Canada's current cyberbullying laws may not be enough to protect victims from online harassment. Photo via Flickr user Barn Images

The decision to strike down a Nova Scotia cyberbullying law last month has highlighted the difficulties governments face when crafting legislation against cyber harassment. Whether it be revenge porn or "ugliest girls" polls on Facebook, harassment online is a real, tangible thing—yet it's something that we, as a country, have been unable to effectively tackle.

With the deaths of Amanda Todd and Rehtaeh Parsons, talks about cyberbullying and the impact it has on its victims only started to come to a head in the early 2010s. The eventual result of those discussions was Bill C13—federal legislation that was created to criminalize the sharing of intimate images by unauthorized parties, thus putting teenagers and disgruntled exes passing around other peoples' nudes in the legal line of fire.

Today's verdict in Canada's first so-called Twitter harassment case shows that criminal harassment, when tried on a digital basis, is hard to prosecute. The two women in the case said they felt threatened by a man who had consistently made disparaging remarks about them on Twitter. The judge agreed that the women were harassed, but in his decision argued that they did not have to fear for their safety.

Take what happened in December of last year: the Cyber Safety Act (CSA) of Nova Scotia was struck down by a Supreme Court of Nova Scotia justice after a challenge from a privacy lawyer raised red flags that the law was not working as it was intended to.

Concerned about a dispute between two men (in which one of them tried to use the CSA to claim online defamation against the other), the judge agreed that the CSA went too far in its definition of what exactly cyberbullying meant and infringed upon the right to free speech guaranteed by the Charter.

That a cyberbullying law goes too far is a criticism that comes up constantly. Even in the case of Bill C-13, the law faced backlash over what some saw as loose and hard-to-define variables to differentiate digital harassment from criminal harassment. This can present problems for judges when trying to uphold the law against people who challenge that the cyberbullying law is really just a clever way of getting around free speech protections, according to experts.

Roger Merrick, the director of Public Safety Investigations at the Nova Scotia Department of Justice, was directly involved with helping to run CyberSCAN—the investigative unit that was created to look into all cases that fell under the CSA's guidelines. He told VICE that one of the toughest things to do when drafting cyberbullying law is finding the correct way to word it, so that there is a clear difference between criminal harassment and cyberbullying.

"If you look at criminal harassment laws, most cases there has to be an element where people fear for their individual safety or that another person may harm them," he said.

"With cyberbullying, much of it is damaging to the person's reputation, where it's an attack upon an individual. Much of the cases we investigated were really humiliating, demeaning type of attacks on individuals."

In terms of the CSA, Merrick is disappointed that it was struck down. While in agreement that the Nova Scotia law may have gone too far, he says the issue could have been resolved if the two men involved in the challenge would have come to CyberSCAN before going to the courts. Merrick added that by going directly to the justice system, they circumvented the very agency that was put in place to make the decision whether cases deserve to fall under the law. According to him, victims are going to be left high and dry.

"I'm disappointed that people who are victims right now don't have the option of going to the police and that this program is not an option for them. For us, we're disappointed that we don't have the ability to try and protect people like we had over the past two or so years."

As of right now, there are no laws to protect people against things that fall outside of criminal harassment. Merrick notes that things like Bill C-13 or existing laws against child pornograpjhy are great, but they don't stop things like bullying on social media or the harassment we saw against individuals during Gamergate. Unless the police can prove there is a reasonable threat to a person's safety, criminal harassment won't stick as a charge.

Some provinces have taken steps in the right direction. Manitoba put a law into effect this week that allows victims of revenge porn to sue perpetrators in civil court for compensation, and, if they so wish, press for criminal charges. This doesn't exist in any other province, and Merrick says that relying on federal law like Bill C-13 is often used as an excuse so provinces don't have to take individual action.

"I think it's... I don't want to use the word cop out, but to say it's a federal responsibility is disingenuous," he said.

"It's easy to say that we should leave it all to the federal government, and Nova Scotia was the first province to try and deal with cyberbullying. We saw the damaging effects of the Rehtaeh Parsons cases and nationally with Amanda Todd, so the province stepped up. We brought the law in to try and respond to those cases."

Wayne Mackay, a law professor at Dalhousie University and a member of the committee that helped to draft the CSA, says that lawmakers need to clearly lay out what the next legislation is going to look like and how it's going to going to define cyberbullying if they want to make a concrete law that can "actually protect victims."

"Clearly, we need this kind of legislation—there's more cases all the time. I think it's possible to balance that need with free speech by clearly defining what we mean as define as cyberbullying so that it is broad enough to cover the cases that need protection, but not so broad that it limits free speech. The other thing, as a way to get there, is better consultation. The CSA was drafted very quickly with very little consultation, while I hope that, when they do draft the next act, they consult a number of lawyers and public officials."

Merrick, however, explains that he's concerned many victims will continue to fall through the cracks while the issue goes unaddressed, and notes that the need for new legislation is urgent. When asked by VICE if the current government sees cyberbullying as an issue on its immediate radar, the federal Department of Justice pointed to Bill C-13 and educational campaigns against cyberbullying as steps made in that direction. The department gave no comment on future legislation.

Image via Flickr user James Cridland

It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, and I was lying in the fetal position on my bed. The air conditioning unit was on in the living room. I could hear its hum, yet felt none of its cooling effects. I had just told my then-boyfriend I was no longer too keen on this whole "living" thing.

"I love you so much," he said, after asking a litany of questions. (By far, the worst part about telling someone you no longer want to live are the follow-up questions.) "I'm drinking myself to death because I'm a coward," I immediately replied, side-stepping the intensity of his sentiment while shifting my eyes upward to avoid the deep, concerned expression that accompanied it.

And on it went—for days, weeks, months. I thought alcohol was the solution to my endless list of perceived problems, but it really just augmented them. I continued to drink to blackout on a nightly basis, but told myself it was OK because I had an excuse. A whole bunch of excuses, actually. Alcohol was the only thing that calmed the ceaseless, anxiety-induced chattering in my chest. I resented my absentee parents. All my friends' careers seemed to be going much better than my own. And so on, and so forth.

Liquor had long since lost its hypnotic effect—I really didn't even feel it at all anymore. It was just a thing I did. I don't derive pleasure from most things, but they're things I have to do. Do I enjoy cleaning my toilet once every four months? No. Do I do it? Yes. Do I enjoy small talk at parties? No. Do I do it? Yes. (You miss 100 percent of the networking opportunities you don't take.) Did I enjoy drinking? No. Did I do it? Yes.

I didn't even pretend as though I were drinking like a civilized, normal person, because I knew I wasn't. The main extent to which I would playact civility would be to pour my poison in a glass. And by glass, I mean a tiny shot glass, which I would refill over and over and over again throughout the night, not keeping track of how much I was consuming, not caring, just continuing until the warm dark night enveloped me. I woke up counting down the moments until I felt it was acceptable to start the cycle again.

I would structure my days around drinking, making sure to walk somewhere if I knew I was going to get fucked up. As it turned out, everywhere I went I knew I was going to get fucked up. If it was dark outside, I was on my way to getting fucked up. And if it was on the way to getting dark outside, I was on my way to on my way to getting fucked up. I thought I didn't have it that bad, though, because I didn't drink in the morning. In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't. It wasn't like I was achieving anything during the day. I was just lying there, waiting for night to fall, so I could drink again.

Image via Flickr user Jon Jordan

I had tried to quit drinking a year ago, to little success. I even wrote a trite, self-congratulatory piece about it. The notes I received in response were many, and I responded to them all. Sometimes folks wished me luck; I thanked them, and echoed the same sentiments. Sometimes they needed their own luck, love, or support, and I gave it. I was often drinking when I typed these responses, having fallen off the wagon almost as soon as I had quit. I felt like a fraud. What was the point of making a point of revealing my "truth," warts and all, if ultimately I was lying? Feeling like a fraud made me feel more alone.

How is this time any different than the last time I "quit"? Well, I'm actually investigating the reasons why I drank in the first place and trying to reconcile those as opposed to just trying to ignore alcohol, which I did before. If you don't investigate why you drink in the first place, you're just going to have contempt for the fact that you quit, which just makes you want to start again.

I failed because I didn't actually try. Because I didn't believe I deserved freedom from my addiction.

The fact that well-meaning friends took my piss-weak explanation for getting back on the sauce—anxiety—made it easy to fall back off the wagon without actually examining the deep-seated reasons why I drank in the first place. And, anyway, I didn't want to be the first among my friends to admit defeat and give up the ghost. Never mind the fact that I actually had a problem they, casual drinkers, did not possess.

When I was lit, I would fixate on perceived, often non-existent, slights that had been done to me. I would relish in rehashing and projecting my own insecurities, reliving the sob story that was my life, over and over. I'd be cruel, mercilessly so.

My actions pushed my boyfriend away. He finally dumped me, tired of my shit and rightfully so. I had put him through a great deal; his patience to that point had already been saintlike. Had he persisted, I'd be convinced that he was the second coming of the Christ child. But he did not, because why should he? I didn't want him to. I thought I was beyond salvation. I'd lie on my couch, staring into the middle distance, crying and ruminating on my own existence while impotently trying to quell the tremors in my hands.

I'd end every night in a blackout, and wake every morning in a haze. I'd taken to not even looking at the text messages I'd sent the night before, horrified by what I might see. It should be illegal to be in possession of a phone when you're intoxicated.

Image via Flickr user James Cridland

If two in the morning ever rolled around and I was still conscious, a moment of terror would set in. How could I get more? The stores were about to close, and I was too far gone to drive. Feeling as though I couldn't get through the next 30 minutes of consciousness without drinking more, after I had already drank more than I could keep track of, I experienced true powerlessness. I was enslaved by my illness.

It wasn't like I was just on a bender, because it was every day. A bender implies that there is a finite end. And if something occurs every day, that's not the case. At some point, your only two options are quitting, or dying.

Why did I stop? I can't say. The thought just rose over me one night, near blackout, that perhaps—just perhaps, hear me out, brain—I did not need to live like this anymore. Crazy, right?

I had to admit that I could not do this alone. I actually had to talk to people, people who had been through the same thing I had, people who had overcome it. The thing that had prevented me from taking previous advice was my stupid, sick pride. Dismantling that pride and realizing I was not in complete and utter control of the show would be difficult, but necessary. Quitting drinking demands an entire dismantling of the psyche, of ego, of which I arguably had too much.

In a moment of drunken desperation, I texted a sober friend that life had become untenable before passing out. I awoke in the morning, groggily read his response, and knew it was time.

He took me to a meeting of like-minded lushes who had kicked the habit. I heard a man speak. It wasn't that he was abused as a child, or had any real sob story other than the fact that he grew up middle-class and depressed. And the only way in which he felt life to be at all tolerable was if he were intoxicated. It was as if he were speaking directly to me.

The people around me acted normal, and they looked normal. They looked like me. Actually, they looked even better than I did. They were better dressed, cleaner, and appeared more financially well off. And they all admitted they were powerless over alcohol.

Surrounded by people, all of whom were dealing with more or less the same problems as I was, I suddenly didn't feel like I was in this by myself. Which lied in stark contrast to how I felt in the months and years I had felt previous to that moment. I drank because I felt alone, even when I was around other people, completely and utterly so in a godless universe. Now, I'm not entirely sure God exists, but I do know that I am not alone. And because of this simple fact, I no longer want to die. To me, this feels as foreign as the idea of wanting to die feels to the average person. But at least, for the first time in a long time, I know it is a sincere feeling.

If you're dealing with an alcohol dependency, please visit AA.org and NCADD.org for more information on how you can get help.

Follow Megan on Twitter.

Thumbnail image via Flickr user daniel zimmel

Killer Mike (left), US Senator Bernie Sanders, and Illinois State Representative La Shawn Ford at a press conference in Chicago on December 23, 2015. Photo by Joshua Lott/Getty Images

After the Democratic presidential debate in South Carolina last weekend, Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders was represented by none other than Killer Mike. While it's pretty standard for campaigns to send proxies in to wrangle reporters, those proxies usually don't include a a self-described "Pan-Africanist gangster rapper" who's released music with everyone from Andre 3000 to Zack de la Rocha and makes up one half of the acclaimed underground hip-hop duo Run the Jewels.

But Mike worked the room with the political pros, comparing his candidate to the Beastie Boys and Martin Luther King, Jr., and gamely humoring the political press corps by announcing he'd become a Sanders supporter while "smokin' a joint, reading his tweets."

There's no two ways about it—sending Killer Mike into the spin room made Bernie Sanders seem cool. Damn cool. It lined right up with the straight-shooting, no-fucks-given attitude that's characterized Sanders' unlikely White House bid, and helped the Democratic socialist surge ahead of Hillary Clinton in the latest Iowa and New Hampshire polls. And Mike isn't the only rapper who's lent his cred and cool to the Sanders campaign. As a recent New York Times piece noted, the Vermont Senator has also received endorsements from such artists as Big Boi, Bun B, and Lil B.

According to Times reporter Jonah Bromwich (an occasional VICE contributor), when he reached out to the Clinton campaign for comment on these endorsements, a "Clinton aide emphasized Mrs. Clinton's support among African-Americans and named African-American artists who are supporting her campaign, including Snoop Dogg, Usher and Waka Flocka Flame."

The response is telling. Yes, the aide did indeed name black hip-hop artists supporting the candidate—but the similarities with the Sanders supporters Bromwich mentions end there. Which is to say, Killer Mike, Bun B, Lil B, and Big Boi are unequivocally looked at as political voices and thought leaders in their local communities.

Meanwhile, rap legend though he may be, Snoop Dogg is largely viewed as a sentient weed joke these days, and no one is looking to Usher for his views on politics. As for Waka Flocka, the Atlanta brawl-rapper's endorsement of Clinton seems to have been a bizarre joke that the media seized hold of and ran with. Originally, Flocka claimed that he himself would run for president in 2016; when he finally did endorse Clinton, he did it on the condition that she return the favor, and help push his new album, Flockaveli 2.

That Clinton's aide failed to grasp these differences is not particularly surprising: "Cool" has never really been part of Hillary's brand. But it also underscores the superficial, almost shameless way the campaign approaches minority voter outreach, pandering to the different identity groups under the Democratic Party umbrella, as if they are demographic boxes to be checked off on a spreadsheet (which, of course, they likely are).

Recently, this pander-machine seems to have gone into overdrive. In the past month alone, Clinton has hit the dab on Ellen, sparked a backlash on Black Twitter for making aKwanzaa-themed Twitter avatar, and drawn virtual eyerolls from Latino voters for a campaign blog post listing all the ways Hillary is "like your abuela."

Less offensive, but no more subtle, are the millennial-baiting totebags, reaction gifs, Lena Dunham Instagram-takeovers, GOP Star Wars villain listicles, and requests that Twitter followers describe their student loan debt in "3 emojis or less." There are "Yaaas, Hillary" t-shirts, #yas-hashtagged photo-ops with the girls of Broad City, and spiritually-yassed "More like Chillary Clinton, AMIRITE?" koozies, neatly accompanied by a video of the Cool Mom Candidate awkwardly saying the word "chillin'."

One more thing about that "Yaaas" t-shirt, before we banish it into the the back of our minds forever—it's actually part of a line of Hillary Clinton merch labeled the "pride" collection. The irony, that Clinton was once against gay marriage and now panders to LGBTQ voters by doing stuff like selling "Yaaas" t-shirts, is stark, but has never been pointed out as cuttingly as when she was counter-memed by the venerable @WorldStarFunny:

At best, the Yass memes, dabbles in dabbing, and rotating avatar colors feel forced, making Clinton seem less like a unifying leader, and more like Amy Poehler playing Regina George's mom in Mean Girls, desperately beseeching voters to like her by trying to act Young and Cool. At worst, they underscore the perception that Clinton is inauthentic, and suggest her campaign is so convinced she is entitled to the Democratic nomination that it doesn't feel the need to communicate with voters in any meaningful way.

Image via hillaryclinton.com

Of course, this type of pandering isn't unusual, and is in fact expected of politicians, particularly those running for president. Michael Munger, a political science professor at Duke University, points out that there's not much difference between Hillary hitting the dab on Ellen and Bill Clinton hitting the sax on The Arsenio Hall Show back in 1992. The problem for Hillary, Munger said, is that her campaign's gimmicky voter outreach seems to have taken the place of a broader argument for her candidacy.

"Clinton either can't be bothered or just isn't able to come up with principles that unify the interest groups that are stitched together into the Democratic coalition," Munger said. In lieu of a unifying message or a vision for the country, her campaign seems to be courting individual groups piecemeal, in ways that show little actual interest in the unique issues each group faces. The campaign is all signifier, nothing signified.

"When it's that obvious," Munger added, "it really turns people off."

Indeed, the 2016 election may very well go down in the DMs of history as one in which authenticity won out over experience and resources in the minds of American voters, a trend borne out by the surprising success of Sanders and Donald Trump—two candidates who, despite their ideological differences, share an almost pathological inability to be anything other than themselves.

"You see the pendulum swinging towards this 'internet candidate,' somebody who can actually engage in a conversation with voters," says Josh Uretsky, who until December served as the national data director of Bernie Sanders' campaign. "Candidates have to deal with more questions that have to be managed in a different way. They don't have as much ability to control the narrative."

Clinton, like most successful presidential candidates, is all about controlling the narrative. But her attempts to package herself as the candidate of the Young and Cool have mostly succeeded in making her look craven and out of touch. Sanders, meanwhile, has genuinely become the candidate of the young and cool simply by virtue of not trying to be anything other than himself. Nowhere is this contrast more apparent than in his relationship with Killer Mike. Because despite the obvious cool factor that the rapper adds to Sanders' campaign, their budding political bromance has always been exactly what it looks like: A 74-year-old Democratic Socialist from Vermont sitting down with a Pan-Africanist gangster rapper from Atlanta, and listening.

Follow Drew on Twitter.

It's long been said all stories are the same, that there are no new songs left to be sung in this wide world of ours, but a new novella is proving the exception to the rule. That novella is called Trump Temptations: The Billionaire and the Bellboy, and its author, 22-year-old Los Angeles–based comedian Elijah Daniel, who wrote it in an evening while egged on by his 90k-plus followers on Twitter and a bottle of trashy white zinfandel. The 21-page book that resulted is, as its title suggests, about a steamy romp between Donald Trump and a bellboy.

A few of the e-book's more sultry passages include, "His hands felt like an old dried out gingerbread house. I was in love," and, "He stood there in front of me, like a tall stallion. With his oily orange skin glistening in the sunlight as if he were a soggy cheeto, his hair unkempt and messy, like a gorgeous rat's nest."

The novella would be a throwaway joke except that when it was released Thursday morning it was a huge hit, reaching number two in several categories and 984 overall on Amazon. Sales got a boost, says Daniel, when a fake Donald Trump Twitter account run by Anonymous began tweeting about it:

All photos by the author

This past summer, I spent 24 hours in Atlantic City, 4,000 miles away from my home in Berlin. In Germany, I live close to Spielbank Berlin, the largest casino in the city. Unfortunately, it lacks the eye-widening gaudiness of literally any of America's gambling pits. Hitting the jackpot at Potsdamer Platz just doesn't feel like hitting the jackpot. So when I came to the US, I had to get to Atlantic City. I even had reoccurring dreams about the town, in which a single machine had the potential to change my life. Call me Slot Machine Dream Queen—everyone else in my dreams did.

When I finally arrived in Atlantic City, I had $20 to play with. I hit the slots and, as my dreams predicted, I won and won and won. Within no time, I considered ringing up friends and shouting, Told ya so! An hour later, I was up to $80 and still hadn't lost. I took a brief pause and considered stopping all together. One sip of a gin and tonic later, I changed my mind and jumped back in.

Naturally, I started losing and my small fortune quickly depleted—au revoir! Suddenly, everything started becoming too much. The machine sounds, the half-naked women dancing on the bar, the countless overweight Americans who all seemed to be rubbing their palms together as they fantasized about hitting 777—Jackpot!!! I ran out of the casino to get fresh air.

Outside, on the Boardwalk, it appeared like a mirage: Donald Trump's Taj Mahal. Although ownership changed long ago, his name still appears in bold on the façade. I grabbed Trump's recent issue of Time out of my bag and held it up to my line of vision. The words on the cover echoed how I felt about Atlantic City: "Deal with it," even if I didn't want to anymore.

Ricarda Messner is the publisher of Flaneur Magazine and founder of publishing house editionmessner. For more on Flaneur, read our 'Inkspots' feature on the magazine here.

Follow Leslie on Instagram, Tumblr, and buy her books from Fantagraphics.

If you really sat down and tried, you could turn a lot of pages in the space of 30 days. While we've spent over a decade providing you with about 120 of those pages every month, it turns out VICE isn't the only magazine in the world. This series, Ink Spots, is a helpful guide to which zines, pamphlets, and publications you should be reading when you're not reading ours.

All images courtesy of Chomp.

Mitsu Sucks seems like a good alias for someone who runs a gay Japanese magazine called Chomp. A bookseller by day, Mistu (real name: Mitsuhiro Kawano), created the zine back in 2011 to fill a gap in the Japanese arts and culture market where cutting-edge, queer-friendly publications are few and far between. Like the famous gay magazine Butt, Chomp places erotic photographs of dudes alongside personal profiles, interviews, and beautiful, abstract illustrations. Plus, it's funny.

A labor of love, Chomp only features the work of artists and photographers that Mitsu is passionate about, and he often includes diverse subjects you might be surprised to see in a queer magazine, such as macho skaters and straight boys. Though skate culture and queer culture might not appear to overlap on the surface, Mitsu believes things that "exist on the edges of society" share more than meets the eye. Constantly surprising and resolutely DIY, Chomp is now on its fourth issue.

We talked to Mitsu from his current home in New York about where the zine is headed next, what it tells us about queer subcultures in Japan, and where he finds the cute pictures of boys' butts that are nestled between Chomp's pages.

VICE: Where did the idea for Chomp come from?
Mitsu Sucks: As a gay guy, I always had trouble identifying with the mainstream gay scene in Japan. And I could never find a publication that spoke to me. Gay themes in Japan are very one-note and tend to fall into one of two categories: They're either full-on porn or fashion-related. They also take themselves very seriously. I wanted to create something different and definitely more lighthearted.

What's the zine scene like in Japan—are there a lot of people getting involved in DIY publishing? Are there other queer zines like Chomp around?
I feel like young people in Japan love zines, especially fashion-conscious young people. But then in Japan, most young people are fashion-conscious. It's almost like zines are mainstream over there. Popular fashion and art magazines write about zines, and even give suggestions about how to make them. My friends in Tokyo all make zines and show them at zine fairs they organize, big and small. In terms of queer zines, however, I would go as far as to say there's no such category as of yet. But based on the reaction to Chomp, the demand is definitely there.

How do you cast the faces and asses you shoot for the publication?
Interestingly, all the models I used for the sexy stuff so far have been straight. I usually rely on my female friends to hook me up. One let me shoot her younger brothers. Another introduced me to her fuck-buddy. For Chomp #4, I saw one of my friends post a picture with a guy whose look I liked. I asked her to persuade him to pose for me. Straight guys will do anything girls say.

The magazine takes a queer look at street culture including skateboarding. Is there much of a queer contingency among skater communities in Japan?
No, skateboarding is such a macho, boys-only club. It's one of the places you'd least expect to find a queer presence. That's what's interesting to me, uniting the two. It's almost like fantasy. But, at the same time, I believe queer and skateboarding cultures do have things in common. They both exist on the edges of society. They're both often misunderstood.

What's cruising culture like in Japan these days? To what extent have gay dating apps taken cruising off the street and online?
All cruising in Japan happens online now. Up until a few years ago, indoor "cruising spaces" called hattenba were the norm, and they catered to every possible fetish you could imagine. Hattenba for athletic guys under 30, hattenba for chubby guys, hattenba for guys with short hair and big dicks. People knew about them either through word of mouth or from online guides and message boards. You went, you paid the fee, got naked, and hooked up in the dark. They were all over the city and some were very selective. These days, it's all apps. But what's interesting is that Japan has its own apps, too. The most popular one is a Japanese one called 9 Monsters, followed by Jack'd, and then finally Grindr—but only guys who are into foreigners use Grindr.

The magazine features interviews with regular people about sexuality. What do you think this concept achieves?
How a person talks about sex says a lot about them. Answers vary so much from one person to another. You can gather a lot about what someone is like, even from a few questions. Basically, it's the best way to get to know a person and what makes them unique in the shortest amount of time. Reading these interviews in Chomp, I hope people see the diversity within the queer community and beyond. Because even if you identify with a certain group, you're still a unique individual. That's a universal thing.

How has Chomp evolved over four issues? I feel like it's become more graphic.
Some issues are more graphic than others, but there's no strategy behind it. I've been doing a lot of experimenting, in regards to both design and content, trying this and that. But I feel like Chomp is finally growing into its more stable, adult shape.

What's next for the mag?
Issue #4 just came out. Issue #5 is on its way (I'll hopefully finish it by fall). And I'm hoping to do a group exhibition soon, show work from all the artists I've featured in the zine so far. Ideally, I'll be able to organize it both in Japan and outside, like in New York where I live now. I think that'd be pretty cool.

And finally—what does being queer mean to you?
It means being honest.

For more on Chomp visit the zine's website here.

Follow Amelia on Twitter.

Mary Ellen Mark is no longer with us, but her images live on. Before her passing in 2015, the photographer was able to complete her final body of work and a new monograph for Aperture titled Tiny: Streetwise Revisited . An extension of a project Mark began in the early 80s, these photographs document pimps, prostitutes, vagrants, and drug users and pushers in the Seattle area. The project narrowed its focus, however, when she met Tiny (Erin Charles), a 13-year-old prostitute who talked of wanting diamonds and a horse farm. For Mark, Tiny became a 30-year focus of turmoil and intrigue that became integral to her artistic practice.

Currently at the Norton Museum in West Palm Beach, Tiny: Streetwise Revisited is an exhibition of images that pull directly from Mark's lengthy relationship with Tiny. What starts off as a portrait of a young girl with big dreams progresses over the years into a life that's fallen apart through drugs, abuse, ten children, and other turmoil.

"Will they make it?" asks Tim Wride, one of the curators at the Norton Museum, in reference to the subjects Mark capture on film. "Probably not. Is that the point? Probably not. At the same time, I think there is an optimistic edge that was so crucial to show with this body of work."

Tiny: Streetwise Revisited, both in show and publication, is as much a social documentation as it is fine art. Both Aperture and the exhibition's treatment of Mark's photos nurtures this sentiment, as well as another: The work isn't about a happy story or even inspiring one, but it's a damn good one nonetheless.

Tiny and Pat, along the road, 1993

Tiny, Halloween, Seattle, 1983

Tiny and J'Lisa on the couch, 2014

Tiny pregnant with Daylon, 1985

Tiny, 1983

Tiny looking out a window in juvenile detention, 1983

'Tiny: Streetwise Revisited' will be on view at the Norton Museum of Art until March 20.

Efrem Zelony-Mindell is a photographer and writer based in New York. You can follow more of his work here.

Go look at Steve Weissman's Instagram and tumblr, and maybe even buy something from his online store.

Clockwise: Pups Hoodie, Ranger, Copper, Carnage, Tex, and Koda

I have been a card-carrying member of NYC-PAH since last summer. That stands for "New York City–Pups And Handlers"; it's a social group for people who identify as Human-Pups or Handlers, or those looking to learn more about the practice. I had been playing fetch and barking to receive belly rubs in private for months, and as many do, I decided to seek out like-minded individuals.

What I learned from my time with the boys at NYC-PAH is that being a pup is about a headspace first and foremost. Its about getting down into the mindset of a dog, releasing all human traits and instincts and occupying the blissful existence of a cute lil pup, or a menacing guard dog—you choose. Some pups do sex stuff while in pup mode, and others don't. The handlers look after the pups, throw the ball, give them scratches behind the ears, treats, etc. Some pups have a dedicated handler, many do not. Often pups run in packs, with an alpha, betas, and an omega, though some pups are strays. NYC-PAH is a pack, of sorts. For all intents and purposes, they are my pack.

In mid-January, I took a trip to Mid-Atlantic Leather in Washington DC, which is like Comic Con for BDSM enthusiasts. Every year, about 1,000 kinksters take over an entire Hyatt and run wild for the weekend. For the last eight years at MAL, there's been a mosh—a place where puppies can romp around, play with toys, and generally "pup out."

Moments after the doors opened at 11 AM, the entire conference was filled with pups and handlers who had been waiting for this for a year. The walls echoed with techno, barks, and cries of, "Who's a good boy?... Yes you are!... Yes you are..." A Dalmatian wagged his tail as he fetched a nylon bone, two rubber pups held a third down and tickled him mercilessly. The pups wrestled, chased toys, nuzzled each other, licked, sniffed, and occasionally let out a big howl. These are the photographs from Puppy Park 8.

This project is dedicated to my late dog Marz, a good boy and a best friend.

Zak Krevitt is photographer based in NYC, you can follow more of his work here.

For most people, having a sexual or romantic relationship with someone way older or younger than you is awkward. You have to deal with differences in perspectives, differences in life goals, and sometimes physical differences—not to mention the odd looks and occasional condemnations you might attract from friends, family, and strangers. The not-always-unspoken question is, is this actual love? Or is it some kind of sugar daddy/momma relationship?

"Like any other relationship, some age-gap relationships can be healthy and some can be unhealthy, and there are plenty of shades of gray," cautions professional sex therapist Vanessa Marin. "Of course, these can be tricky relationships since the partners are in such different life stages. One might be getting out of grad school, while the other is preparing for retirement. It can be hard to find enough to connect over, or shared goals to work towards."

"You certainly do see a lot of powerful, wealthy, older men with young women on their arms, but that's not to say that money is the sole motivation in all of these types of relationships," she adds.

Another stereotype is that young women who date older men have daddy issues, or that these May-December romances involve an icky Oedipal component.

"It's hard not to use our parents as barometers for measuring our adult relationships," says Marin. "If you never had a solid mother or father figure, you could consciously or subconsciously seek out an older partner to fill that role. If your childhood was full of chaos, you might desire the stability of someone in a later stage in life."

But people connect for all kinds of reasons, both sexual and emotional, and relationships can look a lot different from the outside than the inside. To learn more about the stigma and reality of age-gap relationships, I talked to some women and men who had lived them: Phil, an older man in a long-distance relationship with a 22-year-old; Dina, a kinky, polyamorous 20-year-old who goes to her older partner for life advice; Fiona, a 70-year-old who outlived her young husbands and dates men who will help her with the internet; and Brad, a 31-year-old who says older women are appealing because they get straight to the point. All names have been changed.

For more on fetishes, watch our documentary on financial domination and cash slaves:

Phil
69 Years Old
Oklahoma

VICE: Will you tell me a little bit about yourself?
Phil: I am a psychologist. I have an ongoing relationship with a 22-year-old woman in North Carolina. I spent two weeks with her last year, and we had a lot of sex.

How is dating young women different from dating men your own age?
It differs from women my own age because women my own age are filled with issues. Young women don't have so many issues.

What's your favorite thing about your girlfriend? What about her makes you happy?
Well, we are in a long-distance situation. I visited her for about two weeks and she visited me for about a week. She is exceptionally intelligent and creative. She sings opera; she writes poetry; she paints; she takes classes in Spanish and German. She is also very sexy. Her biggest quirk is that she sounds just like Marilyn Monroe—very young and "cute." I love listening to her.

What is the sex like?
The sex is fantastic. I feel just like I'm 17 again. The only problem is that I can't get nearly as hard as I used to, but I have a very well-trained tongue that she seems to love.

What does your family think of the relationship?
I haven't told my family. I have a daughter who is 46 years old. It would creep her out.

Dina
20 Years Old
California

VICE: Will you tell me a little bit about yourself?
Dina: I'm a 20-year-old California-born Persian-American girl. I'm a second-year university student, love school and academia, love to read, love to paint, and have an inner goth side to me. I'm Pagan. I've been kink-aware since I was ten, and actively kinky when I started dating at 16. I came to after I turned 18. It was a few months before I turned 19 that I met my first older man who I came to love and have a relationship with, and that's what made me understand age is a number and should not be an inherent barrier as the age gap widens.

One of your partners is 45 years older than you. How did you meet?
We met on Fetlife. He's a retired member of the medical field, and I have a condition he was talking about in a forum thread there. We realized we had a good bit in common, met up one day for brunch at a restaurant... discussed becoming play partners so we could both explore and gain experience with kinks we share, and it eventually turned into a romantic relationship, not just a friendship.

What is your favorite date you two have gone on?
It was a trip to Old Sac (Old Sacramento) one night just for the hell of it. We parked the bike and we went strolling around hand-in-hand, just enjoying the night air and the lights and sound. At one point we popped into one of the candy shops and he cracked up laughing because I was a total "kid in the candy store." I was grinning as he found sweets he grew up with when he was a kid. Afterwards we came across a kite shop and he had to go inside. Through that I found out he ran a kite shop back in the day and still loves to fly kites when he can.

How is the relationship different than someone your own age?
It's actually kind of the same. The biggest difference is that I can ask him for life experience-based advice that someone my own age wouldn't have. Also, I get to hear stories about things I've only read about in history books. I love the intelligent conversations and gaining new points of view only he can offer because of the age gap. He's made mistakes and decisions I haven't faced yet, and can impart his insight based on his life for when I do face them.

The sex is different and awesome, too. He's an amazing lover, took the time to learn my body, and uses every sweet spot he's found and every trick he's learned to make me scream and writhe in pleasure. Oral sex, in specific, is off the charts. Plus, with his age and a medical condition he has some amount of ED. He stays soft or half-hard a lot, and that means we can't really do intercourse, but we don't need it. That's the plus of his knowledge and skill in the bedroom, and both of our willingness to experiment and try all sorts of new things.

What is your relationship with your father like? Do you think that has anything to do with a preference for older men?
My father and I are close. We have our animosities between us and some major philosophical differences, but he has always had my back as a dad. He's stood by me through thick and thin. I don't have "daddy issues," though I'm not the biggest fan of who my dad is as a person sometimes.

Fiona
70 Years Old
Arizona

VICE: How would you describe yourself?
Fiona: I'm a sexually dominant, non-monogamous woman of 70. I've been active in the BDSM lifestyle in the UK, New England, and Chicago since the 1970s. I moved to Arizona to help with my arthritis, and it does help. That was a year ago. I have not made many local lifestyle connections in Arizona yet.

Will you tell me about your experience with younger men? What is the youngest you have dated?
All of my sexual experiences with men have been with men considerably younger than myself, including two marriages of 22 years and 14 years. The youngest men I have ever dated are currently in their late twenties. They're here locally and I've been dating them for several months. Things have not progressed to intimacy yet.... I develop intimate relationships over a long period of time and very slowly. Former intimate friends with benefits from Vermont and other places visit me here.

What is the longest period time you have seen any of them?
The longest period of time was the 22-year marriage, which ended with his death. died of a heart attack at 45.

How is it different from sleeping with or dating men your age?
I have never slept with a man any closer to my age than 12 years. I like the companionship, candor, and idealism of younger men.

Do they treat you well?
They treat me very well with respect and reverence and they are always anxious to be of service and very polite... I let them know early that I appreciate very old-school manners with a great deal of gender-based courtesy: opening doors, carrying everything that needs carrying, standing when I leave a table and rising when I return, conversing quietly with me and then ordering for me at a restaurant, etc.

Do they help you with things around the house, or boring stuff like that?
There have been sweet aspects of every relationship. My favorite dates are always dinner dates after an arts event, concert, or gallery show. They do household tasks and lately, internet research for me.

What is the sex like?
The sex is fantastic... infrequent, but exceptional. I prefer peak experiences, and for that reason sex only happens when I am the aggressor or more active partner. Sometimes I decide to do all of the "fucking" in the relationship... wearing a strap-on dildo and letting them know their part of the action is being pleasing and attractive to me. I only date and develop more intimate relationships with alpha males, though.

Do you think there is a double standard toward women when it comes to dating younger men? Why do people seem to think it's more normal for the guy to be older?
I have no idea, but I agree that is true. I know there is a double standard when it comes to women dating younger men from experience. My relationships have and do attract attention. Comments of various kind come like, "Is this your son?" More comments from women than men. Some of these comments are curious and courteous, some are laden with envy or "wisdom": Take my advice; it won't end happy for you ; you will find you have nothing in common with this child .

Brad
31 Years Old
New Jersey

VICE: Will you tell me about your experience with older women?
Brad: I've been with a 62-year-old when I was 24. for about two and a half years, on and off. She thought I wasn't seriously attracted to her, until she found out I really was. I've been with older women who are younger than that, and many of them didn't believe I was serious.

How would you convince them you were serious?
I would usually let a Freudian slip happen, something sexual, or maybe let age come up and insist it's only a number. Also, I would just look them in their eye, and try to let them know.

What did you find sexy about them?
Their experience. They know and do things that are just amazing in bed. They also cut to the chase. They don't play games.

So how is the sex?
Mind-blowing. Sometimes, in the beginning, you have to be a bit slower, they don't always like the rough, young stuff. But when they do, there's never enough.

How do you meet these women?
In person, usually. I've been fortunate enough to meet them on chance, strike a conversation, and spark interest enough for a phone number or email address.

How are they different than younger women or women your own age?
They know what they want. They expect certain things: dates on time, be a gentleman, call, be courteous, don't depend on text. They don't look for attention the same way. They will just say, ":et's cuddle" rather than be whiny about it.

What is your earliest memory of being attracted to a much older woman?
Hard to pinpoint, but I once saw an older woman having sex through her window as a kid. Something just clicked once I started having sex.

What's the favorite date you've been on with an older woman?
Favorite date? It was actually a simple one that didn't lead to sex. I met her at a piano bar, and I listened to her talk, intently. I listened to her, gave minimal feedback, walked her to her car, and said how much fun I had. She looked me in the eye and kissed me on the cheek. I knew she felt the same from the kiss. It made me happy to make her happy.

What advice would you give for someone else who wants to date a woman in the 60-plus bracket?
Don't be sleazy. Don't take the cougar route, assuming Stifler's mom wants to bang you. Listen, hold conversation, show interest, and they melt in your hand. Also, don't be shy in bed; whip it out and be confident.

Follow Sophie on Twitter.

Photo via Wikimedia Commons

This article originally appeared on VICE UK

It's funny how things change. A short 45 years ago, the huddle of fretful fiefdoms now known as the United Arab Emirates were a British military protectorate known as the Trucial States. Not too long before that, these pirate kingdoms had been seized by the Royal Navy to protect trade routes to India: the government of Her Majesty was represented by the grey menace of battleships out in the stink and shallows of the Persian Gulf, ready to meet raiders or pirates with big wedges of high-velocity lead. Now, the UK is proud to announce that its visa application service in the UAE will also be operating a premium lounge out of a rented space in Dubai's Wafi Mall.

Here, instead of queuing up at the embassy to apply for a UK travel visa, Emiratis willing to spend £435 , an "on demand mobile biometric service" will actually come to your home and gently flatter you as they sort out your forms.)

The service is the first of its kind, but its arrival was pretty much inevitable: as pointless bureaucracy slowly seeps into every facet of daily life, it was only a matter of time until somebody tried to market the filling out of paperwork as a luxury consumer product. At the Platinum Lounge, visa applicants can flop around in their own dedicated private booth, enjoy high-speed WiFi, peruse complimentary drinks and snacks, and will receive a free Oyster card with which to pick their teeth as they race their Maseratis around the streets of Kensington.

Starbucks at Wafi Mall. Photo: Liz Lawley via

This is, obviously, a case of geopolitical unfairness in full comic-book luridity. Britain's attitude to migrants from the Middle East is entirely schizophrenic. The government continually drags its heels in its duty to take in its share of Syrian refugees fleeing a war we helped to inflame; as teenagers die atop Eurotunnel trains trying to cross over from Calais, as hundreds desperately climb into the tunnels, we fume about delays.

Meanwhile, the Emirati ruling classes get to have foot massages in their private booths as an army of Jeeves clones process their application at the speed of obsequiousness. Right-wing demagogues grunt about tighter border controls, liberal thinkers gush about the incoming of a new, open borderless world, and none of them have the full picture: the world is both entirely open and entirely closed off. It all depends on who has the money.

The UK government's platinum lounge is a pretty decent symbol for the stupid state we're all in, but it's still worthwhile to look at the particular spaces it inhabits: a glitzy shopping center in an arid emirate; a sad gang of waterlogged islands off the coast of Europe. Why here? From its description, the lounge sounds like nothing so much as those first-class areas in airports, the ones coldly emanating password-protected wifi to which you, the pathetic economy-class peon, will never be able to connect. Inside, of course, the places are all shiny, aseptic, and utterly boring. Airports are non-places, big dustpans of accumulated late-capitalist detritus, that look exactly the same everywhere in the world. They all smell the same too: jet fuel, panicked last-call sweat, and bureaucratized high security.

Photo via

The Wafi Mall is something similar, something entirely hyper-real. It's themed to look like an ancient Egyptian palace, shaped like a big blasphemous pyramid, with gold-topped columns and animal-headed statues—the new visa application lounge may be plonked not too far from imitation frescoes showing some third-dynasty king working his peasants to death—but if you look up, the whole thing is suspended beneath a lattice of steel supports, the same kind of thing you'd see in an aircraft hangar. It has a historical theme, but no actual history. In other words, it's somewhere very similar to Britain itself.

The right likes to complain that immigration is destroying British cultural identity, as if British cultural identity were anything other than a set of fussy proscriptions. Don't talk about sex, don't put tea in before milk (or milk in before tea, I forget), and most important of all, don't jump the queue. Could there be anything more essentially un-British than a luxury lounge in a hot and dry country dedicated entirely to queue-jumping? But Britain, faster than any other country, is turning itself into one big airport, an interchange hub for the world's torrential streams of finance capital. We invented the visa playground for rich Emiratis because our national identity is having lots of money. This is what they mean when they say that refugees from our wars in less glamorous corners of the Middle East might not be able to adapt to our way of life: they don't have lots of money.

British values are measured in pounds and pence. We've become a chameleon-country: after Dubai, it's not hard to imagine similarly caricatured immigration centers popping up all over the world. One in Paris, where the staff are rude and the air smells of stale piss and garlic; one in Rio, where you're served by bureaucrats in neon pink bikinis; one in Moscow, where the walls are one big Swarovski crystal. But all of them will be cold and clean and utterly lifeless, because that's just the British way.

Follow Sam on Twitter.

First we were told to expect a foot, slowly it became "20 inches max," then 30 inches, and then New York City started shutting shit down. In the end, it was the most snow to ever cover NYC in one day.

New Yorkers, often apprehensive about meteorology reports, seemed overwhelmed by the storm. By 2:30 PM Mayor de Blasio ordered a travel ban (and also warned against food deliveries), meaning all non-emergency vehicles were told to vacate the streets, or else be subject to arrest.

At 10 AM on a Saturday, I noticed only a handful of people in Prospect Park. In some parts, the snow was so deep it was difficult to see dogs on all fours. Kids had a particularly difficult time navigating the snow, which for some reached up to their shoulders, though the lucky ones were pulled on sleds by their parents.

People walked in the roadways, as many sidewalks were still unplowed. At the Brooklyn Bridge, the 50 mile-per-hour gusts of winds felt the strongest. The eye-watering skyline was masked by onslaughts of snow, and the Manhattan Bridge appeared more like a blurred-out illustration of the iconic structure from where I stood. The mixture of snow and wind burned any exposed skin. The wind ravaged construction tarps, and, at times, I questioned the structural soundness of the 133-year-old bridge.

The later I stayed out in NYC during the blizzard, the fewer people I saw. By evening, the only cars were giant garbage trucks moving giant piles of snow into other giant piles of snow, with a few unlucky cars buried underneath.

Visit Jackson's website and Instagram for more of his photo work.

Photo by Jessica Van Der Weert, courtesy of Goldie and ARTA.

Even if you've never bought a can of spray paint, you probably recognize the name Goldie. Born Clifford Joseph Price, the man is one of the UK's most famous living electronic music producers, if not the most famous drum 'n' bass and jungle musician still in the game. He may be the only person who's both DJ'ed a Boiler Room set and been appointed as a Member of the Order of the British Empire (MBE).

Before he became known for his pupil-dilating tracks, Goldie was a big player in the global graffiti scene. He was prominently featured in the classic 1987 documentary Bombin', included in the graffiti book Spraycan Art, and is remembered for participating in Britain's biggest art battle alongside Robert Del Naja of Massive Attack. "Painting is in my veins," the artist is known to say, and he continues doing toss-ups and tagging trains to this day.

While his music career has grown tremendously, Goldie wants to re-affirm his dedication to tagging and modernizing the culture around it. Last week, the producer launched a crowdfunding campaign for his latest project, an app created with developer Henry Chalfant that fuses IRL tagging with digital interactivity called Art Rail Transit Authority, or ARTA.

The part-game, part-archival tool allows users to both create digital tags and import graffiti photos, as well as place the images on trains within the app. ARTA also allows graffiti artists to share their work with other users, and see what other crews have tagged (or tagged over) within the app's digital realm.

With just under a month left in the crowdfunding campaign, we talked to the legend about the three-year endeavor to bring ARTA to life.

VICE: Can you elaborate a bit on the full capabilities of ARTA?
Goldie: You can create tags from scratch or you can import photos and place them on the trains. So really it's as far as users want it to go: They can just start off importing pictures and placing them on trains (with movement, rotate, scale, etc.), and then maybe spray a bit on top, and then add some text, and then buff some layers out.

To break it down further, you show your talents on subway trains within the app in a competitive or non-competitive sense. Trains travel around the cities in the app (New York, Tokyo, Detroit) and can be interacted with by others players, including your crew members and rival crews. In other words, other users can manipulate your tags, digital or physical. You can also build up a digital collection of cans, colors, fills, fonts, and base layers for your lay-up tags, as well as keep your best work in your in-app piece book and get it printed onto t-shirts.

What's the archive section about?
In the archive, you can check out classic tags, hero cars, video interviews with the OG from NYC, and my own personal photographic archive of graffiti images. We're also planning ARTA radio within the app that will include shows by DJ legends from across the globe, as well as a communication platform. It's fully, fully immersive, man—three years in the making.

What exactly will the crowdfunded donations go toward?
We are in the final stages of tweaking ARTA, but the funding is for a banger summer launch event to celebrate the app, featuring various graffiti crews and performances by artists like me. It will be the meeting of two worlds, digital meets tangible.

Do you think the graffiti community will trust an app? Taggers and writers can be paranoid.
They already trust it and that's because it's created by graffiti writers for graffiti writers. This isn't some brand trying to get kudos or ride on the coattails of an organic culture. This is the absolute real. We showed it to a lot of heads before launching and the feedback was amazing. It gave us the confidence to carry on with it. I could've taken this to a brand, but why would I want to? I've always fought to be independent.

You've been active in the graffiti community for decades. Why do you think this very physical act should become digitized?
It will enable writers to showcase without the limitations of physical region. It's all about interaction. It's simply another way of playing out and expressing something that you're very passionate about. Playing FIFA on your iPhone isn't going to change football and turn it into an arm chair sport, you know? We're challenging technology. Why wait until someone else does , and watch as they do it badly?

Prior to the internet, how did you stay up on taggers in other cities? How would you find out about who was big, where the legendary spots were in each city, etc.?
When I first visited New York, TATs Cru welcomed me. We shared skills and schools of thought, so there was immediately a knowledge built around our friendship. Then music blew up for me in a major way and I was able to travel everywhere in the world and absorb local knowledge, which helped me to seek out spots, writers, and crews. Even this summer just gone, I was getting up in Bogota, man. Art and music are universal languages.

Do you hope ARTA will introduce graffiti writers to talent they wouldn't find out about otherwise?
Of course. It's a form of communication for the digital age. Just as gettin' up on trains back in the day showcased writers' skills across the city, this will do the same but without borders. ARTA is a fully interactive platform where you will be able to see who has done what and comment and rate their stuff. The higher you get up the chain, the more you can unlock in the app, from fills and fonts to rare archival footage. Plus, it gives you access to communicate with writers around the world in real-time.

Above, a photo of Goldie in 1987 by Martin Jones.

How has graffiti culture changed most noticeably since when you first got into it?
Well, it's kind of accepted now. In the beginning it was a social menace, man. Now it's known more for another term: street art. But we'll always be here, subliminally making these cityscapes that bit more beautiful.

What else are you working on these days?
I'm working on a collection now called "Shaman Women." I'm using lots of different materials and disciplines and basically putting into practice what I learned through graffiti. I'll always be TATs and I'll always be Metalheadz.

For more on ARTA, including how to donate, visit Goldie's website here.

With the Iowa caucus just one week away and no clear winner in either party, America appears more divided then ever. The rhetoric coming out of the GOP and Democratic candidates couldn't be more diametrically opposed, yet combined they supposedly represent America. It's politics, so any amount of nuance has long been thrown out the window. Elections are black and white—winners and losers. But before everything becomes too calcified in your head, I ask you to turn your gaze to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. The small town is a microcosm of our country, its extremes and its nuance.

In the spring of 2015, two filmmakers, Michael Palmieri and Donal Mosher, traveled to Eureka Springs to get a sense of the town and its people. In their short film Peace in the Valley, that premieres this weekend at the Sundance Film Festival. They found a usually tranquil place that was massively divided over an ordinance to protect its LGBT citizens from discrimination. In the film, the townspeople's opinions on the ordinance define them one way or the other. The whole thing plays out like a country cartoon. However, with credit to the filmmakers, the doc chose to go deeper than expected. After interviewing a wide swath of the town's inhabitants, the directors uncover something real, something still problematic, but something truly American.

Jeffrey Bowers is a tall mustached guy from Ohio who's seen too many weird movies. He currently lives in Brooklyn, working as a film curator. He's the senior curator for Vimeo's On Demand platform. He has also programmed at Tribeca Film Festival, Rooftop Films, and the Hamptons International Film Festival.

The social media movement #OscarsSoWhite definitely has a point. Once again the Academy has ignored the few strong contributions that black people were able to make to the overwhelmingly white film industry. F. Gary Gray's Straight Out of Compton is good enough to deserve a Best Picture nomination. Michael B. Jordan did great work in Creed as did Idris Elba in the powerful Beasts of No Nation. Sam Jackson was great in The Hateful Eight. And Rick Famuyiwa's Dope was definitely one of the best movies of the year. Any of these people could have and should have been nominated. It matters that black actors have been shut out, it matters professionally to those involved and it matters in a nation where the exclusion perpetuates the notion that blacks are lesser. The movement protesting the Oscar's lack of diversity has already inspired change. But I hope that Will and Jada Pinkett Smith, who are at the forefront of the push for black stars to boycott the award ceremony, realize they are conceding some of their power by excluding themselves.

Last Friday, the Academy announced a plan that would increase diversity in their voting body, seeking to double the percentage of actors of color and women in voting positions by 2020. They also plan to add three seats to the 51-seat board of governors. The new board members will be nominated by Cheryl Boone Isaacs, the Academy president. Yes, these changes happened in part because of the bad publicity the Academy received around the boycott. But they also happened because Cheryl Boone Isaacs, a black woman, had a seat at the table and used her power to make real changes from the inside.

Will and Jada should take a note from Isaacs. Boycotting is a tactic for people who can't speak directly to Hollywood. But insiders like the Smiths have real access and wield real clout. Will is one of the few black people in Hollywood who could actually get elected onto the Academy's board of governors. He could make more of an impact as part of the board overseeing the Oscars than he ever could by staying home on Oscar night.

The people clamoring for a boycott are barking at the tree, when the problem is the forest. As Viola Davis said during a red carpet interview with ET, "You can change the Academy, but if there are no black films being produced, what is there to vote for?" The problem isn't really at the Oscars, that's just a symptom. The problem is that Hollywood's power structure is almost entirely white and the films it makes are overwhelmingly white. Even director Spike Lee—who isn't attending the Oscars this year, but is not calling for a boycott—understands that the problem is bigger than just nominations. As he said on Good Morning America, "It goes further than the Academy Awards. It has to go back to the gatekeepers... We're not in the room the executives when they have these green-light meetings quarterly, where they look at the scripts and they decide what we're making and what we're not making."

The lack of Oscar nominations for black actors is just an outgrowth of the lack of opportunity for people of color in Hollywood. A recent report on diversity in Hollywood from UCLA found that black people remain underrepresented in every employment category and white males dominate the jobs that bestow the power to green light films—94 percent of film studio heads are white. Blacks are left out even though the report found more than half of frequent moviegoers are people of color.

For the #OscarSoWhite movement to have a real impact, they should tap into the power of those moviegoers. In general, boycotts are much more powerful when there's an economic component. The legendary Montgomery bus boycott succeeded in forcing the end of segregation on city buses because black customers declined to ride the bus for almost a year. Imagine what would happen if the black and brown customers, who spend $3 billion at the movies each year, were urged to boycott Hollywood films at the box-office. That would motivate change. Even a movement for black and brown viewers to not watch the Oscars could have more of an impact on Hollywood's bottom line than Jada and Will just deciding not to attend.

But what's even more nonsensical than stars like Will and Jada not going to the Oscars is the call made by celebrities like Tyrese and 50 Cent for Chris Rock to step down as the host. If the Oscars have a racial problem, who do you want standing in front of Hollywood with a mic and five minutes to say whatever he wants? Chris, with his cold-blooded wit.

On Saturday, Oscar producer Reggie Hudlin confirmed to Variety that Rock will be speaking on the boycott during the show. Hudlin said, "as things got a little provocative and exciting, he said, 'I'm throwing out the show I wrote and writing a new show.'" We want Chris Rock telling the Oscars about themselves while the world is watching.

In the not too distant future, Hollywood will have to broaden its purview for artistic reasons, because telling truthful stories in a browner America will require that. It will have to broaden its scope for business reasons, too. Black consumers go out to see an average of six movies a year and hispanic moviegoers go out to the movies an average of 10 times a year. These are audiences that can move Hollywood by voting with their wallet. And as the percentage of white Americans diminishes and the percentage of people of color rise, they'll gain even more power.

I'm not saying that all of the problems will be fixed by a demographic sea change in America. I'm saying Hollywood will face problems if it does not grow to match the growth of America. We can be more effective in shoving them toward that growth by having those with power in Hollywood sitting at the table on one hand, while others help create a new wave of black and brown filmmakers and actors who can change Hollywood from the ground up. Or, if we want to force radical change, hit them in the wallet by avoiding Hollywood movies altogether and show them how powerful we really are. I'd be down to participate in that. Until then, I will be watching the Oscars to hear what Chris Rock has to say and to see the Mexican filmmaking genius Alejandro Inarritu win the final award of the night.

Follow Toure on Twitter.

This story appears in the UK's December issue of VICE magazine.

Anatoly sits on his bed watching television. He arrived in Krasnoarmiis'k only two days ago. He crossed the border separating the Ukraine from the People's Republic of Donbass on foot. A border region at war, despite an apparent ceasefire. A war that is devastating the people, spreading death and destruction.

Anatoly. All photos by Tomaso Clavarino

Anatoly is a drug addict. He escaped from Makiivka, a city in Donbass, harassed by mortars and grenades, because people like him are not wanted there now that the city is under the control of pro-Russian separatists. Anatoly has been using drugs for thirty years now, since he tried first as a young boy, taking psychotropic substances to kill the boredom of his life among the city's dull, Soviet-made buildings. "I was reborn five years ago. I had reached the edge, and I almost died," he tells me. "Then I started to attend the rehabilitation clinic in my city, for methadone treatment, and I slowly began to come back to life, to have a social life." That clinic has now been shut down, and Anatoly had to come all the way to Krasnoarmiis'k, to keep on trying to live that new life. What happened in Makiivka also happened in Horlivka, and in most of the other cities of the People's Republic of Donbass, many rehabilitation services have been shut down without warning, according to those I spoke to. "In September, I was queuing, like any other morning, and then a nurse arrived and told us that the center was shutting down, for good," says Anatoly. This was, according to activists, patients, NGOs, and doctors, the decision of the pro-Russian Separatist government of Donetsk: part of a plan to transition to a "Russian way" of dealing with drug addiction, which can amount to no services and no help. The are reports of drug addicts in rebel areas becoming victims of intimidation, and being forced to work, for example digging trenches.

Two drug addicts inside an apartment on the outskirts of Kiev. Intravenous drugs have for years been the primary route of HIV transmission in the country.

The methadone distribution center in Donetsk is the only one left in rebel territory. But it won't last long. Supplies are running short and new supplies are blocked. "This is a terrible situation. I can't see any other way to define it," explains Irina Klueva, manager of the opioid substitution therapy (OST) department of the Hospital of Donetsk. "Out of the 240 patients that we had before the war, only 90 are left, because we do not have enough methadone. And those few left will soon have to leave because we are running out of supplies. In recent months, we have registered around ten deaths, here in Donetsk. They were all people forced to drop out of rehabilitation. They either committed suicide or died from overdoses." Thousands of people have gone back to living on the streets, using (mostly illegal ) drugs again, and swapping syringes, which are often infected, according to Klueva. Not even the services for reducing the damage—like needle exchanges—have been left intact in this area of Ukraine.

A view of the Troeschina district, in Kiev, where is easy to find any sort of illegal drug.

"The war and the situation in the east of the country is now having a devastating effect on the whole of the Ukraine, and it will become even worse," Natalia says. She has no doubt. Natalia works for the Svitanok Association in Kramatorsk, a territory under the control of Kiev, which offers assistance and help to HIV positive people who have escaped from the People's Republic of Donbass, as well as those still living in rebel-controlled areas. "They're mostly junkies and prostitutes, they no longer have the right to access antiretroviral treatments because supplies have been blocked by the government of Kiev in retaliation against the separatists." So Natalia and her colleagues set off once or twice a month, their cars loaded with medicines, spending hours in lines at checkpoints, bribing soldiers at the borders, to take antiretroviral medicines to Donetsk and Luhansk.

Ilya fled from Crimea a couple of months ago, after Russia decided to shut down all the substitution therapy services for drug users. He is now trying to rebuild his life in Kiev.

War does not only lead to immediate death, destruction, and injury; it's wounds may be so deep that their effects last long after today. And this is likely to be the case in Ukraine, a country with 260,000-340,000 people living with HIV at last count, and a prevalence rate of 1.3 percent in 15- to 49-year-olds, according to UNAIDS. The country boasts one of the highest rates of HIV infection in Europe, yet thanks to the commitment of several NGOs, Ukraine had managed, over the years before the outbreak of the war in Donbass, to reduce the rate of HIV infection. "Though there is no official data coming out of Donbass, the situation has deteriorated," Natalia explains. "The number of infections is rising. This is due in part to the restrictive policies carried out in DPR, and also to the situation at the front, where soldiers are forced to stay away from their homes and families for months, and have sexual intercourse with HIV positive prostitutes, often without protection."

According to data from the Elena Pinchuk ANTIAIDS Foundation, between January and November 2015, more than 13,000 cases of infection have been recorded in Ukraine. An uptick connected to the failure of the Health System, the destruction of medical buildings, and the shutting down of assistance programs for HIV positive people. On top of those factors, the deterioration of the economic situation in the country and the 300 percent devaluation of the Ukrainian currency, a fall of 25 percent has been registered in the purchase and distribution of condoms in 2014. Making unprotected sex the primary cause of transmission of the virus in Ukraine's general population, according to Olga Rudneva, executive manager at Elena Pinchuk ANTIAIDS Foundation.

A drug user in his house in Troeschina district shows his swastika tattoo. According to pre-war data, 21.7 percent of those injecting drugs, over 25 years old, are HIV positive in Ukraine.

The HIV epidemic grows along with the continuing extension of a war that seems frozen, yet never stops, night or day. A war forcing people to leave their homes, their lives, and to go and look for shelter on the other side of the border. There is no official data on how many of Ukrainian's 1.4 million (according to IDMC) internally displaced people are HIV positive. And there is no official data about where these people are, or how many drug addicts are among them. There is no control from the Central Government, not even in territory still under Ukrainian control. The displaced arrive from Donbass, from Crimea, and most of them leave to go to the big cities, to try and rebuild a life there.

A man sitting on his bed in Kiev's Hospital N2 where many patients are both HIV and TB positive. Often TB and HIV go hand in hand; they are often referred to as the "terrible twins" by doctors and researchers

One of the few patients still on substitution therapy in Donetsk. Behind him, a ward of the hospital destroyed by some heavy shelling in the past months

This is not easy for any, but is especially challenging for those living with HIV, who have lost everything and live in a country where HIV-positive people are stigmatized. "I left Simferopol, in Crimea, after they shut down the replacement therapy (OST) program," says Andrei, an HIV positive drug addict. "I got to Kiev hoping to start a new life, but it's hard, really hard. When people find out you are HIV positive, they stare at you, and finding a job is practically impossible for people like me. We escaped from Crimea because there was no future there for us. If I had stayed there, I'm not sure I'd have survived without treatment. I don't think I would've made it."

Ruslan, 33 years old, in his apartment drug laboratory. In Ukraine homemade drugs such as Krokodil are common as they are cheap and highly addictive.

"This is my life, it's worth nothing and I'm not afraid of losing it."
–Victor

The most recent data available, dating back to the period before war broke out, demonstrates that 21.7 percent of those injecting drugs, over 25 years old, are HIV positive in Ukraine. Among HIV positive people, 25 percent live, or used to live, in the area of Donetsk and Luhansk where the war is being fought today. "We are waiting for a rise in contagion, especially in the East," says Olga Rudneva, "especially among the people who use intravenous drugs, and this is because of the restrictive policies of separatist governments, like the LPR (Luhansk People's Republic). But we also foresee a rise in all the other groups at risk, because there are many factors which affect the epidemic: cuts in financing, the displacement of hundreds of thousands of people, and the economic crisis." These projected numbers could be further influenced if in the Global Found opts to cut its investments in Ukraine, something people I spoke to fear. When, in 2010, the Global Fund ended it's financing for prevention and harm reduction projects in Romania the share of new infections among injecting drug addicts rose from 3 percent in 2010 to 29.23 percent in 2013, according to the "UNAIDS Country Progress Report on AIDS—Reporting period January 2013" for Romania.

Visiting the outskirts of Kiev, finding oneself immersed in the dirty gray blocks of the Troeschina district, its easy to see how far drugs have spread in this country, especially among the poor. Krokodil, heroin, morphine, and amphetamines—you can find anything you want in Troeschina. Many of these drugs are actually synthesized in local apartments, transformed into laboratories, like Victor's home. A Kiev native, he studied at the best high school in the city, attended university for two years, and then everything went to hell. Drugs are the only thing that keeps him alive, no matter the consequences or dangers. Syringes at Victor's place go from one arm to the next, and the drug is at times intentionally diluted with blood. "I am HIV positive, all my friends are. Still, this is my life, it's worth nothing and I'm not afraid of losing it," he says, while holding a red-hot pan in which he is melting medicines to extract the codeine used to produce krokodil, the now infamous homemade drug which destroys internal tissues before it starts to attack the user's skin.

One of the doctors from Hospital N2 in Kiev in her office.

Slava, 35 years old, with his mother in their apartment in Poltava. Slava has lost the use of a leg due to a heavy use of intravenous homemade drugs. Historically Poltava has been a city with high figures of HIV infection and drug consumption, but in recent years, thanks to some great work done by a couple of NGOs the numbers are decreasing.

Although historically drug addicts have always been the group most at risk here in Ukraine, now, with the precarious economic situation, and most of all because of the war in the East of the country, the risk of contagion is spreading further. This is also part of the war, it is not only about the deaths in the trenches to the East.

Some people quoted in this article requested that their surnames were not included in order to protect their privacy.

Some of the substances that will be outlawed after the Psychoactive Substances Bill comes into effect. Photo by Rob McCallum

Around 15 months ago, the main head shop in Blackburn, England stopped selling legal highs. After pressure from former MP Jack Straw, Trading Standards, police, and the local paper, Smoker's World packed in their trade of research chemicals and synthetic substitutes—the idea being the consumption of these substances would plummet if they weren't so easily available.

Virtually overnight, however, the shop's legal high trade had been incorporated into the business of a local gang of class A drug dealers.

According to a senior investigator in the region who spoke to VICE, the bulk of the shop's legal high stock was quickly sold off on the cheap, at £1 a bag, to the drug-dealing outfit, a family notorious in the area for selling a range of drugs including crack and heroin. (Sanjay Asal, owner of Smoker's World, denied selling off his stock to the drug dealers, although he admitted the family had previously bought in bulk from him.)

Taking advantage of the gap in the market that had been conveniently opened up for them, the drug dealers augmented their existing involvement in legal high sales (they sold under-the-counter from a "charity" shop they ran) by setting up a 24/7 delivery business using Facebook and mobile phones. The lion's share of these sales involved synthetic weed, a product with a big following among Blackburn's disenfranchised teenagers.

The gang used a team of young runners to ferry around gram snap bags containing a mix of branded product and powdered synthetic weed bought from a firm of wholesalers. This being northern England, the gang even offered free pies with every delivery of legal highs.

Deals were sold for sub-head shop prices—£5 a gram—to pull in new customers and undercut what little competition remained in Blackburn, in the form of a head shop situated outside the city center. Customers coming into the gang's charity shop were told to wait at a number 14 bus stop, where transactions would be carried out.

So the upshot was that while the authorities claimed a scalp in their very public war against psychoactive drugs being so freely available in a corner store, the sale of the bulk of Blackburn's legal highs—especially to the most problematic users—was transferred into the hands of the local heroin and crack-selling gang.

"As soon as the main head shop stopped selling NPS , this family developed a monopoly in the trade," said the senior investigator. "They were knocking out synthetic cannabis to the kids of the parents they were selling heroin and crack to.

"But this isn't like weed; this stuff is more like the new version of solvents, the new glue. These were vulnerable kids, the same group of 14 to 18-year-olds who would always be involved with drugs—and this is what they were all using."

What happened in Blackburn could have major implications for the government's brand new Psychoactive Substances Act, which will become law in April. When the legislation kicks in, Britain's estimated 500 head shops, newsagents, and take out restaurants will be banned from selling any kind of NPS. As happened in Ireland when a similar law was introduced in 2010, the number of head shops in Britain will likely plummet. They will either close or have to find something else, such as e-cigarettes, to drive profits.

Demonstrators about to inhale laughing gas in Westminster in protest against the Psychoactive Substances Bill. Photo by Chris Bethell

At this point, the government will be thinking it's accomplished its mission; one of the main objectives of the Psychoactive Substance Act was to do away with the embarrassing problem of otherwise innocent schoolchildren and teenagers legally being able to buy powerful drugs from the shops on Main Street. Job done.

However, what events in Blackburn show is that stopping head shops from selling drugs will have little impact on the kind of people who really drive the trade, and who also happen to have easy access to existing, illegal, drug-selling networks. What's more, it will herald a payday for existing drug dealers around Britain, who will gladly take up the slack of the trade in new psychoactive substances.

When I spoke to Sanjay Asal, the owner of Smoker's World (and one of the most reputable sellers of NPS in Blackburn before he stopped selling them, according to VICE's source), he told me that before he stopped selling NPS, a bad atmosphere had grown between him and the family of drug dealers, who appeared eager for him to leave Blackburn's synthetic weed trade to them.

"It was turning into a bit of a turf war," he said. "They would sometimes harass my customers and take their drugs off them, saying they should switch suppliers. I'm glad I'm out of it, to be honest, but when I stopped selling, their business went 24/7."

Asal told me that instead of selling his remaining legal high stock to the local drug dealing gang, as the senior investigator had suggested, he shifted it at cost price, or less, to regular customers. He said he had come to the decision to halt sales of the very lucrative packets of synthetic weed and cocaine because of the effects the increasingly stronger products were having on his customers. They had become like "zombies," he said.

Related: Watch 'Spice Boys,' our documentary about young men struggling with addictions to synthetic cannabis

In Blackburn, like in many parts of the UK, there is a big problem with young, marginalized people getting fucked up on synthetic weed, day-in, day-out. And it's not just out in the wild; the drug has become such an integral part of prison life that prison leavers throughout the UK are being paid to re-offend in order to smuggle the stuff back in.

On the streets of Blackburn, synthetic weed spliffs are sold for 75 p a gram have found a captive market among people who value the drug's low price and brain-twisting potency: jobless and marginalized young criminals, alongside former and current heroin users who are using NPS as they do super-strength lager, drugs that deliver a good bang for your buck.

Come April—when, like in Blackburn, dealers won't have to compete against head shops—synthetic weed, like the government-banned mephedrone before it, will increasingly become part of the ever-lengthening menu of substances available from your local street dealer.

Alistair Bohm of the drug and alcohol treatment charity Addaction pointed out further evidence to suggest the Psychoactive Substances Act is going to end up simultaneously doing street dealers a favor while also damaging society's most vulnerable.

"During Operation Lantern in Kent —who were disproportionately in local authority care or engaged in the criminal justice system—were now going to street dealers. That has to be a concern with the new legislation. It might reduce the number of people using NPS as a whole, but for populations who are already vulnerable and facing social exclusion, it could put them at increased risk of harm from dealing with the street and online market."

Read: A Look Inside the British Government's Legal Highs Lab

If the government's NPS laws are to present any real promise of restricting supply to some of the most vulnerable people in society, in and out of prison, smothering the head shop trade won't do it. A deeper impact can only be made further upstream, by using the new law to target a growing number of outfits wholesaling synthetic weed on British soil, whose businesses will become far more vulnerable to prosecution.

The specialist I spoke to estimates there are "tens, if not hundreds" of underground labs "from some quite sophisticated operations to garden sheds" in the UK where NPS products are being made at their secondary stage. The active ingredient, manufactured in China, is imported to the UK and sprayed onto inert plant matter or powder, before being packaged or served up in baggies.

"The point to learn from Blackburn is that stopping head shops from selling NPS may have stopped some younger experimenters," the investigator told me, "but it didn't stop supply to those worst affected. It just changed who and how it was supplied."

Follow Max on Twitter.

Twitter's delightful Fail Whale, originally designed by Yiying Lu, now retired but never forgotten

In his 2013 show How Videogames Changed the World, writer and presenter Charlie Brooker suggested that Twitter was, in fact, a video game. Not only that, but that it was one of the most important games of all time, worthy of being celebrated beside contemporary classics like Braid and The Last of Us, and older but hugely influential works like Elite and Tetris. We all got excited, people started talking about "gamification" and "integrated reward systems," and the world was changed forever. We all know that now. Things are very different, here in the future.

Of course, other than people who hadn't watched the program, and who form their opinions solely from briefly glimpsed, reactionary headlines, nobody actually thought that Twitter was a video game. It isn't. The show's point, of course, was that the social media service, by encouraging us to constantly seek new followers and encourage fresh favorites, was reflecting the kind of behavior regularly seen in gamers. The acquisition of an unprecedented number of followers in a day provided a similar buzz to when we successfully did away with that level-seven boss that'd been slaughtering us every night for the past nine weeks.

One person I know who loves nothing more than a new follower or favorite is Chris Slight. Some of you may know Chris from Videogame Nation on the UK's Challenge TV, or from his appearances at TwitchCon, MCM, Sky News, CNBC, or any of the other things he'll be delighted I've mentioned here to demonstrate how much he's a credible person who you should hire for video game things. I met him just over a year ago on Ginx Live, and we soon became what hip teenagers these days quite possibly don't refer to as "chums."

During that first year, we had a similar level of Twitter followers, with me always slightly ahead of Chris, but only because I'd been "in the business" longer, certainly not because I'd made any real effort. Chris did, though. He's good at all that stuff and when, on the November 4, 2015, he overtook me (1,335 followers to my 1,330), he was delighted.

Now, I didn't care about Twitter, but I did (and do) like winding Chris up, so I loaded up an app someone had made me take a look at a few months earlier, Crowdfire, which basically takes the donkey work out of proactively nurturing your account. "Proactively nurturing your Twitter account," as you will all no doubt be aware, typically being one of the preordained sentences that signals the end of times.

I went to the section that allows you to view someone else's most engaged followers and follow them yourself. Given me and Chris were turning up on a lot of the same things, it seemed reasonable to assume that if people were following him, they might enjoy following me, too.

Article continues after the video below

Related: Watch VICE's film on the digital love industry

And it turned out they did. Within half an hour I'd gotten 80 new followers. Soon after, not only had I resumed my place ahead of Chris, I'd actually got 100 more people hanging on my every micro-missive than him. OK, I'd sort of poached these new virtual acquaintances from him, and all of this had been achieved while I sent him abusive texts, while also drinking whisky in the bath (see, men can multi-task). I should have felt bad. I didn't. I was thrilled. Chris was livid.

Mission accomplished, I put my phone to one side... but not for long. The process had been intoxicating—I love video games and this gave me the exact same thrill as finding out you've shot ahead of a friend on an online leaderboard for a game you've both been playing. "Hmm," I thought to myself, even though nobody has ever thought "Hmm," specifically, while mulling something over in their mind; "if 100 followers could make Chris sad, imagine what 1,000 could do."

Related, on Motherboard: The History of Twitter's Rules

So, because I'm a terrible friend, I started to build Twitter mining into my day. I travel in and out of London two or three times a week, so whenever I was at an otherwise loose end on a train, I'd spend a few minutes tapping away on Crowdfire, following the followers of accounts I figured I might get good results from—basically, people, projects, or companies I work with.

After three weeks of casual tapping, I'd gained over a thousand new followers. It wasn't enough. If I wanted to be a Twitter millionaire by Christmas, I needed to start hijacking some of the biggest gaming accounts out there—Eurogamer, IGN, GameSpot, you know the kind I'm talking about, with their six-figures-and-more follower numbers. But these didn't yield the desired results—I did better tapping into smaller accounts. A bit of @GinxTV mining—just over 10,000 followers, versus @IGN's three-million-and-more—helped my followers whiz up rapidly. It seemed that the closer my affiliation with the account I raided, the greater take-up rate I got. After six weeks of occasional fiddling, I'd more than doubled the number of followers I had before embarking on this deliberately gamified Twitter campaign, and reached 3,000.

Did you know that Twitter's bird logo/mascot is called Larry? After Larry Bird? The famous basketballer? Well, you do now.

And while all this was happening, my relationship started to change with both Twitter itself and my new followers. Whereas before I'd just posted generic promotional messages for stuff I was doing into the void, now I began to chat with the numbers. Turns out, they were mostly real people, just like you and I. Some got in touch to say they enjoyed my work; others even came along to my live shows. This ultimately gave me a better insight into what gamers were excited about than I'd ever had when I was just following other games journalists.

I suppose I'd always thought of things like Crowdfire as cynical tools designed to fill your followers list with fake accounts and bots; but I found a whole bunch of awesome people on the other side of my pursuit for numbers, people with an active interest in the things I was involved in. Well, most of them, anyway—twitteraudit.com reckons two percent of them are fake accounts. No idea how that happened, but that's alright, right? (It's better than alright, Steve—@VICEGaming is followed by 480 fake accounts, apparently, making up 4 percent of our total.) The long and short of all this is that, actually, as a by-product of trying to make Chris Slight sad, I'd actually used Twitter to grow an actual social network for myself. Which I suppose is what it's for. It's been a really positive experience. Isn't that awful?

So even if Twitter itself isn't a game, Crowdfire definitely is. But is it a fun one? Well, if you play it competitively against your friends, it certainly can be—as long as they care far more about the result than you do.

PS: If you'd like to follow me on Twitter, you can do so. but, really, the decent thing to do would be to follow Chris Slight instead—he actually cares.

PPS: One final sweet irony of this is that it was Chris who suggested I pitch this piece to VICE. So, not only did me mining his Twitter account for followers help me race ahead of him over there, he's also essentially responsible for me getting paid for the pleasure. Cheers, Chris.

Photo via Mstyslav Chernov Wikimedia Commons

The European Union's done. Dead. It had a good run, but according to French Prime Minister Manuel Valls, the whole project is about to be ruined by—you guessed it—human migration. Speaking at the World Economic Forum in Davos on Friday, Valls told the BBC that the influx of refugees fleeing violence and war in Iraq and Syria had the capacity to completely destabilize the European Union.

"If Europe is not capable of protecting its own borders, it's the very idea of Europe that will be questioned," Valls said, when asked about resurrecting border controls within the continent. His optimism aside, it's hard to deny that this has been a year of particularly migration-focused hysteria in western European politics and media.

But could he be right? Recently Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Austria, France, and Germany have introduced certain emergency restrictions on free movement throughout the Schengen area. On Friday, European Commission spokeswoman Natasha Bertaud then hinted at the possibility of countries reintroducing temporary border controls for two years—but wouldn't go so far as to say it's on the cards before interior ministers chat about it on Monday.

I spoke to academic Dr. Christopher Bickerton, a Cambridge University European studies lecturer and author of European Integration: From Nation-States to Member States, to try make sense of it all. First, to find out whether the idea of Europe is as solid as we think, and then what may happen if Schengen countries all start to close themselves off. His views weren't as comforting as I'd hoped.

VICE: Is the EU about to be crushed by migration? Does that premise even make sense?
Christopher Bickerton: I mean, it depends a lot on where you're talking about. France hasn't taken very many refugees so far since people started arriving in very large numbers last year. Germany, on the other hand, has taken upwards of 1.1 million in the course of last year. If you look at places like Greece or Italy, they've had a stream of refugees for longer than that. The UK has had much less to do with these refugees, compared to other EU countries, by choosing not to take in a substantial number. So, I would say that some countries are affected in different ways.

But what about this idea that refugees represent some sort of apocalyptic demise for Europeans?
Valls was being negative, I think, when he presented the arrival of refugees as being a very negative thing. If that was the case, then there's no way Merkel would have said that Germany's borders are open. I think migrants put a strain on public services in critical moments, but in the medium-term these refugees, if they do settle, tend to contribute a lot to the society. It's beneficial to have a large influx of people of a working age, especially somewhere like Germany, and it can have an overall positive effect on Europe if handled appropriately.

What's the logic behind Valls's belief that the "very idea of Europe" could be called into question, then?
It's important not to take his remarks out of context. Valls was talking specifically about the problems faced by the Schengen system, and the possibility that there'd be the reintroduction of border controls. There's been a tendency to define Europe as the end of borders—looking at it that way, the reintroduction of borders could challenge the concept of the European Union.

But countries have already started bringing back border controls. Could we be about to shut down free movement in the EU after all?
I think it's plausible, and looks increasingly likely, that some sort of temporary suspension could be introduced. There are two options we're facing: In one, we reintroduce borders control and also suspend Schengen. The other is to keep Schengen, but to change the Dublin agreement, which says that refugees and asylum seekers who arrive in a European country must be checked and their asylum dealt with in the first country they arrive in—which usually tends to be a country like Greece or Italy. Governments have tried to send refugees to Luxembourg, to France, and some have simply refused to go. Faced with those kinds of problems and resistance, it seems like the alternative is just the reintroduction of country borders.

What would this mean for current EU nationals?
You tend to get very used to crossing borders without having to undergo any checks. You get on a train in, say, Amsterdam and then get off in Paris, and you're not checked when you arrive. That would all have to change. You'd have to have real borders introduced in train stations, for starters. From there, I think they'd have a system of spot checks, or something like that, not too far off from the heavyweight controls that we used to see when crossing from one European country into another 30 years ago.

That sounds like a hassle. What's a middle ground?
My personal view is that I'm in favor of having borders as open as possible. I don't believe that the EU will commit itself to a policy of open borders. I think if it managed to get an agreement together it'll be one to enforce the camps in Jordan and places like that—to keep the refugees there, and to introduce much more stringent border controls in places like Italy and Greece. I don't think that's very desirable, so I believe the return of national control over borders is a better idea. There's a possibility that countries could decide themselves to have a much more open border policy. The best option would be to eliminate Schengen and have countries decide on their own policies—then hopefully they'd go the way of Germany.

Follow Tshepo Mokoena on Twitter.