man race. Rather than exposing any real differences between Cruz and Trump, though, the aggression actually underscored just how similar the two leading Republican candidates have become, as each tries to claim the "mantle of anger" in the GOP's 2016 primary.

For months, Trump has appeared to carry that "mantle of anger." South Carolina Republican Governor Nikki Haley suggested as much when she used the term in her official Republican response to Barack Obama's State of the Union this week, warning her party to avoid the "the siren call of the angriest voices." But Haley could just as easily have been talking about Cruz, whose scorched earth extremism, and penchant for masquerading fearmongering as populism, has increasingly mirrored that of his chief Republican rival.

This ruthless, angrier—and decidedly weirder—version of Cruz was on full display earlier this week in New Hampshire, where the Texas Senator held court with the first-in-the-nation primary voters in a town hall at Londonderry High School, a public school that incidentally, happens to be my alma mater. The speech, billed as Cruz's own version of the State of the Union , was a late-minute addition to Cruz's itinerary, scheduled to take place just hours before President Barack Obama gave his own, real State of the Union address .

Though Cruz's campaign insisted it was not intentional, the timing made for some on-message optics: A sitting Senator and proclaimed outsider skipping the annual pageant of bipartisanship to deliver his own bizarro speech from future, free from the constraints of reality, Washington, or the liberal media.

"In 2018 let me tell you how I hope the SOTU will go ," he told the New Hampshire audience, going on to enumerate the ways the future President Cruz will have triumphed over the apocalyptic threats leftover from Obama's America—Clinton, the IRS, the FDA, sanctuary cities, not to mention Obama himself—by the time he addresses the nation in January 2018. By 2018, for example, President Cruz will have succeeded in completely "rebuilding the military," developing a Star Wars-style missile defense to protect the homeland from nuclear attacks, and the more ominous threat of EMPs.

ISIS, Cruz added, will be "utterly and completely destroyed," and any American found assisting the group will have their citizenship revoked. By January 2018, Cruz added, President Cruz will have secured the border—with a wall. "Donald paid for it," he joked. The room swooned with laughter.

The speech, down to the sly border wall jab, was classic Trump, lacking entirely in policy specifics, and instead relying on fictional oratory to weave a right-wing fantasy for angry Republican voters looking for a win, and a perhaps a little bit of vengeance, after eight years of Obama. Ideological consistency, once the hallmark of Cruz's political brand, was overridden by the speech's marketing goal: Cruz was selling a product, stringing gelatinous blobs of political rhetoric that congealed into something resembling a campaign platform.

As Trump has shown throughout this election cycle, this is a surprisingly effective strategy: Fan the partisan flames, toss the crowd some raw steaks, and tell them a pretty story that reassures voters, while also reminding them to be very afraid. It also appears to be working for Cruz: Recent polls show the Texas Senator pulling ahead in Iowa, and taking a strong second in New Hampshire, cutting into Trump's lead in the first two states to cast ballots in the 2016 race, even as he emulates the frontrunner's message and tactics.

In New Hampshire Tuesday, Cruz seemed to hint at his political influence. By 2018, he promised the audience, the IRS will have been abolished following the passage of the flat tax, and in his State of the Union, President Cruz will inform Congress that the agency's now-empty offices have been turned into—wait for it—a Trump hotel.

"I'm pleased to say after months of that haunted house, we have finally auctioned off the IRS building to the public," Cruz said, speaking from the future. "And I for one am particularly pleased that my good friend Donald Trump will be building a hotel where the IRS used to stand."

The comment suggests the fine line that Cruz has to walk as he seeks to pull ahead of Trump without alienating his rival's die-hard fans. And If the audience at Londonderry High School was any indication, Cruz and Trump are getting their support from the same pool of Republican primary voters.

"I like Trump a lot," said Jeff Odner, a 58-year-old who owns a fiber-optic sensor systems company in Amherst, New Hampshire. He is a man who will get things done, he will hire good people and put them in positions and hold them responsible and I think that's something that hasn't been done in a while. He's done it in his businesses and you can't run a successful biz if you don't hold people accountable."

When I asked how he felt about Trump's attacks on Cruz's presidential eligibility, Odner brushed it off. "Ah, y'know, if you actually listen to his words he's not really fanning the flames," he said. "He's riling up the crowd, and when he dropped a couple points in Iowa that's one of the things he did. It's a little bit of a liberal-Democrat trick to pull that, because it's very clear to anyone involved that Cruz is clearly a citizen and he has every right ."

"My dream is a Trump-Cruz ticket," he added.

In fact, many of the people I spoke to at Cruz's town hall said they'd like to see the two leading Republican candidates run on the same ballot this November. "I'd love to see ," said Rae Carlson, 53, of Derry, New Hampshire. Cruz, Carlson added, "stands up for John Q Public, wants to bring America back to what it was."

Follow Dan McCarthy on Twitter , and during the NH Primaries when he and the Boston Institute for Non-Profit Journalism (BINJ) are throwing a huge party in the middle of the FITN primaries .

David Bowie. All photos by Mick Rock

Here at VICE we've been feeling the loss of David Bowie pretty hard. Whether it's wondering where we'd be without the man, extolling how he made the world a little safer for misfits and weirdos, or even advancing the argument that he's the reason we're all here, it seems so many of us have been shaken in ways we are still grappling with.

I remember something the writer Lynne Tillman once wrote, or said, that every friendship is unique; perhaps every grief is unique, too. For some of us, this has taken the form of days-long playlists culled from his 40-plus years of music, from Ziggy to the Berlin trilogy, Aladdin Sane to Station to Station. For others, this means viewing the unforgettable images and music videos of him, posed or poised onstage, singing in an immobile plastic tuxedo, applying kabuki-style makeup behind the scenes. We pass around that famous GIF of his various hairstyles through the years and share how his gender-fluidity and wild appearance made us feel less alone, more empowered; we cheer at the clip of his 1983 interview with MTV, in which he calls out the network for not playing enough black artists. We root around the internet to learn everything we can about him. In certain ways, David Bowie is more alive than ever.

And yet there's been something unexpectedly collective about our mourning David Bowie's passing—in so many of the considerations, tributes, obituaries, and remembrances, we talk about how it wasn't supposed to happen, how hard it is to sufficiently describe, let alone encapsulate his massive cultural influence, how astonished we are that he'd crafted his final swan song, Blackstar, dropped it on his 69th birthday, and then two days later, was gone. But if there was anyone who knew how to make an unforgettable impact, it was Bowie.

It's an impact Mick Rock has seen firsthand. The music photographer and director (and occasional VICE collaborator) is responsible for some of the most lasting and iconic shots of 1970s rock 'n' roll, including the covers to Lou Reed's Transformer and Iggy Pop's Raw Power. During David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust years, Rock was David Bowie's personal photographer. Rock also directed Bowie's first music videos when the form was in its infancy. The striking, seminal videos include "John, I'm Only Dancing," "Space Oddity," "The Jean Genie," and "Life on Mars."

Earlier this week I spoke over the phone to Rock about his decades-long friendship with Bowie, the musician's massive cultural impact—"like Steve Jobs"—and how the Brixton native's otherworldly and forward-thinking approach to music, provocation, and social issues so greatly shaped our world today.

VICE: Thanks so much for being willing to talk to me. It's been a difficult time for us all, I think, but I know it must be a difficult time especially for you.
Mick Rock: Well, I've known him for over 40 years and I'm still talking about him like he's still alive. It's not something I've really absorbed yet, because I've dealt with him a lot, with this beautiful book we did for Taschen. I thought he was still dealing with an issue that I had, namely heart surgery that I had 20 years ago. He'd only had a couple of minor strokes, though we never talked about it in any detail, I assumed that was why he was keeping a low key. But I didn't know about the cancer.

What flips me out about that is he obviously knew he was dying. I mean, when he produced all this great work, I mean what a fucking flourish to finish on. We'd only been communicating over email in recent times, and I asked him a few times how he was doing and he said, "I'm doing fine, Mick." That he could produce what he produced the way he produced it... and then he was up onstage a couple weeks ago for the launch of that Lazarus musical he'd co-written. So it seems he's doing fine, there he is, he's done all this great work, looks fine. But he wasn't. He'd plotted this all out, and just in time for his birthday, knowing that a couple days later he was going to go. That's very—even aside from our personal relationship—that's very hard to grasp.

And then my friend Lou Reed. A couple of years ago, I was in hospital having a kidney transplant while he was in hospital having a liver transplant and I knew a liver was a heavier thing—most kidney transplants are successful—but we all thought he was going to beat it and he made his last public appearance [for Transformer, the limited edition book they made together]. And now they're both gone and it's very hard for me to grasp because I've had these relationships with them for over 40 years. I remember back in the day, when I took famous pictures of the three of them, it was obvious that Iggy was the one that was going to go first.

Yeah, I know, right?
Even though Lou was pretty crazy, Iggy was that much further out. Of course, Iggy's doing great now, still goes out and performs and he's been clean a long time. It's a bit of a brick in the brain. So because I've been deluged since 3 AM Monday morning, I haven't had time to process it at all. I've just been talking about him, looking at pictures... and I'm kind of beyond being sad. Blown off my perch is the only way I can put it.

You can see from the reaction how , and I think it's going to keep going on, because he's very transcendent.

"He and Lou will never go away for me—they're stuck in my psyche and my work."

Have you been surprised by the public outpouring of grief for David?
Well, I knew it would be huge, but this has been like Mount Everest, it's been so massive, it's cut through race, it cuts through age groups, it cuts through—

Gender.
Yeah, I mean the whole game he played.

I suppose Paul McCartney is the only one who could come close, but then he's a Beatle. Even though for me, he's never been as interesting as an artist as David. But he's Paul McCartney, you can't knock that. Who can you compare this outburst with? I can only think of Steve Jobs. You could almost put David and Steve Jobs in the same category. But the difference with Steve was, it was plain as day for quite awhile that something was going on and it didn't look so good. But of course they both revolutionized the culture in a way that nobody else ever did

I read David was the first person to send you flowers after your bypass .
Later in the day, flowers came from Lou. Those two were big in my life. And Freddie and Sid and other people too, but those two were super-special.

You hadn't been in contact with him in years, right?
No. He had actually tried to do a few things with me and I was not in a good state. I think I was a bit embarrassed at the state I was in because I knew that he'd gotten over his stuff. But he was a kind person, and he didn't need to do this last book. I mean, we were very well-paid , but it was nothing to him. Good for me, but nothing for him.

We did communicate over email since 1996 and we had done some other sporadic things together but probably between '76 and '96, I was like a Hoover. If it was white, it knew where to go, and I had some friends like that who are dead, I must say. But, I mean, you look at the body of work, even stuff that he's said he didn't much care for, like the whole Let's Dance period, which he's said was his least favorite period for him. On the other hand, Let's Dance is a pretty cool album.

Yeah.
And it was his most successful album, but it was probably almost too mainstream for him. He always liked to take chances.

Perhaps you could talk a bit about what your friendship with David Bowie was like in recent years? You said you mostly emailed—
Email, a couple kisses—I never did anything behind his back, even at my lowest point. Not that I would, but photographers are tricky buggers. I always felt he was my friend. I mean, I loved him in the way that males can. It was never sexual. We were mates since back in London. There may have been a period after he became a star, but got over that himself and rather quickly. For somebody who creatively was so far out there, he was amazingly down to earth.The other thing with David was, if he let you into his thing, he trusted you. All the pictures I took of him, if I gave direction, he took it. He never objected to anything. Back in those days, when were all so young, nobody thought pictures would have such a life.

He and Lou will never go away for me—they're stuck in my psyche and my work.

For so many of us, really. I was listening to Ziggy Stardust to kind of get in the mood before talking to you, and it was just so present. It's a bit confusing.
That's the thing about him. It doesn't sound old, everything he does is so relevant to the present. I mean major relevance, and to young people.

Amid all the tributes and links and videos that people have been sharing, I was struck by this one MTV appearance in 1982, where he called out the lack of representation of black artists. Have you seen that?
I haven't seen that! But of course, you know not to bypass that subject, David Bowie was always very brave from the beginning in the way he dressed and everything, and in '72 and '73 you have to remember there was some antagonism toward all that; people didn't understand it and he would say very provocative things and of course that was a little bit ahead of it's time too.

But you know, we did those early videos and he even gave me ownership back for them sometime around 1999. I mean those videos, nobody has ever thought about—"John, I'm Only Dancing," "Space Oddity," "Jean Genie," and "Life On Mars." People call them seminal—I mean they were, of course. And just a few months previous, you had Bob Dylan doing "Subterranean Homesick Blues," although that's actually culled from the D. A. Pennebaker movie [Don't Look Back]. But it's still a great piece on it's own with the stuff written on the boards that he's throwing away and you've got Ginsburg in the background But people have often called them that, and David really gave me free reign. In a way, he didn't have time so he'd say, "Hey Mick, let's do this tomorrow" and we'd [shoot the videos] for very little money and very quickly, often out of necessity. And it's often been said that necessity is often the mother of, um, significant art.

"He would say to you, "I'm not cool, and I'm not trying to be cool." But of course, he was cool! And he didn't have to try."

Sure, of course.
I mean, we didn't think they were that significant at the time, we just did them. They had no application. David knew I played around with film and he'd just say, "Mick, you know." "John, I'm Only Dancing" was shot in about four hours with no thought of playback, just some funny little repartee. And shot on the stage where he was going to be doing soundcheck in a few hours and that was edited in one night. Of course, the poor editor had an epileptic fit, I suppose that's what it did to them back then. And "Life on Mars" was edited in about two nights. They were all one-day shoots. Except—not 100 percent true—"The Jean Genie" was a live shoot one night and then a studio shoot the other night and I mixed them both together. And "Space Oddity," I shot in about four hours in the RCA recording studio in New York before he got on the ship to sail back to England because he wouldn't fly in those days. So we're talking one- day, two-day shoots. We were rebels living outside the law, in a manner of speaking. Of course, it's all been embraced by the mainstream nowadays. You can't be young forever, that's for sure.

I sure can't drink like I used to.
Maybe that's for the better.

But yeah, back to the earlier question, they brought him to MTV and he started to interview the guy interviewing him. He tells the VJ, "I've noticed that you don't show many videos by black artists," and the guy tries to give him the runaround and these excuses. I think a lot of people are responding to that, especially with the way things are in America right now. I was wondering if you ever see a desire for social justice in David, championing—
Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, at first he was into the shock value of what he was doing. But I think he—of course he had black girlfriends—but I mean, he had white girlfriends too. He also grew up in Brixton, which was like the Harlem of London. I mean, it wasn't as developed. It was a postwar thing. There were a lot of West Indians coming into London and he was very hip to black culture very early on. Because Britain was mostly white, it wasn't a multicultural country like it is today or like it was in America or New York. There wasn't a strong black cultural presence, there really weren't enough black people to stir it up, whereas in America there was real revolution; in England the revolution was mostly cultural. The audience that Bob Marley had was white middle-class kids. Just like Chuck Berry and Little Richard in America, although that was 20 years earlier.

"I saw him as a sort of ringmaster or magician, always pulling rabbits out of his hat."

So I have a question from our photo editor. As his longtime collaborator and photographer, do you have an opinion on his not using his own image on his last album cover?
Well, his previous cover images were pictures in the mirror. Including that one of lying in the mirror in 1972, which was used as the cover of that compilation. But I don't know why he didn't use his image like he always had before. He didn't ask my opinion of it. Blackstar is just that star, it's not even a name. He knew what most of the world did not know, except for those super-close to him and family. But he was, well, he was going to fizzle out into a black star physically and yet his star would grow even bigger.

I'll tell you, this star issue is interesting because—and I think it was the Buddhist influence, he had dabbled around in Buddhism sometime in the late 60s and I think Ziggy Stardust, which, remember, he recorded when he wasn't a star. And yet that's all about projection. And I have him on tape somewhere, in one of those interviews I conducted with him, talking about his ambition. I mean, he wanted to be a star. He and Freddie Mercury were the two. Iggy Pop and Lou Reed, in that sense, were sort of the opposite. He wanted to be a star and he would talk about it, which was kind of uncool in those days, but he would say to you, "I'm not cool, and I'm not trying to be cool." But of course, he was cool! And he didn't have to try.

But he was projecting , "I could make it all worthwhile as a rock 'n' roll star, I could do with the money, I'm so wiped out with things as they are"—nobody talked like that then. It was much cooler to appear to be less ambitious. It was the tail end of the hippie thing. And there he was. And of course there was that second tier of Ziggy, which he would sometimes call, after the album Aladdin Sane, but it was obviously Ziggy Mark II. And when he got more and more sophisticated in the way he looked and got more costume changes, I have him in 73 or 74 different costumes in that 21-month period that I shot him. I mean, 73 or 74 costumes! A lot of them he wore once, a lot of them he wore a lot of times, and he would always change onstage. In the middle of a show, he'd go offstage and come back looking different. I mean, that's where Lady Gaga and Madonna got it, I think the ladies were the ones who picked up on it. I don't think there were any men.

What else should people realize about David Bowie?
Another important consideration is that people would talk about "drag rock" back then, but David never wore drag. Even on the cover of the original release of The Man Who Sold the World that was, strictly speaking, and I'm sure he wore it wore it be provocative. He wanted to provoke people, then get them to listen to the music and yet, even as the most stylish man to come out of rock 'n' roll, it was the music that was mainly important to him. It doesn't feel like he's gone, because he's everywhere right now. Like Steve Jobs when he died, you can't avoid him. Even bald old men on television are talking about Ziggy Stardust. It's an amazing time, and he presaged so much of this and he was projecting into the future from the first time I met him, by '72, and I believe it was very specific in that it was a Buddhist thing. "Changes," that's a Buddhist song. I've studied yoga all these years and that's something yogis are always saying, "Life is change," it's like life is always changing and conservatism is a bitter misnomer because you can't hold back time.

I saw him as a sort of ringmaster or magician, always pulling rabbits out of his hat, always something going on. He was a novelty freak. To a certain degree, that's been true of myself. And David, when the VMA first approached him about doing the museum show, they wanted to do it from 69 to 84. David's response was, "But my career didn't end in 1984." And of course they responded.

He kept everything you know, that's why they were able to do that show. As much as he was about the present and the new, he had a huge archive of his costumes and lyrics. And that show had his drawings, his frustrations, ideas—there's a wealth of material there. Now as soon as something surfaces, it's all over the internet and there's a little merchandising, the latest thing—there's no time to develop. I mean Iggy had done four albums before David broke him and Lou had done the Velvet Underground albums and his first solo album and nothing had happened. And Iggy had done, well even Raw Power was a dud even though now it's considered one of the greatest albums of all time. At the time it came out, Iggy told me, after two months it was in the 50-cent bin.

I actually miss David. I really will. It's a hole in my heart, as if my wife or mother died. He's opened up a hole in my heart just like Lou did. I miss the little emails we exchanged. I'd send him Christmas cards and he'd say, "Oh, that's cute, Mick." He was very human as much as people thought he'd landed from another planet. He was a London lad and a hustler and I say hustler in the best sense of the word. That he always made things happen, for better or for worse, he would take that chance. He was a brave soul. That's the final taste in my mouth, in my brain was, Wow, he knew that was happening.

Finally, what do you hope people will carry on from David's legacy?
I think maybe the broader recognition—although it looks pretty broad to me—how huge his influence was, not just musically, not just as an artist, but the culturally. He moved the culture. Like Steve Jobs. They revolutionized the culture. David's immortal. Some London lad from Brixton who—and it didn't happen right away for David, he was 25 when Ziggy broke him. The word "genius" is bandied about today like it's an ice-cream cone, but I think it's pretty legitimate to call David a genius. He's authentically one of the geniuses of rock 'n' roll. How many other are there? Not so many, really. I mean, you could argue for Dylan, or Lennon, or Jimi Hendrix.

You aren't going to forget about him. He's going to be on people's lips for the foreseeable future, that's for sure. Also to know that he was crazy back in the 70s and 80s, but everyone I knew was, to be honest with you. But he's a gentleman, a genuine authentic person. I find myself calling him a sweet soul. And he was fun. He was a playful person. And that was what I got from him right away. He was playful in his conversation, he was playful in his art, and he was infinitely curious. And he left school at 15—yes, he went to art college like a lot of from Syd Barrett through John Lennon, to Keith Richards and Pete Townsend to Jimmy Page and beyond. But he was different, somehow or other. It's hard to trace the source of a lot of it, he'd be influenced, but he would develop his own thing.

This is a little tidbit curiosity you might be interested in: Around the time of Young Americans, in that studio, he recorded a version of Bruce Springsteen's "It's Hard to Be a Saint in the City." It started showing up when Ryko disc got the rights to his music in the 80's, and it was an add-on . And it's an incredible version. I remember wondering, Why didn't this get put on the record? I hadn't heard it and frankly, neither had anyone else and I asked him about it. And he said, "Oh, when I done it, I played it for Bruce and he kind of looked at me weird, and he obviously didn't like it." What David did to it was so outside of where Bruce was. Maybe Bruce likes it nowadays. But back in '75 or whatever it was David just kind of blew it off and didn't realize himself what an unbelievable record it is because Bruce didn't like it. The reason he didn't pull it out was because of Bruce. It's so cute, David. Because who cares what Bruce thinks, who cares what another artist thinks about your work, all artists are weird motherfuckers anyway. But that was David.

I'm not [saying this] to hang onto his coattails. I suppose I just feel the need to express myself... All of it is totally raging positive. Even if I were to try.

Follow James on Twitter.

1968 Wanted Poster via FBI/Wikimedia Commons

James Earl Ray, the convicted assassin of civil rights icon Martin Luther King Jr., never actually stood trial. He was arrested at London's Heathrow Airport of all places, and extradited to Tennessee. There, he pled guilty—something he agreed to do to avoid execution by electric chair—and was sentenced to 99 years in prison. He maintained his innocence until his death 30 years later. He said he was the patsy of a mysterious figure named Raoul.

But of course the old saw about convicts is that they all claim they are innocent. Convicted assassins of civil rights leaders have an exceptionally tough path ahead of them in this regard; even if they get sprung from the pen on a technicality, they'll still be seen as monsters in the eyes of the public. In other words, James Earl Ray's attempts to clear his own name aren't surprising. What's surprising is that the victim's family members briefly devoted their lives to his cause.

From 1997 until 2000, the Kings, particularly Coretta, Martin Luther King's widow, and his youngest son Dexter, allied themselves with the legal team hell bent on freeing Ray. They were utterly sold on the most daring claim made by any of the King conspiracy theorists: not just that Ray hadn't acted alone, but that he wasn't even involved.

That was the version being sold at the time by Ray's lawyer, Bill Pepper. Pepper, who has in recent years devoted himself to the 9/11 truther movement, published a book in 1995 calledOrders to Kill: The Truth Behind the Murder of Martin Luther King. Pepper's wasn't the first published work on the topic, but it was the most sympathetic to Ray.

According to Orders, US military intelligence and CIA agents teamed up with the mafia, renegade Memphis police officers, and of course J. Edgar Hoover's FBI (who, by any objective standard, really did want Martin Luther King dead), because they believed King's ideas were too revolutionary. Together, according to Pepper, they assembled a crack team of Special Forces snipers, plus a civilian shooter named Raoul Pereira, and cleared the way for King to be neutralized in Memphis on April 4, 1968 at the Lorraine Motel.

Unfortunately, the book explains, Pereira's trigger finger was too itchy, and he fired early. In the ensuing chaos, the supposed execution squad failed to take out its secondary target, the esteemed Reverend and later, Congressman, Andrew Young.

Pepper's book named names as well. For instance, he claimed to have received testimony from professed members of the Special Forces team which had led him to believe that one would-be trigger man had been a retired Green Beret named Billy Ray Eidson. Eidson had later been killed in New Orleans as part of a cover-up, according to the book.

By Pepper's own account in a later book, Martin Luther King's son Dexter became fascinated by this version of the assassination plot in early 1997. Over the previous two years, Dexter had taken over for his aging mother Coretta as leader of the Martin Luther King Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change. At the time, he promised a new era of "economic empowerment," for the black community, but he also advocated for the economic empowerment of King's estate.

At the start of his tenure as the King Family spokesman, Dexter King had clued into the profitability of Malcolm X's image, and met with representatives of the Elvis Presley Estate in Memphis to brainstorm ways to derive revenue from the work and likeness of his father. In 1997, he also negotiated a movie deal with Oliver Stone, and worked out a publishing arrangement with Time Warner to turn King's speeches and writings into marketable books and audiobooks like A Knock at Midnight: Inspiration from the Great Sermons of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.

While making those deals in 1997, according to Bill Pepper, Dexter King was also taking an interest in assassination conspiracy theories, as were his sister Yolanda, and his cousin Isaac Ferris. Pepper wrote in his 2003 book An Act of State: The Execution of Martin Luther King that he was invited to Ferris's house on February 4, 1997, and that from 7:30 PM until 4 AM the following morning, he explained to them the investigative work he had done for Orders to Kill.

"They were astounded at the results and the meeting was highly emotional. It was clear that they had already decided to help," Pepper wrote. The help Pepper was looking for was in pushing for a new trial for his client James Earl Ray.

Nine days later, on February 13, the King family, including Coretta, held a press conference and announced that they supported a new trial for Ray, a move that, according to Coretta Scott King's biography by Laura T. McCarty, would have introduced new evidence, and helped clear up a lingering mystery. Dexter King took it a step further.

On March 27, Dexter King, whose appearance and voice are eerily similar to his father's, visited James Earl Ray in prison with the help of Bill Pepper. King told ray he was glad to meet him, and shook his hand. They had a short conversation culminating in the point-blank question, "Did you kill my father?"

"No, no, I didn't, no. But like I say, sometimes these questions are difficult to answer, and you have to make a personal evaluation," said Ray, according to the New York Times.

Other figures in the civil rights world were taken aback by the Kings' embrace of a convicted killer. "I simply don't understand it," former Martin Luther King aide Samuel Billy Kyles told the Associated Press. Another former aide named Julian Bond said he was "mystified," adding "I'm open to the argument that others were involved, but to say Ray wasn't involved is impossible to me."

Ray's health was failing, however, and freeing him could not remain the center of their effort. When he died in 1998, the possibility of a new trial was taken off the table. The efforts of Pepper and the Kings had to refocus on clearing Ray's name.

Four years earlier, Loyd Jowers, owner of a restaurant next to the Lorraine Motel called Jim's Grill, had gone on television with his own conspiracy theory—one that included himself. He claimed to have hired a gunman at the behest of Frank Liberto who, at the time, sold him vegetables. Liberto had ostensibly been the one with the mob ties, that Pepper wrote about. Jowers said the unnamed man he hired, a renegade Memphis cop was King's assassin, not James Earl Ray.

So in 1997, as Pepper sought to examine old evidence in pursuit of a new trial that would have heavily featured Jowers, police questioned Jowers about the aspects of his old claims that could be substantiated. Jowers had claimed that James Earl Ray's rifle was a dummy, and that he concealed the real murder weapon.

When questioned about the real murder weapon, Jowers recanted, calling his testimony about the second rifle "bullshit."

After Ray's death, Pepper and the King family turned their attention to Jowers, now a 71-year-old with lung cancer, who had begun to take the fifth when asked about King assassination conspiracies. He would occasionally acknowledge that he played a minor role in the killing of Martin Luther King, but would no longer go into detail.

The King family and Pepper filed a wrongful death suit against Jowers, nut he never appeared in court, citing his failing health. Getting out of bed to face questions about his role in an assassination may not have seemed worthwhile, since the Kings were only seeking $100 in damages.

The ensuing trial, referred to by the King Center as "The Assassination Conspiracy Trial," was just under a month long. While Jowers did not appear, Andrew Young did, along with TV's Judge Joe Brown. Transcripts of the trial show that much of the testimony focused on the FBI's operations, and the extent to which they targeted Martin Luther King. Witnesses also testified that Ray was not a racist. Civil rights leader James Lawson said in court that when he visited Ray in prison, "I could not discern that he was a racist any more than the rest of us are racists."

This view of Ray flies wildly in the face of accepted wisdom about James Earl Ray—mainly that he was a drifter, a career criminal, and a huge racist. Records show that he appeared to support the presidential ambitions of the segregationist candidate George Wallace. Author Hampton Sides—enemy of conspiracy theorists everywhere—is of the opinion that Ray was in Europe when he was arrested because it was a stop on the way to segregated Rhodesia—now known as Zimbabwe—where he would have been admired by white Rhodesians who loathed Martin Luther King. Another fan of Rhodesia under white rule is alleged Charleston shooter Dylann Roof, who sported a Rhodesian flag patch in a famous photo.

In any case, the jury in the civil trial delivered a verdict saying that Jowers was involved in some sort of conspiracy, and thus liable. The rest of the jury's finding was given as a blanket answer to a very long sequence of questions. It's worth reading the entire transcript of that question from the judge:

Judge: "Do you also find that others, including governmental agencies, were parties to this conspiracy as alleged by the defendant? Your answer to that one is also yes. And the total amount of damages you find for the plaintiffs entitled to is $100. Is that your verdict?"

Jury: (in unison) "Yes"

The Kings were elated. "We finally got what we had been asking for: The opportunity to get evidence before a jury," Dexter King told the press. Coretta Scott King invoked her husband's words, saying, "My husband once said that the moral arch (sic) of the universe is long, but it bends towards justice. Today I feel that the jurors' verdict clearly affirms this principle."

The civil court ruling prompted an 18 month inquiry from the Justice Department under then-Attorney General Janet Reno. That inquiry found no evidence of a conspiracy at all. "The verdict presented by the parties and adopted by the jury is incompatible with the weight of all relevant information, much of which the jury never heard," their report from June of 2000 says. That finding, unsurprisingly, doesn't impress conspiracy theorists much.

Three months later, there was another civil ruling with relevance to the King case. Billy Ray Edison, whom Pepper's 1995 book had accused of involvement in King's death, turned out to be alive, and unhappy that a book was calling him a murderer. He sued Pepper for libel, and in October of 2000, a judge awarded him $11 million in damages.

Follow Mike Pearl on Twitter.

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

Like my hero DJ Khaled might say, they don't want you to dream. Why? Because dreams are dangerous. They challenge what is with what could be. But in the 1960s, during the Civil Rights Movement, a lot of folks dared to dream of a time when young blacks like myself could walk with dignity and live without fear as first-class American citizens. Once those in power realized that they could never stop us from dreaming, they tried to trick us into believing we had already achieved that dream.

The first time I ever really grappled with Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream was in a classroom filled with white faces. I was probably passing love notes back and forth with a caucasian crush when the teacher's creaky tape deck finally reeled into the iconic speech's climax. There, the indomitable orator talks about the future, vividly describing a new day when black kids will join hands with "little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers..."

Even as a kid, decades removed from the tumultuous era in which King first delivered that message, his sentiment gripped me. I understood that in some small way, just by sitting in that suburban classroom, I was living out a tiny part of what he had hoped for my generation.

My parents moved us from the predominantly black east side of Cleveland to the west side suburbs in the early 90s so I'd have access to a better education. When I entered that overwhelmingly white elementary school for the first time, I didn't have to face a vicious mob hocking loogies, throwing stones, or threatening to string me up and watch me strangle to death the way that Elizabeth Eckford did when she first tried to integrate Arkansas's Little Rock Central High School in 1957. Shit, I didn't even have to go in through the back door. I walked right in through the front, everyday, sometimes with my pants sagging below my waistline and my hat on backwards.

Years later, when I was 18, I registered to vote. The first time I exercised that right in a presidential election, I cast my ballot for a black man. I accomplished all of this without being intimidated by domestic terrorists like the Ku Klux Klan or their co-conspirators in law enforcement. No one asked me to take an impossible literacy test, and I didn't have to kiss some funky white man's ass so he could vouch for me. I just did it—I voted for our nation's first black president with the same degree of ease one enjoys when grabbing some take-out for dinner.

These experiences—getting the same education as upper middle-class whites, registering to vote and then being able to actually exercise that right—were the spoils of battles fought by people like King, who literally lost their lives to make it so. And I'm not alone in enjoying the fruit of those victories. A large number of young blacks in this country have been able to reach new heights by standing on the broad shoulders of their forebearers.

I see them out there doing their thing. Maybe they graduated from Yale, maybe they studied abroad for six months in Paris to work on their French, maybe they're developing a hookup app for people who work graveyard shifts, or maybe they're running for office as an independent. They're up to all types of shit—cool, elite shit with seemingly few obstacles standing between them and what King called "cashing a check." Of course, the check they're cashing isn't from a bank, but from the American republic. The rights they're enjoying are enshrined in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, those promissory notes from Uncle Sam that have historically bounced for people of color.

Long after the explicit enslavement of blacks ended in 1865, we were still hearing the political equivalent of "insufficient funds" anytime we tried to live like actual first-class citizens. To ensure those checks would cash, there were countless legislative and legal slugfests that culminated with the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which outlawed racial segregation in public places, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, which prohibited Jim Crow laws that often made blacks electorally invisible, especially in the South.

In a perfect world, after the end of Slavery and Jim Crow, you'd think that would have been the end of it. And on the surface, to those unengaged, it was. But in reality, we've quietly been floating farther and farther from that promised land King dreamed about. Despite the anecdotal triumphs of superlative people like Barack Obama and the landmark wins touted around the Civil Rights Movement, when you actually take an inventory of where we as a people stand in America today, you realize that there isn't that much of a difference between Trayvon Martin and Emmett Till, or the 1963 Birmingham church bombing and the 2015 Charleston church shooting.

Just take education. Although the schools are no longer explicitly segregated along racial lines, they are still separate and unequal in practice. We made great strides in the afterglow of the Civil Rights era, but since the 90s, black student attendance at mostly-white schools has been dropping steadily. According to a report by the Civil Rights Project at UCLA, a mere 23 percent of blacks attended majority white schools in 2011—the same percentage as in 1968. This is important because teachers at schools with a majority of minority students typically are paid less and thus lack the experience and certifications of those teaching in white schools. According to a 2012 report by the Center for American Progress, the more students of color in a school, the fewer funds spent per student. Raise the percentage of minority students in a school by 10, and the spending per student decreases by $75.

One key aspect of this is the fact that public schools in most states across the country are funded through property taxes. Historically, most blacks live in areas with lower relative property value, and thus are receiving cheaper educations. Although it was easy for me to walk into the front door of my predominantly white high school in the 90s, I was there strictly thanks to the superhuman feats performed by my parents, who cobbled together enough money to move to an area with high-enough property values to support good public schools. To make that move, they knowingly dealt with housing discrimination and acquiesced to borrowing at an incredibly high rate for their new home, despite having good credit and being gainfully-employed city police officers. To keep up with the payments, they'd go straight from the police station to part-time security gigs, working 50 to 70 hours a week, until they finally refinanced the house several years later.

This struggle that many blacks face just to get their kids a decent education is wholly un-American, and its persistence means the institutional racism leaders like King dreamed would die out remains. Most parents are not able to make the drastic moves my parents did to put me on the right track, which is probably why through my entire academic career, from elementary school in Ohio through graduate school in New York City, I have often been the only black person in the room. As an adult, working at a fancy media company, it's the same deal. And as long we continue to have a segregated and unequal education system in this country, I don't see that changing much anytime soon.

Surprisingly, voting trends in this country are almost as dispiriting as those facing schools. In King's "Dream" speech, he said that, "We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote..." Today, we shouldn't just be unsatisfied—we should be fucking furious. Despite the great progress made with the Voting Rights Act of 1965, we are backsliding at such rapid pace that it's scary to think where black participation in electoral politics might be if the trend continues. Although black youth in Mississippi don't face the same belligerent obstacles they may have in the early 20th century, the new challenges are almost more insidious because they're so low-key.

Many of these changes came after I so casually cast my vote for Barack Obama in 2008, an election that saw black voters turn out at a higher rate than whites. The developments we've seen as of late are focused on making sure that doesn't happen in 2016. Under the false specter of voter fraud, states across the country have been issuing laws that, while not explicitly racist, disproportionately impact black voters.

Voter ID laws are the signature example. They've popped up in states from Texas to Virginia, requiring that citizens show a state ID in order to vote. In practice, they represent what Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg has called—in a nod to the Jim Crow era—an "unconstitutional poll tax." This is because, according to the government's General Accounting Office (GAO), blacks don't tend to have the various forms of ID these new laws demand of would-be voters. And at the same time that these ID requirements have been popping up, states like Alabama have limited the number of places one can acquire an ID.

As in the Jim Crow era, the powers that be aren't using nooses and hoods to shut us out of electoral politics—they're leaning on bureaucratic red tape.

Democratic campaign poster from 1866 via Wikimedia Commons

Although there are activists and lawyers fighting against these changes, the greatest weapon against institutionalized racism within our voting process, the Voting Rights Act, was neutered by the Supreme Court in 2013. Before the Voting Rights Act, when citizens felt their state had a discriminatory voting policy, they'd have to mount a long-ass legal battle that would take forever to make any impact on their lives. In the meantime, that contested regulation would stay on the books. But Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act made it so that states with historically racist voting policies would have to get all of the changes to their voting policies—such as ID laws—cleared by the feds before they could go into effect, putting the onus on the states to prove that their new laws weren't racist. For all intents purposes, we are now back at square one with this shit, with historically racist states free to enact new laws that could potentially disenfranchise blacks. And if citizens want to fight back, they have to lawyer up.

When it comes to voting, though, there's even more funky shit happening connected to our broken justice system. Mass incarceration that's accelerated since the 1980s has played a tremendous role in disenfranchising black voters. Nearly 1.4 million voting eligible black male voters will not be able to cast a ballot in 2016 because several states put restrictions on the voting rights of felons. Nine states bar felons from voting for life, while 32 prohibit felons from voting during their sentence and while they are on parole. Although we claim to be a beacon of democracy for the world, we're in the minority in regards to the way we disenfranchise convicts. Out of 45 countries surveyed by the non-profit ProCon, only three other countries ban felons from voting after they've served their prison sentences; even in Russia, you get your rights restored after you leave the big house.

As politicians on both sides of the isle continue to rethink the war on drugs, it's important to remember that one of the reasons our incarceration rate has been able to soar beyond countries like China or North Korea is that the people most impacted by our broken justice system have no voice in America's democracy.

So we're up against a wily foe—a master at deception and misdirection. We've warred with him through slavery, through Jim Crow, and now through a more covert brand of apartheid comprised of "colorblind" laws that weave white supremacy so deep into the fabric of American life, it's hard to spot them from afar. In King's "Dream" speech, he called the imperative to stand up against the oppression of his day "the fierce urgency of now." Today, we're standing at a similar precipice.

The good news is that an exciting new civil rights movement has been coalescing to meet this challenge. This is, of course, a dangerous proposition. King himself was gunned down in the midst of his fight for the dream on April 4, 1968. And just as we haven't seen the last of entrenched white supremacy in our schools and in our electoral politics, we probably haven't seen the end of violence used to silence our dreamers.

Yet in spite of the obstacles that loom ahead of us, I still believe we can reach that promised land. From the political action of Black Lives Matter to the anthems of Kendrick Lamar, we've got what we need to make sure that one day, when our kids are sitting in an elementary classroom and hear King belt "free at last, free at last" over some strange, new fangled inner-ear audio device, it's no mere aspiration—but a statement of fact.

Follow Wilbert Cooper on Twitter.

Fyl tattoos a semicircle on his face. Later in the show, he will also ink his nostrils.

This article originally appeared on VICE Netherlands

Belgian band Tat2noisact combine two things I'm really uncomfortable with: singing in front of an audience and being tattooed in front of an audience. Every new show, for them, means new DIY tattoos – the designs of which based on the rhythm of their music. It doesn't really matter what they end up looking like, because apparently it's all about the energy stemming from the combination of pain and noise.

Just after Christmas, the band spent a few days in Schaarbeek – a city just outside of Brussels. At the end of their stay, they put on a show for a small group of friends. I also happened to be in the area so I dropped by for a chat.

VICE: HI guys, how the idea to tattoo yourselves during your shows come about?
Kostek: It all kind of started back in 2005 when I opened a tattoo studio in Brussels. I was already occasionally jamming with Fyl and we both liked tattoos. So we just thought, "We like tattoos and we like music. Why not combine the two?" That was basically it.
Fyl: Then some others joined, and all of a sudden we were a band. Or rather, an act.
Kostek: At first it was just a joke. We thought it would just be a one-time thing. We had our first show behind one of the windows in the Red Light District in Brussels.

What's it like to be tattooed while you're playing? Do you play or sing differently?
Fyl: It feels very natural to me. Singing and getting inked is a great combination. You don't notice the pain. I actually think I am a better vocalist when I am being tattooed.
David: I did have to adapt my rhythm techniques, because getting tattooed while drumming is kind of distracting.

How does the audience react to your shows? Do they also get tattooed?
Joakim: We love to play in the middle of a crowd, but in Paris everyone keeps their distance. In Brussels they know us by now, so they are more energetic and not afraid of coming closer.
Kostek: Sometimes people from the audience want to be tattooed as well, but that's not something we're into. You need another set of sterile needles and all that. We did tattoo a fan on stage this one time, because he asked in advance if we could tattoo a gold bar on his balls.
Joakim: You can't always stop the crowd from trying to get tattooed though. Someone tattooed his own arm once with a broken guitar string that was lying around.

Are there any parts of your body that you wouldn't let come near with a needle?
Kostek: Yeah, my left hand. My girlfriend wants me to leave that blank. It's the only part of my body that's remained untouched. My face isn't much of a problem, but my left hand stays clean.
Fyl: Not for me. Sometimes I tattoo my face, sometimes I don't. Looking in the mirror always takes some getting used to the day after a show. But I don't do it because I hate myself, or anything like that – I'm a pretty happy guy. Of course some people look at me like I'm insane, but I just smile back and say hello. This is just who I am and what I look like.

Frontman Fyl's back

Do you start the tattoos with a specific idea in mind or is it mostly just random patterns?
Kostek: Sometimes I have something in mind, sometimes I don't. It really depends on the rhythm of the music. Joakim invented a machine that amplifies the sound of the tattoo needles. So when we tattoo during a show, we're are also making music with those machines. If my arm wasn't so fully inked already, it would almost look as if we wrote the music on our bodies.

How would you describe your sound?
Fyl: Well, we're actually pretty eclectic. Sometimes our sound is a little punk rock and other times it's more like noise, hardcore or even afrobeat.
Joakim: These days our sound is a lot more structured, though. It used to be mostly noise – it was just about the energy and the tattoos. But we have been doing this for 10 years now, so we've become better songwriters over the years. We rehearse every week but we don't tattoo every week.

The band prefer to play for smaller audiences

Sex-workers' rights activists marching in Soho in 2014 (Photo by Jake Lewis)

This article originally appeared on VICE UK

On Friday the 15th of January, the Home Affairs Committee, a cross-party group of MPs, announced that it will hold an inquiry into how sex work is treated in legislation. So far, so good. We badly need this. Ask most UK sex workers and they'll tell you the current law is dangerous and shambolic.

So bring on reform. Finally, some evidence-based policy! But not so fast, harlots. If you think your safety lies at the heart of this debate, you'd be mistaken. The inquisitors have already decided what they are looking for. Their aim is this: to find out "whether further measures are necessary, including legal reforms, to discourage demand".

"In particular, the inquiry will assess whether the balance in the burden of criminality should shift to those who pay for sex rather than those who sell it," reads the launch statement.

So this will be the scope of the investigation: it's not a question of if someone must pay the price for the sordid transaction, it's just a matter of whom. It's like launching an investigation into the legislation around weed and framing the debate as: "We all agree that cannabis is evil. So should the dealer or the smoker go to jail?"

Before the inquiry even begins, its terms of reference are so loaded with assumption that objective debate has already been stifled. And this is a tragedy because real change is desperately needed.

At present, fucking for a living is legal, but you can be arrested for brothel-keeping. Unfortunately, "brothel-keeping" could simply mean your friend hangs out in the next room to keep you safe. Meanwhile, it's perfectly legal to exchange blowjobs for cash, but touting for business on the street can land you a record for soliciting (unless you work in Leeds' new regulated zone).

This bullshit legislative situation, which doesn't put workers' safety as a primary concern, has real implications. Since 1990, 151 sex workers have been murdered in the UK and an estimated two-thirds have experienced violence at work. This is your ducking stool, hookers: how much danger and persecution can you take until you realise what you're doing is an affront to the moral order?

But maybe it would be fairer to blame the people paying for sex rather than those selling it? However, criminalising clients (the so-called Nordic model) isn't going to make anyone safer. It doesn't take a genius to work out that paranoid, jumpy men make dangerous clients. Paris Lees hammered that point home in her piece about making sex work safer here, and I discussed it here, and here's a study from Norway where clients are criminalised showing that trafficking cases are on the rise, and here's a British Medical Journal Study showing that criminalisation of clients in Vancouver increased the risks of violence. In December last year, sex workers, outreach workers, NGOs and academics from ten countries gave evidence in parliament decrying the Nordic model and calling for full decriminalisation.

But such is whore-hatred that, according to the inquiry's launch statement, all of this is rendered invisible.

The inquiry will focus heavily on trafficking, which would be all well and good if it weren't for the fact that UK's biggest ever investigation of sex trafficking failed to find a single person who had forced anyone into prostitution. London's last two big police operations – one in the "clean up" before the Olympics, the other in Soho – similarly failed to find the expected trafficked women. That leaves a lot of sex workers outside the focus of this inquiry.

The committee is calling for evidence around "what the implications are for prostitution-related offences of the Crown Prosecution Service's recognition of prostitution as violence against women". This is a weirdly worded sentence but one which clearly owes its worldview to abolitionist radical feminists, in whose eyes no woman could willingly choose to sell sex. The thing is, they do.

Prostitution isn't violence against women. Violence happens within the industry but suggesting that every transaction is rape obfuscates the real dangers. By extension, if every lost, sex-selling wench who believes they've actually chosen to do this work is simply deluded, then what's the point in listening to them?

Sex workers have been screaming into the void. Had the Home Affairs Committee paid attention, they'd have heard – again and again – that some people like their job, some hate it, but neither condition renders them incapable of making choices. It seems though that anyone who doesn't self-define as a victim has been ignored; their voice treated as white noise.

The inquiry's terms of reference contain not one mention of working conditions, not a breath about decriminalisation, the model which Amnesty International and sex worker-led organisations around the world are calling for.

Watch: The Digital Love Industry

Despite this, James Berry, Conservative MP for Kingston and Surbiton, a member of the Home Affairs Committee, has said he's keen to hear all points of view and denies that the initial terms are biased, telling VICE:

"A Select Committee inquiry is very broad – it does not start with a premise and tries to explore all the arguments before reaching a conclusion. So there is no 'end goal' for the inquiry and since the select committee has members from the three main parties (Conservative, Labour, SNP) there is likely to be a variety of different views once we have heard all the evidence."

I want to believe him, but from where I'm standing the inquiry doesn't start from a neutral place and therefore its conclusions have already been nudged along a particular path.

In this, the inquiry is reminiscent of last year's All Party Parliamentary Group on Prostitution, which relied on dodgy statistics and was called out for repeatedly misquoting sources. Sex workers successfully defended themselves then and now they must do so again.

But for a parliamentary inquiry to use such loaded terms of reference should worry you, whatever your stance. It's not debate. It's a myopic circle jerk of prejudice. The inquisition has already decided that prostitution is heresy and they will, no doubt, find confirmation.

The inquiry is calling for submissions, so if you have something to say, you can send it here.

@frankiemullin

More from VICE:

How to Make Sex Work Safer in 2016

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All screengrabs from Instagram

This article originally appeared on VICE Alps

Ana, Annie, Bella, Deb, Mia, Perry, Sue and Sophie aren't real girls. They're abbreviations for mental health issues and eating disorders used by teenagers looking to band together through personal stories on Instagram. Ana, for example, appears to stand for 'Anorexia'. Annie means 'Anxiety' and Bella 'Borderline', while Sophie is 'Schizophrenia'. Yet, there is one hashtag that seems to be cropping up more and more often on social media in recent months: #Sue for "Suicidal".

While Anas (anorexics) and Mias (bulimics) seem to basically interact on forums and WhatsApp groups, Sues mostly connect on Instagram. Instead of fighting against their depression, these teenage girls have managed to turn the disorder into a fundamental part of their identity.

According to youth worker Patrizia Castelli, "the rampant flow of information and the unlimited possibilities for consumption on the internet pose a large problem for people with such preconditions." This is supported by a number of studies examining the dangers and risks that come with joining an online community.

Personifying their illness seems to not only bring these young women together but to also validate and glorify the condition in the process. It's only among their fellow sufferers that these girls get a sense of community. Suddenly, being at odds with the world becomes revered; In their minds, the teens are not sick – they are special.

In our eyes, everyone who commits suicide becomes an angel. If your whole life was spent in hell, you belong in heaven. We envy those girls for having the courage to do what we all want to do, but we also respect them for bearing so many years before ending it all.

Looking up #sue on Instagram generates countless posts that relate to suicide – and Instagram is aware of the problem. If you type #sue into the search box, you'll be confronted with the warning: "Please be advised: These posts may contain graphic content. For information and support with suicide or self-harm please tap on learn more." Clicking on that link takes you to suicide prevention website, Befrienders Worldwide.

In early December 2015, images of the word 'Angel' written on the wrists of young Sues made the rounds of German-speaking Instagram, under the hashtag #respektvorsuizidengeln (#respectforsuicideangels). Apparently, one Instagram user had started the hashtag to pay homage to all those Sues who had already killed themselves.

Frank Köhnlein, a youth psychiatrist at the University Clinic in Basel, explains the dangers posed by such movements: "Young people who are already fragile and perhaps already have experience with self-harm could be massively stimulated by this sort of thing and encouraged to self-harm again. When self-harm is glorified or – as in this case – put into an almost religious context, so that it is evaluated positively, the risk is particularly high."

When I contact the psychological support service for young people in Zurich (where I am from) and ask them about the issue, I'm told they have never heard of the Sue hashtag. That makes the danger of online communities all the more clear; The hidden meanings and regularity of these hashtags is hard to chart, so it's equally hard to develop an effective course of action against them.

UK mental health charity Mind, on the other hand, are aware of the issue: "We know that lots of people find online forums helpful, particularly if they are unable to confide in friends or don't have strong social networks. We would encourage those people to visit online peer support networks like Mind's Elefriends website where people can discuss their problems with others who are going through similar experiences and talk about potential solutions," says Eve Critchley, Digital Community Manager at Mind.

Of course, the worship of psychological crisis is at the centre of this phenomenon. I first encountered the symbol of the angel in a pro-Ana WhatsApp chat I infiltrated for the purposes of an earlier article. The members of the group told me they believed they had been angels in a former life. Apparently, their shoulder blades are the place where their wings once were – the bonier the shoulder blades, the closer one is to turning into an angel again. Quite literally, as Anorexia Nervosa has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder in adolescence.

Moreover, approximately 20 to 40 percent of those deaths are thought to result from suicide. In my attempt to understand even the tiniest fraction of their reality, this time around I spoke to a Sue who asked to remain anonymous – so let's call her, Leandra.

This dynamic bares a lot of similarities to that of a sect: The concept serves the group, but damages the individual members.

Leandra started by explaining what #respectforsuicideangel means: "In our eyes, everyone who commits suicide becomes an angel. If your whole life was spent in hell, you belong in heaven. We envy those girls for having the courage to do what we all want to do, but we also respect them for bearing so many years before ending it all."

This dynamic, naturally, bares a lot of similarities to that of a sect. According to Susanne Schaaf from the Swiss Office for Sect Issues what's sect-like in this case is "this internal logic that blocks out aspects of reality. These 'Sues' have developed an almost ideological structure, within which young people who have committed suicide are called angels. Their 'act of bravery' is admired and they are 'honoured' by having the word 'Angel' scrawled over the patently symbolic wrist."

But Schaaf recognises another dangerous pattern here: "Killing oneself is re-imagined as freeing oneself. We don't classify this movement as a religious phenomenon, but images used in an ideological context are instrumental in reinforcing, justifying and promoting these thoughts, feelings and actions in young people. The concept serves the group, but damages the individual members."

Watch VICE's documentary, 'Aokigahara Suicide Forest':

For Leandra, "being a part of the community is wonderful. You feel understood. Everyone has the same or at least similar problems – no-one is judged because everyone knows what it's like to be judged. No-one has to pretend they are someone else. You're accepted just as you are."

Fear of judgment is a focal reason why teens suffering from mental health issues don't confide in anyone else. Rather than being offered the help they sorely need, many Sues are met with incomprehension and spite in their close environment. So, ironically, they look for stability in the supposedly safe anonymity of the web.

Frank Köhnlein also notes that those teenagers should not be accused of being attention-seekers. "Even if someone appears to 'only' want attention, it's worth a closer look. After all, we all more or less want attention. The question is: Why does someone choose such a self-destructive path to get it?"

If you are concerned about someone you know, it is important to avoid passing judgment and seek a conversation instead: "Such behaviour should always be addressed," says Köhnlein. "If they respond evasively and you have grounds for concern – for example because the child shows other signs of depression – I would recommend seeing an expert: A paediatrician, a child and youth psychiatrist or a psychologist."

When it comes to measures one can take if they start spotting warning signs in their own behaviour, Mind's Eve Critchley adds: "I would encourage people to be aware of how they are feeling when they are online and, if they are feeling vulnerable, to take a break from their computer or phone. We would also ask people to consider whether the things they post online could be triggering for others and to use a trigger warning if necessary, so that others can make an informed decision about whether they want to look or not."

If you are concerned about the mental health of you or someone you know, visit the Mental Health America website.

Read: The VICE Guide to Mental Health

Bowie and Lemmy (Photos by Hunter Desportes and PS Parrot)

This article originally appeared on VICE UK

In the prologue of Lemmy's autobiography, White Line Fever, he tells a story about getting on a plane to go to the Grammy awards.

I had a pint of Jack Daniels in my pocket: I always find it helps with the sobering up. As we taxied elegantly out on to the sun-drenched tarmac, I took a sip and mused pleasantly on this and that.

A voice: "Give me that bottle!" I looked up; a stewardess with concrete hair and a mouth like an asshole repeated itself, as history will – "Give me that bottle!"

Well, I don't know what you might have done, honoured reader, but the fucking thing was bought and paid for. No chance. I volunteered this information. The reply: "If you don't give me that bottle, I shall put you off the plane!"

This was becoming interesting; we were about fifth in the queue for take-off, were already late, and this boneheaded bitch was going to take us out of the line for one pint of Jack Daniels? "Fair enough, I said. "Put my ass off this fucking plane right now," or words to that effect. And can you believe it, the stupid cretin did it! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! She made all those people late and miss their connections in New York, all for a pint of the amber pick-me-up... So what? Fuck her! And the horse she rode in on!

What a cool guy! You showed that bitch! As a wealthy rock star, you definitely should not have simply handed over the booze and bought some duty-free on the plane. I bet that's how I would have seen it if I was standing in the queue, being made to miss my connection, watching a drunk rock star being rude to someone on a lower pay grade over some JD. You are not a messy, drunk idiot, Lemmy!

When I was a teenager Lemmy was my absolute hero and I thought this yarn was yet another example of his badass mystique. I played bass in a band, and even though we were sort of mix between The Used and Panic! At the Disco, I wore a bullet-belt and aviators, to which I ridiculously attached spectacle strings in case they fell off while I was awkwardly head-banging on the stage of a community centre in Merton.

He seemed to be everything that I wanted to be but wasn't. He was a shagger, I was a virgin. He was drinking JD and coke all day, I struggled to get served with a fake ID. He was cool, I wasn't.

It would be difficult to overstate how much I wanted to believe Lemmy influenced my adolescence at the time, and how much I wanted to be like him. I remember being in situations and genuinely thinking, "what would Lemmy do?" In fact, I would have been too shy and indecisive to do whatever Lemmy would have had me doing. I had a T-shirt designed by him with the slogan, "Quid me anxius sum?" ("what, am I worried?" in Latin) but anyone who knows me knows the answer to that is "Semper". Still, "Born to Lose, Live to Win" is a very seductive slogan when you're a bit of an awkward loser with an outsider mentality, even if you were actually born into a family with a company car.

Despite this, when he died recently, I did very little to mourn. I botched a crap pun about the Motörhead song "Killed By Death" on Twitter (mainly as an excuse to share this killer live version). Then I delivered the same joke/tribute much better on Facebook, out of a slight feeling of obligation. That was pretty much it.

Compare this to the mass grief at David Bowie dying. No one was better than him. People my age had first memories about him. His cross-generational appeal bought families together. He was a "revolutionary", said Paul Mason. What struck me wasn't so much that people were saying this stuff, more that everyone was saying this stuff. This says as much about my social media circles as anything, but there seemed to be no ceiling to how heartfelt the tributes were.

Me looking annoyed at something in a picturesque French village in 2013, rocking my faded "Inferno" t-shirt – what an album. Isn't the guitar solo on "Keys to the Kingdom" great? (Photo by Lucy Arditti)

My first thought was, what had I missed out on? (Sure I know the hits from parties and bars and adverts, I like them, but I missed the impactful bit where he changes your life forever). But secondly, why had I failed to connect with my own hero in the same way?

I first lost touch with Lemmy reading an interview with him in November 2010 in the Independent on Sunday, where he comes across as a somber singleton rather than a carefree bachelor. He also comes across as a bit of a prick:

"Women always left me because I wouldn't commit, but then nothing changes a relationship like commitment. If you move in with someone, you lose all respect for them." How so? "All them dirty knickers on the towel rail, all that snorting and farting. Does that appeal to you? Because it doesn't to me. When you first start dating someone, it's all about being on your best behaviour, and that initial magic. I never wanted the magic to stop."

There's so much to commend in Lemmy's worldview: his fuck-you attitude to authority, his intolerance for bullshit, but an inability to live with woman as soon as they do basic human stuff didn't seem like the behaviour of someone I saw as a role model.

In that same interview, he's photographed wearing Nazi clothes. "Look, as I've always said, it's not my fault the bad guys had the best shit," he explains, "But by collecting Nazi memorabilia, it doesn't mean I'm a fascist, or a skinhead. I'm not. I just liked the clobber... I've always liked a good uniform, and throughout history, it's always been the bad guy who dressed the best: Napoleon, the Confederates, the Nazis. If we had a good uniform, I'd collect ours as well, but what does the British Army have? Khaki. Makes them look like like a fucking swamp frog..."

Knowing his worldview pretty well, it's obvious to me he's not a Nazi, and unfair to suggest otherwise. Nevertheless, where in teenage naivety I had been able to get on board with the idea that it's fine to wear fascist uniforms if the tailoring is particularly nicely done, I no longer could. If someone who didn't have a voice like a chainsaw and a bass sound like thunder said they "just liked the clothes" of the Third Reich, I would think twice before letting them my house, let alone buying their T-shirts.

Shortly after, I was seeing them live, and near the end, dancing girls came on to accompany the band. I'd seen them three times previously when they didn't have have dancers. This was tacky. The coolest motherfucker on earth seemed surprisingly uncool. Don't get me wrong, the songs still ruled, and he could still carry himself better than I ever could, but for me, the spell was broken.

Motörhead loomed smaller in my life. You're less likely to want to listen to songs about one-night-stands you wished you were having when you're 20 with a girlfriend than you are at 15 kissing a bottle of White Lightning in a children's playground before throwing it up on yourself. I got obsessed with Weezer instead. Rivers Cuomo's possessive, needy interpretation of relationships seemed to suit my head-over-heels situation better. It also really helped me misunderstand and draw out getting over the subsequent messy break-up. Thanks Rivers! (I forgive you, Rivers. Never leave me.)

And yet, watching the stream of Lemmy's funeral bought a small lump to my throat. Not as much as the videos of Lemmy's voice giving out on stage as his health started to fail him, which I found too sad to watch to the end. Given his habits, the fact that Lemmy didn't die years ago made me think he was invincible and it was horrible to see that this wasn't the case. We had grown a bit estranged but he still meant a great deal to me.

All of which raises the question: how many failings can people have before they become unworthy of veneration? What do you do when you became sentimentally attached to someone whose worldview you have largely left behind, or who did things or held views you were unaware of when their art first made an impression?

Bowie and Lemmy again (Lemmy photo by Justin Staple)

Both Lemmy and Bowie's biggest drawbacks are pretty notable and surprisingly similar given how different they were artistically. Lemmy was open about his fascination with Nazi memorabilia (after his death I saw someone on Twitter saying, "Can we talk about Lemmy's Nazi memorabilia collection or is it still too soon?" as if in life it had been a dirty secret). His insistence that it didn't make him a Nazi hasn't satisfied some people, and before long you could see on social media the accusation that Lemmy was a racist.

Bowie, meanwhile, sang in "China Girl" of "visions of swastikas in my head/Plans for everyone", was photographed raising an apparent Nazi salute, described the Thin White Duke "a very Aryan, fascist type" and also collected Nazi paraphernalia. He blamed this fascination on being fucked up on drugs and said moving to Berlin bought him "crashing down to earth" when it came to Nazis.

Then there are young girls. Lemmy wrote a song called Jailbait – an unambiguous ode to underaged girls. He talks pretty openly about this kind of thing in White Line Fever: "Her name was Sue and she was the first girl I ever lived with. She was all of 15 when we first got together – most embarrassing if caught by the police, but there you go. I was just 21 when we met in 1967 anyway, so I wasn't exactly some randy old geezer. More like two randy young ones!"

Ditto Bowie's past with young groupies, when he was in his 20s. Does that mean it's gross to call Bowie a hero? This week Salon interviewed sex expert Carol Queen, and she warned against labelling people as "victims in retrospect... it's not very respectful to what we thought we were doing at the time. I say 'we' not because I was a groupie, but because I was a teenager in the 70s who was a sexual adventurer." Still, awkward questions remain, in particular about rock star entitlement.

Watch: VICE Talks Film with Mike Leigh

Is the best policy to simply not deal with this stuff? That doesn't work, because someone will take a quote out of context and start calling your hero, whose work they never really engaged with in life, a fascist on his deathbed.

Maybe we can look to Juan Thompson, the son of Hunter S. Thompson, who has recently published a memoir to better remember his his dad. He did this because, as he told the Guardian: "So much of [the media coverage] really focused on this crazy gonzo journalist. I felt this compulsion to point out that there was this other dimension to him, as a person and as a writer." In the book, he writes, "whatever my father's greater virtues were as a writer, a warrior, and a wise man – in his daily life he was a basket case, or in the vocabulary of the time: dysfunctional."

It seems that to do these people justice, we should work out a way to remember them beyond a social media spiral that sees breathless beatification turn into the justification for an spiteful and poorly researched blow-back from people who can't feel part of the veneration.

Another trait that Bowie and Lemmy supposedly shared is being something other than human. When he died, people called Bowie an "alien" – so good he couldn't possibly be human. The video for Motörhead's "Born to Raise Hell" ends with a clip from the film Airheads, the opening credits of which include the song.

Chazz (Brendan Fraser): "Who'd live in a wrestling match, Lemmy or God?"
Chris: "Lemmy."
Rex (Steve Buscemi):
Chris: "God."
Rex: "Wrong. Trick question, Lemmy is God."

That's all fine, as a way to enjoy characters whose charisma elevates them above most other people. But part of the solution here is surely having a more critically engaged culture in the first place, and that means treating people as humans rather than gods or aliens, or jumping to the conclusion that they're monsters.

Apart from that, all I want to say is: thanks, Lemmy, for the absolute fucking electricity that goes up my spine when I put on your music way too loud.

@SimonChilds13

More from VICE:

Misfits and Weirdos Everywhere Owe David Bowie Their Tears

How Meeting Lemmy Helped Save My Life

Photos of Bowie Fans Celebrating His Life with a Singalong in Brixton

Image via Vancouver Police Department

A British family on vacation in Vancouver were mistaken for potential terrorists by social media and local police last week when pictures were published of them photographing the inside of a shopping mall.

Mohammed Kareem and Salahuddin Sharaz were taking pictures inside Pacific Centre Mall last Tuesday when security cam photos of them were leaked by Vancity Buzz, later validated by the Vancouver Police Department as part of an investigation into a "suspicious incident."

Shortly after the official press release, their images were circulated widely on social media and media websites, with much speculation around whether the men were potential terrorists.

Not long after, the two men and one of their fathers came forward to dispel rumours—noting that both Kareem and Sharaz have visual impairments and that they were taking photos in order to see the mall better.

"These guys can't even see! And you expect them to be pulling off something big," Mohammed Sharaz, the father of one of the men, told the CBC.

"Because of this terrorist issue, 'they got a beard,' that's why they think we're terrorists," said Kareem. "But not everyone is the same, which we need to say. We are not Middle-Eastern, we are Briton."

The father adds that, unlike most people, the two men have to take pictures of just about everything to see things clearly and that's not unusual for them to take photos or video of events, only to rewatch them on their phones.

"My friend, when he looks at anything head on, he doesn't see like me and you do. So he'll take a picture or a movie, and then later on when he gets back, he zooms into it and he watches stuff," said Sharaz. "He takes pictures of anything and everything."

According to Sharaz, the trio was only in Vancouver to receive treatment for the men's disease—retinitis pigmentosa—at a local wellness clinic and spent $6,000 on the trip in total.

Despite an apology from the police and the mayor of Vancouver himself, Sharaz worries that the family will be harassed due to their photos still existing on the web. He is also concerned about flying to and from the UK now, noting that he has asked the police to accompany him to the airport in order to ensure there are no errors when he and his family try to board their return flight home.

It's not an unsurprising request considering Canada's recent track record of absurd "flight risks."

Follow Jake Kivanc on Twitter.

St. John's, Newfoundland. Photo via Flickr user Kenny Louie

It's been less than two months since the last election, and by all accounts Newfoundland and Labrador's new Liberal government has already burned through its honeymoon. The finances are a lot worse than anyone expected—almost a billion dollars worse. There are a lot of reasons for this, but mainly it's because oil is in the shitter and no one made a backup plan. Apparently basing your entire society on the price of a single commodity and assuming that it would make bank forever is a really bad idea! Hindsight is always 20/20, etc.

The situation is so dire that at least one economist has gone on the record saying the province could go bankrupt unless the new government takes bold, drastic action. But this is Premier Dwight Ball, a man who seems deathly allergic to taking a bold stance on anything. The man seems liable to have a nervous breakdown when asked how he takes his coffee.

So, in lieu of articulating a daring vision to confront the province's problems head on, the Liberals have instead opted to spend 15 months asking people what to do. And this is on top of the several months of consultations they held last year in the run-up to the election. In all likelihood, this is less because they're really committed to democratic empowerment and more so that when they do inevitably decide to bring in a series of brutal austerity measures, they'll be able to shrug and say, "You asked for it."

But since the Newfoundland and Labrador government is looking for your feedback, you may as well offer it up. The Liberals have set up a website where people can go and anonymously submit their ideas on how to raise revenue, save money, and increase "efficiency and innovation" in government.

So far, the #1 rated idea for how to fix the government is a communist revolution.

Personally, I endorse this solution wholeheartedly. It's been a while since anyone's seized the means of production and I think Labrador could really benefit from a boom in the Gulag industry.

Tragically, Premier Ball has rejected his people's thirst for a government founded on the omnipotent revolutionary science of Marxism-Leninism. So much for the promise of cheap vodka and human emancipation.

With the immediate implementation of full communism off the table (for now), I felt it was time to take matters into my own hands. But the fascists in the Office of Public Engagement were having none of it.

Public Engagement my ass. More like Office of Public Enragement, am I right folks? Yes I am.

I needed a drink after this devastating news. Fortunately, this guy has me covered.

Undeterred by government censors, I came up with an idea that would really curl the island's toes.

And then if we can get Broad Cove to Come By Chance, we'll be all set.

Speaking of fucking up the province's geography for fun and profit, this one is an oldie but a goodie.

All jokes aside, this is the most sane idea on the website right now:

A couple province-wide 50/50 draws would clear that deficit up in no time. Can't be any worse than whatever this terminally unimaginative government will come up with on it's own. Desperate times, and all that. May as well throw a couple wacky ideas at the wall and see what sticks. Why the fuck not?

We have to move fast, though. Too much dithering and they might just take our democracy away.

I mean, it wouldn't be the first time.

Follow Drew Brown on Twitter.

Matthew Hutchinson, pictured above, was a student hockey player from Vancouver studying at State University of New York in Geneseo. Photo via Twitter

On Sunday, authorities in a small town south of Rochester, New York, responded to a frantic call from a father who said his son had called to tell him the he had just killed his girlfriend and that he was going to kill himself. By the time the police arrived at the home, it was too late: three people, one of whom was a student athlete from British Columbia, were dead.

Angry white people. Photo via Flickr user cometstarmoo

A college in Portland, Oregon is closely examining what it means to be white as part of its upoming Whiteness History Month.

Portland Community College said it will deconstruct the origins of "whiteness" as part of the project, which aims to "inspire innovative and practical solutions to community issues and social problems that stem from racism."

Unlike Black History Month, Whiteness History Month, to take place in April, is "not a celebratory endeavor," according to organizers with the school's Cascade Campus Diversity Council. (Sorry, racists.)

A mandate posted online says the idea is to look at how idea of whiteness has created a racial hierarchy resulting in oppression amongst non-white communities.

"Whiteness originates racism," the outline says, noting the campus' own research has shown whiteness is "embedded in the overall college climate."

By implementing Whiteness History Month, organizers hope to "create a nationally renowned culture for diversity, equity, and inclusion."

As progressive as it sounds, not everyone is pleased about the endeavour, with one Conservative news agency dubbing it "Hate Whitey Month" and another outlet describing it as "whiteness shaming."

Follow Manisha Krishnan on Twitter.

In anticipation of the upcoming fourth season of our HBO show which will premiere this February, we are releasing all of season three for free online. Watch all the episodes here, and don't miss the premiere of season four on Friday, February 5, at 11PM on HBO.

Over the course of one week last spring, more than 100 teenagers in Dallas overdosed on a drug called K2. In August, the governor of New Hampshire declared a state of emergency after 44 overdoses were linked to the bubblegum flavor of a drug called "Smacked." This is the world of synthetic drugs, manmade chemical compounds often engineered to skirt narcotics laws—and some of the most frequently abused substances in American high schools.

The makers of these drugs race to keep ahead of law enforcement by making incremental changes in the compounds' molecular structure, even though the effects of those alterations can turn out to be dangerous.

In this episode from season three of our HBO show, VICE correspondent Hamilton Morris tracked these chemicals back to the Chinese factories where many are made and met the godfather of modern synthetic drugs at his remote lab in New Zealand.

In our second segment, VICE followed the stories of homosexuals and transsexuals in Iran as they navigate the country's terrifying cultural landscape.

In anticipation of the upcoming fourth season of our HBO show which will premiere this February, we are releasing all of season three for free online. Watch all the episodes here, and don't miss the premiere of season four on Friday, February 5, at 11PM on HBO.

We rely on antibiotics to treat everything from stomach bugs to skin rashes to bronchitis. In fact, we've been overusing them—and in doing so giving rise to a new crop of dangerous bacterial infections that can't be treated by anything available at the pharmacy. The more we use antibiotics, the more we help these superbugs build up their resistance. It's an evolutionary battle, and humans are losing.

The projections are dire: according to some experts, antibiotic-resistant bacteria could kill ten million people a year by 2050, surpassing cancer deaths. With their backs to the wall, scientists are now racing to find new natural sources of anti-bacterial compounds.

In this episode from season three of our HBO show, Thomas Morton tagged along with the scientists searching deep in the jungle and even deeper underground for the life-saving drugs we so desperately need.

Then, Ben Anderson headed to Indonesia, where palm oil growers are pushing further and further onto rainforest land to keep up with the world's demand for the cheap alternative to trans fats. The mass-burning of Indonesian jungles poses a major threat to wildlife, indigenous populations, and our global climate, so we wanted to see the realities of the palm oil boom up close.

(Photo via Flickr user Cabrera Photo)

Building a solid clientele of returning, trustworthy customers is key. But dealing with the different personality types of said clients is a completely different, and often trying, aspect of the gig. We spoke to a drug dealer who mainly sells cocaine, weed, and MDMA about the archetypes he deals with on a regular basis while selling in a major Canadian city.

Newbies

This person has no fucking clue what they are doing, even struggling to send a simple discreet text (it's really not that hard, guys, just don't blatantly mention drugs). Obviously, they aren't very good at knowing what they want, amateurly opting to use dollar amounts instead of weight or asking, "How much do I need for five people?" In that case, I'm like, "I don't know, I can do a half-gram of molly in a night, but that doesn't mean you should." They struggle not to look like a complete and utter sketchbag when they meet you at an agreed-upon public location. They can't even do so much as stand properly, somehow managing to look awkward, out-of-place, and overall bait even though it is completely normal for someone to be loitering at a street corner. When you approach them, they carelessly take out their wallet and hand you cash out in the open—though they're terrified of being caught, they for some reason think this is the right move. The nice thing is they'll be really polite to you even as you are upcharging them.

Parents

Older people are great because they've been smoking weed since like forever. They do it like they do groceries. You can almost set your clock to it: they will come every two weeks or once a month. They're very flexible and polite as to where they're going to meet, and they plan in advance. You can tell them not today, but that Thursday will work, and they're fine with that. Younger people are just not as good at planning. Older customers have a keen understanding that you get what you pay for. They're not going to be ripped off, but at the same time, they're not trying to get a good deal because they respect that you're reliable. Once they've found I'm reliable, they're not going to constantly be asking about what kind of weed I have—they put a lot of trust in me, and they don't try to fuck with me. In turn, I'm not going to try to fuck with them because you can always count on them to come through. They're one of my favourites for sure.

EDM Kids

Generally, if anyone is still listening to EDM, they probably just started doing MDMA, and they're usually university kids. It's always awkward because they're like, "Do you party?" And I'm like, "Yeah... I party." Then they're like, "Are you going to Solaris?!" They're always talking about these events and festivals I don't know (or care) about, and I'm always like, "I don't know, man, I'll think about it." They just listen to awful, awful music and clearly haven't been in the scene for that long. They're really turned up and excited about everything, and they're people I would never hang out with normally, but they're pretty profitable since they're so fresh. Generally they want to get a ridiculous amount of MDMA; some will buy 40 caps of M for $400 without asking for a discount.

If they wear these, beware that, out of misguided dedication to PLUR, they're probably going to try to get you to come to a shitty EDM festival. Image via Flickr user Vito Fun

Finance Bros

These are the dudes who all have some sort of entry-level sales job in finance that they're really stoked on. They all kind of have this sense of false superiority about you being a drug dealer, and they don't get that I'd much rather be doing what I'm doing than doing what they're doing. They're super obnoxious, and obviously, they're really into blowing coke.

Perpetual Rookie

Even though they've bought off of you for the past eight months, they're always very specific about when to meet (like between 6:20 and 6:40 PM, but 7 PM is too late), where to meet, and it's guaranteed to be a headache because they are super fucking needy. I expect these kinds of people to exchange 20 text messages back and forth with me and ask over and over about the quality or type of product I have. They're under 30, live in the opposite side of the city, and even though they know I won't come there and I always ask them to meet me somewhere else, they ask me to trek across the city anyway. You just never hit a common understanding with them. It's like the first time every single time you talk to them.

The Loner

This is the kind of dude who is super eager, lonely, and desperately wants to be your friend. He might have just moved to the city from a small town and doesn't yet know many people here, so every time you deal with him, he is trying to befriend you. When I come to his condo and sell him a half-ounce of kush, he'll ask, "Do you want to smoke a joint?" I'll say no and constantly have to make up excuses as to why I'm in a rush. Then he'll be like, "Oh, for sure! Next time!" He'll even sometimes be cooking dinner and ask if I want some chicken tikka masala, and I'm not sure if maybe he was cooking specifically for me as he was waiting for me to come over. He's so nice, and I have nothing against him, but I dread going over there because I have to turn him down, and it's kind of sad. It also happens a lot with older gay dudes who are really into coke and ask you to come in for a beer. Just because I make small talk with you because I'm a human being and somewhat polite, it doesn't mean I'm trying to be your friend.

The Experimentalist

This kind of person hasn't hit you up in like three months. All you've ever sold them is weed, blow, and maybe MDMA once, and out of the blue, they'll hit you up via text at 2 AM and ask you for Suboxone, a drug used to treat opiate addiction. Other random as fuck requests include: guns, heroin, MDA, meth, Xanax, Adderall. I've never sold any of these things, yet with some people, they think it's cool to come out of literally nowhere and ask for shit. Honestly, when did I ever fucking tell you I had Oxy? Never. It's always people who are loose-lipped too, and will just openly inquire via text. It's never people who I see on a regular basis—it's the type of people who I've already cut off because I found them annoying. There's literally pages of text messages from dudes like this just repetitively asking for the same shit despite me never answering them. If I haven't answered you back in like six months, just stop texting me.

This interview has been edited for clarity.

Follow Allison Elkin on Twitter.