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Download Action Bronson and Party Supplies’ New Mixtape Blue Chips 2 Right Now, for Free

noiseymusic:

Download Action Bronson and Party Supplies’ New Mixtape Blue Chips 2 Right Now, for Free

Wanna Get Gay Married in Oklahoma? Be Part Indian
So the state of Oklahoma won’t let gays get married? Pfft. Technicality.
 
On October 10, 2013, Jason Pickel and Darren Black Bear were issued a marriage license by the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribe’s courthouse. Both Jason and Darren have Native American heritage, one of their tribal court’s requirements. Additionally, the couple must live within the jurisdiction of the issuing tribe. Even though the tribe’s courthouse is located on Oklahoma land, because of its status as a sovereign territory, it isn’t subject to state law. 
 
Many of the media outlets covering Darren and Jason’s story are making it sound as if the couple of nearly a decade set out to put one over on the Sooner State, reducing the legality of their union to a “loophole.” They didn’t. They just wanted to get married. Imagine that. 
 
A spokesperson for Mary Fallin, the state’s Republican governor, was quick to clarify that Pickel and Black Bear will continue to be treated as any other homosexual couple married out of state. In an email to the LA Times, she wrote, “They are not recognized by the state of Oklahoma.”
 
In 2004, a whopping 76 percent of Oklahoma citizens voted to define marriage as between one man and one woman. The Cheyenne Arapaho Tribe’s definition of marriage, however, doesn’t specify gender requirements. The council doesn’t award marriage certificates to males and females, but to “Indians.” 
 
So what does this mean for gay people in Oklahoma? Well, it doesn’t mean too much unless you happen to be engaged to a Native American whose tribe administers same-sex marriage licenses. The Black Bears’ situation (Jason plans on taking Darren’s last name) is the latest reminder to all of our DOMA-minded friends that the movement for marriage equality is not going anywhere. Right now, it might be relegated to certain states and Native American tribes, but it’s coming. 
 
VICE: So you guys found the loophole in Oklahoma, huh? 
Jason Pickel: No! I keep telling reporters to stop saying loophole. We didn’t find a loophole in Oklahoma. Technically, we’re not even getting married in the state of Oklahoma. I think, in general, a lot of Americans don’t understand the concept of a sovereign nation. It’s not a state; it’s a territory. [The reservation]’s just like DC: it’s not part of Virginia; it’s its own place. 
Darren Black Bear: We were getting married so I could get Jason on my insurance. That’s what this began as. It morphed and grew, and turned into a wedding. It went from the Gayly to our tribal paper, then to KOCO-5, then to… the world. It’s crazy how it grew. 
 
Has anything like this happened before? 
Jason: Actually we’re the third Native American couple [from the tribe] to be issued a same-sex marriage license. They just didn’t really want to be public and that’s fine. I met them for the first time yesterday.  
Continue

Wanna Get Gay Married in Oklahoma? Be Part Indian

So the state of Oklahoma won’t let gays get married? Pfft. Technicality.
 
On October 10, 2013, Jason Pickel and Darren Black Bear were issued a marriage license by the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribe’s courthouse. Both Jason and Darren have Native American heritage, one of their tribal court’s requirements. Additionally, the couple must live within the jurisdiction of the issuing tribe. Even though the tribe’s courthouse is located on Oklahoma land, because of its status as a sovereign territory, it isn’t subject to state law. 
 
Many of the media outlets covering Darren and Jason’s story are making it sound as if the couple of nearly a decade set out to put one over on the Sooner State, reducing the legality of their union to a “loophole.” They didn’t. They just wanted to get married. Imagine that. 
 
A spokesperson for Mary Fallin, the state’s Republican governor, was quick to clarify that Pickel and Black Bear will continue to be treated as any other homosexual couple married out of state. In an email to the LA Times, she wrote, “They are not recognized by the state of Oklahoma.”
 
In 2004, a whopping 76 percent of Oklahoma citizens voted to define marriage as between one man and one woman. The Cheyenne Arapaho Tribe’s definition of marriage, however, doesn’t specify gender requirements. The council doesn’t award marriage certificates to males and females, but to “Indians.” 
 
So what does this mean for gay people in Oklahoma? Well, it doesn’t mean too much unless you happen to be engaged to a Native American whose tribe administers same-sex marriage licenses. The Black Bears’ situation (Jason plans on taking Darren’s last name) is the latest reminder to all of our DOMA-minded friends that the movement for marriage equality is not going anywhere. Right now, it might be relegated to certain states and Native American tribes, but it’s coming. 
 
VICE: So you guys found the loophole in Oklahoma, huh? 
Jason Pickel: No! I keep telling reporters to stop saying loophole. We didn’t find a loophole in Oklahoma. Technically, we’re not even getting married in the state of Oklahoma. I think, in general, a lot of Americans don’t understand the concept of a sovereign nation. It’s not a state; it’s a territory. [The reservation]’s just like DC: it’s not part of Virginia; it’s its own place. 
Darren Black Bear: We were getting married so I could get Jason on my insurance. That’s what this began as. It morphed and grew, and turned into a wedding. It went from the Gayly to our tribal paper, then to KOCO-5, then to… the world. It’s crazy how it grew. 
 
Has anything like this happened before? 
Jason: Actually we’re the third Native American couple [from the tribe] to be issued a same-sex marriage license. They just didn’t really want to be public and that’s fine. I met them for the first time yesterday.  

Continue

Watch Motherboard’s new documentary about the electric superbike of the future.

Watch Motherboard’s new documentary about the electric superbike of the future.

Contemporary burial practices still suck.

We’re giving away tickets to see Lena Dunham and David Sedaris on November 19 at Carnegie Hall. Want a pair? Just RT this tweet and you’ll be entered to win.

We’re giving away tickets to see Lena Dunham and David Sedaris on November 19 at Carnegie Hall. Want a pair? Just RT this tweet and you’ll be entered to win.

Tinder and Grindr Users See Some Crazy Shit
Too Good to Be True

It was November of last year, so it was at the very beginning of my Tinder experience, and I had found a guy who seemed incredible. Perhaps too good to be true. He was a pro golfer, born and raised in Switzerland, he came over to Canada and went to school on a full scholarship, and was just killing it running his own business. He was incredibly ambitious and really good-looking, and we hit it off right away.
We ended up meeting up on a Thursday night for some drinks and dinner. That Wednesday I had actually gotten into a pretty serious car accident. I’m fine but the car was totaled. I was really shook up that day but thought maybe the date would cheer me up.
While we were on our way to the restaurant I started explaining to him that I had been in a car accident, so he starts trying to relate to me with his car issues. He tells me he’s had 19 speeding tickets, he’s been arrested twice, and he pays over $900 a month in insurance. I knew right off the bat this was a red flag.
While we were out at a sushi restaurant he just suddenly looked up from his food and said, “You’re so pretty, you’re probably the prettiest Filipino I’ve ever met.” I actually spit out my drink, because I am the farthest thing from Filipino. I’m very white, and probably look more Italian or Jewish, but certainly not Filipino. I actually had to Google “Filipino” on my phone and show it to him so he could understand how wrong he was.
At this point I was just enjoying the entertainment value of the date, so I agreed to a drink after dinner, and we headed over to an Irish Pub downtown. While we were having a drink he started talking about religion, which is a subject I try to avoid on first dates whenever possible, but he brought it up, so I told him I was pretty much an atheist and don’t really practice anything. He said, “That’s interesting, I’m part of the Illuminati.” He goes on to tell me about how his grandfather has all the secrets of the world and all these conspiracy theories that he’s aware of.
It became pretty obvious at this point that this guy was a pathological liar and that most of his profile was made up. I doubt he’s a pro golfer or a small business owner or that he’s ever lived in Switzerland.
So I told him I was really tired and needed to go home, and he dropped me off back at my place. At the end of the date he went in for the kiss, and I went for a hug. I’ve never heard from him since.
More Tinder/Grindr nightmares

Tinder and Grindr Users See Some Crazy Shit

Too Good to Be True

It was November of last year, so it was at the very beginning of my Tinder experience, and I had found a guy who seemed incredible. Perhaps too good to be true. He was a pro golfer, born and raised in Switzerland, he came over to Canada and went to school on a full scholarship, and was just killing it running his own business. He was incredibly ambitious and really good-looking, and we hit it off right away.

We ended up meeting up on a Thursday night for some drinks and dinner. That Wednesday I had actually gotten into a pretty serious car accident. I’m fine but the car was totaled. I was really shook up that day but thought maybe the date would cheer me up.

While we were on our way to the restaurant I started explaining to him that I had been in a car accident, so he starts trying to relate to me with his car issues. He tells me he’s had 19 speeding tickets, he’s been arrested twice, and he pays over $900 a month in insurance. I knew right off the bat this was a red flag.

While we were out at a sushi restaurant he just suddenly looked up from his food and said, “You’re so pretty, you’re probably the prettiest Filipino I’ve ever met.” I actually spit out my drink, because I am the farthest thing from Filipino. I’m very white, and probably look more Italian or Jewish, but certainly not Filipino. I actually had to Google “Filipino” on my phone and show it to him so he could understand how wrong he was.

At this point I was just enjoying the entertainment value of the date, so I agreed to a drink after dinner, and we headed over to an Irish Pub downtown. While we were having a drink he started talking about religion, which is a subject I try to avoid on first dates whenever possible, but he brought it up, so I told him I was pretty much an atheist and don’t really practice anything. He said, “That’s interesting, I’m part of the Illuminati.” He goes on to tell me about how his grandfather has all the secrets of the world and all these conspiracy theories that he’s aware of.

It became pretty obvious at this point that this guy was a pathological liar and that most of his profile was made up. I doubt he’s a pro golfer or a small business owner or that he’s ever lived in Switzerland.

So I told him I was really tired and needed to go home, and he dropped me off back at my place. At the end of the date he went in for the kiss, and I went for a hug. I’ve never heard from him since.

More Tinder/Grindr nightmares

Moscow Is a Paradise 

Sasha Mademuaselle's favorite city is Moscow, which isn't all that surprising given it's where she was born and raised. Sasha says that what she particularly loves about her hometown is “the freedom the youth have,” which—considering the recent news aboutPutin viciously restricting freedoms for young people—was kind of surprising.   

Still, her photos are great, so we’ll just excuse that last part as narrative license and enjoy all the naked people, dinosaurs, and creepy tattoos instead. 

More photos

Come On, Get Lonely 


Some of our favorite lady artists are going to be in a group show tonight at Martos gallery in Chelsea. The show, titled Lonely Girl, got its name from the YouTube web seriesLonelyGirl15, which trolled the entire internet in 2006 by presenting a scripted show disguised as a teenage girl’s video diary. All of the girls in tonight’s show incorporate the internet into their work in some way, and many of the artists themselves have the sort of gargantuan digital footprint that the NSA dreams about in their sloppiest of wet dreams. According to the press release, “The artists in this show represent an unprecedented moment in cultural history—where the artist themselves can be equally or sometimes more visible than their artworks themselves.”
The show was organized by Asher Penn, the editor of Sex magazine, and features Al Baio, Petra Cortright, Maggie Lee, Greem Jellyfish, Bunny Rogers, Analisa Teachworth, and Amalia Ulman. You might recognize a couple of those names from this very website. Maggie Lee, for instance, has shot four magazine covers for us, which gives her the honor of Most VICE Covers Shot by a Single Photographer (probably…. we’ve never actually counted). And Petra is a crazy person who makes videos like thisand was once the object of Teen Laqueefa’s lust. We asked Maggie to send us some photos of the show, but it seems they are doing this thing the old fashioned way and keeping all images of it off the internet, which seems a tad hypocrytical for a show that is at least partially inspired by the internet, but whatever. Just show up at 540 West 29 Street IRL tonight anytime between 6:00 and 8:00 PM and have your brain scrambled.

Come On, Get Lonely 

Some of our favorite lady artists are going to be in a group show tonight at Martos gallery in Chelsea. The show, titled Lonely Girl, got its name from the YouTube web seriesLonelyGirl15, which trolled the entire internet in 2006 by presenting a scripted show disguised as a teenage girl’s video diary. All of the girls in tonight’s show incorporate the internet into their work in some way, and many of the artists themselves have the sort of gargantuan digital footprint that the NSA dreams about in their sloppiest of wet dreams. According to the press release, “The artists in this show represent an unprecedented moment in cultural history—where the artist themselves can be equally or sometimes more visible than their artworks themselves.”

The show was organized by Asher Penn, the editor of Sex magazine, and features Al BaioPetra CortrightMaggie LeeGreem JellyfishBunny RogersAnalisa Teachworth, and Amalia Ulman. You might recognize a couple of those names from this very website. Maggie Lee, for instance, has shot four magazine covers for us, which gives her the honor of Most VICE Covers Shot by a Single Photographer (probably…. we’ve never actually counted). And Petra is a crazy person who makes videos like thisand was once the object of Teen Laqueefa’s lust. We asked Maggie to send us some photos of the show, but it seems they are doing this thing the old fashioned way and keeping all images of it off the internet, which seems a tad hypocrytical for a show that is at least partially inspired by the internet, but whatever. Just show up at 540 West 29 Street IRL tonight anytime between 6:00 and 8:00 PM and have your brain scrambled.

Geoff Rowley Returns to Liverpool
When someone says Liverpool, most of the world’s kneejerk reaction is to think of the Beatles. (I’ve talked a lot about the Fab Four in the past, mostly because of the joy they bring my wife’s mentally retarded uncle, Lonnie.) But if you mention Liverpool to a skateboarder, Geoff Rowley is the first person who comes to mind. I have always been a fan of Geoff’s skating, as well as his candor, and so I was very happy that I got a chance to spend some time with him in Liverpool the other day.
I can say, without hyperbole, that when Geoff moved to the States in the late 90s he changed skateboarding forever. He skated hard and fast, and his balls were pressed much more firmly to the wall than anyone else’s at the time. He revolutionized handrail skating and did it with style (at that time style was an afterthought in skateboarding, and a lot of skaters looked like piles of dogshit on wheels). Also, thanks to Geoff skaters don’t wear hideous and impractical moonboots anymore. Back in the 90s, while everyone else was skating bulbous sneakers that looked like they should have lights in the heels and be worn by three-years-olds, Geoff was grinding the huge hubba at the Staples Center in plain old Authentics.

I sat Geoff down for ten minutes in the ruins of the St. Luke’s Church courtyard—which was bombed by the Nazis and never rebuilt—so he could tell me and a random gentleman about his upcoming video part, battling injuries, his love for the Wild West, and his new pet project, CivalWare.
Watch the videos

Geoff Rowley Returns to Liverpool

When someone says Liverpool, most of the world’s kneejerk reaction is to think of the Beatles. (I’ve talked a lot about the Fab Four in the past, mostly because of the joy they bring my wife’s mentally retarded uncle, Lonnie.) But if you mention Liverpool to a skateboarder, Geoff Rowley is the first person who comes to mind. I have always been a fan of Geoff’s skating, as well as his candor, and so I was very happy that I got a chance to spend some time with him in Liverpool the other day.

I can say, without hyperbole, that when Geoff moved to the States in the late 90s he changed skateboarding forever. He skated hard and fast, and his balls were pressed much more firmly to the wall than anyone else’s at the time. He revolutionized handrail skating and did it with style (at that time style was an afterthought in skateboarding, and a lot of skaters looked like piles of dogshit on wheels). Also, thanks to Geoff skaters don’t wear hideous and impractical moonboots anymore. Back in the 90s, while everyone else was skating bulbous sneakers that looked like they should have lights in the heels and be worn by three-years-olds, Geoff was grinding the huge hubba at the Staples Center in plain old Authentics.

I sat Geoff down for ten minutes in the ruins of the St. Luke’s Church courtyard—which was bombed by the Nazis and never rebuilt—so he could tell me and a random gentleman about his upcoming video part, battling injuries, his love for the Wild West, and his new pet project, CivalWare.

Watch the videos

The VICE Reader: Aiding & Abetting, by Hilary Leichter
All images by Olivia Hinds
 
Hilary Leichter’s work has appeared in n+1, Tin House, the Kenyon Review, the Indiana Review, and many other publications. She is a recipient of a 2013 fellowship from the Edward F. Albee Foundation and lives in Brooklyn.
 
I show the fugitive some hospitality. That’s just the way it is with empty-nesters. We give strangers too much credit, or sometimes, not enough.
 
“You’re a big-hearted one, aren’t you.” says the fugitive, toneless.  
 
“Sure, if you’d like.” 
 
What the fugitive doesn’t know is that my heart is small and scared, governed by a deep fear of getting things wrong. I bring her some green tea. Did I bring her the right kind of leaf?
See, this is what I mean. 
 
“No. Thanks.” she says, hovering over her mug, not thrilled.   
 
“Whatever appeals.” I pull the mug away. “You’re the guest!”
 
“I think you might be a poor judge of character,” she says, smiling now. She closes her eyes, same as when I found her crouching behind the hedge. There, she just looked at me and closed her eyes and smiled, like I was a joke and I had come to collect some laughter from the bushes.
 
She wears sunglasses when she sits on the couch by the window. She says she wants to go shopping for fancy shoes at the mall, a strange choice for a woman on the run. “Haha!” I say. She is not cool with my limited imagination.  
 
“Sometimes, a wanted woman wants to look her best,” she says. “Don’t you ever want to look your best?” she asks me, and I imagine dipping my toes into a red wedge. 
Continue

The VICE Reader: Aiding & Abetting, by Hilary Leichter

All images by Olivia Hinds
 
Hilary Leichter’s work has appeared in n+1Tin House, the Kenyon Review, the Indiana Review, and many other publications. She is a recipient of a 2013 fellowship from the Edward F. Albee Foundation and lives in Brooklyn.
 
I show the fugitive some hospitality. That’s just the way it is with empty-nesters. We give strangers too much credit, or sometimes, not enough.
 
“You’re a big-hearted one, aren’t you.” says the fugitive, toneless.  
 
“Sure, if you’d like.” 
 
What the fugitive doesn’t know is that my heart is small and scared, governed by a deep fear of getting things wrong. I bring her some green tea. Did I bring her the right kind of leaf?
See, this is what I mean. 
 
“No. Thanks.” she says, hovering over her mug, not thrilled.   
 
“Whatever appeals.” I pull the mug away. “You’re the guest!”
 
“I think you might be a poor judge of character,” she says, smiling now. She closes her eyes, same as when I found her crouching behind the hedge. There, she just looked at me and closed her eyes and smiled, like I was a joke and I had come to collect some laughter from the bushes.
 
She wears sunglasses when she sits on the couch by the window. She says she wants to go shopping for fancy shoes at the mall, a strange choice for a woman on the run. “Haha!” I say. She is not cool with my limited imagination.  
 
“Sometimes, a wanted woman wants to look her best,” she says. “Don’t you ever want to look your best?” she asks me, and I imagine dipping my toes into a red wedge. 

Continue

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